But to return to the Khan and his train of chiefs, among whom was to be seen Libor the Knez--not the Libor of old days, but a much less comfortable-looking individual. Mongol fare did not seem to have agreed with him too well, for he looked worn and wasted, and his every movement betrayed his nervousness. Yet he was at the Khan's side, perfectly safe, and surely a hundred-fold more fortunate than the miserable captives whom the Mongols held so cheap that they cared not a jot whether they lived or died.

Libor was a Mongol now; he wore a round helmet of leather, carried a scimitar, rode one of the tough little Mongol horses, and was in high favour with his terrible master.

Batu was an undersized man, and the reverse of stout. His eyes, set far apart and slant-wise, were small, but they burnt like live coals, and were as restless as those of a lynx. His low forehead, flat nose, fearfully large mouth, and projecting ears, made him altogether strikingly like the figures, in gold on a black ground, to be seen on antique Chinese furniture.

He was marked out from those about him, however, by his dignified bearing, and by the pure white of his leathern garments.

It is true that his dignity was of the lion-like order, animal, that is to say, rather than human; but it was very p.r.o.nounced. And there was a sort of rude splendour and glitter in his costume, too; for the white leather, the fur of which was turned inwards, was covered all over with strange designs, looking like so many dragons or other imaginary monsters.

He was mounted on a slim, dapple-brown horse, of purest breed, and all his arms, even his bow, were profusely decorated with precious stones.

Of all the ape-faced circle, there is no denying that he was the best looking ape of them all, even if we include Libor, who was dainty enough in appearance, though fear just now was making him not indeed like an ape, but like a large hare, with quivering nostrils!

The camp was far from deserted, in spite of the large force detached, for there could not have been altogether fewer than 300,000 Mongols on the Sajo, and in addition, there were nearly half as many more of the miserable beings who had been first conquered and then forced to join the great host. Round about the hill where stood the Khan were mult.i.tudes of felt or leather tents, and thousands of temporary mud-huts, for the trees afforded but little shelter as yet, it being now about the middle of April. Tents and huts were full of armed men, also of women, who wore the scantiest of clothing, and of children, who wore no clothing at all.

Besides these, there were many women captives, who lay about in groups under the trees, with ears and noses cut off, the picture of exhaustion and misery, and so brutalised by slavery and suffering that they looked more like a herd of mutilated animals than human beings.

Any good-looking women captured by the Mongols were given up to their own women, who fell upon them like furies, tortured without mercy, and then murdered all but those wanted as slaves.

The camp extended far into the depths of the wood, where the chiefs kept order such as it was, with their whips.

As Batu reached the top of the hill, his harsh voice was to be heard giving some peremptory order, at which those about him bent their heads low in respectful submission, and a dozen women, his wives, appeared upon the scene, m.u.f.fled up in white woollen garments, and mounted upon beautiful horses, which were smothered in fringes, straps, etc., of leather. They were followed by an armed guard, and preceded, oriental fashion, by a band of singers chanting a melancholy dirge.

They had come to take their leave of the Khan, who was sending them to his home, and on reaching the foot of the hill they were helped to dismount. Whereupon they threw back their snow-white veils, which were of wool like their other wraps, and Batu Khan looked at them in dead silence. There was no trace either of pain, or pleasure, or of any other emotion, unless it were vanity and ambition, upon his wild features.

The women burst into a furious fit of weeping; but it was evidently the result of great effort, not of any irrepressible distress. Men are much like overgrown children, and have always liked to deceive themselves and be deceived; and this weeping and lamentation were the proper thing, the conventional way of saying "farewell!"

And yet, if they but looked on themselves, the sight was surely enough to move anyone to tears; for these women were all strikingly beautiful, and their beauty was enhanced by an expression--and this not forced--of profound sorrow and dejection.

Who they were, and whence they came--whether they were Russian girls from the Volga and Don, Caucasians from the Caspian, fair Slavonians, or white-faced Wallachians, who could say? But all were beautiful, all had an air of distinction about them, and all looked overwhelmed with woe unutterable.

They gathered round the Khan, and his horse p.r.i.c.ked its ears and whinnied as if it would take part in the proceedings; for, though Batu's horses were all his friends and tent-mates, far more beloved than his people, this one was an especial favourite, its sire, so the story went, having lived to the age of a hundred.

When he had had enough of the ceremonial weeping, Batu raised his hand, as who should say, "That will do! You have done your duty, now you can go!"

And instantly the sobs were checked, and smiles were forced to take their place, while the poor goods and chattels raised their hands towards their master, but whether as a mere token of farewell, whether in blessing, or perchance in secret cursing, who could tell!

Another signal and away they hurried down the hill; and a few moments after the white figures had disappeared out of the glare and were lost to sight in the recesses of the wood.

The women gone, Batu put spurs to his horse and raced down the slope, his chiefs following as best they might. With the light flashing blood-red about him, with his spear quivering uplifted above his head, himself and his horse absolutely one, he dashed on with the rush of a whirlwind, and wherever he went he seemed to say, "Look and admire!" And indeed, the Khan looked his best, when he was thus exhibiting his horsemanship, and in spite of his ape-like features, might almost have pa.s.sed for some gallant, if wild cavalier.

