The Red, White, and Green

  CHAPTER XXIV.

  _THE END OF COUNT BEULA._

  You who have read my story know that from the very beginning I dislikedthis Count Beula; and the death of my gallant brother, which rightly orwrongly I laid at his door, changed my dislike into downright hatred.

  Yet throughout this narrative I have, I trust, never shown myself unfairto him. I have told freely how Bern, himself the most reckless offighters, had praised his courage, and in my account of the storming ofBuda I made no attempt to hide his gallantry. Even in this last fight Ihave mentioned how bravely he rode at the Austrian hussars, and how theglow of health had returned to his cheeks as he bared his weapon for thefray.

  No, I am fully persuaded in my own mind that Count Beula did not feardeath, but only the manner of it.

  Leading or repelling a desperate charge, cheering his men to the deadlybreach, or hurling the enemy from the ramparts of an assaulted town, hewould have met death cheerfully and without flinching.

  Here, on this lonely road, he was not even a soldier. The Austriansregarded him merely as a plotter, an accomplice of the conspirators inVienna, an instigator of Count Latour's murder, the boon companion of abrigand whose life was forfeit even to Hungarian laws.

  Thus the fiat had gone forth that Count Beula, the representative of anoble family, the head of a house celebrated long before the days ofArpad, was to be taken and hanged straightway like the vilest malefactorin the land.

  The very thought of this terrible disgrace had, as he admitted, unnervedhim; its imminent approach drove him crazy. This, I am fully convinced,was the real reason for his astounding conduct.

  The robbers were by this time too far off to render any aid, thoughseveral glanced over their shoulders to see what was happening. Thehussars had got very close to us.

  My horse quivered with excitement, but did not move while I, afterseveral attempts, set the count free.

  Exactly what was to be done I had not determined, though it occurred tome that my animal must carry double, or that while Beula rode I musthang on by the stirrups.

  In either case, no doubt, I should have been killed or taken prisoner;but the count solved the difficulty in his own way. He looked a strangeobject as he sprang to his feet. Blood from a wound in the headtrickled down his ashy-grey cheeks; his blue eyes stared wildly; heseemed like a man possessed, as I really believe he was.

  He glanced at the approaching Austrians and shuddered; then, without aword of warning, he leaped into my saddle and was gone.

  It all happened so suddenly that I stood dumfounded. That one of my raceand nation could be guilty of such black treachery had never entered myhead.

  Wild, unreasoning anger succeeded stupor, and I shook my sword at theretreating figure; then anger yielded to pity.

  Poor fellow! When the cloud had passed from his mind, what would lifebe worth to him, even if the story of his cowardice were never madeknown?

  What misery each recurring day would bring, as he thought of theterrible price he had paid for his life--manhood, honour, chivalry, allirretrievably lost in that one mad moment!

  For the count's own sake I almost wished that a shot from the enemywould bring him down.

  Had I been able to look into the future, the half-wish would havechanged into a whole-hearted prayer.

  But apparently luck was with the count. My horse, having recovered hiswind, bore him gallantly, gaining at every stride upon the last of therobbers.

  All this takes long in the telling; in reality it lasted but a littletime, though to me it seemed an age.

  With Count Beula and my horse had vanished every hope of escape.

  Flight was impossible, and how could I stand against a hundred hussars?

  Then I remembered Von Theyer, and gnashed my teeth at the thought of howhe would gloat over my capture.

  Would he kill me? It was likely enough, since I had been found incompany with a notorious outlaw, and not many questions are askedconcerning the victims of an unsuccessful revolution.

  The bandits had disappeared, and I was standing beside the body of thecount's dead horse when the leading hussars galloped up.

  Von Theyer was not amongst them, I saw at a glance, and smiled.

  The leader was the young sublieutenant who had attacked me so furiouslyin the fight.

  He had mounted a fresh horse, but his sword was sheathed, and he lookedat me quite good-naturedly.

  "You must surrender!" cried he genially. "You have made a good fight,but the odds are against you. One man, though a Magyar, cannotoverthrow a hundred."

  He spoke in German, and I replied in the same tongue, giving him mysword, and acknowledging myself his prisoner.

