CHAPTER XXII.
_THE SURRENDER._
It seemed perfectly natural that the first face to meet my waking sensesshould be that of Mecsey Sandor.
I was lying on a bed in a little room, rather bare of furniture, butscrupulously clean, and my trusty servant stood looking at me.
On seeing my open eyes, he placed himself at attention, made a rigidmilitary salute, and said with all seriousness, "I am sorry to report,Captain Botskay, that the Russian officer left in my charge has beenrescued by his friends."
At first I stared hard at him without understanding, then I broke into ahearty laugh that must have done me a world of good.
"Hang the Russian officer!" I exclaimed; "tell me where I am and how Icame here."
"A few miles from Debreczin," Sandor answered gravely. "I found you inthe town light-headed, charging a Russian battery that wasn't there."
"Where's our army?"
Sandor puckered his lips and blew; he could not have given a moresignificant answer.
"Then it's all over?"
"Thereabout, unless Dembinski can reach Arad. Bern's troops have beenbroken into little bits at Hermanstadt, and Dembinski has been chasedout of Szegedin."
I groaned at this, and closed my eyes.
"General Klapka has done well, though," Mecsey continued in his stolidway.
I opened my eyes again, saying, "Klapka is shut up in Comorn."
"So the Austrians thought till the general taught them better. The dayyou were being beaten at Debreczin he came out of the fortress, smashedthe Austrians, chased them to Presburg, took a thousand prisoners,thirty pieces of cannon, and enough ammunition to last him a year."
"Well done, Klapka!" I cried delightedly.
"Of course it won't make any difference in the end," said Mecseycomposedly; and his words were like a douche of cold water.
"Go away, you rascal!" I cried. "But no; tell me first what became ofDembinski after he was driven from Szegedin."
"I don't know. Perhaps he's trying to join the general at Arad."
"If so, we still have a chance. Now help me to dress; we must find ourway back to the army."
"Not to-day," replied Mecsey, "nor to-morrow. The next day, perhaps, ifyou're stronger. Just at present, twenty miles in the saddle wouldleave you weaker than a child."
This was perfectly true, and I let Mecsey have his own way.
So for three days longer I lay in my comfortable bed, waited on byMecsey and the good woman of the house, whose husband and two sons werein Goergei's army--at least she hoped so.
Then, early in the morning of the fourth day, we set out to ride to Aradby a circuitous route, as the main road was barred by the Russians.
The people of the villages, who freely gave us food and shelter, werefilled with strange rumours which totally contradicted one another.
At one place we heard that Kossuth was at Arad with Goergei; at the nextit was believed he had fled into Turkey. Each man, I think, believedthe report which best fitted in with his inclination.
At last we struck the trail of Goergei's army, and all our informantsagreed that the fearful forced marches had told on the troops terribly.
They were short of provisions and forage; the men were half-starved, thehorses like skeletons.
This we learned from the villagers, while I knew for certain there couldbe but a small supply of ammunition.
Then shock followed shock in quick succession. Dembinski, who had nevertried to reach Arad at all, was totally defeated by the Austrians underthe walls of Temesvar, which had held out against part of our forces forone hundred and seven days.
Following this came the news that Kossuth had resigned his office andfled, leaving Goergei to act as he thought proper.
"That's a good dodge," said Mecsey. "Our general's bound to surrenderunless he wants all his men slaughtered; and then everybody will throwmud at him--call him a traitor, very likely."
I laughed at this prophecy, little dreaming how my heart would ache atits fulfilment.
Long afterwards Rakoczy told me that my servant was far from being alonein his foresight.
Many gallant officers thought the general should refuse to be made thefigure-head, now that everything was in ruins; but Goergei was a truepatriot. He thought of the welfare of his distracted country, andmanfully threw himself into the breach.
He had sacrificed everything for his countrymen; now he was prepared tolose even their goodwill and esteem.
The chance had come too late. Paskewitch, with his two corps ofveterans, was pressing on one side; General Luders barred the way intoTransylvania; Goergei's old opponent, Schlick, at the head of theAustrian advanced guard, was hurrying from Temesvar to hem him in, andthere was none to help.
