We stopped for the night at an inn remarkably similar to the one at which we had met Alex and Lajos. By then, I had myself better in hand, and although Katalin was still regarding me rather warily, I was able to behave in much my usual manner while we ate. Lajos and Mattias kept up a witty barrage of conversation, to which I was obliged to contribute only a few sardonic remarks. For the most part, I was thankful to have the attention off me, for I still felt my mask liable to crumble with the strain.
After the meal, I left them in the inn’s so-called parlour. I said I was going to bed with a slight headache; but I didn’t. I went outside into the last of the evening’s sunshine, and walked until I could no longer see the inn.
I found a clear, bubbling stream where I cooled my burning cheeks, and then sat down by its side to try to find some way of dealing with the next week. I was still in the same position, chin in hand, gazing unseeingly into the water, when he found me.
“Katie?” He was on the bank behind me. I looked up at him, over my shoulder, not surprised, somehow, just wishing he would go away. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” I said distantly. I thought he hesitated, but then he moved forward, jumping down beside me. I turned away.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I assumed you knew I was coming.”
I didn’t bother denying the shock. It didn’t seem worthwhile. Instead, I said rudely, “Do you really imagine I would be here if I had known?”
I wasn’t looking at him, but still I knew the rueful, upward curve of his lips as he said, “I hoped you would.”
This was unbearable. Abruptly, I got to my feet. “It doesn’t matter,” I muttered, walking away from him; but I hadn’t taken more than a few steps before his voice stayed me as effectively as a chain.
“Katie.”
I paused, not moving, but not turning back either. I heard the ground rustle under his feet, felt his fingers, light, unthreatening, on my arm. In the failing light, I allowed myself to face him and his hand fell away, though his eyes held me even more securely. I tried to summon the strength I knew I would need for these moments: I only hoped they would be brief.
He said gently, “Won’t you stay and talk to me a little?”
I swallowed, shaking my head. “There is no more to say.”
“But there is. I have many things to say, things which should have been said in March, if only you would have let me.”
I knew I should turn and walk away, but I couldn’t. I only stared mutely up into his eyes and waited for whatever was to come next.
“Oh Katie, there shouldn’t be all this hurt and anger between us,” he said ruefully. “Not through misunderstanding...”
I was almost relieved that I could be strong. I even felt a tinge of the old anger as I interrupted, “I didn’t mistake you, Lajos.”
“But you did,” he said at once. “We both did, though I admit it was my fault. I was lost in my own dreams of perfection; oblivious, perhaps, to yours.”
I dragged my gaze free. His eyes had always compelled belief, collusion.
“I don’t understand,” I said flatly.
“When I asked you to come to me without marriage, it wasn’t from contempt, Katie...”
At that, I rallied. I even looked at him again. “Of course not,” I said politely. “It was, perhaps, a sign of respect?”
“Yes,” he said seriously. “We were so close that night on the Erzsébet Island, that it never entered my head that you might not like to live exactly as I did.”
“Your mistake, Lajos,” I said quietly.
“Yes,” he agreed. “And yours was in misunderstanding my motives.”
“I don’t think so,” I said contemptuously, turning quickly away, but again I felt his fingers on my arm, drawing me back, and I waited, afraid to hear, yet knowing I had to.
“But yes,” he said gently. “You know me, Katie. I always follow my beliefs to their logical conclusion — I can’t stop just because they have grown too uncomfortable or too difficult. So political freedom must mean nothing less than total democracy; and personal freedom must mean no ties of church or state constraining people to stay together — only choice. I don’t need a priest to tell me who I may live with. I don’t believe in God; I don’t need His blessing, still less that of the men who consider themselves His tools on Earth.”
He paused, giving me time to absorb it, then continued quietly. “So, ever since I was old enough to think of girls in that way, it has been my dream to find a woman I cared for, who would stay with me freely, from choice, without these other ties or constraints.”