  Just then Von Theyer arrived, and with a savage scowl exclaimedharshly,--

  "Tie that fellow up. Make sure of him, Ober, and put him on your horse.If he gets away, you'll swing in his place."

  Ober, a spare but muscular hussar, saluted respectfully, and, helped byanother fellow, tied my arms tightly.

  Then they lifted me into the saddle; Ober sprang up behind, and we wereall galloping hard after Batori and his men.

  Von Theyer was in the front again, where I could not see his face; butthe one glance had shown I need expect no mercy from him. Even if heforgave my making friends with the pretty Theresa, he must always hatethe author of that disfiguring scar across his cheeks.

  The wound had in truth spoiled his good looks for ever, and Von Theyerhad been a very handsome youth in the days of the insurrection.

  The excitement of the ride, however, soon blew these thoughts out of myhead; and, as well as my cramped position would allow, I looked eagerlyfor any signs of the fugitives. Of Batori and his men we did not catchanother glimpse; but the brigand chief left us a specimen of hishandiwork on the roadside. Von Theyer was the first to see it, and ashe stopped the others did the same.

  It was a ghastly object, and my blood ran cold at sight of it.

  From the bough of the very first tree we reached Count Beula hunglifeless.

  Across his breast was fastened a sheet of paper, on which some one hadwritten in Hungarian and German characters the words: "Hungary has noneed of cowards."

  "The brigand has saved us a job," exclaimed Von Theyer. "If we catchhim we'll hang him on the same tree."

  Now you may be sure I had no wish to ask a favour of Von Theyer, yet thespectacle of the hapless count swinging there in the breeze nerved me toask that the body might be cut down and decently buried.

  "Buried!" cried Von Theyer scornfully. "Let the dog hang. The kiteswill bury him fast enough when we are gone."

  "You are a brute!" I cried hotly, caring little in my indignation forthe consequences.

  He raised his hand to strike me, but dropped it again.

  "We will square our account later," he said, and gave the word to trot.

  We rode on accordingly, but I could not drag my mind from that dreadfulplace.

  I saw nothing of the country through which we passed. I could only seethe grey face of the dead count staring down upon me from that primitivegallows.

  I never met Batori again, but one of his men years afterwards relatedjust how the tragedy happened.

  The bandits, seeing me jump down to the count's assistance when hishorse fell, and thinking my animal would have to carry the two of us,slackened their speed, so that we might the more easily catch them up.

  When Count Beula arrived by himself, and they, looking back, saw mestanding alone beside the dead horse, it was easy to guess what hadhappened.

  The count, who was dreadfully excited, made no attempt to hide what hehad done, but explained that had the Austrians captured him they wouldhave hanged him on the nearest tree.

  "Or beam," added Batori coolly.

  "Tree or beam," answered the count. "That's the order which refers toboth of us."

  "Well," said the brigand, with the laugh his men dreaded to hear, "weshall have to ride a bit farther before
we find one or the other. Comeon, count! I'll pledge my word that the Austrians shall never hangyou!"

  Count Beula, little dreaming of the inner meaning of these words,galloped along with the band, and not another word was spoken till theyreached the first tree.

  Here the robber-captain called a halt, and making a sign that some ofthe party should surround the count, said to him,--

  "This is where the Austrians would have hung you; but now, perhaps, theywill hang Captain Botskay instead."

  At this Beula, discovering a little shame, replied falteringly that theywould only imprison me for a while; but as for him, he would never havegot one step past that tree.

  As soon as he had made an end of speaking, Batori raised his hand. Thecount was seized, torn from his horse, bound, a noose put round hisneck, and he was placed directly beneath the fatal bough.

  "Count Beula," cried the bandit, "you are a coward, and Hungary has noneed of cowards. You have left that lad, who risked his life for you,to die. Now you shall die yourself. Though the Austrians have notcaught you, you shall be hanged all the same."

  The unhappy man begged piteously--not for his life, but that he might beshot.

  Batori, however, remained inexorable, and while the poor wretch wasstill pleading gave the order. The men pulled at the rope, and the bodyof Count Beula hung swinging in the wind for the vultures and carrioncrows to devour.

  Thus, in the strangest way imaginable, it came to pass that Count Beuladid hang like a common criminal by the roadside, though the Austrianswere not his executioners.

