A World to Win

  It was an exhausting and futile trip, and by the time we returned no one imagined that Bem could still pull off one of his startling, daring victories to change the course of the war. Buda-Pest, we heard, was again in the hands of the Austrians and their Russian allies. The Assembly, after only one meeting in the capital, had decamped once more, this time to Szeged. I wondered if István and the family had gone with it. I wondered about Mattias.

  One of the few events that lightened the darkness of those days was the return of Petöfi. His faith in Bem undiminished, his desperate, nervous energy infectious, he managed to lift Lajos’s spirits as I could not. Talking far into the night just as they used to seemed to calm them, refresh them, as if they needed to remind each other of what had actually begun this fight, at least for them. The fight was all but lost; yet the cause was still good.

  The biggest shadow that hung over them was the death of Vasvári, barely twenty-four years old, killed by Romanian guerrillas. More than anything else could have done, this grief shattered them, for apart from the awful personal loss, it proved that the old lifestyle of the Pilvax radicals was over for good, whatever the outcome of the war. The ‘March Youth’ had disintegrated, one way or another.

  “Still,” said Petöfi with forced cheerfulness, “trust in Father Bem!”

  Then came the day when Lajos refused to take me any further. We had spent the night at a country inn some miles from Segesvár. The Jewish innkeeper was one of Lajos’s friends, and upon first meeting, one of the most morose individuals I had ever encountered. However, behind that bearded, lugubrious exterior lurked an extremely sharp sense of humour, betrayed only by an occasional twinkle in his heavy, hooded eyes. Marta, his wife, smiled a lot and said little, but her black eyes were unspeakably sad.

  We ate with József and Marta in their private parlour that evening. They bemoaned the war at length, praying for its end and the return of trade and decent living. Lajos’s smile was twisted as he told them they would not have long to wait. József eyed him seriously.

  “What will you do, Lajos?”

  Lajos shrugged. “Fight as long as I can, I suppose. There will be a major battle soon now — I expect that to be the end, for Transylvania at least.”

  József leaned forward, his eyes flickering to his wife and back. “You know we can hide you here, if it comes to that.”

  Lajos smiled, sincerely this time. “Thank you. I may yet have a favour to ask you.” He changed the subject then, and shortly afterwards I went to bed.

  Although I knew he was exhausted, it was some time before Lajos came to me; but I wasn’t asleep — something wouldn’t let me rest.

  “Old times again?” I said lightly, and he sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at me enigmatically.

  “No,” he said, after a moment. “The future this time. The immediate future. Katie, I want you to stay here for a few days.”

  “No,” I said at once.

  “Yes. It’s comfortable here, and József and Marta are friends we can trust. There is no point in your coming further yet — we shall probably fight at Segesvár. I’ll come and fetch you after the battle.”

  Abruptly, I sat up, seizing him convulsively by the shoulders.

  “Lajos, don’t!” I whispered. He touched my cheek.

  “Don’t what, sweetheart? Protect you? I can’t help it. I want you safely here where I can find you.”

  “No. You think you won’t come back.”

  “It’s possible. It was always possible, but I’ve always survived. Listen: did you know that the Szelényis were at Kolozsvár three days ago?”

  My eyes widened. “No,” I said, bewildered. “Why are they there?”

  “I expect they were going home, to sit out the rest of the war. Also — they had Mattias with them. Apparently he was ill.”

  “No, oh no,” I said distressed. Lajos’s arm was around me, holding me.

  “He was alive. I don’t even know if it’s a fever or a wound he is suffering; but he’s strong, Katie, he always was. It’s István who should worry you — he has been too close to the Committee of National Defence. The Austrians may well be looking for him.”

  “Lajos, why are you telling me this?”

  “Because, if I don’t come back, you should try to find the Szelényis. József will help you.”

  I clutched at him, burying my face in his neck. I had to face the possibility of a life without him, and I couldn’t. It was unthinkable now in ways I couldn’t even have imagined in the months when my only misery had been the prospect of having to leave Hungary. Death was the final parting. No fate or kindness could intervene after that.

  I almost told him then. Pressed to him, feeling the warmth of his body seeping into mine, and the hard buttons of his uniform digging into my flesh, inhaling the male fragrance of his body for what could be the last time, panic nearly unsealed my lips; but this was not the time to give him new anxieties. It would not have stopped him fighting the last battle of his revolution. It would merely have distracted his mind when he needed to concentrate on staying alive. So I was silent.

  There was a desperation in our lovemaking that night, a fierce yet gentle intensity that made me weep; and when it was over he held me close and kissed away my tears, soothing me like a baby until I slept. He didn’t sleep at all. He lay awake beside me, watching me until dawn, and then he left me and went to join his men.

  * * * *

  I was lost when he had gone. I had nothing to do and nothing to think about except what would drive me to madness. I spent hours with Marta and József, talking and talking: about how they had met Lajos — they had used to run a tavern near Szelényi when Lajos was an adventurous, roving boy — and about how I had met him; about their children and their pride in them. I smiled at that, hugging my own secret to myself.

