CHAPTER IV.

MISTAKE THE FIRST.

Father Roger was gone, and Libor the clerk was gone, but Dora and her father were not long left alone. More acquaintances than usual found it convenient to take the mountain castle "on the way to Pest," or elsewhere.

But what was more remarkable than this sudden influx of guests was the fact that so many of them made polite inquiry after Libor the clerk, "keeper," or "governor," as they began to call him.

"What on earth is the matter with the folk!" said Master Peter more than once. "What makes them so interested all at once in that raw, long-eared, ink-stained youth! They ask questions and seem to expect me to know as much about him as if he and I were twin-brethren!"

"I can't think!" returned Dora with a merry laugh, which might have re-assured Talabor had he heard it. "It is very odd, but they ask me too, and really I quite forgot the good man's existence from one time to another."

"Well," said Master Peter, "I suppose one ought not to dislike a man without cause, and I have nothing positively against the jackanapes, but I don't trust him, for all his deferential ways, and I fancy that when once he "gets hold of the cucumber-tree" we shall see a change in him. Your uncle has been kind to him, but not because he liked him, I know! I'll tell you what it must be! he has been boasting, and exaggerating what we have done for him," Master Peter went on in his simplicity, "making himself out a favourite, and counting up the number of visits he has paid us here, until he has made people think we have adopted him, and they will be taking him for my son and heir next, faugh! Ha! ha! A pushing young man! I never could think why he wanted to be coming here, but no doubt it gave him importance, and very likely Paul thought we had special confidence in him, otherwise I don't see what made him give such an appointment to a youth of his age. That must be it!"

And yet, while he said the words, Peter had a vague feeling that there was something behind which he could neither define nor fathom.

Delighted as he was to welcome guests, he had not enjoyed their society of late so much as was usual with him. Sometimes he told himself that it was all fancy, and then at another he would be annoyed by a something not quite to his taste in their manner to Dora, while the frequent reference to Libor was so irritating that he had more than once almost lost his temper, and he had actually told some inquiries with haughty dignity that if they wanted to know what the young man was doing they had better ask the servants.

This had had the desired effect; so far, at least, that Master Peter was not troubled again; but people talked all the same, and even more than before, for his evident annoyance and the proud way in which he had repelled them made the busy-bodies put two and two together and conclude that he really had some secret trouble which he wanted to hide from the world. And so, by way of helping him, they naturally confided their suspicions one to the other, and to their friends.

Gossip about people of such importance as the Szirmays naturally had a peculiar zest, and the fact that Dora was first cousin to Jolánta, one of the Queen's favourite attendants and wife of Paul Héderváry, of course gave it additional flavour.

Maids who came with their mistresses questioned Borka, who answered them as she had been instructed to do, with earnest injunctions as to secrecy. Talabor, being sent out with a message to Master Stephen, heard similar gossip from the pages of his household, gossip which distressed him greatly, though he vowed that he did not believe a word of it.

He could not get it out of his head during his lonely ride home, but as he thought over all that he had heard, it suddenly struck him that, supposing it to be true, Borka was not as "faithful" as Libor fancied. The story must have come abroad through her, unless--an idea suddenly flashed across his mind--Libor might have trumped the whole thing up by way of increasing his own importance. But then he had actually caught him with Borka! Talabor resolved to have a word with Miss Borka at the first opportunity.

In due time Master Peter set out for Pest, and thither we must now follow him.

Oktai, the Great Khan, found himself on the death of Dschingis at the head of a million and a half of fighting men, and at once determined to carry out his father's plans of conquest by sending his nephew Batu westward to attack the peaceful Kunok, the "Black Kunok," as the chronicles call them, who dwelt between the Volga and Dnieper in Great or Black Cumania.

Twice the Mongols had been beaten back, but in the end numbers had prevailed, and to save what remained of this people, their King had led them into Moldavia, then occupied in part by the Little, or White Kunok.