  I pitied the poor fellow from my heart, feeling sure that when he leftme to face the enemy alone excitement had carried him out of his rightsenses.

  As we rode from the spot I could of course only guess at the details ofthe tragedy, and indeed years passed before I met one of the actors; butthe outline of it was so bold and clear that no one could mistake thegeneral drift of the story, especially with Batori's sign-manual tohelp.

  It gladdened me in after years to learn that the unfortunate count didnot really fear death, but only the manner of it, as that was how I hadread his conduct.

  Wrapped in thoughts of this terrible tragedy, I did not at first noticethat my captor's horse had dropped to the rear; for though neither Obernor I carried any superfluous flesh, the double weight told heavily uponthe animal.

  The difference was more marked when Von Theyer changed the trot into agallop; and I suddenly became alive to the fact that were my arms free,I might yet make an effort to escape.

  But how was I to work this miracle?

  The cords were strong, the knots skilfully tied, my arms were in a vice,while close behind me sat the Austrian trooper armed with sword andpistol.

  However, life is sweet, and I set to work under cover of the horse'smovements to try, by contracting my muscles, to ease the bonds.

  I cannot say how long the attempt lasted, but the knots on my wrist werecertainly looser, when a grim "Very sorry, captain, but the game won'twork" blew my newly-formed hopes to the winds.

  "It isn't that I want you hanged," continued the hussar, "but I'd rathersee the rope round your neck than mine, and the colonel's in such a veryugly temper there's no knowing what might happen."

  The fellow spoke so coolly that I could hardly keep from laughing,though, from my point of view, there was little humour in the situation.

  However, my disappointment was not very keen, as I had hardly allowedmyself to hope for success.

  The Austrian, frightened a bit perhaps at seeing I did not think escapean impossibility, urged on his horse, resolved to keep within easy reachof his comrades.

  Towards evening we entered the village where I had stayed the previousday, and Von Theyer ordered a halt.

  The brigands had disappeared entirely, leaving no trace, and our horseswere thoroughly done up.

  I looked round eagerly in search of my four acquaintances, but in thewhole place there was not a man except the landlord of the inn to beseen; evidently the male villagers did not appreciate a visit from theAustrian cavalry.

  Von Theyer was, as my jailer had remarked, in a very ugly temper, andscowled at me savagely as Ober pulled up his weary horse.

  "Put him in there," said he, pointing to the kitchen of the inn. "Anddon't forget it's your life or his."

  Ober saluted and grinned.

  "I'll take precious care it isn't mine, colonel," he answered.--"Here,Franz, lend me a hand."

  The hussars dispersed, and entered the cottages in search of food, whileI was pushed into the kitchen and dumped down not too softly on thefloor.

  Ober and the man called Franz remained on guard, and very kindly gave mea share of the black bread, fat bacon, and sour wine which formed theirsupper.

  The food was hardly suitable for delicate stomachs, but my last meal hadbeen supper on the previous night, and I was not in a mood to beparticular.

  Von Theyer, I suppose, went to see that everything was made safe, as hedid not come in till nearly dark, and then passed with two otherofficers to the inner room.

  He spoke a word to Ober, but took no more notice of me than if I hadbeen a log of wood.

  "Colonel's in one of his black fits," grumbled Ober to his comrade."He'll make us smart for not catching that brigand."

  "Wait till he does. Time enough to grumble then," replied the othercoolly. "Who's going to take the first watch--you or I?"

  Ober leaned over to examine my fastenings.

  "Ach!" growled he. "We might as well both go to sleep. The Magyar'ssafe enough, and I'm as tired as a dog."

  "All right. It's your head at stake--not mine. But we'll make doublysure;" and getting some more rope, he tied me to himself.

  Ober did the same on the other side, and then lay down so that I wasbetween the pair of them.

  Presently the door opened, and half a dozen hussars coming in, wrappedthemselves in their long coats, and settled down to sleep.

  I cannot say how they had fared in the matter of food, but their breathmade it plain they had discovered plenty of liquor.

  Night came. The sound of conversation in the colonel's room died away.In the kitchen all was silent save the loud snoring of the half-drunkenmen.

  In the silence and darkness I made an effort to set myself free; but afew trials convinced me that Ober had made no mistake.

