Yet throughout this narrative I have, I trust, never shown myself unfair to him. I have told freely how Bern, himself the most reckless of fighters, had praised his courage, and in my account of the storming of Buda I made no attempt to hide his gallantry. Even in this last fight I have mentioned how bravely he rode at the Austrian hussars, and how the glow of health had returned to his cheeks as he bared his weapon for the fray.
No, I am fully persuaded in my own mind that Count Beula did not fear death, but only the manner of it.
Leading or repelling a desperate charge, cheering his men to the deadly breach, or hurling the enemy from the ramparts of an assaulted town, he would have met death cheerfully and without flinching.
Here, on this lonely road, he was not even a soldier. The Austrians regarded him merely as a plotter, an accomplice of the conspirators in Vienna, an instigator of Count Latour's murder, the boon companion of a brigand whose life was forfeit even to Hungarian laws.
Thus the fiat had gone forth that Count Beula, the representative of a noble family, the head of a house celebrated long before the days of Arpad, was to be taken and hanged straightway like the vilest malefactor in the land.
The very thought of this terrible disgrace had, as he admitted, unnerved him; its imminent approach drove him crazy. This, I am fully convinced, was the real reason for his astounding conduct.
The robbers were by this time too far off to render any aid, though several glanced over their shoulders to see what was happening. The hussars had got very close to us.
My horse quivered with excitement, but did not move while I, after several attempts, set the count free.
Exactly what was to be done I had not determined, though it occurred to me that my animal must carry double, or that while Beula rode I must hang on by the stirrups.
In either case, no doubt, I should have been killed or taken prisoner; but the count solved the difficulty in his own way. He looked a strange object as he sprang to his feet. Blood from a wound in the head trickled down his ashy-grey cheeks; his blue eyes stared wildly; he seemed like a man possessed, as I really believe he was.
He glanced at the approaching Austrians and shuddered; then, without a word of warning, he leaped into my saddle and was gone.
It all happened so suddenly that I stood dumfounded. That one of my race and nation could be guilty of such black treachery had never entered my head.
Wild, unreasoning anger succeeded stupor, and I shook my sword at the retreating figure; then anger yielded to pity.
Poor fellow! When the cloud had passed from his mind, what would life be worth to him, even if the story of his cowardice were never made known?
What misery each recurring day would bring, as he thought of the terrible price he had paid for his life--manhood, honour, chivalry, all irretrievably lost in that one mad moment!
For the count's own sake I almost wished that a shot from the enemy would bring him down.
Had I been able to look into the future, the half-wish would have changed into a whole-hearted prayer.
But apparently luck was with the count. My horse, having recovered his wind, bore him gallantly, gaining at every stride upon the last of the robbers.
All this takes long in the telling; in reality it lasted but a little time, though to me it seemed an age.
With Count Beula and my horse had vanished every hope of escape.
Flight was impossible, and how could I stand against a hundred hussars?
Then I remembered Von Theyer, and gnashed my teeth at the thought of how he would gloat over my capture.
Would he kill me? It was likely enough, since I had been found in company with a notorious outlaw, and not many questions are asked concerning the victims of an unsuccessful revolution.
The bandits had disappeared, and I was standing beside the body of the count's dead horse when the leading hussars galloped up.
Von Theyer was not amongst them, I saw at a glance, and smiled.
The leader was the young sublieutenant who had attacked me so furiously in the fight.
He had mounted a fresh horse, but his sword was sheathed, and he looked at me quite good-naturedly.
"You must surrender!" cried he genially. "You have made a good fight, but the odds are against you. One man, though a Magyar, cannot overthrow a hundred."
He spoke in German, and I replied in the same tongue, giving him my sword, and acknowledging myself his prisoner.
Just then Von Theyer arrived, and with a savage scowl exclaimed harshly,--
"Tie that fellow up. Make sure of him, Ober, and put him on your horse. If he gets away, you'll swing in his place."