  And all the time I felt as if my ears were wide open, waiting for the distant roar of guns that would tell us a battle was under way. We didn’t hear it that day, so I went to bed, able to sleep.

  The next day was different. We stood at the inn door listening to the guns. They were far away, but that sort of noise carries for miles. I watched the peasants pass by, indifferently going about their business. They were tired of the war; they no longer cared who won.

  I was shaking so that I couldn’t stop. This was the worst waiting I had ever done, worse even than the first time in January. When the guns died away, the knot in my stomach tightened and twisted unbearably; and now the real waiting began — waiting for news, waiting for Lajos.

  It was dark when the two soldiers banged on the inn door. József opened it, reasoning that if he didn’t the soldiers would simply break it in. They were Hungarian honvéd troops, dirty, bloody, dispirited, threatening; but when József drew them in and gave them wine before he was asked, the dangerous look passed from their faces and they began to answer questions.

  “Where was the battle?” József asked them urgently. “How did it go?”

  “We lost, of course. We always lose now — old Father Bem has lost his touch.”

  I closed my eyes to gather strength. I think I had always known we would lose. Certainly I had known the truth as soon as I had seen them, but hearing the words did not make it easier to cope with.

  “It was at Segesvár,” said the other soldier tiredly, “A rout, a massacre. Our men are all scattered or dead or taken. Me — I’ve had enough. I’m going home to my wife, and no King or Emperor or President will ever make me leave again...”

  I licked my dry lips. “Do you know Captain Lázár?” I asked them. “One of Colonel Drényi’s officers?”

  “No, can’t say I do,” said one.

  “I know him,” said the other. “He’s the radical, from Buda-Pest.”

  “Yes,” I said eagerly. “That’s right. Do you know where he is?”

  “Dead most like,” was the chilling, almost indifferent answer, and then, encountering some look of József’s, he glanced back at me. “That is, I don’t know. I never sa
w him today.”

  “Then you can’t tell me if — if...?”

  “No.” The soldier glanced at me again with a hint of compassion. “Is he your husband? I’m sorry, Madame, I don’t know.”

  “And the enemy?” József asked quickly. “Are they coming this way?”

  “Not yet,” said the soldiers, “but first thing in the morning, we’re off, anyhow.”

  József gave them beds for the night, and food. There seemed no point now in labelling men as deserters. I thought briefly of Tamás and Béla, and shivered. How many men had died since they had?

  To please Marta, I went eventually to my own room, but I didn’t even bother to undress. I sat by my window all night, staring fixedly at the inn yard and the road beyond, and clasping my shaking hands together so tightly that all my muscles ached by morning.

  When I went downstairs, sluggish with tiredness and fading hope, József told me that the two soldiers had gone.

  “But,” he added, “I got them to admit that they didn’t see the end of the battle. In fact, they bolted when their officer was killed, which, so far as I can gather, was pretty near the beginning — I thought they’d made pretty good time from Segesvár!”

  I caught hold of that eagerly. “So it may not have been as bad as they said?”

  “Pray not,” József said grimly. I did.

  As the morning wore on, the news dribbled into us via fleeing soldiers and travellers and peasants. Segesvár had indeed been a rout and the number of dead was staggering. All that day I sat outside the inn while my hope faded with every passing hour. There had been something in his manner the night before he had left me, which had seemed to imply that he had known he would not return.

  I polished my spectacles incessantly, so that I could see as far and as clearly as possible, but the tiny dots which emerged in the distance only became peasants or dogs or strange soldiers, none of whom could give me news of Lajos. I got to know that scenery very well. On the other side of the road was a wood which spread outwards to the right and up the side of the hill. I think I knew every tree intimately by mid-day.

  The sun was at its hottest when I saw a travelling carriage lumbering down the hill. I was not remotely interested in such vehicles, for I was sure that was not how Lajos would be travelling. However, as the sun glinted off a nobleman’s crest on the side of the coach and I realized that it was being followed by a second carriage, I remembered that I should not advertise my presence here. The whole area would soon be crawling with Austrians and Russians, and if Lajos was still alive, I had no intention of being used to trap him.

  If he was still alive...

  He must be, I thought. I would know if he were dead, know it by more than this numb fear... wouldn’t I?

  I waited inside the inn for the carriages to pass. However both pulled into the yard and stopped, so after a warning glance at me, József went bustling outside to meet them. Standing well away from the window, I strained my ears for German or Russian accents, but I heard no voices at all. Restlessly, I began to move towards the stairs, intending to go to my room to watch the road from there, but suddenly I paused in mid-step, for a child’s cry filled my ears.

  In fact it was not a particularly loud cry and penetrating across the yard and into the house had faded it further. Perhaps I would not have noticed it at all, except that there had been a time when my ears had been attuned to that particular sound. That particular child.

  For a moment I was paralysed, and then, suddenly terrified that the coach would leave again before I could get to it, I ran to the door, pulling it open wildly and dashing out into the yard. István was standing beside the first coach, giving his orders to József. I glimpsed his face, pale and drawn, and then my eyes were searching the windows.

