Feriz Beg got this letter early in the morning, and the moment after he had read it he ordered his stableman instantly to saddle his war-charger, he chose from among his swords those which smote the heaviest, exchanged his grey mantle for a splendid and costly costume, gave a great banquet to all his retainers, and bade them make merry, for in an hour’s time, he would be off to the wars.
The imperial army was making itself quite at home in Albania. Beautiful scenery and beautiful women smiled upon the victors; there was money also and to spare. And soon came the rumour that a gigantic Tartar host was approaching the Albanian mountains, in number exceeding sixty thousand. The imperial army was no more than nine thousand; but they only laughed at the rumour, they had seen far larger armies fly before them. The pick of the Turkish host, the Spahis, the Janissaries, had cast down their arms before them in thousands; while it was the talk of the bazaars that all that the Tartars were good for was to devastate conquered territory. Besides, reinforcements were expected from Hungary, where the Prince of Baden was encamped beneath Nándor-Fehérvár with a numerous army.
The leader of the Albanian forces was the Prince of Hanover.
He was a pupil of the lately deceased Piccolomini, and though he inherited his valour he was scarcely his equal in wisdom.
On hearing of the approach of the Tartar army he assembled his captains and held a council of war. The enemy was assumed to be the old mob which used to turn tail at the first cannon-shot, and could not be overtaken because of the superior swiftness of its horses. And indeed it was the old mob, but a new spirit now inspired it; it followed a new leader whom the enemy had never put to flight or beaten, and that leader was Feriz Beg.
Tököly’s letter had speedily brought the young hero all the way from Syria to Stambul to offer his sword and his genius to the new Sultan, and the Sultan had charged him to lead the Tartar hordes against the imperial army.
When Feriz, from the top of a hill, saw the forces of the Prince of Hanover all wedged together in a compact mass on the plain before him like a huge living machine only awaiting a propelling hand to set it in motion, he quickly sent the Tartars who were with him back into the fir-woods that they might well cover their darts with the tar and turpentine exuding from the trees, and this done, he sent them to gallop round the Prince’s camp and take up their position well within range.
The Prince observed the movement but left them alone; oftentimes had the Turks attempted a simple assault upon the German camp; oftentimes had their threefold superior forces surrounded the small, well-ordered camp and assaulted it from every side, and the Germans used always politely to allow them to come within range of their guns and then discharge all their artillery at once—and generally that was the end of the whole affair.
Feriz, however, made no assault upon them, but got his Tartars to surround them, commanding them to set their darts on fire and discharge them into the air so that they might fall down into the German camp. According to this plan they could fire at the enemy at a much greater distance off than the enemy could fire upon them, for the dart, flying in a curve could reach further than the straight-going musket balls of those days, and wherever it fell its sharp point inflicted a wound, whereas the bullet was often spent before it reached its mark.
Suddenly a flaming flood of darts darkened the air and the burning resinous bolts fell from all sides into the crowded ranks of the imperial army; the points of the darts fastened in the backs of the horses, the burning drops fell upon the faces and garments of the warriors, burning through the texture and inflicting grievous wounds; the horses began to rear violently at this unexpected attack; the gunners, cursing and swearing, began to discharge their guns anyhow at the enemy; nobody paid any attention to the orders of the general, discipline was quite at an end; the burning darts were destructive of all military tactics, for there was no refuge from them, and every dart struck its man.
Then Feriz Beg blew with the trumpets, and suddenly the imperial troops were attacked from all sides. They were unable to repel the attack in the regular way, but intermingled with their assailants, fought man to man. The picked German troopers quitted themselves like men, not one of them departed without taking another with him to the next world, but the Turks outnumbered them, and just when the Prince’s army was exhausted by the attacks of the Tartars, Feriz brought forward his well-rested reserves, who burned with the desire to wash out the shame of former defeats. The Prince of Hanover fell on the battlefield with the rest of his army. Not one escaped to tell the tale.
This was the first victory which turned the fortunes of war once more in favour of the Turks after so many defeats.
XXXII
The Last Day
It was well known in Transylvania that the Porte had proclaimed Tököly Prince and given into his hands armies wherewith he might invade the Principality and conquer it, so General Heissler gave orders to the counties and the Szeklers to rise up in defence of the realm, which they accordingly did.
The Hungarian forces were commanded by Balthasar Mackási and Michael Teleki himself; the leader of the Germans was Heissler, with Generals Noscher and Magni, and Colonel Doria under him, all of them heroic soldiers