Meanwhile, alarming rumours of what had occurred had reached Hungary, but were credited by few, and as to being themselves in any real, still less immediate danger, that the Hungarians would not bring themselves to believe. Their King, Béla (Albert) took a very different view of the situation. One of the most energetic kings Hungary had ever had, and brave in meeting every difficulty, though he did not fear danger, he did not despise it, and while the great nobles spent their time in amusing themselves, he was following with the most careful attention all that was going on among his neighbours. He was kept well informed, and nothing of that which Oktai was doing escaped him. He knew how Russia had been conquered, how the Kunok had been hunted, and how the countless Mongol hordes were gaining ground day by day.

He knew, but he could not make others see with his eyes. More than once he appealed to the great nobles, urging them to make ready, while he himself strove gradually to raise troops and take measures for the defence of the kingdom. But it was all in vain; they heard, but they heeded not. And then one day they were quite surprised, when, after many perils and dangers, Kuthen's messengers appeared in Buda, having come, as they said, from the forests of Moldavia.

They were no brilliant train, but men who had fought and suffered, and endured many hardships; and they had come, as Libor told Master Peter, to ask for an asylum. Hungary was but thinly populated at this time, and the King was always glad to welcome useful immigrants. Knowing which, they asked him confidently, in their own king's name, to say where they might settle, promising on his part that he and his people would be ever faithful subjects, and more than this, that they would all become Christians.

Béla felt that he must make up his mind at once. He could not send the messengers away without a decided answer; he thought the Kuns would be valuable, especially just now, as they were men who knew what war was, and could fight well.

But in bidding them welcome to Hungary without consulting the Diet, Béla made a mistake--a pardonable mistake, perhaps, for he knew as well as anybody that Diets were sometimes stormy affairs, and not without dangerous consequences; and he knew too that the majority of those who would assemble either did not know of the peril which was so close at hand, or were so obstinate in their apathy that they did not wish to know of it; nevertheless it was a mistake.

As for Kuthen, he had two alternatives before him. Either he might submit to Oktai and join him in his career of conquest; or, he might offer his services and faithful devotion to a king who was well known to be both wise, chivalrous, and honourable.

Kuthen made the better choice; but if his offer were refused, or if Béla did not make speed to help him, why, then, it was plain that the country would be inundated by 40,000 fighting men.

The King could not wait, and Kuthen's messengers were at once sent back to Moldavia, laden with presents, and bearing the welcome news that King Béla was willing to receive the Black Kunok on the terms offered. The White Kunok of Moldavia already acknowledged the Hungarian king as their sovereign.

Kuthen lost no time in setting out with his people, and Béla, in the warmth of his heart, determined to give him a magnificent reception. He would receive him as a king should be received, whose power and dominions had been till lately at least equal to his own; he would receive him as if he were one of his most powerful neighbours; he would receive him as a brother.

Béla cared little for pomp and show on his own account, and the splendour of his train on this occasion was all the more striking. Never had such a sight been seen in Hungary before as when, one morning in early summer, the King rode out to the wide plain where he was to receive his guests.

Before him went sixty men on horseback, clad in scarlet, all ablaze with gold and silver, wearing caps of bearskin or wolfskin, and producing wild and wonderful music from trumpets, pipes, and copper drums. After them came the King in a purple mantle over a long white "dolmány," which sparkled with precious stones and was covered in front by a silver breast-plate. Right and left of him rode a bishop in full canonicals and bearing each his crozier.

These were followed by some two hundred of the more prominent nobles, among whom were Paul Héderváry, Master Peter, and his brother Stephen, and the latter's son Akos, who, as already mentioned, was attached to the King's household. The rear was brought up by soldiers armed with bows, all mounted like the rest.

Truly it was an imposing spectacle, as Master Peter admitted when he afterwards described it to Dora; but it afforded him little satisfaction.

No sooner was the army of bowmen drawn up in order than the war-song of the advancing Kunok was to be heard.

On they came, Kuthen and all his family on horseback, his retinue, and his army which followed him at a respectful distance, part mounted, part on foot, and behind these again a long thick cloud of dust.

The pilgrims did not present a grand appearance. They looked as those look who have come through many toils and dangers; but the King was not without a certain pathetic dignity of his own, in spite of his somewhat Mongolian features, slanting eyes, low, retreating forehead, and long beard, already slightly touched with grey. He looked like a man who had suffered, was suffering rather, and who could not forget his old home, with its boundless plains, its vast flocks and herds, and its free open-air life; but he looked also like a man who knew what it was to be strong and powerful.

