CHAPTER VII.

AT THE VERY DOORS.

The time of which we are writing was a critical one in Hungary's history. "She was sick, very sick, and the remedy for her disease was bitter in proportion to the gravity of her condition." (Jókai Mór.)

The power and prestige of the sovereign had lost much under Béla's predecessors, first his uncle and then his father; for the latter had rebelled against his brother, and the civil war had increased the importance of the magnates, while it diminished that of the sovereign. Béla's father András had succeeded his brother, and had shown himself as weak, as vain, and as untrustworthy, as king, as he had done as subject.

Béla had inherited many difficulties, and in his eagerness to set matters right, had been over-hasty, over-arbitrary, and had made enemies of many of the great nobles by curtailing their extorted privileges.

András, always in need of money, had given and pawned Crown property, until there was little left. Béla, succeeding to an almost empty treasury, had recalled some of those donations which never ought to have been made; and also, by way of instilling respect for the King's majesty, had withdrawn from the great nobles certain privileges, which they bitterly resented, for some of them had attained such a pitch of might and wealth as rendered them independent of the King and the law. There were two classes of nobles, the magnates and the lesser nobility, the latter being more and more oppressed by the former. All who owned a piece of land were "noble," but as their possessions differed greatly in amount, so some were rich and others very much the reverse.

The nobles of both classes, and the clergy attended the Diets; but the mass of the people were as yet unrepresented.

Standing army there was hardly any, and when the King wanted troops he had to raise them, and pay them as he could. Those who held crown-fiefs were bound to obey the King's call to arms, but at his cost, and not their own, and all nobles of whatever degree were bound to join his standard if the country was attacked, not otherwise. If the King wanted them to cross the frontier, he must bear the expense; and if they did not choose to go, he was helpless and could not punish them.

But, to be first in the field is often half the battle. To wait until the enemy is actually in the country may spell disaster and even ruin.

Béla was well aware of the danger which threatened. He had heard much from Kuthen, and he had other sources of information as well, men who kept him well posted in all that was going on. Troops he must have if the country was to be saved; and as the Kunok were always ready for war he felt obliged to favour them; and, to raise money for the pay of others, he was obliged to pledge the Crown revenues and to debase the coinage.

If Hungary had been of one mind in those days, if all had been ready to rise in her defence as once they would have done, she would have had little difficulty in driving back the Mongols; but some of the magnates secretly hoped for a reverse, if so be the King might be thereby humbled. They little knew!

Rumours as to the advance of the Mongols were rife throughout the winter; but the month of March, 1241, had arrived, and still there was nothing to be called an army, in spite of the sending round of the bloody sword, and in spite of the King's most urgent commands, entreaties, and personal exertions.

On the 11th of the month came the first note of actual alarm in a despatch from Héderváry the Palatine, who was guarding the north-eastern frontier. He announced that the Mongols had reached the pass of Verecz (almost in a straight line with Kaschau), and that it was impossible for him to hold them back unless large reinforcements were sent to him at once.

The King, meanwhile, had despatched ambassadors to his old enemy Friedrich, of Austria, urging him in his own interest to come to the help of Hungary. To the Kunok in their new settlements he had also sent orders to mount at once, and they required no second bidding, but set out immediately for the camp.

The Queen and Court had left Pest for Pressburg, whither all who took the coming danger in the least seriously, and many even who professed to think little of it, had sent their womankind. The few who dared run the risk of leaving them in country houses, with moats and walls as their sole defence, were nobles whose castles were believed to be inaccessible, or so far from the frontier and so buried in the woods, that they had every reason to hope that they would remain undiscovered. The Hédervárys and the Szirmays were not of this number, always excepting Master Peter; for, such was their reputation for wealth, that it seemed only too likely that, to save their own skins and perhaps share the spoil, some of their servants and dependants might turn traitors and betray them to the Mongols. They, therefore, were among the first to send their wives and children to Pressburg, lavishly provided with all that they might need, and accompanied by brilliant trains of men-at-arms.

Pressburg was full to overflowing, and to every man there were at least ten women. Jolánta, of course, was there, and was daily looking forward to the pleasure of seeing Dora; not doubting for a moment that her uncle would send her with all speed as soon as he himself left home to join the army.

