At the last name, she looked mutinous and her eyes definitely flickered as she said reluctantly, “I promise.”
“I mean it, Katalin,” I said urgently. “I don’t want you and Alex putting your heads together over this, because you will only make it worse!” I paused as she took that in and then, to clinch the matter, I added, “And if you ever doubt that, consider your own reservations — better still, consider István’s! — about welcoming Lajos Lázár into the family!”
She was forced to concede the point, but somehow the victory did not make me happy.
* * * *
I had not planned to visit the Lázárs that day. I was merely walking, making the most of the solitude I had gained by Elisabeth’s rare desire to spend the afternoon with her children. In fact, I was skirting the village, deep in my own thoughts, when I ran into Eszter.
She had just taken some food up to her sons who were working in one of the top fields, and her face was pleasantly flushed from her exertions in the heat of the sun. I didn’t mind giving up my solitude for Eszter, so I was quite happy to accept her invitation to go home with her. We sat on the little porch while she mended shirts and I let the peace and beauty of the day wash over me.
In a little, Lázár appeared, saying with some glee that he had worked hard enough for one day. I smiled, for only last summer he and his sons had laboured all the hours of daylight. But that was before the Revolution. Now they were no longer required to work four days a week on the Count’s land, to the inevitable neglect of their own.
Lázár sat down, throwing his hat on the ground and smiling his welcome to me. Most of the time he forgot I was related to the Szelényis; only occasionally he seemed to remember my place in society with a shock. But they still called me Miss Katie, which I liked, although the castle servants had adopted a more respectful form of address.
Eszter had just stood up to fetch him a drink when we heard the excited cries of a child running at top speed through the length of the village. Amused, we all leaned out of the porch to see what it was all about. It was a peasant boy of perhaps ten years, waving his worn old hat in the air and joyfully shouting something that I eventually made out to be, “He’s coming! He’s coming!”
“Who’s coming, boy?” Lázár asked severely, but for once the child was not intimidated.
“Lajos is coming! Your son!”
My hand crept to my throat, as if to still the sudden jumping of my heart. I wanted so very badly to see him; yet I was afraid to the point of panic. I wondered if I could escape before he arrived in the village...
“We saw him from Odon’s west field,” the boy was explaining, “and I was sent to tell you, and the others have run to the other fields...”
Lázár had reached out to grab the boy by the shirt. “Are you sure?” he demanded hoarsely. “Is it definitely my son?”
“Oh yes,” the boy panted. “By himself, riding on a big black horse. He even shouted a greeting to us! It is him!”
Lázár looked at his wife, who was clasping her hands together with something approaching rapture. Almost as breathless as the boy, she said now, “Have you strength left, Dániel? Go on to the square where the other boys are playing, and tell them to run up to the top field to make sure Zoltán and Károly know their brother is home...”
Grinning, the child ran off again, his legs a little wobbly, but still willing. Eszter threw her arms around her husband, as the village women began to come out into the street, loudly congratulating the Lázárs on the return of their hero son. Amazed, I followed Eszter out of the garden, watching the uneven line of men streaming in from the fields.
Petöfi might have been ignominiously run out of his home town on election day, but no opposition in the world could make Szelényi act in a similar fashion to Lajos. The whole village was turning out to welcome him home! My heart swelled with pride in him, with gladness in the pleasure it must bring him. Only I was out of place here.
I touched Eszter’s arm. “I shall go now.”
She looked surprised. “Won’t you stay to welcome Lajos?”
“I’m sure you wish to be private...”
She laughed. “With this?” she exclaimed, waving her hand around the busy street. And I saw that if I wished to avoid a fuss, I would have to stay. I didn’t know whether or not I was glad of it.