  True, he and Franz were so exhausted by their forced marches that even asmart tug failed to waken them; but, on the other hand, the knots wereso skilfully tied that it was impossible to loosen them.

  At last I abandoned the attempt and tried to sleep, but the hauntingface of the dead count and anxiety on my own behalf made that no easymatter.

  It was strange that Von Theyer had not hanged me at once, and I wonderedwhy he should wish to save my life.

  I felt sure it was not out of kindness, and concluded he was governed bythe same feelings that lead a cat to play with its victim.

  Just here my reverie was broken by an astounding circumstance.

  One of the hussars, turning about in his sleep, had brought himselfclose to the feet of the Austrian Franz, and by a series of wrigglingmovements was constantly changing his position.

  Of course I could not see him plainly, but I could tell that the darkfigure was moving, though very, very slowly, until it reached my head.

  I lay perfectly still, save for the violent beating of my heart, whichwould not be controlled.

  What did this by-play mean?

  Naturally, perhaps, my first thoughts flew to Von Theyer. But then hehad no need of foul play. By twisting his orders a little he couldeasily justify himself in swinging me up, and who was ever likely toquestion his action?

  No, it could not be Von Theyer; but that only deepened the mystery.

  Very stealthily a hand crept from the folds of the cloak, and in thefingers was something which glistened.

  At this my heart gave one great throb, and then seemed to cease beating.

  The glittering object was a lon
g, straight knife, and as the sheen of itfell across my eyes I tried, but tried in vain, to shout for help.

  "Be still!"

  The words were spoken in Hungarian, hardly above a breath, and I fanciedthere was a somewhat familiar ring in the voice.

  I lay quite quiet, not attempting to speak, and the knife, creepingdown, began to rub edgewise against the cords that fastened my wrists.

  The steel was sharp, the worker a master-hand, and the hempen threadsfell apart as if by magic.

  A sharp jerk would have set my wrists free, when Franz stirred uneasily,and though not even half awake, tugged at the rope which bound me tohim.

  Then he turned over again and was as soundly asleep as ever.

  It was a terrible moment for the three of us, but most terrible of allfor the unconscious Franz.

  The dark figure at my head lay motionless, but the hand underneath thatinnocent-looking coat held, firmly grasped, a sharp, keen blade.

  However, the danger past, the knife again slid down and finished itswork. The fellow then wriggled round to our feet, and cut the cords onmy legs; only the ropes binding me to my guards remained to be severed.

  My excitement grew to an intense pitch; I had to force myself intosilence. I wanted to jump up and scream aloud.

  My unknown rescuer had apparently no nerves. The steel was pushedforward steadily, without a tremor, and the rope which bound me to Franzwas cut.

  One link alone remained, and I thought my brain must give way under thestrain.

  Several of the hussars tossed restlessly, muttering unintelligiblewords, while here in the very midst of them, within a few yards of theirleader himself, was this daring adventurer calmly setting free thevictim of that leader's vengeance.

  Twice, owing to a trooper's restlessness, he had to stop; but my unknownsaviour was as patient as daring, and after each halt he resumed hiswork.

  With the snapping of the last thread I felt as if I really must breakinto a fit of hysterical laughter, or waken Von Theyer by a defianttaunt; but, alas! my childish glee was soon over. As I was stealingcautiously away, Ober sprang to his feet.

  In an instant two dark figures were grappling with each other, swayingthis way and that; then a loud cry of "Treachery!" came from theAustrian; there was a swift flash of steel, and poor Ober sank,groaning.

  "This way!" shouted my rescuer, and I darted after him towards the door.

  The troopers jumping up tried to stop us, but the stranger knocked downseveral with some heavy weapon, and cleared a passage.

  The confusion was tremendous, and the officers, coming from theirapartment, vainly endeavoured to find its cause.

  We were at the door, outside, free!

  "Follow!" cried the stranger, without wasting words; but as he turnedfor the open country, dozens of troopers poured into the street.

  My guide dashed away, and was lost in the darkness, and I should havegot clear but for one of the hussars, who flung himself right across mypath.

  Down I went with a crash, and though rising quickly, a smart blow on thehead behind sent me sprawling, and the next instant I was in the midstof the angry crowd.