My eyes fell away. I had thought that I had felt every hurt I could over Lajos, but for some reason the knowledge that I was so far from his dream made a new wound that seemed too sharp and painful to bear.
His relentless voice went on. “I didn’t want someone who would stay from duty or convention or convenience, or even from self-interest.” At that, I managed to cast him a look of mocking derision, but he only smiled. “You think that’s vanity talking? But I assure you, in some circles I am considered quite a catch. For a peasant girl to marry a lawyer — however lowly his birth — is considered social promotion.”
Oddly, I had never thought of that before. I wondered how many girls in Szelényi had set their caps at Lajos simply for the chance of going with him to the city, of mixing with his noble and semi-noble friends — and of being able to come home again and crow over their own former neighbours and pity them their ordinary husbands.
Just for a second, I thought it might have hurt as well as irritated him.
“I take your point,” I said quickly, “but what sort of woman do you imagine would accept your kind of proposal?”
His lips moved. “I had hoped you would.”
I felt my skin flush, but I forced myself to meet his gaze. “Whatever I may have led you to believe,” I said quietly, “I am not a slut.”
And suddenly his face broke into a smile so tender that in spite of myself, my heart reeled. “Oh Katie, I know what you are! You are a child of your time and your upbringing, and I was a fool not to consider that. I was thinking then in leaps and bounds, of too many things and with too much euphoria. But by all I hold dear, I never meant to insult you.” His fingers, rough and warm, touched my hand, held it while he watched me intently. “Do you believe that?”
I swallowed. “Perhaps. But I cannot believe you are so impractical! Unless your taste runs to sluts, Lajos, I doubt you will ever find your dream.”
A faint frown had appeared on his brow. “Why do you keep talking of sluts? Do you think of yourself like that because we made love on Erzsébet Island?”
From time to time, that was exactly what I had thought; but mostly I had only used it as a lash to take away the real pain, and now, I couldn’t think it at all. There was no shame at what I had done, though it went against everything I had been taught, everything I had always known to be right. Wordlessly, I shook my head. For some reason I could feel tears very close, and I was appalled.
“Then why,” said Lajos softly, “would you be a slut if we made love every night of our lives? Believe me, there is nothing I would like better.”
With a gasp of outrage, I tore my hand free, stumbling away from him, but again he caught me, holding my trembling shoulders in his firm, gentle hands. This time I would not turn to face him, but I felt his mouth very close to the back of my head as he murmured soothingly behind me. “Katie, wait; there’s no need to run away again. I’m only trying to explain to you that if you had come with me then, you would have been just as chaste as a wife — more so than many!”
Like a tamed animal, I felt my agitation fade under his calm voice, and as if he sensed that, his hold slackened a little. His voice was peculiarly grave as he added, “I’m sorry. I think I’ve made you very unhappy. I even heard you were ill while I was in Kolozsvár — I hope that was not my fault too.”
Though he was unable to see my face, I
closed my eyes tightly. “No,” I lied flatly. There was a slight pause while I wondered wildly if he believed me. I couldn’t bear the emotional strain of this conversation for much longer
Then he said, “If it’s any consolation, I’ve been miserable too.”
“You never appeared so.” I meant it to be light, dry, but even to my own ears it only sounded wistful. His fingers gripped suddenly tighter.
“You, of all people, should understand my not wearing my heart on my sleeve. But I worked too feverishly on too many things, and became so ill-natured that I fell out with all my friends.”
“I’m sure you got round them again,” I retorted.
“What use is that?” he said quietly. “When I don’t have you?”
For a second, it seemed my heart did not beat at all. Before I could control it, a tear spilled under my lashes and rolled down my cheek. Involuntarily, I had half-turned towards him, whispering brokenly, “I’m not your dream, Lajos — that much is obvious...”
“But you are,” he said immediately. Too late, I tried now to avoid his gaze, but I was turned inexorably, forced to look up into his face. With terrible gentleness, he touched the tear on my cheek, brushing it away, reminding me unbearably of the time I had left him in the little room in Pest when I had first discovered the precise nature of his plans for me.