On the twelfth of August he wrote a letter to the Russian general,offering to capitulate, and laid it before his chief officers, whosorrowfully acknowledged that nothing else could be done, unless theywere willing to fight a battle which would be only a massacre.
These details were told me later by Rakoczy, for at the time of theirhappening I was riding with Mecsey over villanous by-roads to Arad, andonly arrived on the morning of the thirteenth of August, the date fixedfor the surrender.
Mecsey urged me to turn back at once; but although I could do no good, Idetermined to proceed to Vilagos, where the laying down of arms was totake place.
As it chanced, a robe which Mecsey had procured completely hid myuniform, and I was wearing a kalpag--a round fur cap ornamented by awhite heron's plume.
Crowds of peasants swarmed in the country roads, while people of higherdegree rode on horseback or in light latticed-side wagons to witness themournful spectacle.
And it was mournful in the extreme.
To a high-spirited nation this blow was almost worse than death.
Hardly a word was spoken among all the sad company. Women wept, strongmen bowed their heads and shuffled along like felons. Even I, who lovedGoergei, felt a spasm of indignation that he had not chosen to sacrificehis country rather than consent to such humiliation.
Yet the sight of his broken army showed he could have done nothing else.
Ragged, shoeless, half-starved, without ammunition, exhausted byhundreds of miles of terrible marching, hemmed in on all sides by thevictorious enemy, what could these brave fellows have done?
There was only one answer, which came from a woman--hardly more than agirl, in fact--who stood near me.
"They should have died!" she cried passionately. "I have a brother anda sweetheart over there, and I would willingly have lost them to spareour country such disgrace."
A murmur of applause arose from the bystanders, and when one--an old manwho had seen many years and much sorrow--ventured to object, I thoughtthe crowd would have torn him in pieces.
The disputes, the endless squabbles, the different aims of theinsurgents, the bitter enmity between the national party and therepublicans, were all forgotten in this sad hour.
"O land of the Magyars! land of the Magyars! that it should ever come tothis!" cried another woman in heart-breaking accents. "I would givehusband, father, brother, sons, everything to wipe out this eternalshame from my native land!"
"And cry your eyes out for them afterwards!" exclaimed Mecsey roughly."What good will twenty thousand dead men do Hungary? Let them live,woman, and bide their time. The turn of the black and yellow dogs willcome."
This plain talk would have provoked disorder; but just then ourattention was distracted by the sight of Goergei riding alone to meetthe Russian general.
He was simply dressed, the only bit of colour being the collar of goldbraid attached to his brown blouse. His heavy riding-boots reachedabove the knee, and he wore a round black hat, with a waving whitefeather.
The staff followed, conspicuous in short green attilas, with heavy goldtrimmings, and with herons' plumes in their hats.
The Russian leader, similarly accompanied, advanced
from his lines, andwe watched the two generals exchange hand-clasps.
I sat my horse and gazed spellbound while they talked, pitying thechivalrous Goergei from my heart.
Meanwhile, the Hungarian troops were still marching to their appointedplaces, while the Russian army stood in two long lines on the plain ofVilagos.
The conference between the leaders ceased; they returned to their posts,and we waited impatiently for the end.
At length all was ready. The Magyars were drawn up in two linesopposite their Muscovite foes--the infantry in the first, with thecavalry on the wings; the artillery in the second.
Once again Goergei and his staff rode to the front, where the Russiangenerals met them.
"_Goergei and his staff rode to the front, where theRussian generals met them._" Page 338]]
The two leaders saluted, and then along the whole line sounded thebeating of drums.
My eyes ached, my brain grew dizzy, my heart throbbed violently as Istrained forward, eagerly watching.
That rolling of drums was the death-knell of all our hopes.
At its signal the Russians presented arms, proudly but notvaingloriously, and then--
There was a low wail, a cry of despair from the spectators, an outburstof grief such as I had never heard, shall never hear again.
Strong men shook with grief, women sobbed as if their hearts werebroken, as our gallant infantry laid their useless weapons on theground, the cavalry on their saddles.
As for me, I crouched low, hiding my face in my horse's mane.
I have known much of happiness since then, but no joy has ever effacedthe impression made on that sorrowful day.