But the days had passed, and not only had Dora not come, but no one knew where she was, or anything about her. There was no little wonderment at this among those whose minds were sufficiently at leisure to wonder about anything not immediately concerning themselves or their families. It was odd that Master Peter should have stayed so long in Pest without her, a thing he had never done before; it was odder still that he should not have sent her to Pressburg, out of harm's way. Surely he must have placed her somewhere to be taken care of! He could never think of leaving her at home, and alone, when the time of his absence was likely to be so uncertain. They knew, indeed, that his ancient hall was so buried in dense woods, and so surrounded by ravine-like valleys, that no one would be likely to find it unless they knew of its existence and went there for the purpose; yet at the same time, as he and Stephen had been busy collecting their troops, and seemed to consider preparations of some sort necessary, he would surely never be satisfied to leave Dora alone in a place which, though strong enough to resist any ordinary foe, would certainly not be safe from the thieving, burning Tartars, if they should discover it.

And yet, in spite of all these conjectures, that was precisely what Master Peter had done. We have already mentioned his reasons for not taking his daughter to Pest. The same reasons prevented his sending her to Pressburg. He would not have her exposed to sneers, perhaps insults, when he was not at hand to protect her.

Dora herself was quite against going to swell the Queen's train; and her father was more than a little hurt that, whereas her Majesty (so Paul's mother told him with satisfaction) had especially summoned Jolánta to join her with all speed, she had not said a word to show that she even remembered Dora.

What Dora wished was to follow her father and share all his dangers, labours, and hardships--no such very uncommon thing in those days, when women were often safer with their fathers, husbands, and brothers, than they could be anywhere else. Her father was Dora's first thought, as she was his; but at first he would not give her any decided answer. The Mongols were not yet in the country; and he and his brother, though they loyally obeyed the King's orders, were among those who thought him far too anxious, and his preparations more than were necessary.

At all events, he would not take her with him when he set out with his troop for the camp at Pest, but he promised, if he could not find any better way of ensuring her safety, that he would come later on, put her in a coat of armour, and take her with him. The only question was where she had better stay meantime, and he decided that on the whole home would be best.

The seneschal, or governor, was a gloomy and rather lazy man, but thoroughly honourable. Peter knew what a bold, brave man he was when it was a question of bears, wolves, and wild boars, and in his simplicity he argued with himself that courage was courage and that a man courageous in one way must needs be courageous in all!

Peter would have liked much to take with him Talabor, of whom he had lately grown quite fond, but it suddenly flashed across him that in any case of unexpected danger, the younger man, full of life and energy, would not be less courageous than the portly seneschal, while he would certainly be more active and resourceful. Talabor, who was burning to accompany his good master, was therefore told that for the present he was to remain at home. Master Peter had a long conversation with him before his own departure, and gave him full instructions, so far as that was possible, as to what he was to do in case of accidents, which Peter himself never in the least expected to occur.

And then he rode away at the head of a very respectable troop, or "banderium," consisting of the lesser nobility of the neighbourhood, and of such recruits as he had been able to enlist; and on reaching Pest he found that the Szirmay contingent, furnished by himself and his brother, was first in the field. Soon after arrived the King with the troops which he had been raising himself in the two home-counties.

Pest was becoming daily more like a camp. The streets, the open spaces, were turned into bivouacs, the officers slept in tents; and, as most of the men were mounted, on all sides was to be heard the neighing of horses, tethered by long ropes in the open air. Earthworks were being hastily thrown up at a considerable distance beyond the walls of the town, these walls themselves being low and hardly capable of defence, as they were not everywhere provided even with moats.

Impossible to describe the state of bustle and excitement in which everyone in Pest was living just then, and at first sight no one would have discovered anything like fear in the animated and hilarious crowd which filled the thoroughfares. The Mongols were spoken of in terms of the utmost contempt as a wild, undisciplined, unorganized rabble, who would fly at the mere sight of "real troops," properly armed!

Everywhere was to be heard the sound of music and boisterous mirth on the part of the younger nobles, who made great display of gaudy apparel, fashionable armour from Germany, huge plumes, and high-spirited horses.

Like peacocks in their pride, they loved in those days to make a show of magnificence. And if this was true more or less of all the higher and wealthier nobility, particularly of the younger members, it cannot be said that the lower classes, or the less wealthy, were at all behind-hand in following the example of their betters.

