The Slaves of the Padishah Part 43

Azrael placed her hands devoutly across her breast and beckoned to the apparition to follow her, and raising the curtain she returned into that room where she had already raised a funeral pyre for herself.

There, piled up together, lay cus.h.i.+ons of cloth of gold, Indian feather-stuffs, divans filled with swansdown, light, luxurious little tables, harps of camphor-wood adorned with pearls, lutes with the silvery voices of houris, a little basin filled with fine fragrant oils composed from the aroma of a thousand oriental flowers; this she everywhere sprinkled over the heaped-up stuff, and also saturated the thick carpets with it, the volatile essence filled the whole atmosphere.

Then she pressed her hand upon her throbbing heart, and said: "G.o.d be with me!"

And then she fired the heaped-up materials at all four corners, and, as if she were ascending her bridal bed, mounted her cus.h.i.+ons with a smiling, triumphant face, and lay down among them, closing her eyes with a happy smile.

In a few moments the flames burst forth at all four corners, fed freely by the light dry stuff, and combining above her like a wave of fire, formed a flaming canopy over her head. And she smiled happily, sweetly, all the time. The air, filled with volatile oil, also burst into flame, turning into a sea of burning blue; white clouds of smoke began to gather above the pyre; the strings of the harp caught by the flames burst asunder one by one from their burning frame, emitting tremulous, woeful sounds as if weeping for her who was about to die. When the last harp-string had burnt--the odalisk was dead.

The night was now drawing to a close. Feriz Beg, quietly intent, was sitting at the window of his kiosk, as he had promised the odalisk. He had not understood her mysterious words, but he did as she asked, for he knew instinctively that it was the last wish of one about to die.

Suddenly, as he gazed at the black waves of the Danube and the still blacker clouds in the sky, he saw a bright column of fire ascend with the rapidity of the wind from the midst of the opposite island, driving before it round white clouds of smoke. A few moments later the flames of the burning kiosk lit up the whole region. The startled inhabitants gazed at the splendid conflagration, whose flames mounted as high as a tower in the roaring blast. n.o.body thought of saving it.

"No human life is lost, at any rate," they said quietly; "the harem and its guards were transferred yesterday."

The wind, too, greatly helped the fire. The kiosk, built entirely of the lightest of wood, was a heap of ashes by the morning, when Feriz, accompanied by the muderris in his official capacity, got into a skiff and were rowed across to the island. Not even a remnant of embers was to be found, everything had been burnt to powder. Nothing was to be seen but a large, black, open patch powdered with ashes. The fire had utterly consumed the abode of sin and vice. Nothing remained but a black spot. In the coming spring it will be a green meadow.

In the afternoon of the following day we see a familiar horseman trotting up to the gates of the fortress--if we mistake not, it is Yffim Beg.

All the way from Klausenburg he had been cudgelling his brains to find words sufficiently dignified to soften the expression of the insulting message which the Estates of Transylvania had sent through him to his gracious master. On arriving in front of Ha.s.san's palace he dismounted as usual, without asking any questions, and gave the reins to the familiar eunuchs that they might lead the horse to the stables.

There was no trace of the scaffold that had been erected in front of the gate the day before. Yffim Beg entered and pa.s.sed through all the rooms he knew so well, all the doors of which were still guarded by the drabants of Ha.s.san as of yore; at last he reached Ha.s.san's usual audience chamber, and there he found Olaj Beg sitting on a divan reading the Alkoran.

Yffim Beg gazed around him, and after a brief inspection, not discovering what he sought, he addressed Olaj Beg:

"I want to speak to Ha.s.san Pasha," said he.

Olaj Beg looked at him, rose with the utmost aplomb, and approached a table on which was a silver dish covered by a cloth. This cloth he removed, and a severed b.l.o.o.d.y head stared at Yffim Beg with stony eyes.

"There he is--speak to him!" said Olaj Beg gently.

CHAPTER XXI.

OTHER TIMES--OTHER MEN.

Great men are the greatest of all dangers to little States. There are men born to be great generals who die as robber-chiefs. If Michael Teleki had sat at the head of a great kingdom, his name perchance would have ranked with that of Richelieu, and that kingdom would have been proud of the years during which he governed it. It was his curse that Transylvania was too small for his genius, but it was also the curse of Transylvania that he was greater than he ought to have been.

The Battle of St. Gothard was a painful wound to Turkish glory, and it left behind it a constant longing for revenge, though a ten-years' peace had actually been concluded; and presently a more favourable opportunity than the prognostications of the Ulemas or the wisdom of the Lords of Transylvania antic.i.p.ated presented itself, an opportunity far too favourable to be neglected.

