A World to Win

by Mary Lancaster

  “Don’t be ungrateful,” Alex scolded her gently.

  “I’m not ungrateful! I have already thanked him, but I want to know what he has done for you, and how he did it!”

  “Not unreasonable,” Lajos conceded. “Well, when Batthyány had agreed to our first three demands, I told them that there had been an officer involved last night who had refused to obey the order to attack, and who was now to be charged.”

  “What did they say?” Katalin asked breathlessly.

  “Batthyány said he would look into it,” Lajos said wryly. “I said that was not good enough, that you, Alex, had done your best to protect the people — which was, in fact, the Cabinet’s job — and that it was not fair that you should be the only soldier to suffer for the night’s work. I said we, the people, wanted a pardon for you.”

  “That’s it, Lajos!” cried Mattias, delighted. “Have at them!”

  But Alex, looking at his friend, said sardonically, “I don’t suppose Batthyány sat down and signed it though, did he?”

  “No,” Lajos admitted. “There followed a whole collection of excuses, such as it was the business of the war minister, currently unavailable; and how a soldier who disobeys any order is at fault, and so on. I said the people did not see it that way, and looked directly at Kossuth. I think he understood me. The people had dug him out more than once; now it was his turn to give, or pay the price. And then István — did I tell you he was there?”

  “István? He’s not in the Cabinet!” Mattias exclaimed.

  “No, but as a member of the Vice-Regal Council he still has influence and knowledge which the Cabinet needs. He had been watching me with some suspicion since I had started to speak, but now he asked suddenly the name of the officer in question.”

  “Oh dear,” I murmured. “Did you tell him?”

  “I had to,” said Lajos, glancing at me.

  “I don’t suppose you induced him to see Alex as a hero instead of a deserter?”

  “You over-estimate my powers of persuasion. István will make up his own mind on that.”

  “We thought we were winning him over,” Katalin said sadly.

  “Who knows? He may be won. He certainly never mentioned the one thing he knew against Alex — that he had, in uniform, sided with our silent protest at Szelényi. I’ve no idea whether Kossuth would count that in his favour or not, but I have a feeling István was right not to bring it up.”

  “So did Kossuth support the pardon?” Mattias asked eagerly.

  “Not exactly. He pointed out quite reasonably that Alex could not be pardoned until the results of the enquiry vindicated him. I accepted that and suggested that in the meantime he be granted leave of absence and a safe conduct to travel anywhere in Hungary or Transylvania until either the enquiry exonerated him, or a date was set for a hearing.”

  He smiled slightly. “I promised that if it was the latter, I would defend you, Alex, and assured them categorically that you would be acquitted.”

  “I have always admired your vanity,” Alex observed, a laugh lurking in his huge eyes.

  “So did Kossuth, and he knew I wasn’t referring solely to my skills as a barrister: the people are on your side. Anyway, the Cabinet conferred for a few minutes, and then agreed. I more or less dictated the wording — here.”

  He produced a folded paper from his pocket and held it out to Zarescu. “I have a copy, and one has been sent to your commanding officer.”

  Slightly dazed, Alex took the paper from him, but continued to gaze at him. At last he said, “I can’t believe that after all these years you are still bailing me out of trouble.”

  “Well, I’ve always done my best to get you into it in the first place,” Lajos said, a touch ruefully. He rose to his feet. “I wouldn’t go back to barracks just yet though. You can stay with me till you decide what to do.”

  “I have decided,” Alex said, standing with him. “I shall go to Blaj — to the Romanian congress.”

  Lajos nodded, faintly smiling. “Good. Remind them that they must stay with the rest of Hungary if they are to gain anything, if any of us are!”

  It seemed that the crisis was over. So, with the vague idea that I should now put as much distance as possible between myself and Lajos, I moved unobtrusively towards the door.

  “You’d better check first that no one is around,” Mattias said, carelessly ruining my plan. “Ilse had run out of reasons to be skulking down here.”

