The Red, White, and Green

by Herbert Hayens

  CHAPTER XVII.

  _THE WOUNDING OF GOeRGEI._

  "All right, Sandor. It's only a pin-prick; but I've had it bandaged,though the surgeon said 'twas a waste of lint. Rub the horse down, andgive it a good feed; there may be fresh work soon."

  The battle was over. The army, including Klapka's division, had retiredbeyond the river, though we still held possession of the bridges. I hadjust returned from my dangerous ride, and the worthy Sandor had given meup for lost.

  I was dead tired, and wrapping myself up cosily, lay down, expecting tofall asleep instantly.

  In this I was wrong, for though my eyes closed, I could not make mybrain rest.

  I thought of my chivalrous brother lying wrapped in his country's flagin the citadel at Buda; I thought, too, of the gallant Rakoczy at Pesth,and wished the old regiment had been in the field that day; but, most ofall, my mind dwelt upon the Austrian leader with whom I had been indeadly conflict.

  The hussars had retreated too quickly for me to find out if I had killedhim.

  Somehow I hoped the poor fellow was not dead; though, had the case beenreversed, I suppose he would not have wasted a thought on me.

  From Von Theyer my mind naturally drifted to the beautiful Theresa, andI wondered how she had borne the news of her bereavement.

  At least it would be some comfort when I could restore the baron'smemento, and tell how we had buried him in the quiet little churchyard.

  My heart grew sadder and sadder as I lingered over the details of thiscruel war, which the day's fighting conclusively showed we could notcarry to a successful issue.

  It was not that a single defeat caused me to despair, but I saw clearlythat we had thrown away our chance of victory.

  Against the Austrians alone we might even now recover our position, butthe arrival of the Russians had made the struggle hopeless.

  Even united we should fail now, and we were not united. Envy, jealousy,and distrust had crept into our councils, and every day the breachbetween the two parties became wider.

  Not that I would have you imagine there was more than one party inGoergei's army. We were all of one mind; but the general was hamperedby the orders of the Diet, and in addition had to shape his course bythe movements of Dembinski.

  Thinking over these things, I lay awake till the dawn, when I at lastmanaged to fall into a sound and refreshing slumber.

  The days following our defeat at Waag were days of extreme misery. Allthe time we fell back, pressed by Haynau's victorious troops and theirRussian allies, till we reached Raab.

  Even here Goergei could do no more than make a feint of defending theplace, which delayed the enemy two or three days, while our main armypushed on towards Waitzen.

  I now understood more clearly the kind of life Stephen had enjoyed.

  Goergei was here, there, and everywhere, directing and encouraging themen, and of course we were with him.

  We slept where and when we could, and did not expect dainties--to anygreat extent, at least--at meal-times. Our banquets were for the mostpart consumed in the saddle, and consisted of bread or biscuit, cheese,and a drink of wine.

  Occasionally the cheese went astray and the wine was missing; then wemunched our bread thankfully, and praised the sweetness of the water.

  Goergei's spirits never once gave way, though I believe that from thehour of turning our backs on the river Waag he knew in his heart thecontest was hopeless.

  Careful of his men, he was utterly reckless of his own safety, andseveral times during the retreat his staff were within an ace of beingcut off.

  Our old opponent Schlick led the pursuit, being well supported by theveteran Russian division which had caused our defeat on the Waag.

  On the morning of the third of July Goergei halted his troops in theforest of Harkaly.

  During the previous night he and I, unknown to almost every one, hadretraced our steps as far as the village of Acz, which we found occupiedin force by the Austrians.

  Having by good-luck managed to return safely, the general spent the restof the night making plans for striking a blow at the dogged Schlick, whoseemed to be ever-lastingly hanging on our rear.

  I do not know if any one else on the staff went to bed, but I lay downfor an hour in the morning, and was wakened by Sandor just before thecombat began.

  Some of the troops were sent on ahead, where they could be seen by theenemy; while the main body of infantry, with the guns, had been secretlyposted in advantageous positions.

  The first blow was to be struck by the cavalry, and the variousregiments presented a magnificent sight as they waited in the cover ofthe forest for the word to advance.

  The mere notion of a fight had restored the men's spirits. They might bebeaten again, but anything was better than the continual running away wehad practised for the last fortnight.

  Goergei, alert and vigorous, had placed himself at the head; and thoughwe feared for his life, it was impossible not to admire his courage.

