As I expected, Lajos greeted them civilly in Romanian. They replied reluctantly, and then Lajos surprised me by passing with no more than an amiable smile. I regarded him fixedly, questions forming on my lips, but before I could voice them, he had nodded his head forward significantly. Following his gaze, I saw what had distracted him from the two peasants — another, solitary figure; and this one, so far as I could tell over the distance, wore a coat and appeared to walk with a very upright, gentlemanly carriage.
Abruptly, Lajos dropped to the ground, into the long grass, pulling me with him.
“What are you doing?” I demanded. “Lajos, I am not prepared to take the role of lover any further!”
His lip quirked appreciatively. “Content yourself. At the moment I have no designs upon your body. Rather, upon his. Hush now.”
We lay still, side by side, though I could not imagine we were hidden from the approaching man.
We waited silently as the quick footfalls came nearer and nearer, and then Lajos moved, hurling himself at the man’s legs and toppling him easily to the ground. In a trice he was leaning over him, and I, bewildered and not a little angry, heard him say happily, “Hallo, Alex.”
There was a pause, and then I laughed. Now I could see the dazed face of Captain Zarescu staring up into Lajos’s, and slowly, a smile of intense pleasure spread across it.
“Lajos, you — you...”
“Hush, my friend; we have company.”
“Well, get off me then, you oaf,” Alex said, dislodging Lajos and sitting up in the grass.
“Alex,” I said, smiling, and he clutched his head.
“I’m dreaming. First Lajos, and now you! What in the world are you doing here?” Suddenly, the pleasure died out of his eyes altogether, and I saw a flash of quick suspicion. “Lajos, the Hungarians have not broken through?”
“No,” Lajos assured him, but Alexandru’s black eyes were still more watchful than I had ever seen them, and they were locked unamiably to Lajos’s.
“And yet I heard you were an officer in Bem’s army.”
“I am.”
“I don’t see your uniform. Do you want to be taken as a spy? Is that what you are?”
“No; I’m a negotiator.”
Some of the suspicion died, but now I could see that Lajos’s own eyes were veiled and almost piercing. He must have been aware of the suspicion he would arouse, even in the breast of a friend as close as Alex. He had known he would no longer be trusted. I didn’t know how much he trusted Alex.
I hated the war anew for what it had done to friends.
“Ah. You have come up in the world,” Alex said lightly. “On whose authority do you negotiate?”
“That of the Committee of National Defence — in effect, Kossuth.”
“And you come to negotiate with...?”
“Iancu, of course.”
Alex pulled the head off a tiny, yellow flower and examined it minutely. “Iancu is not aware of any negotiations.”
“He wouldn’t be. They haven’t yet begun. You can begin it, if you like.”
Abruptly, Alex looked up again, meeting the other’s steady gaze. “What are you up to, Lajos? This is no way to begin formal negotiations — a junior officer out of uniform, indulging in schoolboy pranks with an old friend! And why in God’s name is Katie here?”
“She wanted to come with me. As for the rest, perhaps we should clear a few matters up at once. First of all, although I have been fighting in the Hungarian army since October, my views of Romanian rights have not altered. I am not here to betray you, Alex.”
Alexandru’s eyes flickered and fell. His smile was slightly sheepish as he said, “I don’t see how you could betray us, unless you ask for a cease-fire?”
“I have no authority to request or grant cease-fires. At the moment, this is all secret, presumably in case Kossuth loses face over it. He asked me to see Iancu privately. He wants you on our side; and you know Hungary needs you.”
Alexandru’s fading smile twisted. “She doesn’t seem to. These mountains are all that’s left of your opposition, so far as I can find out.”
“Then now is a good time to negotiate, don’t you think?”
Alex drew his hand through his hair, beginning to speak jerkily, quickly.