Ober, a spare but muscular hussar, saluted respectfully, and, helped by another fellow, tied my arms tightly.
Then they lifted me into the saddle; Ober sprang up behind, and we were all galloping hard after Batori and his men.
Von Theyer was in the front again, where I could not see his face; but the one glance had shown I need expect no mercy from him. Even if he forgave my making friends with the pretty Theresa, he must always hate the author of that disfiguring scar across his cheeks.
The wound had in truth spoiled his good looks for ever, and Von Theyer had been a very handsome youth in the days of the insurrection.
The excitement of the ride, however, soon blew these thoughts out of my head; and, as well as my cramped position would allow, I looked eagerly for any signs of the fugitives. Of Batori and his men we did not catch another glimpse; but the brigand chief left us a specimen of his handiwork on the roadside. Von Theyer was the first to see it, and as he stopped the others did the same.
It was a ghastly object, and my blood ran cold at sight of it.
From the bough of the very first tree we reached Count Beula hung lifeless.
Across his breast was fastened a sheet of paper, on which some one had written in Hungarian and German characters the words: "Hungary has no need of cowards."
"The brigand has saved us a job," exclaimed Von Theyer. "If we catch him we'll hang him on the same tree."
Now you may be sure I had no wish to ask a favour of Von Theyer, yet the spectacle of the hapless count swinging there in the breeze nerved me to ask that the body might be cut down and decently buried.
"Buried!" cried Von Theyer scornfully. "Let the dog hang. The kites will bury him fast enough when we are gone."
"You are a brute!" I cried hotly, caring little in my indignation for the consequences.
He raised his hand to strike me, but dropped it again.
"We will square our account later," he said, and gave the word to trot.
We rode on accordingly, but I could not drag my mind from that dreadful place.
I saw nothing of the country through which we passed. I could only see the grey face of the dead count staring down upon me from that primitive gallows.
I never met Batori again, but one of his men years afterwards related just how the tragedy happened.
The bandits, seeing me jump down to the count's assistance when his horse fell, and thinking my animal would have to carry the two of us, slackened their speed, so that we might the more easily catch them up.
When Count Beula arrived by himself, and they, looking back, saw me standing alone beside the dead horse, it was easy to guess what had happened.
The count, who was dreadfully excited, made no attempt to hide what he had done, but explained that had the Austrians captured him they would have hanged him on the nearest tree.
"Or beam," added Batori coolly.
"Tree or beam," answered the count. "That's the order which refers to both of us."
"Well," said the brigand, with the laugh his men dreaded to hear, "we shall have to ride a bit farther before we find one or the other. Come on, count! I'll pledge my word that the Austrians shall never hang you!"
Count Beula, little dreaming of the inner meaning of these words, galloped along with the band, and not another word was spoken till they reached the first tree.
Here the robber-captain called a halt, and making a sign that some of the party should surround the count, said to him,--
"This is where the Austrians would have hung you; but now, perhaps, they will hang Captain Botskay instead."
At this Beula, discovering a little shame, replied falteringly that they would only imprison me for a while; but as for him, he would never have got one step past that tree.
As soon as he had made an end of speaking, Batori raised his hand. The count was seized, torn from his horse, bound, a noose put round his neck, and he was placed directly beneath the fatal bough.
"Count Beula," cried the bandit, "you are a coward, and Hungary has no need of cowards. You have left that lad, who risked his life for you, to die. Now you shall die yourself. Though the Austrians have not caught you, you shall be hanged all the same."
The unhappy man begged piteously--not for his life, but that he might be shot.
Batori, however, remained inexorable, and while the poor wretch was still pleading gave the order. The men pulled at the rope, and the body of Count Beula hung swinging in the wind for the vultures and carrion crows to devour.
Thus, in the strangest way imaginable, it came to pass that Count Beula did hang like a common criminal by the roadside, though the Austrians were not his executioners.
I pitied the poor fellow from my heart, feeling sure that when he left me to face the enemy alone excitement had carried him out of his right senses.
