A World to Win

by Mary Lancaster

  I was distracted by Lajos riding up to me, tired but brisk, to confirm that we would be stopping here for the night. “I’ll try and find you some decent quarters, but don’t raise your hopes too high: these are Romanian peasants, and very poor.”

  “Good news, Lajos!” called Nyergesz, riding over to join us. “We have a noble host! That gentleman with the Colonel is offering his house to the officers.” He grinned good-naturedly and leaned forward to say confidentially — though not quite quietly enough — “Cheer up, my friend, you’ll have proper married quarters tonight!”

  I quickly averted my burning face, hiding the involuntary panic that had risen with the Captain’s jocular words.

  Leaving Major Jászi to arrange the quartering of the men, the Colonel led the rest of the officers and myself up to the house of our host, whose name was Reményi. He gave us wine while the rooms were being prepared, and then jovially insisted on personally conducting us to each.

  “How romantic your story is!” he beamed at me, as he threw open the door of the room I was to share with Lajos. “To come upon your husband so unexpectedly!”

  I managed to smile — for if he was a buffoon, he was also extremely good-natured — and to thank him for his kindness. I stepped into the room, trying not to see the huge bed which dominated it, concentrating instead on the valuable rugs, on the curtains, on the view from the window. I pronounced it charming, and he beamed again and left Lajos and me alone.

  The tension between us was suddenly so tight I thought it would snap. My head had begun to ache — very slightly, but warningly.

  “I’ll leave you to wash,” Lajos said abruptly, moving towards the door again, “but don’t be long or we’ll start without you.”

  The meal was plentiful and pleasant, if a little greasy, and I ate considerably more than I had since leaving Buda-Pest. Buda-Pest. It seemed a lifetime ago. Talk was cheerful and friendly, punctuated regularly by oddly boyish banter between the officers. Lajos was quiet at first, but after the second glass of wine he began to exert himself to entertain, and before long everyone was in gales of laughter, while our host had to wipe away the tears that poured down his merry cheeks.

  “Lázár is in form,” Major Jászi said to me, still grinning. “Your unexpected arrival has obviously been good for him, Madame! Have you been married long?”

  “No,” I said with difficulty. “Not long.”

  “No? Well, he’s a capital fellow, young Lázár. I won’t say I didn’t have my doubts about him when he first came to us — well, you must know his reputation for agitating and scribbling! But we soon saw that was nonsense.”

  I smiled, sipping my wine with some amusement. “I don’t believe it was all nonsense, Major.”

  “Well, he has never been any trouble to us,” said the Major jovially. “In fact, damned useful, on the whole — begging your pardon, Madame. Cleared up no end of Vlachs for us, haven’t you, Lázár?”

  Lajos looked at him. “Romanians,” he said gently.

  “Whatever,” was the careless response, and Lajos cast me a very speaking glance. “They’re still dashed traitors!”

  “Not by their own lights.”

  Jászi looked uneasy. “Here, you’re not going to start philosophizing again, are you? And here was I telling your charming wife how little trouble you are!”

  When the meal was eventually over, Lajos rose to his feet. “Excuse me,” he said politely. “I have a few things to see to.”

  “Good man,” said Colonel Drényi, amusement lurking in his grey eyes. “But don’t be too conscientious.”

  I had no doubt he was referring indirectly to my presence, which embarrassed me considerably, and when Lajos had gone, I fled rather cravenly to my own room for the night.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  I woke to a beam of pale, early light drifting into the room. Instinctively, I looked towards the fire. It had gone out and the chair beside it was empty. For a moment, I felt disappointed, but even as I berated myself for idiocy, I became conscious of someone breathing beside me.

  Slowly, I lifted my head, turning over on the bed; and there, beside me, lay the motionless, sleeping figure of Lajos Lázár. Dressed in his shirt and trousers, he was lying on his back on top of the coverlet, one arm flung up across his forehead. I had never seen him asleep before. Wonderingly, I gazed down on the still, impassive face. There was a faint frown between his closed eyes that I wanted to smooth away, along with the deep, weary lines that made him appear so much older than his years. But despite these things, he looked almost boyish in sleep, touchingly young and vulnerable. Even the alien scar on the side of his face filled me now with tenderness. Asleep, there was no difference between the old Lajos and the new. They were the same man underneath, and I still loved him unbearably.