Even now, as I sit dreaming many years after the event, the picturerises before me fresh as ever.
With eyes open or shut, I see as in reality the pyramids of muskets; thecannon drawn close together, and without gunners; the dismountedcavalry, with their swords on the pommels of their saddles; the lovedflags and standards, that had fluttered so proudly on many battlefields,lying in the dust.
I see the glorious red, white, and green stripes dirty and in rags, andthink of the one that wraps all that remains of my gallant brother. Isee the thousands of brave men who have fought and bled for Hungary, nowdisarmed and impotent, but still undaunted even in that hour ofbitterness.
Then again the rolling of drums pierces my ears, and I see the breakingof the ranks as the men, under strong escorts, are marched off to theirvarious destinations.
I hear, too, the first whisper, which afterwards swelled into a loudroar, that Goergei is a traitor, and has sold his country to theRussians. My ears burn like fire, and I blush for my countrymen.
It is not given to us to probe the secrets of the human heart, and I wasabsent from my general in the latter days; but I had marched with him,toiled with him, fought at his side, seen him go again and again toalmost certain death, in order to rally his failing soldiers, and Ijudge a man by his actions.
But my dreams run away with me. I must return to that sorrowful eveningof August 13, when Mecsey, plucking at my sleeve, brought me back toreal life.
"It's all over," he said brusquely; "and now that the prey is secured,the Austrian jackal will come to pick the bones."
"The Austrians will not dare," I began; but he stopped me with amirthless laugh.
"Goergei has saved the army at the expense of the officers," he said."There will be a fine feast of death before long."
These words added to my misery, for I thought of my light-hearted friendRakoczy, and wondered if he would be counted amongst the victims.
I expressed my fears to Mecsey, who promptly proposed that we shoulddiscover where the colonel had been taken.
This, however, was more easily said than done, as we soon found.
Russian troops in charge of their prisoners were marching in alldirections, and it was impossible to scan them all.
We went about hither and thither, asking questions of the crowd tolittle purpose; but at length we had the good fortune to meet with anumber of soldiers belonging to the 9th Honveds, who had slipped fromthe ranks at the very moment of surrender.
They were all looking miserable and dejected; but one, catching sight ofme, ran up eagerly.
"From the colonel, sir," he cried joyfully; "though neither of us everexpected I should have the luck to meet you."
He took a folded paper from his pocket, and I pounced on it quickly.Here, no doubt, was the very information we sought; but in this I wasdisappointed.
The dear, unselfish fellow, indifferent to his own fate, had used thelast moments of his freedom to send me a warning.
"Look out for yourself," the note ran; "your name alone will get youinto trouble. Give Gyula [that was my home] a wide berth till thewolves are gorged.--J.R."
Not a word either of hope or fear for himself; all his cares were forme.
That was just like "John the Joyous," and my eyes were dim as I placedthe paper in my pocket.
The faded characters, barely legible now, meet my eyes as I write; forthat scrap of soiled paper remains one of my most sacred treasures, andit lies in a little golden casket on my desk.
"Have you found him, captain?"
The speaker was Mecsey, and when I shook my head sadly he immediatelybegan to question the soldiers.
Here, again, we were at fault. No one really knew where the colonelwas, some asserting he had been taken to Gros-Wardein with Goergei,others saying he had gone south with his regiment to Nagy Kikinda.
We spent another hour in questioning various men who had escaped fromVilagos, but could gain no news of the colonel, though several statedpositively that the 9th Honveds had marched southward under a strongescort.
Then I held council with Mecsey, and we decided to separate, he toreconnoitre Gros-Wardein, while I followed my old regiment. At the endof a week we were to meet again at Arad, by which time it was likelythat one of us would have discovered my missing friend.
"Good-bye, captain," said Mecsey, grasping the hand I held out to him,"and take the colonel's advice. It's easier to get into an Austrianprison than out of one."
"All right, my trusty fellow; I shall keep my eyes open, though I'm nottall enough for the Austrians to cut down."
So we parted, guessing little of the events which would happen before wemet again.
Night was fast closing in by now, and in the darkness I missed thebridge over the Maros River, which made me lose nearly two hours, andprevented me from striking the trail of the 9th Honveds.