Kuthen's followers came to a halt, while he and his family rode forward, preceded by a horseman, not far short of a hundred years old, who carried a double cross in token of the submission of his people both to Christianity and to the sovereignty of the Hungarian king.

The King and Queen, their two sons, and two daughters, all wore loose garments of white woollen, fastened round the waist by unpolished belts of some sort of metal; and on their heads were pointed fur caps, such as are still worn by the Persians. The King and his sons had heavy swords of a peculiar shape, while the Queen and Princesses carried feather fans decorated with countless rows of red beads and bits of metal.

What trust Kuthen felt in King Béla was shown by the fact that his bodyguard numbered no more than two or three hundred men armed for the most part with spears.

Master Peter had much to tell when he returned home of the beautiful horses covered with the skins of wild beasts, on which Kuthen and his family were mounted, and which naturally excited the admiration of such horse-lovers as the Hungarians; also he told of the band of singers who preceded the chiefs, and marked the pauses between their songs by wild cries and the beating of long narrow drums; of the servants, women, and children, who journeyed in the rear of the army, those of the latter too small to walk being carried in fur skins slung on their mothers' backs; and of the immense flocks and herds reaching far away into the distance, whose herdmen, mounted on small, rough horses, drove their charges forward with long whips and the wildest of shouts.

He told her, too, how King Béla had galloped forward to welcome his guest with outstretched hand, and had made the most gracious and friendly of speeches.

"Much too gracious!" grunted Peter with a shrug of his shoulders. "All very fine, but the country will have to pay for it!"

"Oh, yes, and when all sorts of compliments had been exchanged (through the interpreters of course, for they can't speak decent Hungarian) then up came the baggage-horses, and the tents were pitched in a twinkling side by side. They sprang up like mushrooms, and before long there was a regular camp, such a camp as you never saw!"

Béla's tent was of bright colours without, and sparkled with silver and gold within; but Kuthen's, which was larger (for it accommodated his whole family), was meant not for show, but for use, and to be a defence against wind and rain, and was composed of wild-beast skins.

There was a banquet in the royal tent in the evening, and the haughty Hungarian nobles saw, to their astonishment and relief, that, though their dress was simple, not very different in fact from that in which they had travelled, the King and Queen and their family actually knew how to behave with the dignity befitting their exalted rank.

The Kunok performed one of their war dances in front of the tent while dinner was going on; and at the close of the entertainment, Béla presented Kuthen, his family, and the principal chiefs, with such gifts as betokened the generous hospitality of the Hungarian and the lavish munificence of the King.

But Master Peter, though at other times he could be as lavish and generous as anyone, was not over well pleased to see this "extravagance," as he considered it; and his feelings were shared not only by his brother and nephew, but by many another in the King's retinue.

"No good will come of it," muttered they to themselves.

And the Kun chiefs, "barbarians" though they were in the eyes of the Hungarian nobles, were, some of them at least, shrewd enough to notice their want of cordiality, and sensitive enough to be hurt by their proud bearing and the brilliant display they made.

* * * * *

The whole camp was early afoot, and the two bishops in their vestments, attended by many of the lower clergy in white robes, appeared before the royal tents, in one of which stood Béla and his courtiers all fully accoutred, with helmets on their heads and richly ornamented swords at their sides, while in the other were assembled Kuthen and his family, bare-headed and unarmed.

Béla's own body-guard, mounted and carrying their lances, battle-axes, clubs, and swords, were stationed on each side of the royal tents, while their officers rode up and down, or stopped now and again to exchange a few words with one another in a low tone. A number of Kunok, bare-headed and unarmed like their sovereign, stood round in a semicircle. Far away in the distance might be heard every now and then the deep-mouthed bay of the great sheep-dogs, and the shrill neigh of the horses, but otherwise there seemed to be a hush over all.

Presently, a camp-table was brought forward covered with a white cloth and having a silver crucifix in the midst, with golden vessels on each side, and then, all being ready, a solemn mass was said by one of the bishops, interspersed with singing and chanting, by the choir, all of which evidently impressed the Kunok, who had never seen the like, or anything at all resembling it, before. By the expression of their wild faces it was plain to see that while utterly surprised, and, in spite of themselves, awed and subdued, some were doubtful, some more or less rebellious, and many full of wonder as to what it all meant and whether it portended good or evil.