  I nodded, but as I laid my hand on the doorknob, I was aware of Lajos beside me.

  “I have become adept,” he said lightly, and I barely had time to whisk my hand away before his fingers closed over where it had lain. Yet for a moment he did not open the door, but just looked at me. My eyes fell instinctively, and then pride forced me to meet his gaze again — which was a mistake, for he was too close and I could not step back without admitting my weakness. As if he understood this, his lips quirked upwards in the oddly charming half-smile that had always been my undoing.

  My already troubled heart seemed to leap into my throat. I had the sudden urge to cast sense and caution to the winds and go with him wherever he chose, in whatever role he desired me. There was nothing else in the world that I wanted, and in that moment I yearned for it with a strength that made me dizzy.

  Through the argument and chatter of the others, he said quietly, “Thank you for coming to me with this.”

  I swallowed, but no words would come. I could only look up at him with dumb, helpless misery, and hope I was not as transparent as I felt. And suddenly he frowned; I heard him swear softly under his breath as he glanced quickly at the others.

  “Katie, this is impossible,” he said urgently. “I have to speak to you.”

  “No,” I managed to return firmly. Somewhere, behind the blind emotion, my head and my sense of self-preservation were still functioning. “There is nothing to say.”

  And then, mercifully this time, Mattias was beside us, talking. A moment longer, Lajos hesitated, then he opened the door a crack and looked out. All was pronounced safe and I fled towards the stairs without waiting to say good-bye to either Alex or his saviour. It was as well everyone already considered me eccentric.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The power of the people, it seemed, was still paramount. Lederer was recalled to Vienna; an enquiry into the incident was opened, and the Cabinet announced a National Assembly to open on the second of July.

  Mattias, naturally, was exuberant. At last an Assembly would exist which was truly representative of the people.

  “Of the people with property,” I corrected drily.

  “Or education. It still enfranchises more people than are allowed to vote in Britain!” Mattias said triumphantly. “They’re all to stand for election, you know — Petöfi, Arany, Irinyi, Irányi, old Táncsics.”

  I nodded thoughtfully. And Lajos — what a fine achievement it would be for him to sit in the National Assembly; no doubt it would be the beginning of a glittering political career, for I could not imagine that he would fail to shine in the Assembly, to stir it up and carry all before him...

  By this time, we were ready to go to Transylvania, and I felt a sudden panic at leaving Buda-Pest. The elections, the Assembly, would happen without me; Lajos’s life would go on without me.

  The day before we left, I ran into Petöfi in Vaci Street, swaggering towards me with his wife proudly on his arm. He no longer wore the monstrous sword of March days, but it was still somehow incongruous to find him doing anything so mundane as shopping with his wife. His face lit up when he saw me, and Julia smiled welcomingly. Despite their connection with Lajos, I could not but be pleased at their friendliness, so I stopped to exchange greetings and news.

  “How are you?” Petöfi demanded. “We never see you these days!”

  “That’s because you are too busy,” I said lightly. “And soon to be more so, I hear. Where will you stand for election?”

  “In my home town — I have a good chance.”

&
nbsp; “I’m sure no one has a better,” I said genuinely, and won a smile from Julia. “Are your friends also standing?”

  “Yes, except for Vasvári and Jókai, who are under twenty-four and therefore two young. And Lajos, of course.” His gaze grew speculative, even as I frowned in quick surprise.

  “Lajos is not standing?”

  “He says not. I assumed you knew.”

  I flushed under his bright, penetrating gaze, but I managed to say calmly, “I have not spoken to him recently...”

  “Perhaps you could persuade him?” Petöfi suggested, and when I opened my mouth for instant refusal, he added quickly, “I know you will say it is his choice, and you are right. But how can his choice not be to serve the people?”

  It was what I was wondering myself. “What does he say?” I asked evasively.