  He had sent me with a message to General Klapka, and while returning Icaught a glimpse of Schlick's corps moving up from Acz through the opencountry.

  Our decoys had served their purpose, and the Austrians, thinking usstill in full retreat, swung along merrily.

  I hastened to the general, and from the look on his face guessed he hadalready heard the news.

  "Yes," said he; "it's working out nicely. We'll give Herr Schlick alittle surprise presently."

  And we did.

  The affair was over so quickly that I hardly realized it had begun.

  At the word of command we issued from the forest, broke into a trot,then a gallop, finally bursting with a loud cheer upon the astonishedfoe.

  The surprise was complete. Before they had time to make a stand theywere running away.

  Hatless, but unhurt, Goergei pulled up; sent Nicholas Szondi with anorder to Klapka; ordered the pursuit to be continued as far as thevillage of Acz; and rising in his stirrups, took a further survey of thefield.

  "Botskay," said he quickly, "we must have half a dozen guns planted onthose sandhills. See them? Off you go, then, to Benitzky, and don'tlose a second."

  I put my horse to the gallop, and having found the chief of artillery,delivered my message, and rode back.

  At this moment the day was ours. Schlick's corps was routed, ourfellows were hot in pursuit, and a few enthusiasts were already dreamingof Vienna.

  But we reckoned without the Russians.

  Before our artillery could get there, the sandhills were occupied byRussian guns, whose murderous fire sent our cavalry back.

  At the same time our cuirassiers dashed forward on the right, and thenwe saw a body of infantry advancing at the double.

  In half an hour the situation had become critical. Nothing could save usbut the most desperate effort.

  Our general, as usual, rose to the occasion. Placing himself in frontof the hussars, he delivered a short but stirring address, and led themagainst the Russian infantry.

  Twice we dashed at them in gallant style, being thrown back each time;the third time, we resolved, should pay for all.

  Nicholas Szondi and I rode on either side of the general, who once moregave the word to charge.

  Away we went in the midst of a cloud of bullets, while our ranks wereploughed by shot and shell.

  A man somewhere behind me dropped, and his frightened horse, breakingfrom the ranks, rushed to the front.

  With a cry of pain the colonel of the regiment fell, but I afterwardsheard that the gallant fellow used what strength he had left to urge onhis men.

  Crash! It seemed too good to be true, but we really had driven thecharge home; and the riderless horse, the first to make a gap, waslashing out furiously with its heels.

  Goergei was the first man inside, but Nicholas Szondi and I followedclosely, while it seemed as if the whole regiment was treading on ourheels.

  The Muscovite soldiers fought gallantly enough, bu
t I think they wouldnot have lasted other ten minutes, when a terrible misfortune happenedto us.

  The general, as I before remarked, was fighting like a common trooper,and several Muscovites had already felt the weight of his arm, when,suddenly slipping from his saddle, he fell to the ground.

  Instantly I jumped down and ran to him, while Szondi and Mecsey Sandor,who, unknown to me, had joined in the charge, kept off a crowd offoot-soldiers.

  I raised Goergei in my arms. His face was covered with blood; he wasquite insensible, or dead.

  A trooper came to my assistance, and between us we lifted him to hissaddle.

  All this time Nicholas Szondi and Sandor fought like demons in order topreserve breathing space, and by the time we got the general on hishorse they were joined by several others.

  The trooper held Goergei while I remounted, then Szondi joined me, andbetween us we cut our way through the press.

  The news of the disaster quickly spread, and the hussars, disheartenedby the loss of our gallant leader, drew off from the fight.

  On the other hand, the Muscovites, imbued with fresh spirit, redoubledtheir efforts; the infantry resumed their advance, firing volley aftervolley into our retreating ranks.

  Goergei made neither sound nor movement. He sat huddled up just as weplaced him, and but for our support would have fallen helpless.

  Szondi looked at me questioningly, but I shook my head. It wasimpossible for either of us to tell the extent of the mischief.

  We rode fast till we were out of the line of fire, and I then suggestedto my comrade that he should seek Klapka.

  "He is in command now," I said, "and should be told at once."

  Szondi nodded, and asked if I could manage alone; but the faithfulMecsey, who was close behind, volunteered to take his place.

  This he did; and while Szondi galloped off to find Klapka, we proceededwith the general.

  Everywhere now the battle was over, and the Muscovites had again savedtheir allies from destruction.