  I watched him for a long moment, almost afraid to breathe in case I woke him. Then a sudden draught made me shiver, and I thought he would be cold. Carefully, I lifted the blankets off my own body, folding them back till they covered him. Then, of course, I was cold — cold and exposed.

  I slid quickly out of bed, padding round it in search of my clothes; but as I reached out to pick them up from the chair, I could not resist one more glance at the man who had been sleeping beside me. I turned my head towards the bed, and looked straight into his open eyes.

  For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. Then I caught my breath, painfully aware of my undressed state, of my bare legs visible from well above the knee. Foolishly, I clutched at the neck of my shirt.

  “I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I covered you — I thought you would be cold.”

  His eyes moved, resting for an agonizing moment on my legs. I snatched up my clothes, holding them protectively in front of me. Abruptly, Lajos sat up, throwing back the blankets.

  “Thank you, but I should be up already,” he said distantly, swinging his feet on to the floor. When he stood, it brought him too close to me. I stepped back in panic, but by then, a genuine smile of amusement had crept into his dark eyes, and he followed me, picking up a strand of my loose hair and twisting it around his finger.

  “Poor Katie,” he said, with gentle humour. “Don’t look so terrified — I shall neither eat you nor seduce you. I promise.” He let the lock of hair unwind, then pushed it carefully behind my shoulder without touching my skin. His lip quirked.

  Then he turned away, picked up his coat and was gone, leaving me bemused, confused, and peculiarly disappointed.

  * * * *

  The headache hung around me all of that day, which was remarkably like the one before it except that we were not attacked. Lajos, again his brisk, controlled self, and Oszkár took turns to escort me on our swift progress.

  “Bem is back in Beszterce,” Lajos told me as we started out. “Apparently he soundly defeated the enemy in Bukovina, and now he is waiting for us to join him. We should be there by nightfall.”

  I felt miserable. In Beszterce we would separate — our ‘discreet annulment’ would occur, and I would no longer have his disturbing, unsettling, necessary company... And he would no longer be plagued by a burdensome ‘wife’.

  When we rode into the town, General Bem himself came to greet us. At that time I rode at the front of the column with Lajos, Colonel Drényi and Major Jászi, so I was given an excellent view of him. He was a squat, elderly gentleman with fine white whiskers and extraordinarily bright, cheerful eyes. Sitting comfortably in the saddle, he greeted Colonel Drényi with jovial friendliness, congratulating him on the success of his troop, and cordially welcoming him back to Beszterce.

  “But what have we here?” he demanded, before Drényi could reply, for his quick eyes were devouring me. “Surely it is a lady, Drényi?”

  “Precisely, General. This is Madame Lázár, Captain Lázár’s wife, who has become separated from her normal protectors...”

  The General spurred forward to me, and I met his curious gaze with some trepidation. However, I soon saw that his eyes were twinkling with kindness, an
d he only bowed over my hand, gallantly kissing it.

  “Enchanté, Madame! Lázár, you dog! Why did you never tell me of this ravishing creature? Surely a wife such as this could not have slipped your memory?”

  “Hardly, sir,” Lajos agreed, holding without difficulty the gaze which had swung suddenly upon him. “But I was not expecting to introduce you!”

  “You shall tell me all about it later! Tonight, we forget that the enemy is in Buda-Pest; we eat, we drink, we dance! Tomorrow, we shall make more serious plans.”

  Lajos and I were allotted a room of our own in the house of a decent but unfriendly Saxon burgher. When we had settled in, Lajos went off again to look after his men, promising to return in time to take me to Bem’s headquarters for dinner.

  This he duly did, and we discovered there a prevailing atmosphere of jollity. Bem’s officers, who had been with him in Bukovina, were exhausted, and those of them who could get to the dinner needed this relaxation after their dreadful journey in the mountains — I heard a little about it as the evening wore on, and I was horrified.

