They did not bother to stand when I stopped in front of them, just regarded me insolently. One of them, a raven-haired, stocky man with an ugly scar across his forehead, smirked in a way I found positively repulsive, his eyes sliding beyond me to the road, as if to see who was accompanying me. However, I asked them civilly enough if I was anywhere near Debrecen.
“Debrecen?” repeated the scarred man, genuinely amused. “Lord love you, lady, you’re way off the road. Debrecen’s miles away!”
My heart sank. I could feel my shoulders drooping, but still determined, I said, “Then could you possibly tell me how I might get there?”
The soldiers looked at each other.
“Please,” I said desperately. “It’s very important that I get to Debrecen.”
“Well,” said the previously silent one, taking a piece of dead twig from his mouth. “I don’t think we can rightly go there.”
The other kicked him, grinning. “Of course we can, Béla. For the young lady. For a price. Or least ways, we can take her somewhere as good.”
I regarded him coldly. “Unfortunately,” I said scathingly, “it has to be Debrecen. I do not ask for your escort, merely your directions; but if you gentlemen cannot help me, then I shall simply thank you for your time and find someone who can.”
With which words, I turned sharply on my heel, relief at being free of them struggling with frustration at being no further forward in my interminable quest for Debrecen. But suddenly a hand closed like a vice around my ankle, and before I could even cry out, I was on my face in the snow again, my spectacles flying away out of sight. I heard their crude laughter, but at that time I was too angry to be frightened.
“How dare you?” I spluttered, kicking myself free of the obnoxious hand, and struggling to rise to my feet; but almost casually, the other soldier grasped my arm and pulled me sprawling towards him. His dirty, grinning face leered over me, and quite instinctively I lashed out at it, dealing a wild blow to his chin that hurt my hand. It was a mistake, for there was nothing chivalrous about this gentleman. He simply swore and hit me back with deliberate brutality, full across the mouth.
I cried out, tasting blood and fear through the black dizziness that threatened to engulf me. The scarred one was holding both my hands spread out above my head. The other, the one called Béla, had straddled my body, and only then did I realize what they had intended all along, ever since they had seen me walking alone towards them.
I had never known this sort of fear before. I still don’t think there is a word for it. I lay on my back, paralysed with shock while the man above me hurriedly pulled open my cloak and hooked his fingers into the neck of my gown, and ripped. But as the material tore, I was suddenly propelled into action. I wrenched my hands downwards, bucking with all my strength to dislodge my violator.
I think the abruptness of my retaliation, after the stunned stillness, must have surprised them, for I had my hands free and Béla fell sideways. I struck out with my feet and my hands, and a truly terrible struggle ensued.
I had the strength born of pure desperation. I scratched and bit till I drew blood; I fought with my knees and my feet, and once I even connected my elbow sharply with the place Aunt Edith had recommended in such situations. I don’t imagine, however, that in her wildest dreams she ever foresaw this sort of silent, vicious struggle. She had been thinking of gentlemen who, perhaps under the influence of wine or spirits, became a little too amorous; rape by two brutal soldiers was an entirely different matter, and I was punished for my elbow’s accuracy when my victim, doubled up and howling, struck me hard across the face again.
Now I barely noticed the dizziness, or the cold beneath me, so intent was I upon the fight I had no hope of winning, or any chance of escape or rescue from. Bruised and bloody and powerless, I was crying inside as their lecherous hands grabbed at my body, pulled at my clothing. Exhausted beyond belief, yet still exerting every feeble, useless muscle against them, I closed my eyes to shut out the filthy, bright-eyed face above mine. I smelled his sour, hot breath, felt it quicken as he reached forcefully under my skirts, and the cry became a silent scream that I knew would never stop.
I remember thinking, somewhere deep in my mind where I could still think, that this perhaps was what Lajos had really feared for me at the hands of Aaron Klein’s attackers in the bookshop. But there was no Lajos to rescue me now, no Lajos to prevent violation and rape by the mere sound of his voice, his name.