By the time Lajos rode into the village, he had collected a rowdy escort of peasants who were striding along beside his horse, all laughing and talking at once. I couldn’t see his face at that distance, but I would have known his figure anywhere — nonchalant yet graceful in the saddle as he held his tired horse to a walk with one hand, and bent his blond head to talk to his companions. One of them presumably directed his attention for suddenly he straightened and saw the welcoming crowd.
Spontaneously, the villagers surged forward to meet him with loud, almost hysterical cheers. Eszter and Lázár held back, waiting, but I saw the tears of joy glistening proudly on her lashes and I wished desperately for so uncomplicated a love.
Lajos was laughing, reaching down his hand to shake those of his old friends.
“This is ridiculous,” I heard him say. “I feel like Jesus Christ!”
And then Zoltán and Károly came running to join us, breathless from their sprint down from the fields. I thought they had come too quickly to have been brought by Eszter’s messengers: they must have seen Lajos coming from their vantage point on the hill. Károly laughed from pure high spirits and dashed at once into the crowd, pushing his way through to his brother, though Zoltán, I noticed, hung back.
“Here, let me off my donkey,” Lajos was saying, continuing the Palm Sunday image, and I watched him slide easily to the ground and embrace Károly. He was smiling, at ease, apparently delighted with his welcome, yet refusing to take it seriously. And even this, calculated or not, added to his charm.
At the Lázárs’ house, the procession stopped and the crowd parted respectfully for the hero to meet his family. Zoltán had moved forward almost instinctively, I thought, but it was left to Lajos to close the gap between them, which he did easily, coming to a halt in front of him.
“Well, little brother,” he said carelessly, holding out his hand. A smile touched Zoltán’s sulky lips.
“Well, dwarf,” he retorted, taking the hand in a hard grip. Lajos cast an arm around his shoulders, and they went forward together.
And then Eszter was there, in his arms, hugging him unrestrainedly, and my throat was dry with longing and jealousy. I remembered so well the feel of that warm, rough cheek against my hair. The scene before me grew hazy. I had to exert every ounce of control to pull myself together, to blink away the tears, slowly, before they betrayed me.
Unobtrusively, I stepped away from Lázár, but I was hemmed in by the hedge and by the crowd; I could not escape entirely. I should have been stronger and forced myself to leave when the news first came.
It was a long moment before he released his mother. Smiling, wet-eyed, she led him by the hand to his father. Since I had returned to Szelényi, Lázár’s attitude to his most difficult son had been so proud that I had imagined this meeting between them would be easy, however fraught their reunions of the past. But now I saw it wasn’t easy at all.
Lázár was glowering, and though I was sure it was only to hide his excessive emotion, it was hardly a warm welcome. He made no movement towards his son, and I sensed a slight tension in Lajos, a sort of still watchfulness, as he met his father’s fierce eyes. But all his life, Lajos had been having these encounters with Lázár and over the years, it seemed, he had learned how to cope.
“You’re home early,” he observed conversationally. “I expected you to be still in the fields.”
“Why should I be?” said Lázár aggressively. Then, slowly, an almost mischievous smile dawned on his severe face. “No robot!”
Even as Lajos’s lips curved in spontaneous response, a cheer went up at Lázár’s words. Positively grinning now, Lázár embraced his son, an
d I had a glimpse of Lajos’s face over his father’s shoulder, his eyes closed as if in relief. He looked desperately tired suddenly, and I ached to soothe and comfort him to sleep...
For a moment his fingers showed white as they gripped Lázár’s shoulders. Then Lajos’s eyes opened. He was smiling again as he was released. I wished someone would stand between me and the Lázárs, but it was too late. Almost casually, Lajos’s eyes met mine. I forced calmness into my face, praying that the result was not just wooden. His own face betrayed no surprise beyond a faint twitch of one eyebrow. Slowly, he inclined his head. I did the same.
We had exchanged this same, meaningless gesture in the Pilvax, the day Vasvári had sent the artisans away. Painfully, I remembered the times when he had smiled at the sight of me, that quick, spontaneous quirk of the lips that had seemed so personal.