The King himself hated display, though he did not despise a becoming state and magnificence when occasion required; but those who were attached to his Court, or to the retinue of the great lords, spiritual and temporal, delighted to imitate the young magnates as far as they could. Foremost among these was now Libor the clerk, Héderváry's well-known governor, whom his young master found so prompt and ready, so helpful in carrying out, and so quick to approve all his whims, that it became more and more impossible to him to dispense with his services, and he kept him constantly about him.

Libor sported a gigantic plume in his cap, and his sword made such a clanking as he walked, that people knew him by it afar off. Whenever he had the chance, he might be heard declaiming in praise of the heroic King, and affirming that everyone who did not support him was a scoundrel. All who were in favour of active measures highly approved of Libor; even the King knew him, at least by name, for there was not such another fire-eating Magyar in the whole of Pest, and all were agreed that the King had no more devoted subject than this exemplary young clerk.

Bishops, abbots, magnates, and the King's brother, Duke Kálmán, were arriving now with their expected troops; but on March 14th arrived one who was not expected, and at whom people looked in terror and amazement.

He rode up slowly, wearily, at the head of a few hundred men, as worn and weary as himself; and as he came nearer, people whispered under their breath, "Héderváry the Palatine!" Héderváry, who was supposed to be defending the passes of the Carpathians!

His armour was battered, his helmet crushed, and a sabre cut across the face had made him hardly recognisable. He rode straight up to the King's tent, before which the Diet was assembled, no one, not even his old friend Peter, daring to speak to him, though he gazed on him hardly able to believe his eyes, and with a sudden chill of alarm as he thought of Dora.

For a few moments no one spoke, but after more than one attempt, the Palatine got out the broken words, "God and the Holy Virgin protect your Majesty!"

Then, turning to the assembled Diet, he added, "Comrades! the enemy is in our land! Our small force held the pass seven days; on the eighth the flood burst through and flowed over dead bodies. You see before you all who escaped! God and the Holy Virgin protect our country!"

Héderváry bowed his head upon his horse's neck to hide his face.

The sensation was immense, the news flew quickly from mouth to mouth, and before long all Pest knew of the disaster, and knew, too, that in the Palatine's opinion the enemy might reach Pest itself within a day or two--a day or two! with such awful speed did the torrent rush forward.

If Peter had been incredulous before, he was anxious enough now, when he heard of the lightning-like rapidity with which the Mongols were advancing, of the 40,000 pioneers who went before them, cutting a straight road through the thickest forests, of the catapults for throwing stones and masses of rock, against which nothing, not even the strongest walls, could stand. He could not leave his post, it was even questionable whether he could reach Dora now if he made the attempt; for, when the scouts came in they more than confirmed all that the Palatine had said, with the additional information that five counties had been already devastated, and that Batu's army was within half a day's journey of Pest itself.

That same night the red glare in the sky told of burning towns and villages only a few miles off; and the day after Héderváry's return small bodies of Mongols actually appeared on the very confines of Pest, laying hands on all that they could find, and then vanishing again like the lightning, as suddenly as they had come.

The fortifications of the city were pushed on with redoubled energy, and all were wildly eager to go out at once and challenge the enemy. But the King's orders were strict; no one was to go out and attempt to give battle until the whole army was assembled, when he himself would take the command. Not a third part had come in yet, and the men chafed impatiently at the delay. Even now, however, with danger facing them, there was little unity in the camp, little order, little discipline; everyone who had any pretension to be "somebody," wanted to give orders, not obey them, and, in fact, do everything that he was not asked to do.

But as the troops continued to come in, as the earthworks rose higher, and the ditches and trenches grew broader; as, above all, the King seemed to have no fears, confidence revived, and those who had been timorous ran to the opposite extreme, and began to believe that the King had but to give the signal for battle, and the enemy's hosts would at once be scattered like chaff. They not only believed it, but loudly proclaimed it. Libor was especially loud and emphatic in his expressions of confidence, and went about from one commander to another, trying his utmost to obtain a post of some sort in the army.

He succeeded at last, for Héderváry the Palatine had lost his best officers, and knowing how highly his son thought of Libor, he gave him a command in his own diminished army. Whereupon Paul presented the young governor with a complete suit of armour, and from that day forward Libor did not know how to contain himself. He was a great man indeed now, and he might rise still higher. In fact, so he told himself, the very highest posts were open to him!