As we rode from the spot I could of course only guess at the details of the tragedy, and indeed years passed before I met one of the actors; but the outline of it was so bold and clear that no one could mistake the general drift of the story, especially with Batori's sign-manual to help.
It gladdened me in after years to learn that the unfortunate count did not really fear death, but only the manner of it, as that was how I had read his conduct.
Wrapped in thoughts of this terrible tragedy, I did not at first notice that my captor's horse had dropped to the rear; for though neither Ober nor I carried any superfluous flesh, the double weight told heavily upon the animal.
The difference was more marked when Von Theyer changed the trot into a gallop; and I suddenly became alive to the fact that were my arms free, I might yet make an effort to escape.
But how was I to work this miracle?
The cords were strong, the knots skilfully tied, my arms were in a vice, while close behind me sat the Austrian trooper armed with sword and pistol.
However, life is sweet, and I set to work under cover of the horse's movements to try, by contracting my muscles, to ease the bonds.
I cannot say how long the attempt lasted, but the knots on my wrist were certainly looser, when a grim "Very sorry, captain, but the game won't work" blew my newly-formed hopes to the winds.
"It isn't that I want you hanged," continued the hussar, "but I'd rather see the rope round your neck than mine, and the colonel's in such a very ugly temper there's no knowing what might happen."
The fellow spoke so coolly that I could hardly keep from laughing, though, from my point of view, there was little humour in the situation.
However, my disappointment was not very keen, as I had hardly allowed myself to hope for success.
The Austrian, frightened a bit perhaps at seeing I did not think escape an impossibility, urged on his horse, resolved to keep within easy reach of his comrades.
Towards evening we entered the village where I had stayed the previous day, and Von Theyer ordered a halt.
The brigands had disappeared entirely, leaving no trace, and our horses were thoroughly done up.
I looked round eagerly in search of my four acquaintances, but in the whole place there was not a man except the landlord of the inn to be seen; evidently the male villagers did not appreciate a visit from the Austrian cavalry.
Von Theyer was, as my jailer had remarked, in a very ugly temper, and scowled at me savagely as Ober pulled up his weary horse.
"Put him in there," said he, pointing to the kitchen of the inn. "And don't forget it's your life or his."
Ober saluted and grinned.
"I'll take precious care it isn't mine, colonel," he answered.--"Here, Franz, lend me a hand."
The hussars dispersed, and entered the cottages in search of food, while I was pushed into the kitchen and dumped down not too softly on the floor.
Ober and the man called Franz remained on guard, and very kindly gave me a share of the black bread, fat bacon, and sour wine which formed their supper.
The food was hardly suitable for delicate stomachs, but my last meal had been supper on the previous night, and I was not in a mood to be particular.
Von Theyer, I suppose, went to see that everything was made safe, as he did not come in till nearly dark, and then passed with two other officers to the inner room.
He spoke a word to Ober, but took no more notice of me than if I had been a log of wood.
"Colonel's in one of his black fits," grumbled Ober to his comrade. "He'll make us smart for not catching that brigand."
"Wait till he does. Time enough to grumble then," replied the other coolly. "Who's going to take the first watch--you or I?"
Ober leaned over to examine my fastenings.
"Ach!" growled he. "We might as well both go to sleep. The Magyar's safe enough, and I'm as tired as a dog."
"All right. It's your head at stake--not mine. But we'll make doubly sure;" and getting some more rope, he tied me to himself.
Ober did the same on the other side, and then lay down so that I was between the pair of them.
Presently the door opened, and half a dozen hussars coming in, wrapped themselves in their long coats, and settled down to sleep.
I cannot say how they had fared in the matter of food, but their breath made it plain they had discovered plenty of liquor.
Night came. The sound of conversation in the colonel's room died away. In the kitchen all was silent save the loud snoring of the half-drunken men.
In the silence and darkness I made an effort to set myself free; but a few trials convinced me that Ober had made no mistake.