“Before you, the dream had no shape,” he said softly, “no personality. I had no idea what this woman I thought I wanted would look like, or be like.” He smiled deprecatingly. “Except, of course, that she would love me to distraction.”
“How could she not?” I said sweetly, and saw his eyes crinkle in a rare, full smile.
“Exactly. But then I met you, and nothing else mattered.” The smile was dying in his eyes, leaving them wonderfully tender, almost mesmerizing, as he added softly, “You know, you became an obsession with me, and only you could not see it...”
“Lajos, stop it,” I whispered, longing and afraid to believe, just as before. His fingers caught my chin and held it, as if to prevent my escape.
“No, let me finish this time. I know — I always knew — the value of what you gave me that night on the island, because it was even more precious to me.” His hand moved, caressing my cheek, my hair, and astonishingly, I felt its unsteadiness. “Katie, it’s you I want; you as you are, not some meaningless dream. And I want you on any terms you will have me. I can’t help being indifferent to religion, but if a priest is important to you, we’ll have a priest. Only stay with me.”
Vaguely, I knew the birds were singing their final song of the day in the trees above us. A small, shy creature scurried past my feet, but I never moved a muscle. At last, I swallowed.
“Lajos,” I said carefully; though my voice was hoarse, spoiling the effect, I had to ask. After all, I had been wrong before. “Lajos, are you, after everything you have just told me about your dream, and freedom, asking me to marry you?”
His lips quirked. “Yes.”
“But you don’t wish to be married!”
“I want to be with you — that is enough.” His head bent closer to mine; his thumb was on my lips, lightly exploring as he murmured, “And you, Katie? Do you not still care for me a little?” Feather-light, his lips brushed against mine, barely touching, yet causing everything in me to leap towards him.
“Lajos, this isn’t fair,” I whispered, and the tears were prickling again behind my lashes. To my surprise, he drew back a little.
“Don’t you wish to marry me?” he asked gently.
“Oh, how can I? Once, in March, I would have given up everything, everyone, to marry you, and never have thought it the slightest sacrifice! But now, so much has happened...”
“Nothing that matters.”
“I’ve taught myself to live without you, Lajos,” I said seriously. “Without the hope of you. You can’t do this to me again...”
“But are you happy?” he interrupted.
I looked away. “That’s not the point.”
“It’s exactly the point.” He took my face between his hands, gazing down at me in a way that melted my very bones. “I’ll make you happy, Katie, I promise...” And his mouth took mine, as if sealing his word, while I hung from him and let the gladness flow through me, healing the long months of pain, filling my emptiness.
But still I could not give in like this, on a tide of emotion, without thought or reflection. Somewhere, I was still afraid of being carried away by feeling, as I had on Erzsébet Island. This time, I had to be sensible.
Carefully, I freed my mouth. “I need time, Lajos,” I said huskily. “Time to think.”
I felt his hands move on my back, caressingly. His eyes were warm, knowing. I think we were both aware that there was only one answer I could give, and that he could convince me to give it there and then if he chose; but he was always generous in triumph.
“Have your time, Katie,” he said softly. “I’ll still be here.” He released me, but only to take my hand and kiss it. Now, suddenly, I was shy of him, flushing under his steady gaze.
“I should go back,” I said breathlessly, and he smiled, drawing my hand through his arm.
“Come then; I’ll walk with you.”
* * * *
The remainder of the journey was unexpectedly hilarious; largely, I suspect, because we were all conscious of doing wrong. An air of mischief, of daring, hung around us, infecting us with an excitement that was almost joyous. Before long, I even forgot to worry that Katalin or Mattias might see the change in me, for my own sudden happiness seemed to blend harmoniously into all the rest
As we came nearer to Nagyzseben, Lajos and Alex showed a tendency to lapse into a continuing debate about how best to approach the Romanians.