For a second longer he held my gaze, and then, quite carelessly, he turned back to his family and friends; and I, released, lifted a trembling hand to my throat. With instinctive good manners, the villagers were dispersing, leaving the Lázárs alone, but with loud promises of festivities in the evening. I melted away with them. None of the Lázárs now would notice that I had gone.
* * * *
On the day of Captain Zarescu’s expected arrival in Szelényi, it rained. Katalin, who had risen early from pure excitement, was extremely irritated: there were less excuses for going outside in such weather. I sympathized, and said with perfect truth that I was sure she would find a way.
She burst into my room late that afternoon, as I was changing my dress for the evening. Her eyes were gleaming with such joy and mischief that my heart sank. I knew before she told me that she and Alex were proceeding with their highly questionable “holiday” together. The only thing which did surprise me was that she was prepared to go at all when Alexandru’s reason for the journey was political — he was going to Nagyzseben to talk with the Romanian nationalists.
“You’ll hate it,” I said with conviction.
“No, I won’t, for I shan’t be at their wretched discussions.”
“Then you’ll be bored while he is away!”
“Well, that’s where you fit in, dear niece.”
I regarded her warily. “I?”
She smiled sunnily. “Of course. You were right in Kolozsvár — I can’t travel alone; but it would be quite proper if you were with me.”
“No,” I said repressively, “it would not.”
“More proper, then.”
“Forget it, Katalin,” I said with finality. “I have quarrelled often enough with your father. I’m not coming.”
Undeterred by this steadfast utterance, she dragged me off that evening to speak to Alex himself. Though I confess I approached their rendezvous a little warily — more than half-expecting to find Lajos with him — it was a solitary figure who lurked in the wood, and he was quite clearly Captain Zarescu’s shape. He greeted me like an old friend, and then, even more worryingly, thanked me for agreeing to help them.
“I have not,” I said repressively, “agreed to help. And I won’t. I had thought better of you, Alex.”
“I mean nothing improper,” he assured me, a little anxiously. “It’s just that we never see each other. This last year has been hell for both of us, with Katalin so hemmed in for fear of her meeting me...”
“I know that,” I interrupted, “and I’m sorry for it, but truly, this is not the way...”
“Once, I thought that too. I was very scrupulous over the sort of clandestine meetings I arranged. Given the circumstances, I think we have both behaved with honour.”
I nodded wordlessly, and he went on, “But now I have come to believe that whatever Katalin and I want is the only right worth considering. So,” He took a deep breath. “I want Katalin to come with me to Nagyzseben. We both need this time. And it would be so much better for her if you would come too. Please.”
He took my hand. I looked up into his huge, velvet, sad eyes — and even I could not remain unmoved by their appeal. He must have read my acquiescence in my face, because his eyes lightened, and he raised my hand to his lips.
“I had a spaniel like you once,” I said unkindly, gracelessly pulling my hand free. And Katalin, sensing her victory, laughed and hugged me in an excess of joy.
* * * *
Bumping painfully over the hard, dried mud of the road leading south from Beszterce, I thought I must have been stark raving mad to agree to this extra, unnecessary journey. We were travelling in the oldest coach possessed by the Szelényis, since its crest was rubbed and faded into something pale and indistinguishable. Astonished that his sister should choose to visit in so unstylish a vehicle, István had remarked that he hoped it would bear the strain, to which Katalin had calmly replied that Mark had assured us it was quite safe, and that for her part, she would feel much more comfortable travelling in these days of revolution without the Szelényi arms emblazoned on the carriage for the world to see. That, at least, was true, though not for the reasons István was led to believe!
Mark drove the carriage, while Katalin and I sat inside with Ilse; and Mattias, refusing to be cooped up all day, rode on horseback beside us.