  I saw at once, with some relief, that at least I was not the only lady present. One or two officers’ wives ate with us, as did some prominent, respectable ladies of the town, together with their equally respectable husbands. At first, I was rather apprehensive about the local people, fearing that they would recognize me and ruin my reputation for good with the startling information that whatever I was, I was not Lajos Lázár’s wife. However, they barely looked at me. I presumed the wife of a peasant-born Captain was in a similar category to a governess, and thought no more about them.

  General Bem, who was a fascinating and rather charming old gentleman, came over to meet us as soon as we entered the room. He kissed my hand again and beamed upon Lajos, throwing a fatherly arm around his shoulders.

  “So! Once more I hear you have done very well, my Lázár!” he said affectionately. “Drényi has been telling me. Of course I said, ‘Nonsense, you cannot mean Lázár. Lázár does not like to fight.’ But he insisted it was you.” He turned to me appealingly, his eyes twinkling with friendly mockery. “How is it, Madame, that I am saddled with a soldier who hates violence?”

  “You asked for me,” Lajos said drily.

  “So I did. I expect I was temporarily insane. Come, Madame, you shall sit by me! Let us eat!”

  We ate. During the meal, I overheard snippets of other people’s conversation, about the late, arduous campaign, about the evacuation of Buda-Pest which some considered to have been premature, and about the Austrians marching into the capital over Count Széchenyi’s new chain bridge — ironic that this should be its first use.

  The General questioned me subtly, and I or Lajos answered as briefly and as honestly as was possible in the circumstances. Not by the smallest hint did he appear to disbelieve us, but once, just as the meal ended, I saw his eyes resting on my bare left hand. Instinctively, I hid both hands in my lap. I saw him smile faintly, but he said nothing.

  Afterwards, there was dancing. Some gypsies were commanded to provide the music, which they did extremely well, and I danced with General Bem and with Colonel Drényi, after which I was delivered back up to Lajos with a twinkling apology for depriving him of his bride. I expect I added to their misconceptions by blushing, but Lajos took it all in good part, merely snatching an untouched glass of wine from his Lieutenant and giving it instead to me. Király only laughed, and begged to be allowed to dance with me later.

  The talk at that moment was on the subject of Kossuth’s power. Although only part of the National Defence Committee, it was always on Kossuth’s shoulders that all the decisions — and all the work — appeared to fall. He had made numerous vain efforts to form a proper Cabinet to help him, but in spite of this, accusations of tyranny and power seeking were provoking him to fury.

  “He was grumbling about it even in October,” Lajos remarked. “In fact, he was so incensed by the injustice of such accusations that he told me he would rather be a dog than the Prime Minister.”

  I had only been half-listening up until then, but now, without warning, I suddenly found this image of the suave, elegant Kossuth longing to be a mere dog, exquisitely funny. As the amusement bubbled up inside me, Lajos met my gaze, his own eyes sharing my laughter. But the others, who didn’t seem to appreciate the joke, were already discussing something else. I never discovered what, for Lajos was still looking at me fixedly, a disconcerting new intensity in his dark eyes.

  “What is it?” I asked with an attempt at lightness. “Are my spectacles crooked?” These, I had discovered by my bedside that morning, mysteriously repaired with an odd but functional spare arm.

  Lajos’s lips quirked. “Not in the least. I am a skilled workman. I was just thinking, people will find it very odd if we don’t dance together at least once.”

  “As long as it’s not a czardas,” I said involuntarily, and then blushed as the laughter sprang back into his eyes.

  “Don’t you like the czardas? Now, that is odd, because I had the impression that you liked it very much.”

  My blush deepened, but I said sweetly, “Appearances may be deceptive.”

  “Obviously. However, I’m prepared to settle for this waltz.”

  And suddenly his arm went around me, whirling me on to the floor, and I was held in an embrace at once soothingly familiar and disturbingly new. He held me too close. I could feel the hardness of his body against me; his face was only inches away from mine. Delicious excitement rose in me as I spun with him around the floor. I wasn’t even surprised that he could waltz.