However, I found the bridge at last, and, crossing to the other side,pursued my way at hap-hazard as long as my horse could keep going; thenI sat down by the roadside and waited for the morning.
At sunrise I started again, leading the animal by its bridle, until alucky chance brought me to a village.
It was a small place, containing not more than twenty houses at theoutside; but it boasted an inn, where I might haply procure food formyself and horse.
Four men dressed in peasants' clothes, but having a distinctly militarybearing, sat on the "word-bearer"--the bench placed against the wall ofmost Hungarian country houses--gossiping. At sight of my uniform (for Ihad unfastened my mantle) they sprang to their feet and approached mewith bare heads.
My suspicions were at once verified, and I exclaimed, "You have donewell, my lads. A free Magyar is worth more than an imprisoned one.Only, should the Austrians pass through, slouch your shoulders and stoopa little; you bear the marks of the drill-sergeant too plainly."
They smiled at one another, and one taking my horse led it through thecourtyard into the stable behind the inn.
Another spoke my name, and though I could not remember their features,they claimed to belong to the old regiment.
He who had attended to my horse was the keeper of the inn, which he nowrespectfully invited me to enter.
Bidding the others come too, I questioned them concerning their colonel,while the hostess prepared a meal.
Fate was, perhaps, ag
ainst me, for they could tell little beyond what Ialready knew.
The 9th Honveds had passed through in the night without a halt, and allthe country round was covered with our disarmed troops marching toprison in charge of their Russian captors.
All this they told me eagerly; but as to Colonel Rakoczy they could tellnothing.
Naturally I was much disappointed; but comforting myself with thethought that I was at least on the track of the regiment, I made ahearty breakfast, took a look at my horse, and having sent the men toact as sentries, lay down for a couple of hours' sleep.
At the end of that time my host wakened me, and I rose, greatlyrefreshed by the brief rest.
My horse, too, was all the better for its food and grooming; and Imounted quite gaily, having first thanked the keeper of the inn for hiskindness.
"Take care you don't run against the Austrians, captain," the mananswered. "From what I hear, their cavalry can't be far off."
"All right, my good fellow; though they aren't likely to interfere withme."
The innkeeper shook his head. He had little faith in the mercy of theAustrians.
The other men now came to say a word in parting, and then I rode slowlypast the little gabled, whitewashed houses, and so again into the opencountry.
It was a glorious day, and under other circumstances I should haveenjoyed the ride immensely; but my good spirits sank at thought ofGoergei's surrender, and of John Rakoczy's personal danger.
Everywhere the people whom I met or overtook were ready to answer myquestions; but the day ended without my having seen any sign of the 9thHonveds.
From time to time, however, it was told me that the Russians were in theneighbourhood; so towards night I went warily, not wishing to be takenprisoner.
Between nine and ten o'clock I entered the street of another village,and pulled up at the inn--the only house that showed a light.
A huge hound lying in the courtyard barked violently, the noise bringingout several men, who eyed me with suspicion.
Inquiring in sharp tones for the landlord, I ordered him to take myhorse to the stables, and without paying any attention to the othersentered the kitchen of the inn.
The men followed closely, and by the light of the candles I was able tosee the kind of company I had got amongst.
There were six of them altogether, each wearing a cuirass and armed witha pair of pistols; while the room was littered with sharp lances andloaded hatchets.
The fellows stood looking at me with broad grins, as if amused at mysurprise; while I, on the other hand, had more than a passing doubt asto what might be the upshot of this adventure.
It would be rather a melancholy end to my campaigning if I were knockedon the head by these "poor lads," as the country folk called thebandits, whose profession my new companions evidently followed.
Thinking the sight of my uniform might inspire respect, I unfastened mymantle carelessly; and, as I had half expected, the men at once assumeda respectful bearing.
"An officer of the staff who has escaped from the Russians!" cried one."We must tell the chief."
"Where is he?" I asked.
"At supper in the inner room, my master."
"Then tell him Captain Botskay will be pleased to bear him company."
The man knocked at the door separating the kitchen from the nextapartment, held a conversation with some one inside, and returned to saythat Batori Gabor would be happy to give me greeting.
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