“Lajos...” I whispered, without meaning to, and my attacker paused, though only to laugh.
“Is that your man?” he sneered. “He won’t want you after this, so better not tell him!”
His hands were at his trousers now, while the scarred one held me still.
“Lajos Lázár,” I said desperately, because his name had acted like a charm upon Aaron Klein’s attackers. “Lajos Lázár will punish you for this.”
The words sounded silly and childish, even to my own ears, for these were unknown soldiers, not the mobs of Buda-Pest, familiar with his name and his actions. I was actually surprised when Béla paused again. I saw him exchange looks with his partner in crime, and suddenly I was afraid to hope.
At last he said uneasily, “What do you know of Captain Lázár?”
“He will punish you for this, I swear it,” I said brokenly.
“Is he your man?” the other demanded. “Are you Captain Lázár’s woman?”
“Yes!”
They looked at each other again. Slowly, my crushed hands were released. Béla heaved himself off me, moving a little apart with his friend.
“Stay there,” he said over his shoulder.
I obeyed because I couldn’t do anything else. My whole body was throbbing and trembling. I felt utterly weak, but I could think no further than gratitude for this temporary relief. I managed to sit up, dragging my skirts back down over my legs, trying to hold the bodice of my dress together with thick, useless fingers. Eventually, I remembered I was lying on my cloak and drew that around me instead. I had never been so cold in my life. Fascinated, I watched my clutching hands shake as if someone was pulling strings attached to them.
The soldiers were beside me again. I flinched away, and was surprised when they did not touch me. The scarred one knelt down beside me.
“Captain Lázár isn’t in Debrecen,” he told me.
It took me a while to understand that, and then my lips could not form the words for weakness. “I know,” I managed at last. “I’m going to my family.”
They looked at each other again. The scarred one said, “The thing is, we can’t go to Debrecen: there’s a camp there.”
“I know,” I said again, my mouth still trembling. “I don’t want you to go...”
“The road is dangerous. You’ll need protection, wherever you go.”
I couldn’t quite believe I had heard that. I raised my head from my knees and stared at him. To my amazement, his eyes slid away from mine.
“We’ll take you to Captain Lázár,” he said. “He’s our Captain.”
I closed my thickened mouth. I tried to make my fuddled, hurt head think. I licked my bleeding lips and flinched.
“Why?” I looked from him to Béla. Their reluctance to go to Debrecen because of the military camp there suddenly made sense. “You’re deserters.”
“No!” they said together, then the scarred one shrugged. “We went off without asking, but the truth is we don’t care much for the free life any more...”
“You mean you’ve spent all your pay,” I said contemptuously, then wished I hadn’t, for I wasn’t safe yet, not by a long way. If I had had the strength to cringe, I would have cringed. However, the soldiers were immune to such insults.
“We have. But it’s hard to go back. If we take you to the Captain, he’ll be so grateful to us, he’ll let us off.”
“Grateful?” Either they were mad or I was. “For this?” I touched my cut lips — they were all I could recognize, so far, as damaged.
“Well,” said Béla, and suddenly they were threatening again. “You tell him we found you, and saved you.”
As if fascinated, I gazed at him. “Why in the world,” I asked gently, “would I do that?”
“Because unless you do, we’ll cut your throat now,” was the candid answer. It was a persuasive argument, but it had severe flaws, as I strove to point out.
“You can’t know what I shall tell Captain Lázár. You can’t believe me. I doubt he would believe me either if I told him such a tale.”
“You swear,” the scarred man persevered, almost casually producing a wicked knife from his belt and inspecting its sharpness. “You swear on your mother’s grave, and by the Holy Bible, that you’ll tell him we saved you. And if you ever go back on that, we’ll find you and kill you just the same.”
I was sure there was still a flaw, but my mind was too tired and pained to grasp it. It could only grasp the knife, and what I knew they would do to me before they used it.
