"Yes, dear lady, he was not the only Magyar to do so! But there were not many, no! indeed there were not many."

"And why couldn't they have died, every one of them!" cried Orsolya, impetuously.

"Ah! who knows?" said Father Roger gently. "Who knows? But he did not think matters would go as far as they did; no, I am sure he did not!"

It was not in Father Roger's nature to think the worst of any, still less of one to whom he owed his life, and he knew nothing of the attack on Master Peter's house or of the despicable part which Libor had played with regard to Dora, or he would have spoken less leniently.

Libor had "climbed the cuc.u.mber-tree" to some purpose; and this last service rendered to the Khan had won for him the praise of Batu and all the chiefs, who called him one of themselves. He had reached the pinnacle of greatness, his fortune was made.

The Hungarian prisoners came to him for his advice and a.s.sistance, and Libor always received them with the kindly condescension of a great man, and was always ready with fair words and empty a.s.surances to allay their fears.

Late in the autumn, and without any previous intimation to anyone, came an order to Libor and all the other chief magistrates that they were to a.s.semble on a certain day at various appointed spots, each at the head of the entire population for which he was responsible. They were to come with their old and with their young, and they were to be provided with presents for the Khan.

It was a gloomy day, and the storm-clouds were chasing one another across the sky, as if they, too, were going to hold a rendezvous somewhere, to consult perhaps how many thunderbolts would be required to reduce the country to a heap of ruins.

Batu Khan's tent was pitched in the centre of a vast plain, and round it were gathered a large number of Mongols, some mounted, some on foot. In the background, making a terrific noise, were a swarm of filthy Mongol children, who were lying about under a group of tall trees.

The mud huts and numberless tents of the Mongol camp formed an extended semicircle at some little distance, and within this were drawn up a number of Mongol hors.e.m.e.n, quite unconcerned apparently at the blackness of the sky and the distant muttering of the thunder.

Batu Khan was seated on a camp-stool brilliantly attired as if for some great ceremony. Around him stood more than thirty chiefs, armed from head to foot, and among them was Libor, who had surpa.s.sed himself in the magnificence of the apparel which he had a.s.sumed in honour of the day's festivity.

He stood on the Khan's right hand, and more than once had the honour of being addressed by that personage; behind him, as behind the other chiefs, stood a swarm of servants, their ears--if they were still lucky enough to possess such appendages--ever attentive to catch the commands of their masters. Father Roger had been present in Libor's retinue on this occasion, a slave among slaves.

Presently the wild Mongolian "band" struck up. Its members were a motley crew, stationed before the Khan's tent, and their songs were of the most ear-splitting variety, accompanied too by the dull roll of drums and the screeching of pipes and horns, the whole performance being such as to baffle description, and to be compared only with the choicest of cats'

concerts.

The "music" seemed to be intended as a welcome to a white-flagged procession which now appeared in the distance, advancing towards the Khan, every member heavily laden. It consisted in fact of the whole population of some two hundred villages and hamlets, from the district of which Libor was chief magistrate.

Meanwhile, Father Roger had brought round Libor's horse, magnificently caparisoned, and at the first burst of music, the Knez mounted and galloped off, followed, in obedience to his haughty signal, by a couple of armed Mongols, the Mongol chiefs meanwhile looking on with envious eyes. They were not too well pleased with the Tartar-Magyar's rise to favour.

Libor galloped across the plain to meet the new-comers, who bowed down before him as if he had been a G.o.d, and then rising again at his command, followed him to the camp, where he drew them up in a long line; after which he hurried back to the Khan, dismounted, and announced that his people had brought him such gifts as they could, and only awaited his orders.

The Khan's wide mouth grew wider still as he smiled from ear to ear, and showed two perfect rows of sharp-pointed teeth; but the smile was like that of an ogre, and such as might have made some people rather uneasy, though not, of course, anyone who was such a favourite and in such an exalted position as Libor.

"That's well," said the Khan; and then, turning from him, he muttered something to the other chiefs which escaped Libor's ears or comprehension, though he had done his best to acquire the miserable language spoken by his master.

The next moment a large detachment of Mongols had stepped forth from behind the tents, and moving forward swiftly, but in perfect silence, had advanced towards the rear of the Hungarians. Others at the same time came from behind the Khan's tent, and in a few seconds the white flags were hemmed in before and behind.

Libor, who had looked upon the whole ceremony as merely one of the usual devices for squeezing the unfortunate people, was plainly startled, nay terrified, by this sudden movement, and his astonishment and discomfiture did not escape the sharp eyes of Batu.