But there was yet more to follow. The service over, two of the younger white-robed clergy took up a large silver basin, another pair carried silver ewers, while the remainder, with lighted torches, formed up in two lines and all followed the bishops to Kuthen's tent, in front of which he, his family and retinue, were now standing with King Béla beside them.

If the Kunok had looked doubtful and uneasy before, they looked yet more disturbed now by the mysterious ceremony which followed. It was all utterly unintelligible to them; they heard words in a strange tongue uttered over their King and Queen, over the Princes and Princesses, and they saw water poured upon the faces of each in turn, and no doubt concluded that they were witnessing some magic rite, which might have the effect of bringing their sovereign completely under the influence of the Hungarians.

And not only the royal family, but their attendants, the chiefs, and last of all themselves had to submit to the same ceremony, without having the least conception of what the faith was into which they had been thus hastily baptized.

The main body of the Kunok arrived a few weeks later, and they, too, were baptized in batches, with an equal absence of all instruction and preparation, and in equal ignorance of what was being done for them.

That was the way in which the heathen were "converted" in too many instances in bygone times. Is it wonderful that they remained pagans at heart, or that traces of pagan superstition are to be found in Christian lands even to the present day?

Well, the Kunok were now "Christians," and within a few months settlements were allotted to them in those thinly populated districts which the King was desirous of seeing occupied by inhabitants of kin to his own people.

Meanwhile, Kuthen and his train had reached Pest, and he had made his entry with much pomp and state, Béla being determined that his guest should be received with all respect. The two Kings therefore rode side by side, wearing their crowns and long flowing mantles, and the narrow, crooked streets were thronged with people, all curious to see, if not animated by any very friendly feeling towards the new arrivals.

Some of the more prominent chiefs Béla determined to keep about himself that he might win their confidence and attachment by kindness.

But Kuthen and his family were conducted at once to Master Peter's old mansion near the Danube, Béla promising that he would have a proper residence built for them as soon as he could find a site.

Peter's house was of an original description, and consisted, in fact, of six moderate-sized houses, connected one with the other by doors and passages added by his father; but it had at least been made habitable and provided with present necessaries, and afforded better shelter, as well as more peace, than their tents, and the caves and woods of Moldavia, where they had dwelt in perpetual fear of their enemies.

All this Master Peter duly reported to Dora, with comments of his own, and many a shake of the head, and still her curiosity was not satisfied.

"What more did she want? He had emptied his wallet so far as he knew."

"You have hardly said a word about the Queen and the Princesses," returned Dora.

Whereupon Master Peter gave a short laugh.

"H-m! You had better ask your cousin Akos what he thinks of them the next time you see him," said he.

"Why, does he see much of them? I thought he was as much against their coming as you were."

"So he was! So he was! as strongly as any one! but--well, you know a page must go where he is sent, and his Majesty seems to want a good many messages taken. At all events, Akos is often with the Kun folk, and what is more, one never hears a word against them from him now! Bright eyes, Dora, bright eyes! and a deal of mischief they do."

"But can Akos understand them?"

"It seems so; he has picked the language up pretty quickly, hasn't he? It is all jargon to me, but then I have not had his practice! Father Roger says their tongue is something like our Magyar, a sort of uncouth relation, but I don't see the likeness myself."

"And the Princesses are really pretty?" Dora asked again.

"Prettier than their parents by a good deal! Yes, they are pretty girls enough, I suppose," said Peter grudgingly, "some people admire them much, particularly the younger one, Mária, as she is now. She used to be Marána, but that's the name they gave her at her baptism, and the other they called Erzsébet (Elizabeth). The King and Queen and their sons all have Magyar names now. But they will bring no good to the country," Master Peter added, after a pause, "no good, that I am sure of! Why, there have been quarrels already where they have settled them. Everybody hates the sight of them and their felt tents, and the King has had to divide them. What have they been doing? Why, plundering their neighbours to be sure, as anyone might have known they would. Mere barbarians, that's what they are, and we shall have a pretty piece of work with them before we have done."