“Very well,” I said stiffly. “I swear. On my mother’s grave, and by the Holy Bible.”
“And you’ll make him believe it?”
“If I can.”
The scarred man nodded, and put away his knife with decision. “Good. Then let’s go. We can ride ten miles before nightfall.” He rose to his feet, holding out his hand to me. I was weaker than a kitten, but I wasn’t yet as desperate as that. I managed to get to my feet, unaided.
“My spectacles,” I said with vague unhappiness. Amazingly, Béla trotted away and picked something up off the road which he brought back to me. I took them carefully, without touching his fingers, and placed them awry on my nose. It helped the world to swing a little more into focus.
The next ordeal was getting on the horse, not just because of my weakness or the pain I was becoming aware of in every part of my body, but because I was obliged to ride in front of Béla. I shuddered with uncontrollable repulsion, trying in vain to keep any distance at all between us; and new jolts of pain shot through me with every stride the horse took.
When it grew dark, they found shelter under some trees and lit a fire. They had no food, but I didn’t want any. I felt sick, with a deep, corroding sickness that seemed to affect every part of me. In a fit of generosity — or perhaps because he imagined I would tell Lajos of his care — the scarred man, who was apparently called Tamás, gave me a blanket, saying with pride in his sacrifice that he would share his friend’s.
I lay down, still shaking under my cloak and my blanket, despite my closeness to the fire. Somewhere, I thought I could hear the mournful howling of a dog, or a wolf, but the cry might only have been in my head.
I couldn’t quite believe that I was safe now from their violation — if they could make me keep quiet about the last attack, why would they worry about others? I thought I would wait until they were asleep on the other side of the fire, and then slip away. I would take one of their poor horses if I could...
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
I woke at first light to the sound of their talking. I was cold and damp, and every bone in my body hurt. There was a scab of dried blood on my thickened lip, a swelling on my cheek that pained me whenever I opened my mouth, but incredibly I had survived the night without being further molested.
As we carried on our way, I gave up the idea of escape, partly through inertia, partly through the realization that they were not going to hurt me further if I did as they asked. At the first village we came to they bought bread and milk which was shared out scrupulously. Although I had done nothing, I was ashamed and averted my battered face from the curious stares of the villagers.
When the overburdened horse grew tired, Béla granted me the respite of riding alone while he walked at the beast’s head. At first I didn’t pay much attention to our surroundings, but then I realized we were escaping the flatness, approaching hills that became the mountains dividing us from Transylvania.
It had begun to snow by the time darkness fell, and the temperature plummeted even further, so when we reached a village with an inn, I made my first decision of the journey.
Stopping and sliding painfully off the horse, I said, “We’ll stay here.”
“We can’t. Inns cost money,” said Tamás, as if explaining to a retarded child.
“I have enough money, and I refuse to spend another night outside in this cold. I have no intention of freezing to death to oblige you.” With which I marched straight into the inn.
After a pause of sheer astonishment, they followed me. The innkeeper gaped when he saw me, then drew himself up to his full height — all of five feet — and began to tell me in tones of outrage that he ran a respectable house.
“I sincerely hope so,” I interrupted. “I would not otherwise care to stay in it.” However, I did not blame him for his attitude. The sight of so bedraggled and damaged a figure as I, in company with two of the most villainous looking soldiers anyone is likely to meet, must have told its own tale. “I require two rooms.”
“Do you?” said the innkeeper, looking from the soldiers back to me. Perhaps he saw something of the desperation in my self-control; perhaps he pitied me for my bruises. Whatever the cause, his expression of self-righteousness faded, and his face softened slightly.
“What happened to you, Madame?” he asked, more gently. I was stuck for an answer, but my companions were not.
“She was attacked,” said Tamás.
“By violent soldiers — bad men,” said Béla.
The innkeeper, whatever else he was, was no fool. He took a step nearer me. “Did they...?” he began, low-voiced, but my escort broke in indignantly.
“Us? Why, we saved her! This is our Captain’s lady — we’re taking her to her husband!”