He and his train galloped away into the darkness, followed by a select body of mounted men; and as soon as they were out of sight, the remaining squadrons were drawn up in regular order. Tents were taken down, and they and their belongings were packed on horses or in waggons, and in a short time, though the bonfire still blazed, it cast its light upon a deserted camp.

Followed by a herd of women, the entire force moved in dead silence towards the Sajo, where Batu had his first line of battle.

Day was beginning to break when the Hungarian camp was roused by startling cries, and those who rushed from the King's tent to learn the meaning of them were met by terror-stricken shouts of "The Tartars! The Tartars are upon us!" "They are yonder, close at hand!" "The guard at the bridge has been overpowered, ma.s.sacred, put to flight," etc.

Looking out between the wooden walls, Master Peter descried at the distance of about a quarter of an hour's march, a dark ma.s.s of something which appeared to be in the form of a crescent, but of a size too vast to be measured by the eye. It was like a wall of stone, as solid, as silent, and as motionless; and for a moment he was in doubt as to what it might be, until the neighing of a horse, and the briefer, rarer sound of a signal-horn brought the truth home to him.

The Mongols had come up in the night; the camp was surrounded on three sides; and nothing but the most desperate determination could save them!

So much was evident even to his inexperienced eyes, and the silence of these savage folk, who could howl like the very wolves at other times, had something so weird and terrible about it that Master Peter was not the only brave man to feel his heart quake and his blood run cold.

The victory of the Duke and Ugrin but a few hours before had been delusive indeed, for they had hardly returned in triumph to the camp when Batu sent down to the bridge seven of the gigantic engines of war which played so large a part in the Mongol invasion.

Suddenly, without the least warning, the detachment left on guard found itself a.s.sailed by a fierce and heavy storm of stones and pieces of rock; and what added to their terror was the fact that they could not see their enemy, and that there were no stones or rocks anywhere near the river. Seized by superst.i.tious panic, those who escaped being crushed or wounded fled back to the camp, where instantly all was uproar and confusion.

Master Peter rushed back to the King as fast as he could for the turmoil, the narrow ways, and the tent-ropes; and indignation filled his soul at some of the sights he saw: luxurious young n.o.bles, for instance, making their leisurely toilets, combing and arranging their hair, having their armour put on with the greatest care, and finally drawing on new gloves! What he heard during his hurried pa.s.sage was not much more rea.s.suring. There was plenty of courage and confidence expressed; plenty of contempt for the despicable foe; plenty of a.s.surance that Mongol spears and arrows would prove ineffectual against iron armour; but also there was among some contempt, openly expressed, for their own leaders, though they looked upon the victory as already won.

"It will be a hard day's work!" muttered Peter Szirmay to himself, while his thoughts flew to Dora in her lonely castle. He had little doubt that the Hungarians must conquer in the end, in spite of the huge odds against them, but still--! and even if they did, he himself might fall!

What would become of her?

"G.o.d and the Holy Virgin protect her!"

CHAPTER XIV.

A FATAL DAY.

Peter Szirmay and Paul Hedervary were arming the King with all speed, while his charger, magnificently caparisoned, was brought round, neighing with excitement.

Bela had never appeared more cool and collected than on that eventful morning. As already remarked, he was without military experience, and though his expectations were not extravagant, and he did not make the mistake of underrating the enemy, he had much confidence in the valour of his army.

"We must get the troops outside, without an instant's delay!" shouted Bishop Ugrin, galloping up his face aglow with pleasurable excitement, for he was never happier than when astride his war-horse and amid the blare of trumpets.

"Sequere!" (follow) cried the King, who usually spoke Latin to the ecclesiastical dignitaries.

They rode through the camp, finding the ways everywhere crowded with men, whom some of the officers were trying to reduce to order, while others, still busy attiring themselves, were of opinion that they would be in plenty of time if they made their appearance when the whole army was mounted.

The Templars were first on horseback.

Their white mantles, with the large red cross upon them, were blowing about in the keen wind, and displaying the steel breastplates beneath, their martial appearance being enhanced by their heavy helmets, which covered the whole head and face, with the exception of narrow slits through which they breathed and saw. As the King rode up to them, the wind blew out the folds of their white banner, and showed its double-armed cross of blood-red.

All this time the Mongols had been drawing nearer and nearer, like an advancing wall, so close were their ranks. And now like a storm of hail the arrows began to fall upon the half-asleep, half-tipsy, and wholly bewildered men in camp. Most were mounted now, but the confusion was indescribable. There were grooms with led horses looking for their masters, masters looking for chargers and servants, and generals looking for their banderia.

There was shouting, running to and fro, and such confusion and hurly-burly that the King had great difficulty in making his orders understood.

He galloped from one squadron to another, amid a cloud of falling arrows and spears, doing all that in him lay to organise the troops. Men were falling on all sides around him, more than one arrow had struck his own armour; the battle had begun, and blood was flowing in streams before the army had been able so much as to get out of camp.

At last a dash was made down the narrow ways between the tents and the hastily uncoupled waggons; and then with the rage, not the courage, of despair, every leader wanted to rush upon the enemy straight away without waiting for orders, or heeding any but his own followers.

"Stop!" cried Bela, hurrying up to them with the Palatine, and a few men who were hardly able to force their way after him. "Stop! Wait for the word of command!"

But no one even saw, no one heard him.