  But our men retreated in fairly good order, and it was evident that,although Goergei had fallen, the army still possessed a capable chief.

  Halfway through the forest the surgeons had set up an ambulance, andthither we took the general.

  "Goergei?" cried the chief surgeon, when I told him what had occurred.

  "Here, Moritz! Take him gently--so. Now let us see. Plenty of blood,at all events. Bring me some water. Open his jacket, Moritz, and see ifthe heart beats. Yes? That takes a load off my mind. Now to find thewound. Ah! I thought so.--Don't look so scared, Captain Botskay: thegeneral will be all right in a fortnight or so. The blow has made himsenseless for a time, but there ought not to be any real danger. Iwould let the soldiers know, if I were you; 'twill raise their spirits."

  I started at once to find General Klapka, and on the way spread thewelcome intelligence far and wide.

  The men cheered as heartily as if we had gained a brilliant victory; forthey looked on Goergei not only as a general, but as a personal friend,and there were few amongst them who would not willingly have given theirlives to save his.

  General Klapka was busy directing the retreat, but he found time toquestion me closely about his wounded chief, and was unaffectedly gladon hearing the surgeon's report.

  "Goergei is just the one man Hungary cannot afford to lose," he said inhis mild way, and turned again to his duties.

  Having failed to stop the pursuit, the only course open to us now was tofall back upon the entrenched camp before Comorn, and this Klapka atonce set about doing.

  By nightfall we had completely abandoned the forest of Acz, and thevanguard had taken up a strong position several miles eastward.

  I did not see Goergei again till the last man had turned into the campat Comorn, as Klapka kept me pretty busy during the march; but I heardfrom time to time he was progressing favourably, and that the doctorshad no doubt of his recovery.

  It was strange to see him lying in his tent, his head bandaged, his facewhite and bloodless, his body still.

  "Ah, Botskay!" said he, smiling, when I went in the first time, "I haveto thank you. Szondi's been here and told me all about it. Lucky forme that I took you away from Rakoczy, eh?"

  "Szondi had as much to do with it as I, general--more, in fact, for hekept the Russians off while I picked you up. There's a trooper, too,who--"

  "Klapka saw to him--made him a sergeant. There's your man as well; whatof him? Would he like to have the stripes?"

  I shook my head smilingly. To be a sergeant, Mecsey would have to leaveme, and this I was sure he would not do.

  "Never mind!" exclaimed the general. "I'll find some means of doing hima good turn. He's a fine fellow, and not over free with his tongue.Well, it seems likely you'll soon meet Rakoczy again."

  "Is the old regiment coming to join us?" I asked eagerly.

  "No," said he; "but we are rapidly making our way back to Pesth," and helooked at me with a faint smile.

  "We shall turn westward again soon," I exclaimed; but he shook his headwith the air of a man who had no wish to disguise the truth fromhimself.

  The very morning after this conversation a rumour crept through thecamp, though no one seemed able to trace its origin, that Field-MarshalPaskewitch, driving Moritz Perczel's troops before him like a flock ofsheep, had entered Debreczin in triumph. In the men's presence thetruth of the story was contemptuously scouted, but before night theofficers of the staff were made aware that for once rumour had not lied.

  The great Russian army, under its famous chief, had captured Kossuth'sstronghold--the headquarters of Hungarian republicanism.

  This was a serious blow, and I did not wonder that our leaders lookedgrave.

  With Paskewitch at Debreczin, and Haynau forcing us back upon Pesth, wewere awkwardly placed, the more especially as we could only look toourselves for help.

  But this peril was absolutely trivial compared with the astoundinginformation that Nicholas Szondi brought me one morning. I had been outall night seeking news of the enemy's movements, and was breakfastingalone, when my new crony joined me.

  "Glad to see you busy," he said chaffingly.

  I finished the steaming coffee made by the worthy Sandor, and nodded.

  "General better this morning?" I asked.

  "Much. Able to walk about and give directions. Can't ride yet, though;can't stand the jolting. Going to have another smack at the Austriansin a day or two--at least that's what he intended; but I suppose itwon't come off now."

  "Why not?" I asked curiously.

  "Ah!" exclaimed my comrade eagerly, "I thought you hadn't heard thenews. Count Beula's in the camp."

  "Well?"

  "Comes from the Diet, or Kossuth--one and the same thing, I fancy--witha letter or proclamation, or whatever you call it. Expected to findDembinski here, it appears."