"These proceedings are not quite to your taste, eh, Knez?" said he, with a tigerish grin.

And the wretched Libor, bowing almost to the earth, made hurried answer, "How could I possibly take amiss anything that his Highness the Khan, my lord and master, may choose to do?"

"I thought as much, my faithful Knez! Make haste then, and see that all that these folk have brought is taken from them, and then--have them all cut down together!"

Libor turned pale as death, but he knew his master; he knew that the slightest remonstrance, the slightest demur even, would be at the risk of his life. He bowed more deeply than before, and staggered away to give the signal for the plunder and ma.s.sacre of his own people.

The wind had suddenly risen to a hurricane, and was filling the air with dust; the thunder pealed; but above the howling of the one and the roaring of the other, there rose one long, long cry, and then all was still.

Libor returned, trembling, shaking, to the Khan, the gracious Khan, whose favourite he was, who had honoured him to such an extent as to provoke the jealousy of the Mongol chiefs; who had enriched him, and had distinguished him above all the rest. He had faithfully obeyed the Khan's orders, though, with a bleeding heart; and now, holding as he did the first place among those who formed Batu's retinue, he was secure as to his own miserable life, for who would dare to lift hand against him?

The Khan received him on his return with the same enigmatical smile, which seemed just now to be stereotyped on his lips.

When the dust-storm was past, a terrible spectacle presented itself.

Thousands of corpses lay upon the ground; and among the men, who were quite worn out by their murderous work, were to be seen Mongol women and children, seated upon the bodies of their victims, their hands stained with blood.

"A few thousand bread eaters the less!" exclaimed Batu, in high good humour, "and if my orders are as well carried out in other parts of the country as they have been by you, Libor, my faithful Knez, there won't be many left to share the rich harvest and vintage with us."

Libor said nothing, for his lips were twitching and quivering convulsively.

"By the way, Libor," the Khan went on pleasantly, "it has just struck me, what present have you yourself brought, my faithful servant?"

"All that I possess belongs to your Highness, mighty Khan," said Libor, trembling.

"Excellent man!" replied Batu, and turning to one of the chiefs standing by, he addressed him in particular, saying gently, "See now, and take example by this excellent man, who has made me a present of all that he has!"

The chief to whom these words were spoken cast a furious glance at the favourite.

"All you possess is mine, eh, Libor?" Batu went on, "all, even your life, isn't it?"

Libor bowed.

"Oh, how faithful he is!" exclaimed the Khan, addressing the same chief as before, and speaking in the same good-natured tone. "I know the loyalty of this trusty Knez of ours is a thorn in your eyes! and I know that there are some of you daring enough even to have doubts of his splendid fidelity and obedience! Wretches, take example by Libor the Knez!"

So saying, the Khan rose from his seat, and cried in a loud, shrill voice, "Take this devoted servant and hang him on the tree yonder opposite my tent!"

If a thunder-bolt had fallen at his feet Libor could not have been more terror-stricken. He threw himself on his face before the Khan, but his voice was strangled in his throat, and he could not utter a word; all that he was able to do was to wring his hands, and raise them imploringly towards his awful master.

And the Khan--burst into a loud fit of laughter!

Another moment and Libor the favourite, the envied--whom the other chiefs were ready enough to speed upon his way--Libor was hanging to a lofty willow-tree and tossing to and fro in the stormy wind.

Batu Khan presented one of Libor's horses--a lame one--to Bajdar; and the rest of the ex-favourite's very considerable property he kept for himself.

(Bajdar, it may be remembered, though, of course, neither Father Roger nor Talabor were aware of the fact, had been of the party which had attacked Master Peter's house, and we may readily guess how he had earned this handsome reward.)

Orsolya gave a sigh of satisfaction as Father Roger finished his story.

"There is one traitor less in the world," said she, "and he might think himself lucky that he was only hanged! It was an easy death compared with many!"

And she said the same thing, yet more emphatically, when she heard from Dora and Talabor of their experiences at the hands of the Magyar-Tartar-Knez.

Gentle Father Roger sighed too, but without any satisfaction, as he thought of the youth, with whom he had lived under the same roof, and to whom, as he was fond of insisting, he and his servant owed their lives.

But when he heard all that Talabor could tell him, he was as indignant as even Orsolya could have wished; for he understood Master Peter, and saw at once what had puzzled so many, the reason why he had left Dora at home instead of sending her to the Queen, out of harm's way.