“You know I never wanted this war, but it’s easy in the circumstances to become bitter and full of hate. Over the months I have had plenty of opportunity to hate. I have not always been here, you understand — I move from place to place, training peasants to be soldiers and leaders, burying them and training some more. I have seen the results of Hungarian atrocities — and Romanian, I admit — and I have seen the way our allies despise us.”
There was a pause, then his voice dropped. “If we can end it, with honour, I would be happy.”
“So would I,” said Lajos quietly. Slowly, Alex put out his hand and Lajos took it, though he said, “There’s no need. I never counted you an enemy.”
“Save your flannel for Iancu. You’ll need it. Where do you want to meet him?”
“Anywhere he chooses. We’re staying at the inn by the Orthodox Church. Any message will reach me there.”
Alex nodded, but Lajos’s words had reminded him of my presence. “I still can’t believe you are here,” he remarked. “And I still don’t understand why! Looking at you now, I almost expect you to produce Katalin from under your cloak...”
“I can’t do that,” I admitted, “but I can give you this, if you wish to have it.”
I took Katalin’s rather crumpled letter from my reticule, and held it out to him. His thin face became suffused with colour. I think his hand was actually trembling as he took the letter from me.
“Then — then she still thinks of me?”
“Obviously.”
“I don’t deserve her.”
“I have often said so,” Lajos remarked ambiguously.
* * * *
Now, it seemed, we had nothing to do but sit and wait for a message to come from Iancu. Lajos had no doubt that one would come, for Romanian aims were in reality far closer to those of the Hungarian revolution that to Austrian absolutism, however benevolent.
In the meantime, I was content to enjoy our time alone together, for in many ways, this trip was like a honeymoon for us. As the darkness closed in that evening, we ate our pitifully frugal meal in the inn’s quiet coffee-room, sipping sweet, local wine, talking of things that had nothing to do with the war and thinking, as our eyes met more and more often, of the delightful night to come.
I didn’t hear anyone arriving at the inn. When the quick footsteps approached us, I assumed it was the landlord.
“You would make an easy target for guerrilla fighters,” said a mocking voice I remembered.
I knew from his stillness that Lajos was as surprised as I, but he looked calmly up into the stern young face of Avram Iancu and observed, “None of them ever said so before.” Casually, he held up his hand to the other man. “How are you?”
Iancu blinked. Then suddenly he laughed and seized Lajos’s hand, gripping it hard.
“Only you would wander into the lion’s den and behave as if we are meeting at a tea party!”
Lajos’s lip quirked. “I don’t believe the lion will eat me — or not yet. You remember Katie?”
The bright, hungry eyes turned on me. “Of course. The lady from Scotland.”
Calmly, I gave him my hand. I remembered him too, but he had changed even more than Alex. He reminded me of a coiled spring.
“Won’t you join us?” I said politely.
He smiled, and slid like a cat into the empty chair beside me. “You must forgive me for disturbing your meal.”
“We’ve finished, but I’ll fetch you a cup...”
“No need,” said Iancu, producing one from nowhere. “I have brought my own.”
Lajos’s lip twitched, but he poured wine into the rough cup and pushed it across to him gravely enough.
“To peace?” he suggested. Iancu incl
ined his head, and we all drank.
“So,” said Iancu, “what have you come to offer me?”
At that point, any receding hopes I still harboured about keeping some of the evening to ourselves vanished completely. Iancu had come to negotiate tonight.
And so the serious talk began. It went on all night. The innkeeper cleared up and locked up around them, and went to bed as discreetly as a shadow, while in the coffee-room the two young men negotiated for peace and friendship, as if they held the fate of nations in their hands; and yet they were not rulers, nor even members of a parliament.
By the time I left them and went to bed, they had both grown passionate and dishevelled, and I could see that Lajos’s points were going home.
When I rose in the morning, early, they were still there, as if they had not moved. Iancu stood as soon he saw me cross the room.
“I must go,” he said, “or my men will come and kill you!” He held out his hand to Lajos. “So, we are agreed? Your government will send a peace mission, and we will talk under cease-fire. If they bring the same promises as you, we shall lay down our arms, and gladly.”