  The other dancers swept past us in a haze, never too near. I could feel his arm like steel around my waist. I was desperately afraid of my own aroused feelings, perversely triumphant about the desire I could sense in him, and yet over it all, I simply enjoyed the exhilaration of waltzing, Viennese style, in the arms of the man I loved.

  And then, abruptly, he dropped my hand. The arm around my waist swept me out of the room into the deserted, draughty hallway outside. Gasping, I found my back against the wall. One of his arms still held me to him while he leaned the other across the wall over my head in an attitude quite clearly predatory. Dazed, I was held by his dark, glittering eyes which devoured me.

  He bent his head slowly. I felt my stomach melt with anticipation; my eyes began to close of their own volition. And then I heard his breath catch, and my eyes fluttered open again. His gaze was now on my bruised cheek. For a moment he did not move, then, gradually, his hold slackened, his arm dropped to his side as he straightened.

  “There,” he said, and though his voice was light, it was not quite steady. “That’s rough soldiery for you. I’m sorry. Let’s rejoin the party.”

  Confused by this sudden change, I let myself be led back to the dance. I could not think why he hadn’t kissed me — it had been so obviously his intention. Perhaps he had been repelled by the ugliness of my bruise... Or had been reminded by it of my treatment at the hands of his men. He thought I was afraid to be touched; or perhaps he simply would not take advantage of me when I was so vulnerable, so dependent on him.

  “It’s your decision, Katie. I’m damned if I’ll make it for you...”

  The ache in my head began to grow. Instinctively, I lifted my hand, pressing it to my right temple.

  “What is it?” Lajos said at once, and his voice was normal again, concerned as he would be for anyone.

  “Nothing.” I forced myself to smile. “I’m a little tired.”

  “I’ll take you back if you like — but Király will never forgive me if you don’t dance with him first.”

  I couldn’t help wishing that he did not relinquish me to his Lieutenant with quite so much relief. However, as I danced with the amiable Király, I pulled myself together, recovering my refuge of pretence and sociability.

  When we finally said our farewells, I intercepted a few stray winks aimed at him by his friends. General Bem merely smiled benignly upon us, and we departed, walking th
e short distance back to our lodgings.

  “This is ridiculous,” I fumed. “We’re being treated like a pair of newlyweds! What have you said to them?”

  “I? Nothing,” said Lajos, faintly amused. “I believe it was you who told them we were only just married.”

  “Rubbish!” I said indignantly. “Major Jászi asked if we had been married long, and I said ‘no’! It seemed nearest the truth.”

  He glanced at me enigmatically. “Poor Katie. But I’m afraid this particular bed is of your own making — you’ll just have to lie in it for a day or so longer. Which reminds me: Bem doesn’t think you should risk going to Szelényi just yet, but he will send you with the next couriers to Debrecen, if you like.”

  “I don’t care,” I said tiredly, and that was the truth. If I couldn’t be with Lajos — and I couldn’t — I did not care where I was. Then, with a pang of guilt, I remembered Margit’s illness, and the untaught, no doubt neglected children, and belatedly, I began to worry for them all again. “I’ll go to Debrecen,” I said quietly.

  * * * *

  It was the bedroom door closing behind him which woke me in the morning. There was a cup of coffee beside the bed, but I was completely alone. Impulsively, I threw off the heavy blankets and ran to the window. I could just see him striding down the street alone, his sword swinging at his side.

  I touched my aching head ruefully, and went back to my coffee. Half an hour in bed did not lessen the pain. I felt almost resigned to what I knew must follow. Still, I went through the motions of trying to prevent it. I got dressed and went out into the fresh air. I stayed out for hours, in spite of the cold, until the drilling soldiers, and even the conversations of passing townspeople, became too painful.

  And then I thought I had left it too long. It took me some time to recognize the house we lodged in, and when I did, I found my way to our room more by feel than by sight. With relief, I pushed open the door and went in; but my trials were not over yet. A bright, uniformed figure sprang up at once.