CHAPTER XXVI.
_LED OUT TO EXECUTION._
I pass rapidly over the period of suspense which succeeded myexamination.
Even now it is painful to look back on the time when I fully expectedevery hour of each ensuing day to be my last.
Yet night and morning came and went, and I still remained in the darkcell, unable to learn anything concerning my fate.
The only relief to the monotony was the coming of the jailer, and he wassuch a surly fellow that his visits gave me more pain than pleasure.
A whole week passed in this way, and then I was again taken from thecell and marched to another part of the fortress.
At every step I gazed round anxiously, expecting to see the preparationsfor my execution.
Young, strong, and healthy, I had no wish to die; yet this horribleuncertainty, this alternation of hope and fear, was actually worse thandeath.
The faces of the soldiers were stolid and impassive--nothing could belearned from them; while the officer did not even look at me. Wecrossed the courtyard, and my pulses throbbed with fresh hope as I wasled into a spacious room, where a stout, florid man in military uniformsat at a table writing.
Only two of the escort had entered with the officer, and these stoodwith fixed bayonets.
The florid man left his chair, and pointing to another, said coldly,--
"Sit down there, Herr Botskay. By order of the general commanding, youare to answer these questions in writing, an hour being given you forthe task."
To all appearance I was quite cool, but the blood surged through myveins like a rushing torrent, and I could not see the questions on thepaper for dizziness.
Apathy and despair vanished. The latent spark of hope kindled into afresh flame. Here was another chance of life and freedom. Alas! my newand beautiful castle was built on very frail foundations.
The questions numbered nearly a dozen, and were framed in such a mannerthat by answering them without adding the fullest explanations I shouldonly make my case worse.
A quarter of an hour passed, and I still sat staring stupidly at myblank sheet of paper.
The soldiers stood grimly at attention, the officer leaned on his sword,the stout man sat writing stolidly; no sound but the monotonous tickingof the clock and the beating of my own heart broke the silence.
At last, seizing the pen, I began to write--not in answer to thequestions, but a short account of what had passed between Von Theyer andmyself, and an explanation of how I came to be in the company of BatoriGabor.
It was rather a lame performance, its chief merit being to afford areason for Von Theyer's persecution; and when the official came towitness my signature, I felt it would do me but little good.
Another week passed--a week of heart-wearing suspense--before I wasagain called to attend the court.
A single glance at the faces of my judges extinguished the tiny spark ofhope which struggled to keep alive in my breast.
The president spoke in impressive tones, every word sounding distinctlyin the quiet room.
It was a long speech, but the whole of it might easily have beencompressed into a dozen sentences.
On the first two counts--refusing to surrender at Vilagos, and joining aband of notorious outlaws--I was unanimously found guilty, and sentencedto death.
After this, one would have thought the rest to be of little interest,but the president gravely continued his remarks.
The unlawful killing of Ober was also considered proved, and on thevarious other charges laid against me the court expressed no opinion.
"Therefore," concluded the president in a solemn voice, "it becomes mypainful duty to tell you, George Botskay. that on the second morningfrom this you will be led out to execution in the market-place of thistown, that your death may act as a warning to all those who vainly hopeto oppose the imperial government."
My limbs trembled, the blood left my face, but, managing to control myvoice, I said calmly, "As a soldier, general, you will know a soldier'sfeelings. I do not plead for mercy, but there is one favour I wouldlike to beg."
"Speak on, Herr Botskay. It may be in our power to grant it."
"Then I ask that you will at least permit me to die the death of asoldier, and not that of a criminal."
"That," responded the old man, "is impossible, since you ceased to be asoldier when you joined Batori Gabor. As a brigand you were captured,as a brigand you must suffer;" and he waved his hand, directing that Ishould be removed.
Back again in the lonely cell, my first feeling was one of relief thatthe period of suspense had ended.
I could no longer be tortured by swift alternations of hopes and fears.The worst had come, and with it a feeling of apathetic stupor.
But the next day, as I sat measuring off the hours by guess-work, arevulsion of feeling set in.
Life was sweet, and all the throbbing vigour of my youth protested hotlyagainst this violent and disgraceful death.
