The Prince looked around with wrinkled brows as if looking for something to fling at the head of the fellow. He regretted that the inkstand was so far off.
But Teleki handed a sheet of parchment to Sárpataky, the clerk of the council.
“Read our answer to the Pasha’s letter,” said he; “as for you—sir I will not call you—listen to what is written therein. ‘Beneficent Hassan Pasha, we greatly regret that you bother yourself about things which are already settled. We do not ask you why you came so late to the battle of St. Gothard. Why do you ask us, then, why we are so late with the taxes? We will answer for ourselves at the proper time and place. Till then, Heaven bless you, and grant that misfortune overwhelm you not just when you would ruin others.’ When you have written all that down, hand it to his Highness the Prince for signature.”
The gentlemen present had fallen from one surprise into another. Michael Teleki, who a moment before, against the inclinations of his own heart and mind, had tried to compel the land to submit to the demand of Olaj Beg, could in the next moment send such a message to the powerful Vizier of Buda.
But Teleki knew very well that the storm which was passing over the country on account of the Princess of Moldavia was sure to rebound on the head of the Vizier of Buda. The Sultan was seeking for an object on which to wreak his wrath because of the lost battle, and if the Pasha of Buda did not succeed in making the Government of Transylvania the victim, he would fall a victim himself.
As for Yffim Beg, he did not quite know whether a thunderbolt had plunged down close beside him, or whether he was dreaming. There he stood like a statue, unable to utter a word, and only looked on stupidly while the letter was being written before his very eyes, while Apafi’s pen scraped the parchment as he subscribed his signature, while they poured the sand over it, folded it up, impressed it with an enormous seal, and thrust it into his palm.
Only then did he emerge somewhat from his stupor.
“Do ye think I am mad enough to carry this letter back with me to Buda?”
And with these words he seized the letter at both ends, tore it in two, and flung it beneath the table.
“Write another!” said he, “write it nicely, for my master, the mighty Hassan Pasha, will strangle the whole lot of you.”
Teleki turned coldly towards him.
“If you don’t like the letter, worthy müderris, you may go back without any letter at all.”
“I am no müderris, but Yffim Beg. I would have thee know that, thou dog; and I won’t go without a letter, and I won’t let you all go till ye have written another.”
And with these words he sat down on the steps of the Prince’s throne and crossed his legs, so that two were sitting on the throne at the same time, the Beg and Apafi.
“Guards!” cried Apafi in a commanding voice, “seize this shameless fellow, tie him on to a horse’s back and drive him out of the town.”
They needed not another word. One of the guards immediately rushed forward to where Yffim Beg was still sitting on a footstool with legs crossed, and took him under the arm, while another of them grasped him firmly by the collar, and raising him thus in the air, kicking and struggling, carried him out of the room in a moment. The Beg struck, bit, and scratched, but it was all of no avail. The merciless drabants set him on the back of a horse in the courtyard, without a saddle, tied his feet together beneath the horse’s belly, placed the bridle of the steed in the hands of a stable-boy, while another stable-boy stood behind with a good stout whip; and so liberally did they interpret the commands of the chief counsellor, that they escorted the worthy gentleman, not only out of the town, but beyond the borders of the realm.
XVI
A Fight for His Own Head
At Buda, while Hassan Pasha was fighting with the army of the German Emperor, Yffim Beg was preparing the triumphal arches through which the victors were to pass on their return, adorning them with green branches and precious carpets, and leaving room for the standards to be captured from the Germans and Hungarians. The bridge was also repaired and strengthened to support the weight of the heavy gun-carriages and cannon which Montecuculi was to have abandoned, and at the same time a large space on the Rákás was railed in where all the slaves of all the nations, including women and children, were to be impounded.
And after all these amiable preparations the terrible message reached the worthy Yffim Beg from Hassan Pasha that he was to place all his movable chattels, gold and silver, on a fugitive footing, barricade the fortress, cut away the bridge so that the enemy might not be able to cross it, and follow him with the whole harem, beyond the Raab, for who could tell whether they would ever see the fortress of Buda again.
Yffim Beg was not particularly pleased with this message, but without taking long to think about it, he put the damsels of the harem into carriages, sent them off along the covered way adjoining the water-gate, in order to make as little disturbance as possible, and, as soon as they were on the other side of the bridge, ordered it to be destroyed and the garrison of the fortress to defend themselves as best they could.
He reached the Turkish