True, he and Franz were so exhausted by their forced marches that even a smart tug failed to waken them; but, on the other hand, the knots were so skilfully tied that it was impossible to loosen them.
At last I abandoned the attempt and tried to sleep, but the haunting face of the dead count and anxiety on my own behalf made that no easy matter.
It was strange that Von Theyer had not hanged me at once, and I wondered why he should wish to save my life.
I felt sure it was not out of kindness, and concluded he was governed by the same feelings that lead a cat to play with its victim.
Just here my reverie was broken by an astounding circumstance.
One of the hussars, turning about in his sleep, had brought himself close to the feet of the Austrian Franz, and by a series of wriggling movements was constantly changing his position.
Of course I could not see him plainly, but I could tell that the dark figure was moving, though very, very slowly, until it reached my head.
I lay perfectly still, save for the violent beating of my heart, which would not be controlled.
What did this by-play mean?
Naturally, perhaps, my first thoughts flew to Von Theyer. But then he had no need of foul play. By twisting his orders a little he could easily justify himself in swinging me up, and who was ever likely to question his action?
No, it could not be Von Theyer; but that only deepened the mystery.
Very stealthily a hand crept from the folds of the cloak, and in the fingers was something which glistened.
At this my heart gave one great throb, and then seemed to cease beating.
The glittering object was a long, straight knife, and as the sheen of it fell across my eyes I tried, but tried in vain, to shout for help.
"Be still!"
The words were spoken in Hungarian, hardly above a breath, and I fancied there was a somewhat familiar ring in the voice.
I lay quite quiet, not attempting to speak, and the knife, creeping down, began to rub edgewise against the cords that fastened my wrists.
The steel was sharp, the worker a master-hand, and the hempen threads fell apart as if by magic.
A sharp jerk would have set my wrists free, when Franz stirred uneasily, and though not even half awake, tugged at the rope which bound me to him.
Then he turned over again and was as soundly asleep as ever.
It was a terrible moment for the three of us, but most terrible of all for the unconscious Franz.
The dark figure at my head lay motionless, but the hand underneath that innocent-looking coat held, firmly grasped, a sharp, keen blade.
However, the danger past, the knife again slid down and finished its work. The fellow then wriggled round to our feet, and cut the cords on my legs; only the ropes binding me to my guards remained to be severed.
My excitement grew to an intense pitch; I had to force myself into silence. I wanted to jump up and scream aloud.
My unknown rescuer had apparently no nerves. The steel was pushed forward steadily, without a tremor, and the rope which bound me to Franz was cut.
One link alone remained, and I thought my brain must give way under the strain.
Several of the hussars tossed restlessly, muttering unintelligible words, while here in the very midst of them, within a few yards of their leader himself, was this daring adventurer calmly setting free the victim of that leader's vengeance.
Twice, owing to a trooper's restlessness, he had to stop; but my unknown saviour was as patient as daring, and after each halt he resumed his work.
With the snapping of the last thread I felt as if I really must break into a fit of hysterical laughter, or waken Von Theyer by a defiant taunt; but, alas! my childish glee was soon over. As I was stealing cautiously away, Ober sprang to his feet.
In an instant two dark figures were grappling with each other, swaying this way and that; then a loud cry of "Treachery!" came from the Austrian; there was a swift flash of steel, and poor Ober sank, groaning.
"This way!" shouted my rescuer, and I darted after him towards the door.
The troopers jumping up tried to stop us, but the stranger knocked down several with some heavy weapon, and cleared a passage.
The confusion was tremendous, and the officers, coming from their apartment, vainly endeavoured to find its cause.
We were at the door, outside, free!
"Follow!" cried the stranger, without wasting words; but as he turned for the open country, dozens of troopers poured into the street.
My guide dashed away, and was lost in the darkness, and I should have got clear but for one of the hussars, who flung himself right across my path.
Down I went with a crash, and though rising quickly, a smart blow on the head behind sent me sprawling, and the next instant I was in the midst of the angry crowd.