Had it come when I charged with Goergei at the head of our cavalry, orwhen beside my noble-hearted brother I scaled the ramparts of Buda, theglow of patriotism, of devotion to my outraged country, would haveremoved half its terrors; but now, in this guise!
Then my thoughts turned to the faithful Mecsey; to John Rakoczy, my trueand gallant friend, whom I should never again see; finally passing tothe Austrian maiden, whose fair face had never faded from my memory.
Would she believe the untruths which Von Theyer would but too surelycirculate?
I shuddered to think what terrible stories his fertile brain mightinvent when I was no longer able to give them the lie.
Yet, through it all, I never quite lost hope that the beautiful girlwould keep her faith in my truth and honour; and this feeling sufficedto raise me from the slough of misery into which I was sinking.
Night came at length, and the surly jailer brought my last supper, whichI forced myself to eat.
Then, after a solemn hour spent in prayer, I lay down on my hard benchand slept peacefully as a child.
I had no means of telling the time, but the jailer apparently wakened meearlier than usual, and I was led into a room where, instead of theusual bread and water, a proper breakfast was laid. The apartment wasfilled with soldiers; and when I had finished, two of them, steppingforward, pinioned my arms tightly behind my back.
It was, as near as I could judge, about ten o'clock when the governorentered, and, after a brief talk with one of the officers, ordered theprocession to be formed.
The air was keen, though the sun shone brightly overhead, as weproceeded slowly to the courtyard, where the soldiers halted.
Two other detachments now joined us, and in the midst of each a prisonerwalked bareheaded.
They were both officers in Bern's army of Transylvania, so I did notknow them, but we exchanged glances of pity and goodwill.
One was an old man with scarred face and white, flowing beard, a veteranPole, who had spent his life in warfare against the enemies of hiscountry.
His fellow-victim was quite young, hardly older than myself; but he borehimself as proudly as his comrade, gazing at the Austrians without atremor.
After a delay of ten minutes the arrangements were completed, and thebooming of a big gun announced to the townsfolk that the mournfulprocession was about to issue from the gates of the fortress.
The soldiers closed up their ranks, the order was issued, and we setout, my escort being the last of the three.
I tried hard to march with steady step and unfaltering countenance, butit was hard work.
The fresh morning air, the bright October sun, the merry flight of birdsoverhead, even the gaudy uniforms of the soldiers, spoke of life, and Iwas going to lose it.
A lump rose in my throat as we passed through the gateway, but Iremembered I was a Magyar, and choked it down.
The pain and misery would soon be at an end, and the white-coats mustnot think me a coward.
At minute interval
s a gun was fired from the ramparts, and thechurch-bells of the town tolled mournfully in response.
Crossing the one bridge which had not been destroyed during the war, weentered the town proper.
I was astounded at the spectacle.
Two lines of soldiers with loaded rifles guarded the route to themarket-place, and kept back the crowds of people who stood on tiptoe andcraned their necks in eager anxiety to catch a last view of those aboutto die.
Not the populace of the town alone had assembled, but the inhabitants ofall the surrounding districts had come in thousands to show respect tothe victims of Austrian cruelty.
The women sobbed as we went by, and looked at us with a yearning pitythat almost broke down my composure. The eyes of the men flashed withfierce hate, and I thought it well that these brave Magyars had noweapons.
Little children were held up in the arms of their fathers to see us, andwere that day taught a lesson which they would not forget in many years.
The nearer we approached our destination the denser the crowd became,while the market-place itself was so packed that several persons died ofsuffocation.
There, during the preceding night, an enormous wooden stage had beenerected, and in the centre was a tall gallows.
At the sight of this, I confess freely, my heart sank, and I feared thatmy courage would desert me.
Now just at this moment I saw the face of the gallant Mecsey Sandor,which acted on my nerves like a strong tonic.
The faithful fellow stood in the very foremost of the crowd, immediatelybehind the soldiers, and opposite the steps by which the wide platformwas reached.
He was very mournful, yet the look in his eyes expressed something morethan sorrow.
"Courage, my sweet master, and God bless you!" cried he boldly, while I,turning my head, smiled to show I understood.