  “That he can better serve the people by staying outside the establishment,” Petöfi answered with a shade of ruefulness. “And yes, I see his point, but to deprive the Assembly, the people, of his not inconsiderable talents — you see?”

  “Yes, I see.”

  “And then, it would be such a step forward in his career. I know Lajos cares nothing for that, but his friends do.”

  “Yes,” I agreed sadly.

  “Then you will speak to him?”

  I smiled a little nervously. “I’m afraid you over-estimate my influence with him — I could not persuade him.”

  Petöfi smiled unbelievingly, and would have spoken further, but I quite distinctly saw Julia pinch his arm, and in the end he said only, “Oh well, if you see him, you might try.”

  “I’m leaving Buda-Pest tomorrow,” I said quickly, “but I wish you, and your friends all success in the elections — good-bye!”

  * * * *

  We reached Kolozsvár in time for István to take part in the Diet’s crucial vote on union with Hungary. I wondered that Lajos was not here to add his weight to the cause, but it seemed the result was never really in doubt. The Diet voted for union, and the people of Kolozsvár celebrated in the streets, for the gains of the Hungarian revolution were now theirs too.

  Katalin and I walked among them, as if both of us in our loneliness were feeding off their uncomplicated joy. But as we wandered around the crowded central square, trying to ignore the admiring stares of the grenadiers who were lounging outside the Guardhouse, I suddenly caught sight of a man standing in the shadows of the old cathedral, a tall, gaunt figure whose face expressed not jubilation, but doubt. I glanced at Katalin, but it seemed she had not yet seen him.

  “Did you arrange this?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Arrange what?”

  I looked significantly towards the corner and she followed my gaze without much interest until it alighted on Captain Zarescu.

  “Alex!” she cried in amazed delight, starting immediately in his direction. He seemed to hear her voice, as if his ears were specially attuned to it. His face lit up, and he strode to meet us. I wouldn’t have been altogether surprised to see them fall into each other’s arms, but fortunately discretion was not yet completely lost to them. Alex contented himself with passionately kissing her hand, before pressing a more chaste salute upon mine.

  “How wonderful!” he exclaimed, drawing us away from the crowd, back towards his old, quiet position. “I hoped I would run into you here, but I didn’t even know if you would stop.”

  “István wanted to attend the Diet — but we thought you were in Balaszfalva.”

  “I was.”

  “Was it an interesting meeting?” I asked politely.

  “Most — I’m only sorry I arrived too late to take part!”

  “Oh dear — so you had a wasted journey?” I said sympathetically, and he smiled.

  “No, not at all. I met some very interesting people who had been at the congress. They made me realize how out of touch I have become with my own people, how remote Buda-Pest is — even radicals like Lajos and Petöfi — from truly understanding.”

  I frowned. “But I thought the Romanians supported the revolution. Lajos said Hungarians and Romanians marched together, arm-in-arm, rejoicing!”

  “That was in March,” Alex said ruefully. “Look around you — you won’t see many Romanians here today celebrating the union.”

  “But why not?”

  “Because it was negotiated without consulting the Romanians who make up the majority of the population; because its terms don’t even acknowledge us as a nation, equal with the Magyar, Szekely and Saxon nations. The Romanians fear being Magyarized, instead of gaining the equality, the freedom, which at first they believed the revolution would bring.”

  “You should introduce them to Lajos,” Katalin said sharply, indignant at so much time being wasted on politics, but Alex only smiled.

  “Yes, I should,” he agreed. “For a less racially prejudiced person I have yet to meet. Especially, I would like him to meet an impatient young man called Iancu...” He broke off with an apologetic look at his beloved.

  Tactfully, I looked away, and tried to close my ears to the rest of the conversation, which quickly became softer and more personal without me. We walked together for a little, pretending to look at the shops around the base of the cathedral, and then parted reluctantly when it was time for Katalin and I to return to the inn.

  * * * *

  Since we were due to leave Kolozsvár in the morning, the lovers made no definite assignation, but from Katalin’s brittle excitement I knew that something was in the wind.