His words warmed me, but nevertheless it was with some relief that I shook hands and watched him go. Lajos was heavy eyed, but still full of energy.
“Success, I presume?” I said, sitting down opposite him.
“Providing Kossuth does not let me down.”
“Then we go back to Debrecen today?”
He smiled. “Whenever Iancu sends us an escort.”
The escort turned out to be Alex, who took us out of Romanian-held territory, and hesitantly gave me a letter for Katalin before parting from us with ill-concealed reluctance.
* * * *
Lajos’s desire for a speedy end to the Romanian-Hungarian conflict was frustrated by the simple fact that Kossuth had left Debrecen to spend some time with the army. Lajos would have gone after him, except that he was expected back any day now.
So Lajos threw himself into a fever of activity while he waited. He wrote pamphlets in favour of the rights of so-called subject races, and sent articles on the same theme to all the newspapers in Debrecen. No one printed them. He met with the Romanian Deputies of the Assembly, and was particularly impressed with one called Ioan Dragos, whom he brought to eat dinner with us one night.
I spent a lot of time with my family, taking the children for outings and trying to quell the indiscipline into which they had fallen since my unexpected departure in January. I suggested to Elisabeth that they needed a new governess, but she only shuddered and said, “Don’t speak of it! I shan’t be strong enough until all this trouble is over.”
I frowned. “But doesn’t István object to abandoning their education like this?”
“To be honest, Katie, I don’t think he cares a hoot any more. He has plenty of other things to worry about. Though, of course, if you were to come back...”
“I? Would he let me teach them now?”
“Oh yes. I don’t suppose you want to?”
“I don’t think I can,” I said, with a hint of true regret. “We expect to return to Transylvania any day.”
She regarded me. “You wouldn’t consider leaving him? No, I thought not. The trouble is, Katie, I don’t see a way out of your predicament, even if you did leave him.”
“Am I in a predicament?” I asked, amused.
“Of course you are. How can you get married if everyone believes you are married to Lázár? And if you admit that you are not, then you are ruined and no one will want to marry you! In fact, when things get back to normal, you may find yourself socially ruined in any case, being married to someone so far beneath you.”
“Or not,” I added provokingly, and she cast me a glance of dislike.
* * * *
Kossuth finally saw Lajos that evening. He thanked him for his efforts which he praised effusively, and promised to send a formal commission to Iancu immediately. In the morning, we left again for Transylvania.
There, we found that Bem had already left, taking Petöfi with him. However, Colonel Drényi’s troops were among those left behind to keep the peace, and they had been sent to occupy the mountain garrison of Vanora, which had once been Colonel von Avenheim’s responsibility.
It was tempting to make a detour via Szelényi, but in the end, Lajos decided that we should go straight to Vanora — it was what the army expected of him, and he did not propose to imitate Petöfi’s revolt against military tyranny. His own rebellion was internal and much deeper.
Vanora was a well-equipped garrison town, only a little damaged by the fighting which had dislodged the Austrians, the Hungarians and again the Austrians. Colonel Drényi welcomed us with unfeigned delight, and the next day held a little ceremony which I watched from my bed-chamber window. The men paraded in the square below, and then Drényi pinned a medal to Lajos’s breast, with the words that it had been Bem’s wish before he left for Hungary, that Captain Lázár receive this commendation of his resource and valour. I could not see Lajos’s face as he accepted the award, but I imagined quite clearly the mixture of pride and cynicism, impatience and self-deprecation that would be swirling beneath his guarded expression.
Because of Lajos’s special experience, he was considered to be the best man to pacify the Romanian irregulars who were still causing trouble in the region. So, with a sword in one hand and a carrot, as he sardonically observed, in the other, he led frequent patrols out of the fortress while waiting impatiently for news of Iancu’s truce.
One morning, as I lay in bed, watching him shrug himself into his coat, he said abruptly, “We passed through Szelényi yesterday — did I tell you?”