"Courage, George Botskay!" exclaimed a second voice. "The Austrianscannot kill your name, which will never die in Magyar-land."
The man who spoke was standing next Mecsey, and I stared in amazement atbeholding Dobozy.
What was he doing there?
If he were free, why not "John the Joyous?"
So great a longing suddenly seized me to look on the dear fellow's faceonce more that I was unnerved, and only by a great effort kept myselffrom stumbling.
Several other voices now cried, "God bless you, captain!" and I becameaware that many men of my old regiment were grouped around Mecsey Sandorand Dobozy.
I smiled a last farewell at them, but my aching eyes sought in vain forthe noble figure of their colonel, and I concluded he was still aprisoner, or dead.
Right round the ghastly structure a cordon of troops had been drawn, thespace inside being occupied by a regiment of hussars.
Even before meeting him I knew instinctively that Von Theyer was attheir head, and the knowledge gave me added courage.
He, at least, should never guess the tortures that I suffered.
I walked firmly, with head erect, gazing boldly at my bitter enemy. Hewas on horseback, almost at the foot of the wooden steps which led tothe scaffold, so that but for my guard I should have brushed against himin passing.
His eyes, full of cruel hatred, met mine; but I trust they detected nosign of fear or blenching in my face.
I mounted the steps, and as the soldiers placed me beneath the gallows alow, deep hum of pity rose from the crowd.
The two officers from Bern's army were stationed some distance away onmy right, and the governor, stepping to the front, began reading in aloud, clear voice some official document.
It was a wonderful and impressive scene. The huge platform, with half adozen high officials and two firing parties; the bronzed hussars, inbrilliant uniforms, sitting their horses like statues; the ring ofinfantry, with the sun shining on their bright, steel bayonets thehushed crowd beyond, angry but impotent--furnished a spectacle thatthose who beheld never forgot while life lasted.
The governor continued to read, and as he read a little bird withcherry-coloured throat and gay plumage came and perched itself near meon the frowning gallows.
I was watching the tiny fellow with interest when a cry from the crowd,as of pain wrung from some animal, greeted the end of the governor'sspeech.
The fatal moment was fast approaching, and I cast a farewell glance atMecsey and his companions.
The faithful fellow was in a state of terrible excitement, those aroundhim being hardly less moved.
Their faces alternated with hope and fear, grief, rage, despair,anxiety--in short, all the passions that the human face is capable ofexpressing. But, above all, it seemed to me they were waiting.
Waiting for what?
The idea which suddenly flashed across my mind made me tremble. Was itpossible that these great-hearted men were mad enough to dream of arescue?
From my heart I hoped and prayed this was not the secret of theirexcitement.
The thing was utterly impossible, and could only lead to the shedding ofmuch innocent blood.
Life had never seemed so glorious a possession as it did just then, butI would have forfeited it a hundred times rather than expose thosethousands of men and women to the horrors of an Austrian butchery.
Yet I was powerless to avert the evil, if, indeed, the trusty Mecsey hadplanned such a mad project.
However, in a few brief moments now everything would be decided. Myfellow-victims were to suffer first, and, kneeling in the positionsappointed, they submitted to the bandaging of their eyes.
I kept my head steadfastly turned from the cruel scene, as did the vastmajority of the crowd.
The firing parties advanced.
"Long live Hungary!" cried the younger soldier.
"Long live Poland!" cried the veteran, the voices of both being equallycool and collected.
"Fire!"
The report of the volleys rang out, and a groan burst from thespectators.
From the victims themselves there came not a sound.
When next I looked round, the two bodies had been removed, and thegovernor was beginning to read from a second paper. It was a recital ofmy various crimes, and the sentence pronounced by the military tribunal.
Slowly, expressively, giving each word with due distinctness, he readon, while I watched Mecsey's face, and prayed that the speech might cometo an end before mischief was done.
Yet, all unknown to me, the question of my life or death hung on thelength of time occupied by that pompous old man.
It could not be said I had abandoned hope, since, after the finding ofthe court-martial, I had never entertained any; all my suspense now wascentered in the action of Mecsey and his companions.