"And Jolánta, you saw her?" Dora interposed, by way of diverting her father's attention from a topic which invariably excited him.

"Yes, I saw Jolánta," was the answer, given with such a grave shake of the head that Dora asked whether there were anything amiss with her.

"Amiss? h-m! Dora, my girl," said Master Peter, laying his hand affectionately on her shoulder, "I am glad that _you_ did not marry him!"

"I?" laughed Dora, "why should I?"

"Ah, you have forgotten how they used to call you 'Paul's little wife,' when you were only a baby, and you did not know, of course, that your old father was fool enough to be disappointed when he chose your cousin instead."

"But isn't he kind to her? Isn't she happy?" inquired Dora.

"That is a question I did not ask, child, so I can't say. But she is just a shadow of what she was."

"Selfish scoundrel!" burst forth Master Peter the next moment, unable to keep down his indignation, which was not solely on Jolánta's account.

He had heard a good deal in Pest. Honest friends had not been wanting to tell him of the reports about his daughter, and his pride had been deeply wounded by the half pitying tone in which some of his acquaintances had inquired for her, as also by the fact that the Queen had _not_ asked for her, though she was on quite intimate terms with Jolánta, and in the natural course of things would have wished to see Dora also at Court.

Peter had longed to "have it out" with somebody, and make all who had repeated gossip about his Dora eat their own words.

But for once he was prudent, and bethought himself in time that some matters are not bettered by being talked about. If he blurted out his wrath there would be those who would say that "there must be something in it, or he would not fly into such a rage," as he knew he should do, if once he let himself go. Besides, although he had convinced himself that Paul was at the bottom of all the gossip, and was burning to go and take him by the throat and make him own it on his knees, yet, after all, where was the use of making a charge which he could not actually prove?

Accordingly, Master Peter held his tongue, but he determined that nothing should induce him to take Dora to Pest while there was any risk of her being slighted and made uncomfortable. If he could have looked forward only a few months perhaps he would have recognised that slights were not the worst evils to be encountered in the world.

"Selfish scoundrel!" he repeated vehemently, "from what I hear, he has been driving the poor girl about from morning till night, and from night till morning! Paul Héderváry's wife must be seen everywhere, at all the Court functions, all the entertainments in Pest, and even in the country there is no rest for her, but she must be dragged to hunting parties, which you know she never cared for. She never had much spirit you know, poor Jolánta! and now she is like a shadow, all the flesh worn off her bones! Could you fancy Jolánta killing a bear?"

"A bear! why, she was terrified whenever there were bears about!"

"Ay, but of course Paul's wife must be something to be proud of, something unlike the rest of the world, an Amazon! Well, he made her go out bear-hunting, for I'll never believe she went of her own free will; she killed a bear, they say, with her own hand, looked on more likely, while he did it! But any way, there's the skin, and it's called 'Jolánta's bear,' and she had a swoon or a fit or something after, and has never been herself since, so I was told. She sent you a number of messages, poor girl, and wished you were coming back with me to Pest."

"Poor Jolánta," murmured Dora, "I should like to see her, but not in Pest."

"Ah! and you remember that young jackanapes, Libor?" said Master Peter.

"Paul Héderváry's governor? Oh, yes, isn't he gone to his castle yet?"

"Not he! He is 'climbing the cucumber-tree' as fast as he can! I can't think what made Paul take him up; can't do without him now it seems, looks to him for everything, and has him constantly at his elbow; and yet there is not a prouder man 'on the back of this earth' than Paul."

"But the Mongols, father?" asked Dora, who cared little for Paul and less for his governor, but who could not shake off the impression made upon her by Father Roger.

"My dear child, they have been coming for years! And if they come at last it will be thanks to the Kunok. But they will go back quicker than they came, you may be sure, so don't you trouble your little head about them!"

Master Peter spoke with the confidence he felt; and when he returned to Pest, where his presence was required by the King, he returned alone, a circumstance which set the gossips' tongues wagging anew, for surely he must have some strong reason for not bringing Dora with him. His stay was likely to be a long one this time, and he had never been away from her hitherto for more than a few days together.