“Who exactly is it you are going to speak to?” I asked curiously over our meal, late the next afternoon.
“In the first place, a man called Avram Iancu,” Alex said. “He is an apprentice lawyer and, like Lajos, a peasant’s son. He has grown impatient with petitions and committees. In fact he has started recruiting a small army.”
I stared at him, seriously alarmed. “For what purpose?”
“That is one of the things we need to talk about,” Lajos said wryly. “He means to use it against the Hungarians, to win autonomy for the Romanian nation within Transylvania.”
“But surely he could never win such a fight!” I exclaimed.
“Not alone,” Lajos agreed, pushing his empty plate away from him. “But if they unite with the Austrians...”
“They wouldn’t!”
“They would. They are already negotiating with General Puchner, believing the King will give them everything they want while the Hungarians only grind them under foot.”
I took a deep breath. It seemed I had been so involved in myself over the last weeks that I hadn’t even had an inkling of the danger threatening this country, just when things had begun to improve, when there was at last genuine hope for the future. Just like Katalin, just like me, the people were no longer satisfied with a little; they wanted everything to be right.
“What can you do?” I asked simply.
Lajos shrugged. “Persuade them that the Hungarians will listen.”
I smiled. “You make it sound very simple, very easy.”
“It will be anything but,” Lajos said ruefully.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
We arrived at the inn on the outskirts of Nagyzseben around noon. Stepping down from the carriage, I saw a young man come out of the inn and walk quickly up to Alex who, with Lajos and Mattias, had just dismounted.
By any standards, the newcomer was arresting. Dark, strong featured, grave, moving with decisiveness and swift economy, he seemed to be little older than Mattias, despite the stern expression on his handsome face. As Katalin and I approached the men, I saw his grimness vanish suddenly in a smile of genuine welcome.
“Zarescu!” he exclaimed, and then he was embracing Alex, speaking quickly in Romanian. Alex grinned, though he replied in Hun
garian.
“It’s good to see you too! But let me introduce my friends.” He moved to allow the other men a better view of the stern youth. “Gentlemen, this is Avram Iancu. Iancu — Lajos Lázár.”
Lajos went forward with his usual, casual grace and for a moment the two young men, so different in appearance and character, yet not so very far apart in either personal or political background, silently assessed each other. Then Iancu slowly held out his hand.
“I’ve heard of you,” he said in Hungarian. Lajos took the hand, and for an instant I saw a flicker of surprise cross Iancu’s face — perhaps because the hard roughness of Lajos’s fingers could only come from manual labour. Lajos quickly introduced Mattias, and as Iancu moved to shake hands, he caught sight of Katalin and me. This time, his surprise was definite.
Iancu bowed slightly in our direction, saying, “And are these ladies your wives?”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. I have never been a great deal of use in diplomacy. However, Alex, who had just noticed our arrival upon the scene, was already saying, “Forgive my bad manners! No, this lady is Szelényi’s sister,” — his chin went up a little — “and my fiancée. And this is Miss Kettles, their niece from Scotland.”
I could tell from Iancu’s interested gaze that he knew something of Katalin already. However, he greeted us both with perfect politeness and ushered us into the inn, saying to Zarescu, “I have only reserved two rooms for you, but the house isn’t busy — I’m sure there will be no difficulty...”
There was none, though again Katalin and I shared a chamber, where we combed our hair and freshened ourselves a little before rejoining the men in the coffee-room downstairs. I had no idea whether or not we would be welcome there, but I was extremely curious as to how Lajos would be received by Iancu and his friends and how he would win them over. For some reason, I never doubted that he would succeed.
“Are we de trop?” Katalin asked brightly — and just a little hopefully — as Alex came to meet us. He had been sitting at a corner table with Lajos, Mattias, Iancu and another two respectably dressed men, also young and serious. It reminded me a little of the Pilvax Café; though the surroundings were rougher, I was sure the debates would be similar.
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