Treaty obligations had compelled the Kaiser to take part in the War of the Spanish Succession against Louis XIV., and the Kaiser's enemies at once saw that the time for raising their standards against him had arrived. The war was to begin from Transylvania, and the reward dangled before the Prince of Transylvania for his partic.i.p.ation in this war was what his ancestors had often but vainly attempted to gain in the same way--the Kingdom of Hungary.

It was, of course, a dangerous game to risk one kingdom in order to gain another, for both might be sacrificed. There was even a party in Transylvania itself which was indisposed to risk the little Princ.i.p.ality for the sake of the larger kingdom, and though the most powerful arm of this party, Dionysius Banfy, had been cut off, it still had two powerful heads in Paul Beldi and Nicholas Bethlen.

So one fine day at the Diet a.s.sembled at Fogaras, the Prince's guard suddenly surrounded the quarters of Paul Beldi and Nicholas Bethlen, and informed those gentlemen that they were State prisoners.

What had they done? What crime had they committed that they should be arrested so unceremoniously?

Good Michael Apafi believed that they were aiming at the princely coronet. This was a crime he was ready to believe in at a single word, and he urged the counsellors who had ordered the arrest at once to put the law into execution against the arrestants. But that is what these gentlemen took very good care not to do. It was much easier to kill the arrestants outright than to find a law which would meet their case.

In those days worthy Master Cserei was the commandant of the fortress of Fogaras, and the castle in which the arrestants were lodged was the property of the Princess. As soon as Anna heard of the arrest she summoned Cserei, and showing him the signet-ring on her finger, said to him: "Look at that ring, and whatever death-warrant reaches you, if it bears not the impression of that seal, you will take care not to execute the prisoners; the castle is mine, so you have to obey my orders rather than the orders of the Prince."

The Prince and his wife then returned together to Fejervar. On the day after their arrival the chief men of the realm met together in council at the Prince's palace, and it was Teleki's idea that only those should remain to dinner who were of the same views as himself. So they all remained at the Prince's till late in the evening, and thoroughly enjoyed the merry jests of the court buffoon, Gregory Biro, who knew no end of delightful tricks, and swallowed spoons and forks so dextrously that n.o.body could make out what had become of them.

Apafi had not noticed how much he had drunk, for every time he had filled his beaker from the flagon standing beside him, the flagon itself had been replenished, so that he fancied he had drunk nothing from sheer forgetfulness. But his face had got more inflamed and bloodshot than usual, and suddenly perceiving that the chair next to his was empty, he exclaimed furiously: "Who else has bolted? It is Denis Banfy who has bolted now, I know it is. What has become of Denis Banfy, I say?"

The gentlemen were all silent; only Teleki was able to reply:

"Denis Banfy is dead."

"Dead?" inquired Apafi, "how did he die?"

"Paul Beldi formed a league against him and he was beheaded."

"Beldi?" cried Apafi, rising from his seat in blind rage, "and where is that man?"

"He is in a dungeon at present, but it will not be long before he sits on the throne of the Prince."

"On the scaffold, you mean!" thundered Apafi, beside himself, in a bloodthirsty voice, "on the scaffold, not the throne. I'll show that crafty Szekler who I am if he raises his head against me. Call hither the protonotarius, the law must be enforced."

"The sentences are now ready, sir," said Nalaczi, drawing from his pocket three doc.u.ments of equal size; "only your signature is required."

He was also speedily provided with ink and a pen, which they thrust into the trembling hand of the Prince, indicating to him at the same time the place on the doc.u.ment where he was to sign his name. The thing was done.

"Is there any stranger among us?" asked Teleki, looking suspiciously around.

"Only the fool, but he doesn't count."

The fool at that moment was making a sword dance on the tip of his nose, and on the sword he had put a plate, and he kept calling on the gentlemen to look at him--he certainly had paid no attention to what was going on at the table.

The three letters were three several commands. The first was directed to Cserei, telling him to put the prisoners to death at once; the second was to the provost-marshal, Zsigmond Boer, to the effect that if Cserei showed any signs of hesitation he was to be killed together with the gentlemen; the third was to the garrison of the fortress, impressing upon them in case of any hesitation on the part of the provost to make an end of him forthwith along with the others. All three letters, sealed with yellow wax, were handed over to Stephen Nalaczi, who, placing them in his kalpag, pressed his kalpag down upon his head and hastened quickly from the room. He had to pa.s.s close to the jester on his way out, and the fool, rus.h.i.+ng upon him, exclaimed. "O ho! you have got on my kalpag; off with it, this is yours!" and before Nalaczi had recovered from his surprise he found a cap and bells on his head instead of a kalpag.

The magnate considered this jest highly indecent, and seized the jester by the throat.

"You scoundrel, you, where have you put my kalpag? Speak, or I'll throttle you."

"Don't throttle me, sir," said the jester apologetically, "for then you would be the biggest fool at the court of the Prince."

"My kalpag!" cried Nalaczi furiously, "where have you put it?"

"I have swallowed it, sir."