I met the innkeeper’s gaze. “You wouldn’t think it to look at them,” I agreed, “but beneath those hideous facades, apparently, lurk creatures of quite startling chivalry. I presume there are rooms free?”
The innkeeper shut his mouth. “Yes, of course — I’ll show you at once. Perhaps you’d like my wife to attend you?”
“No, thank you,” I said at once. Even without the soldiers’ warning stares, I did not want anyone to see the state I was in. But on the stairs I paused. “Perhaps I could have a bowl of soup in my room?”
“Of course.”
When I was alone, I stripped off the torn dress with some difficulty, for my limbs were stiff and covered in bruises from the violent struggle with my escort. My shoulders and my breasts were black and blue too. Slowly, I moved towards the cracked mirror on the chest, and examined my face. The left side was badly discoloured and swollen still. My cut lip was beginning to heal, though inside my mouth there was a more severe wound where my own teeth had bitten.
Gazing at myself I felt a sense of unreality. How could I have come to this so quickly? Only days ago I had lived in a palace, pampered, cared for, respected. And now... this.
I wondered rather vaguely what Lajos would say when I turned up. His men had promoted me to wife, which was, I supposed, supremely ironic. I wondered what István had thought when he could not find me. I wondered what the others felt or feared for me — whatever it was, it could not be worse than what these two had tried to do to me.
Abruptly, tears started to my eyes and flowed over my aching face.
“Self pity, Katie,” I told myself angrily. “Pull yourself together...”
The nightmares ensured I did not have an untroubled sleep, but nevertheless I felt a little better in the morning. I dare say the innkeeper and his good lady thought it odd that I came down for breakfast with my cloak wrapped securely around my person, but they said nothing. I thought of asking for a needle and thread to sew up the tears in my dress, but it was too late by then — the soldiers were anxious to get on their way.
The mountain road was treacherous in the snow, and as we crossed the pass the wind howled ferociously, hurling armfuls of snow into my frozen face. I barely noticed it. Transylvania. I had never thought to enter it in such a way as
this.
One night, I remember, we found a deserted, ruined village in which to sleep — the war had been here — and I lay awake for hours just listening to the pitiful baying of wolves in the darkness, while Béla and Tamás whispered nervously together and edged as close as they dared to the fire.
In the morning we rode on, travelling by devious routes, no doubt to avoid both Hungarian and enemy soldiers, but most of the time I wasn’t really aware of my surroundings. I hardly even heard my escort occasionally asking questions of people they stopped on the road.
At last, Béla dismounted and walked at the horse’s head.
“This is the Captain’s camp,” he said with some satisfaction, and reality jabbed through my daze of pain and disgust and humiliation. They were really taking me to Lajos. I was about to meet him for the first time in three months, in this state, and masquerading as his wife of all things.
I only hoped he would see the joke.
My unease was hardly lessened by the way my escort answered the challenges flung at them by armed soldiers who seemed to know them.
“This is Captain Lázár’s lady,” they said grandly. “We’re taking her to him.”
The camp was a group of farm buildings around a courtyard. A young officer, striding across from one building to another, glanced at us incuriously, then looked again. He paused, and changing direction abruptly, came towards us. My escort stopped.
“What’s this?” snapped the officer. “What is going on? You two have no permission...”
“This is Captain Lázár’s wife,” Tamás interrupted respectfully. “We’ve brought her to him.”
The officer stared. “His wife? I didn’t know he was married!” Then, looking suddenly harassed, he swept off his hat and bowed a little jerkily. “Forgive me, Madame — this is unexpected, you’ll agree! I’m Nyergesz, Captain... I think perhaps I should get the Colonel.” And he shouted to a passing soldier who ran off to do his bidding.
I sat where I was. I couldn’t think what else to do. Captain Nyergesz looked at me, opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it. I had tidied and pinned my hair as best I could, and my cloak covered the ravages beneath, but I still must have presented an odd sight, to say the least.
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