  "You make a first-class story-teller, Szondi, only you're in such adreadful hurry to get to the end. Still, the narrative's wonderfullyexciting, so far."

  "Keep your chaff, old fellow. You'll find the finish exciting enough."

  "There is an end then? That's something to be thankful for."

  Szondi took no notice of the interruption, but continued steadily,--

  "This Count Beula, then, arrived last night, expecting to find the Pole;but of course we knew nothing of Dembinski."

  "Not likely."

  "He made himself very agreeable, and we had a pleasant evening."

  "While I was sitting on my horse's back for hours, like a dummy!"

  "Well," said Szondi, without even a smile, "that wouldn't be such hardwork--for you."

  "Not half as difficult as listening to this story."

  "The story? Ah! I'm just coming to the climax. What do you think wasin the letter that Beula brought for Dembinski?"

  "One of Kossuth's brand-new bank-notes."

  "Don't talk rubbish, Botskay. The letter is an official documentproclaiming Dembinski commander-in-chief, in succession
to ArthurGoergei, deposed."

  "What?"

  "Thought you'd get interested at the finish," said he, laughing harshly.

  "How have they wrapped it up?"

  "You may be sure they've sugared the pill nicely. His wound's theexcuse, and he's to be made war minister, or something of that sort."

  We looked hard at each other, and I saw my own thoughts reflected inSzondi's eyes.

  "All right," said he. "I can tell we're both in one mind, and we'llfind a good many others to join us."

  "All the staff for certain."

  "And every man in the army. Dembinski, indeed!"

  "What does Klapka say?"

  "He'll stick to Goergei through thick and thin; so will Nagy Sandor.I'm off now. See you again this evening, and tell you more about it."

  Szondi's news soon spread amongst the officers, causing the greatestconsternation.

  To remove Goergei was to take away the very life and soul of the army.To replace him by the Pole would be rank folly.

  As the day wore on, I became convinced that unless the Diet--or Kossuth,as rightly or wrongly the officers would have it--withdrew the order,there would be mischief.

  Towards the end of the afternoon Szondi came to take me to a meeting ofthe staff.

  "The fellows are furious," he said, "and want to sign a paper refusingto serve under any one but Goergei. What's your idea?"

  "I'll put my name down fast enough."

  "So will the others. Then we'll take it to Klapka, and he'll bringKossuth, or whoever the mover of the affair is, to reason. Here we areat Mizvy's tent."

  The discussion which took place was rather monotonous, as every onespoke on the same side, and the keynote was that Goergei should not go.

  After that Mizvy drew up a counter-proclamation, and I, being theyoungest officer present, was invited to sign first, which I did. Theothers appended their signatures, and then Mizvy was deputed to carrythe document to General Klapka, and explain matters.

  "The general is sure to be with us," said one man, "but, if he needsstiffening, tell him there isn't an officer in the army who wouldn'tgladly put his name to the paper."

  "Nor a soldier either," added a second man.

  "That will make some of them draw long faces over at Pesth," said Szondigaily. "I don't think we shall hear much more of Dembinski ascommander-in-chief."

  Szondi was right. The Diet, interviewed by the two generals, Klapka andNagy Sandor, saw it had gone too far; and Goergei was restored to hisrank, almost without knowing he had been deprived of it. But the more Ilooked at the incident the less I liked it.

  Goergei was the great chief to whom all who did not wish separation fromAustria looked for guidance; and the attempt to take him from the armyshowed very clearly the wide gulf between the two sections of theHungarian nation.

  Meanwhile, matters were becoming very serious in all parts of thecountry.

  In the south, Bern, who seemed to grow stronger after each defeat, stillmade headway against the enemy, but elsewhere our prospects werecheerless.

  Field-Marshal Paskewitch was making a military promenade with his army,and it was likely that we should soon be crushed between him and Haynau.

  Certainly our entrenchments were very strong, and every day--for Goergeihad a great belief in pick and spade--made them stronger; but they couldnot keep out Haynau and the Russians.

  The chief was still prevented by his wound from riding about; but he hadlong and anxious talks with Klapka, and it was finally decided we shouldmake one more attempt to defeat the Austrians before Paskewitch couldsend them help.

  It was the tenth of July when this decision was made, and none of thestaff went to sleep that night till everything had been put in trim forthe approaching conflict.