  It was Katalin’s shriek of “Katie!” which brought an abrupt end to Anna’s wails, but by that time István had turned to stare in surprise at the small, demented figure I must have presented. Katalin almost tumbled out of the carriage and into my arms, and then Margit and the children, with Zsuzsa peering in disbelief from the door. I saw Elisabeth look out of the second carriage, and then everyone was hugging me at once, and I think we were all crying with sheer pent up emotion. Poor József, brushed aside like a large, sad fly, waited with exaggerated servility until we were finished.

  At last I met István’s eyes.

  “Mattias?” I asked, suddenly afraid again, and he nodded towards the second coach. Katalin took my arm and led me to it.

  “He is very weak,” she said seriously. “But the doctors say he will live — if he isn’t moved.” I only stared. I did not need to point out that he was being moved, and over some of the worst roads in Europe. “I know,” she said, replying to my look. “But what else can we do? He said he wanted to go home to Szelényi...”

  Mattias was lying across one seat in the coach, propped up on pillows and cushions. I knew it was him, but only because they had told me. He seemed at once bigger and more wasted than in January: his shoulders had broadened and filled out, his face become less boyish and more manly; and yet he seemed to have shrunk to haggard skin and bone. His face looked almost transparent, deathly white apart from the hectic flush in his cheeks. His eyes too were glittering feverishly as they stared at me in disbelief. Then, slowly, a smile, pitiful in its weakness, spread across his face. His hand made a feeble movement towards me, and I was on my knees beside him.

  “Oh, Mattias, you idiot,” I whispered, because I couldn’t think what else to say.

  “I know,” he murmured. “Soldiers are meant to die gallantly in battle, not in sick-beds like old women...”

  “You,” I said more firmly, “are not going to die.” Don’t. Please don’t.

  “Yes, Mademoiselle,” he said, smiling still; and then his eyes closed again with frightening exhaustion. By then the others had joined us. Margit had slipped her hand timidly into my arm, chirruping faintly in my ear.

  “But you, Katie?” István said at last. “What are you doing here?”

  “Waiting for Lajos. There was a battle, at Segesvár...”

  “We know. We have been avoiding the results all day.”

  “I suppose you know you are going in the wrong direction for Szelényi?”

  “We gave up that idea. We’re making for Turkey now.”

  I laughed until it became unsteady. “Are you? Lajos and I are going to London — wouldn’t you be more comfortable there too?”

  “Where is he?” Elisabeth asked bluntly.

  “I don’t know. He fought in the battle. I’m waiting for him.”

  She met my gaze for a moment, then nodded decisively. “Very well. We shall wait with you.”

  My eyes were uncontrollable that day. Clumsily, I took off my spectacles, staring fiercely down at them while I wiped them.

  “You must get to safety yourselves,” I reminded them.

  “We are not in danger,” Elisabeth said calmly.

  “István is.”

  “Not yet; and they say the Russians are very gentlemanly.”

  I began to say that I didn’t know how long I would have to wait, but though I felt I had to make the protest, I was not sorry when they cut my objections off with the curtness they deserved.

  They stayed. József and Marta were glad of the wealthy custom and took my word without question that these aristocrats were friends.

  As darkness fell again, István tried to tell me with unwonted gentleness that Lajos was not coming, and that I should leave with them in the morning. I suppose it must have seemed to him an ideal solution to the problem of my relationship with Lajos.

  “I can’t,” I said simply. “I have to know what has happened. Don’t worry — I know you cannot wait longer, but I have to.”

  Elisabeth said, “What did Lajos want you to do?”

  István could not help his derisive snort, but at least he had the grace to cut it off.

  “To wait for him here,” I said firmly. Then my eyes fell before her suddenly pie
rcing blue gaze. “And if he didn’t come back, I was to leave with you. If I could find you.”

  “He hasn’t come back, Katie.”

  “He is not dead. I would know if he were dead.”

  “Katie, how could you know? We cannot wait for official news to reach you here, and you cannot stay here alone.”

  István said awkwardly, “You know what would happen to him if he were captured?”

  I nodded dumbly. There was nothing else to say.

  When the others went to bed, crammed into the inn’s small available space, I sat up. I was a little stupid from lack of sleep, and in truth I felt none too well; but I knew I would never be able to sleep. Oddly enough, it was Elisabeth who stayed with me, distracting me with her own anxieties over István — which no longer concerned his imagined infidelities, but his very real nervous exhaustion. Recent events had made us all grow up.

  “To be honest, that is one reason we are leaving,” she confessed. “I have no idea whether or not he is in any actual danger from the Austrians — after all, he is not nobody and he has many friends at Court...”

  “Lajos thought he should go, at least for a while. To be on the safe side.”

  Elisabeth looked surprised that such a thought had entered Lajos’s head, but she only said, “Perhaps. At all events, he needs to get out of this country to get his strength back. I’ve never seen him like this before.”

  “He will get over it,” I said, trying to sound both authoritative and comforting. “I’m sure he will.”

  Her voice went on, strangely soothing, until it merged with the tired singing in my ears and the sound of the wind in the trees outside. The next instant, I was jerked awake by her touch on my shoulder.