  “I suppose he will come to Szelényi,” I probed, “even without the excuse of Lajos’s presence.” Inevitably, of course, István would hear of it, but I had no way of judging how he would react. He had said nothing to Katalin about his knowledge of Alexandru’s predicament, although she had provided him with several opportunities to do so.

  Katalin was smiling so secretively now that I became positively alarmed, and demanded to know what she was up to.

  “Why nothing — yet!” she laughed. “But later in the summer, when I suddenly choose to go away on a visit to an old friend, you must support me all the way.”

  “Why?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Because I shan’t be visiting her, of course; I shall be meeting Alex!”

  I stared, endeavouring to retrieve my dropped jaw. “Never tell me you are going to run away with him at last?” Now that it seemed to be a serious possibility, I no longer knew what to think of it, but Katalin only laughed again.

  “Not for ever. I only want to spend a little time with him, where no one knows us or judges us.”

  I could understand that, but duty compelled me to point out the impropriety of travelling with him in this way — if such was really her intention.

  “Don’t be so prim,” she mocked. “Besides, you know there will be no impropriety.”

  “The world — your father — will not see it that way.”

  “My father need never know,” she said blithely; but it still appeared to be a crazy sort of a scheme to me, and I could only hope it would founder on Alexandru’s good sense if on nothing else.

  When we finally came to Szelényi, I couldn’t help comparing this arrival with my first last year. Then it had been dark and I had been the governess, ill and exhausted. The castle itself had seemed oppressive, overpowering. This time we arrived in daylight. Driving past fields alive with activity, the full beauty of the countryside assailed me in all its glory, and the castle looking down on us was magnificent, impressive rather than frightening.

  Even the great eerie entrance hall was less daunting when I followed Elisabeth inside. The children were still quiet, clinging to my hands, but at least this time Zsuzsa and I did not have to carry them when we could barely stand ourselves.

  Margit came flying down the huge staircase to meet us, and there was a flurry of embracing and chatter and laughter. The children and I were hugged as one. I felt an unexpected rush of affection and pity for her tired, vague, happy face.

  The Count himself was l
ocated in one of the upstairs rooms, looking exactly as I remembered him, old and fierce, but there was a glimmer of benevolence in his hard eyes as he embraced his family. When it was my turn, he held me by the shoulders, a little away from him, saying quizzically, “So you came back?”

  Genuinely startled by this greeting, I said, “Did you think I would not?”

  “I didn’t know,” he said frankly. “Sometimes you are — an elusive creature.”

  This was too obscure for me. I stood aside to let the children be kissed, watching his craggy old face and wondering at how little importance I now placed on his crimes against my mother. It made me feel guilty, as if I were somehow betraying her, but so much had happened in the last year that the events of thirty years ago had faded inevitably into insignificance.

  I wondered too exactly what I felt for him now. I had grown fond of his family and their odd quirks of behaviour, but of the old man himself, though he certainly aroused emotions of some kind, I was still unsure. I had forgotten the strength of his dominating, overpowering presence.

  “So,” the Count said loudly when we were all seated round the great dining table, “you voted for the union with Hungary — I suppose it’s to the good!”

  István smiled faintly. “I thought you were opposed to the April Laws.”

  The Count shrugged, picking up his knife. “It makes no difference. The peasants had more or less stopped performing their robot in any case! I’ve had precious little work out of them since March!”

  “That must be making things rather — difficult.”

  “Difficult! Another year like this and I’ll be forced to marry Katalin off to an English merchant to save the family fortunes!”

  Katalin, making the most of her father’s joviality, merely laughed.

  István said, “We heard from Ferenc Acsády that there is unrest in the country.”

  “There certainly is in his,” the Count said grimly. “I wouldn’t have been surprised if his people had lynched him — it’s no wonder he bolted to the city.”

  “It’s true then? I admit I thought he was exaggerating! But what of Szelényi lands?”