Poor Mattias, having only just arrived in Szelényi, had been harassed and cajoled against his better judgement — much as I had — into joining the expedition when the Count had refused point blank to allow us to travel anywhere without the escort of at least one male member of the family. Even Katalin’s desperate excuse that Laure Kossary — whose family we were meant to be visiting — had only invited the two of us, failed to dissuade him in this, so we were forced to initiate Mattias into the secret. Though at first his eyes had shown an alarming tendency to pop, he had been gradually beaten down and persuaded to lend his reluctant countenance to the proceedings. On reflection, I thought it was a good thing, for if this ever came out, then at least Mattias’s presence lent us respectability.
“There it is,” said Katalin suddenly, holding on to her elegant hat as she poked her head out of the window. “Mark!” she shouted. “We’ll stop here!”
And the coach swerved off the road and up to the dilapidated, one-storey inn where she had, apparently, arranged to meet Alex.
“Thank God we’re not obliged to put up here,” I murmured, eyeing the building with disfavour.
“Well, we can’t stop anywhere we are known,” Katalin said reasonably, and I sighed, looking forward to a series of such primitive accommodation, and followed her out of the carriage.
“There he is at the window!” Katalin exclaimed joyfully, and flew up to the house. I exchanged looks with Mattias, who grinned, lightly dismounting and handing the reins to a bemused looking individual I could only suppose was the ostler.
“I think,” I said firmly, “I shall wait out here.”
“Quite right,” Mattias agreed. “That pair are enough to give you indigestion before you’ve eaten!” And he sauntered off after the ostler, presumably to make sure the man knew what to do. I didn’t blame him.
While a boy brought water for the carriage horses, I left Ilse and Mark to supervise, and walked a little way back towards the road. A low wall round the inn yard provided me with a seat from which I could gaze around me at the flat fields and the distant hills. I decided I wasn’t sorry to have come, despite the awful roads — though I might well change my mind if this ever came to my grandfather’s ears...
A shadow fell across me, distracting me from my own thoughts, and I turned, already smiling to greet Alexandru. For a moment, the sun was in my eyes, blinding me, and then I saw that it glinted not on black hair but on blond, and my stomach tried to jump into my throat.
In panic, I stumbled to my feet.
“Lajos!” My voice was hoarse. I swallowed. “What are you doing here?”
He moved, and now I could see him clearly. He was looking surprised, though his eyes were as watchful as ever.
“I? I’m going to Nagyzseben, of course.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Oh no, I thought stupidly, this is not fair... Beyond Lajos’s shoulder, Katalin had appeared, nervously smiling. It was easy to see she had known all along. No wonder Mark had been so easily persuaded to accept our change of plan — like everyone in the village, he would do anything for Lajos.
Blindly, I pushed past them both, walking quickly back to the coach. I saw Alex wave cheerfully from the inn door, and could barely lift my hand to reply. I was shaking as I pulled myself into the carriage, as much with anger at Katalin as with the unexpectedness of coming upon him unprepared.
I have to get out of this, I thought wildly.
Almost timidly, Katalin was climbing in after me. “Katie? Please, don’t be angry...”
“You should have told me,” I ground out. “How dare you do this, Katalin? How dare you?”
Abruptly, I turned away from her frightened eyes, staring sightlessly out of the window instead.
She touched my arm. “I thought you would like it, if only you didn’t have to admit it — Katie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you...”
“I told you not to interfere!” I said fiercely. “I suppose you have told Alex...”
“No, I swear I told him nothing. Lajos was always coming.”
“Well, he had better have a horse because I will not travel...”
The sight of him just then, mounting a black horse in front of the inn door, finally closed my mouth. I tried to pull myself together, realizing at last that I was betraying altogether too much to Katalin and achieving nothing.
But only when the coach had rumbled and bumped through the village did I realize what I should have done. I should have left them there, pleaded illness and gone home. Instead, I had doomed myself to a week of this torture. It seemed I was incapable of staying away from him; but then, I always had been.
* * * *
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