“No,” I said, hiding my surprise. “You didn’t tell me.”
Uneasily, I waited to hear the news, while he turned to buckle on his belt and sword.
“The village is still standing, just. So is the castle, although it’s being guarded for us by some peasant enthusiasts under the command of a retired officer.”
“Thank God,” I said, for it had been unbearable to imagine Szelényi gone the way of so many other villages in Transylvania: deserted, savaged, ruined by war; but Lajos had not finished.
“The neighbouring villages are decimated. The Acsády lands are almost completely ruined, their villages razed to the ground, the people gone or dead.”
I sat down, distressed as much by the new tone in his voice as by his words. “Who?” I asked at last.
“Do you mean who did it? Does it matter? The war did it.”
I swallowed, meeting his gaze rather warily. I didn’t know this mood and I didn’t trust it. “Did — did you see your parents in Szelényi?”
He nodded.
“Are they well?” I asked, and then felt ashamed of the common politeness of the question, but I couldn’t think how else to ask.
“They’re alive. Most of the village stores have been taken by passing armies, but they are not yet starving; and Károly has, so far, avoided impressment — though Zoltán could be anywhere, they haven’t heard from him in months.”
“Lajos...” I began pleadingly, for I couldn’t understand the brusque distance he was suddenly achieving
“Father Ránoczy sends his regards,” Lajos interrupted. I stared.
“I — how does he know I am here?”
Lajos shrugged. “He was never a fool. They’re waiting for me — I have to go now.” And he went, leaving me feeling confused and bereft, for the first time in months, of the smallest crumb of affection.
I lay in bed for a long time, distressed by his odd humour. Gradually it came to me that it stemmed from guilt. He had begun the revolution for Szelényi, for Transylvania, and now the country lay in ruins from months of civil warfare; Szelényi itself was worse off than it ever had been, and his own brother was missing, possibly dead, his family distraught. He had always said he was prepared for the consequences of revolution; for the first time, I doubted it.
It was a long, difficult morning for me. I could sett
le to nothing, so it was a decided relief when I was interrupted at midday by Lieutenant Király looking for Lajos. Seizing my opportunity, I enticed him inside, determined to find out if anything untoward had occurred in Szelényi.
However, I had not got further than the most vague enquiries, when the door opened and Lajos himself came in. I saw at once that his mood had altered drastically since the morning. In fact, what I saw in his eyes made my heart leap.
Király said hastily, “You have news? What is it?”
Lajos seized the wooden chair by the desk, and swung it round beside us, sitting astride it with his arms resting along its back. He smiled at me and at his Lieutenant. I remember thinking irrelevantly that he was actually no older than Király.
“Lajos,” I said threateningly.
He was still smiling at me as he said, “The Hungarian army has re-entered Buda-Pest. The fort of Komarom is ours too. The Austrians are bolting for the border.”
I think it was only then that I realized how completely I had come to regard Hungary as my home. Breathlessly, I stared at him.
“Truly?”
“Truly.”
Király let out a violent whoop of joy, and then, from all over Vanora, I could hear cheers breaking out.
“Then we have won?” I demanded of Lajos. “We have really won?”
“It’s beginning to look rather like it.”
“Look like it?” Király exclaimed. “Rot you, Lázár, we have won! We must have! What remains?”
“Castle Hill in Buda,” Lajos said apologetically. “A small and isolated stronghold, I admit; and one or two other minor fortresses. And as I understand it, dealing the Austrians a good drubbing as they leave would be a good thing.”
“Easy!” Király said enthusiastically. “My God, this is wonderful! Madame, your servant!” And with that, he was gone, rushing off to find someone to celebrate with.
Lajos continued to look at me with that light of quiet triumph in his eyes.
“It seems it has all been worthwhile after all,” he said softly. I went to him, and he stood up, taking me in his arms. “Soon, with luck, it will all be over and we can get back to the important things in life...”
A World to Win Page 48