That their presence, and the selection of their particular position, wasdue to some settled purpose, there could be little doubt; and I feltequally sure that every man of that desperate party was in possession ofhidden weapons.
What was the signal they waited for?
Suddenly, in the midst of the reading, there came a cry from theoutskirts of the crowd--a cry caught up and repeated by thousands ofvoices, till the volume of sound rolled over the whole market-place.
Mecsey and his confederates threw their caps high into the air, andyelled like madmen; the governor, deadly pale, stopped his reading andcalled to Von Theyer, who hastily mounted the platform; the infantry,waiting for orders, gripped their rifles with grim resolution; thehussars bared their swords and prepared for the word to charge.
Yet the people made no attempt at a rescue; only in one place theyformed a lane along which a horseman galloped frantically amidst such awild outburst of cheering as Arad never knew before or since.
During those few moments I must have suffered more agony than falls tothe lot of many men in a lifetime.
Of what was happening I had not the slightest idea, only I saw VonTheyer return to his men, and heard his short, quick words of command.
At the same time the infantry faced about and presented a steel-girtbarrier to the crowd.
Yet
the cheering did not cease--it grew louder; and now we on theplatform could hear such words as "The Kaiser! Long live Francis Josef!Long live the Kaiser!"
At the first sign of danger the soldiers on the platform surrounded mein a body, and the executioner was already arranging the noose when thehorseman reached the line of infantry.
What he said I knew not, but those sturdy warriors opened their ranks.He dashed through, and when in the open space Von Theyer would haveturned him back, he struck him from the saddle, at the same timeshouting out something in a loud tone.
Springing to the ground, he left his horse with heaving flanks andspume-flaked nostrils, and scrambled up the wooden steps, crying aloudand waving a large white envelope.
As one in a dream I watched him approach the governor and hand him themysterious missive.
Then he turned to me, and I forgot all about death, for the strangemessenger was "John the Joyous."
Never had the name fitted him more admirably. His cheeks were flushedwith happiness; his eyes bright and sparkling; every feature had part inthe joyous smile that overspread his handsome face.
I could not think or reason--in fact there was no necessity, for JohnRakoczy had come.
The crowd shouted lustily until the governor, waving the white envelope,went to the edge of the platform.
Then the cheering ceased and all was silent save for the voice of thegovernor as he read from a sheet of paper the free pardon of His MostGracious Majesty, Kaiser Francis Josef, to George Botskay, sometimecaptain on the staff of General Arthur Goergei.
He added some further words, to which the people responded with a wildcheer, and then began to disperse, while I stood dumfounded with therope yet round my neck.
The market-place emptied slowly; the infantry formed up in companies andmarched to the fortress; the hussars, headed by Von Theyer looking blackand scowling, trotted off; only the governor's personal escort remained.
Then the old man harshly told me I was at liberty; and he, too, wentaway, leaving me with my chivalrous friend.
This startling swing back from the very brink of the grave left me weakand dazed. I had hardly sufficient strength to thank the man who hadsaved my life.
"Wait a bit," said he smilingly. "There will be plenty of time for allthat. We have many things to tell each other, but you must get back alittle strength first. Come, lean on me. Mecsey has a carriage ready,and I am going to send you to Gyula."
"Aren't you coming?"
"In a day or two. There is a little business in Arad to be settledfirst."
So greatly had my nerves been weakened by the shock that I did not guesswhat the business was, and permitted him to lead me away withoutprotest.
At one of the inns Mecsey waited with a carriage, and many of the oldHonveds stood in front of the house.
Dobozy was there too, and the true-hearted kindness of my formercompanions brought tears of gratitude to my eyes.
"The Joyous" wrapped me up comfortably, and giving Mecsey, who was toride inside, many injunctions, shook my hand in a parting grasp.
"Rouse yourself!" cried he. "Dobozy and I are coming in a few days, andwe don't want to be entertained by an invalid."
Dobozy added some lively badinage to cheer my spirits, the two wavedtheir hands in farewell, the coachman cracked his whip, and we were offto the lonely homestead I had not visited during the last two years.