An Hungarian Tradition
by Miss Pardoe [Julia Pardoe].
Originally published in Ainsworth's Magazine: A Miscellany of Romance (Chapman and Hall) vol.1 #3 (Apr 1842).
The Count Caspar Zeredy was one of the most powerful Hungarian nobles of the sixteenth century. Devoted to the house of Austria, and honoured by a command of great importance in their army, which he had held from an early age, and of which he had rendered himself worthy by a hundred acts of heroism, he was enabled to redeem much of the evil which had been wrought by Zapólya and his allies, the Turks, and had been recompensed by his princely masters with broad lands and rich possessions.
But Zeredy for a time appeared to be utterly careless of his immense wealth—he thought only of fame, he toiled only for conquest; ever in the van of danger, and seldom unsuccessful, his name became a watchword of victory, and to serve under his banner an advantage eagerly sought after by the younger nobles of the country.
The turbulent spirit of the age kept the volume of renown ever open; and happy indeed were they who could inscribe their names upon the sparkling page beneath that of Zeredy. As years crept on, a love of gold began to blend with the chivalric spirit of the Count Caspar, and it was this growing passion which induced him to offer his proud name and his victorious hand to the Lady Anne of Mérey, whose vast possessions in the province of Trenschin constituted her sole charm in his eyes. Almost a stranger to her person, he remembered only that he had seen her with indifference, and parted from her without regret, until he learned that she was the wealthy heiress whose broad lands were an object of ambition to every needy baron and impoverished noble throughout the country; then, indeed, did the Lady Anne acquire instant and considerable importance in the eyes of Zeredy, and a month did not elapse from the day on which he saw her kneeling at the feet of the Emperor in Vienna, to do homage on taking possession of her estates, to that on which he despatched a messenger to Trenschin, charged with a letter on which he had exerted his most clerkly skill, and in which he asked the hand of the richly-endowed maiden in marriage.
The embassy was successful: the fame of the Count Zeredy flattered the haughty pride of the Lady Anne; and although she knew no more than that he had been one of the nobles near the person of the Emperor on the memorable day of her own reception, she was satisfied that in becoming the bride of the Count Caspar she should be the envy of every highborn beauty throughout Hungary.
And thus they met, only to plight their vows before the altar; and if the maiden felt her spirit shrink beneath the cold, stern eye, which rested on her as she descended from her palfrey, her vanity was flattered by the magnificent preparations which had been made for her reception.
Such an union, however, could not produce happiness; and thus Zeredy, whose naturally cold temperament would have required beauty and devotion to awaken it into affection, became only more stern and haughty from companionship with the Lady Anne, whose plain features, unattractive manner, and polite indifference, might well have chilled a more genial spirit. Each was disappointed, and each chafed under a bondage which every passing month rendered more intolerable; and thus, when the hopes of the Count Caspar had been twice blighted by the birth of two infant daughters, he readily acceded to the suggestion of his wife, that she should repair to her paternal province, to put in order some important affairs which needed the presence of the Châtelaine, and which subsequently proved to be of so complicated a nature that it was soon tacitly understood by both parties that her presence would be indispensable to their arrangement.
Among the most costly possessions of Zeredy was the lordly castle and domain of Makowitza, which had been presented to him by his imperial master after an important victory, to which his extreme and reckless bravery had in a great degree conduced. It was given to the Count Caspar and his male heirs for ever, subject to a fine to be paid to his female children; but, in default of male issue, it was to revert to the crown on the decease of the Count, should he not previously have disposed of it by sale or barter.
This deed of gift was the one thorn in the side of Zeredy after his separation from his unloved and unloving wife. That he should divest himself of so princely a pile, he deemed impossible; and that it should be alienated from his children, to become the property of one on whom he had no tie of blood or kindred, stung him to the soul.
The evil was, however, irremediable, save in the event of his wife's death; and the Lady Anne was no frail blossom, to be blighted by an east wind; so she lived on in health and peace, until threads of silver began to mingle with the dark curls which escaped from beneath the plumed kalpag of the Count, and he ceased to remember that he had even speculated upon the subject.
Yet a few more well-fought fields, and Zeredy was compelled to acknowledge to himself that his blows fell not so heavily as of yore, and that his seat in the saddle was less sure—age was creeping upon him; and although with a reluctance which almost grew to agony, he was compelled to hang up his trusty sword, and to exchange a life of dazzling adventure and vicissitude for an existence of luxury and ease.
His determination once made, he chose for his principal and settled abode the castle of Makowitza, and became the first noble of the province of Sárossa; but it was long ere he could reconcile himself to the unaccustomed quiet and inactivity of his new career. After a while, however, as he stood at the tall pointed window which occupied the upper end of his spacious hall, and looked forth over hill and dale, wood, lake, and mountain, and remembered that, far as his eye could reach, all that it looked upon was his own, he began to think that life might yet be made worth possessing; he lingered long, gazing upon the yellow corn bending like billows beneath the pressure of the breeze, upon the dark green maize tasselled with white, the blue-blossomed flax, the star-leafed hemp, the groves of olive, the far-stretching vineyards, the scattered herds and flocks, and farms, and villages, and sturdy peasants labouring each in his vocation; and then he turned away, resolved to taste all those enjoyments which wealth like this could bring.
The castle of Makowitza was soon filled with feast and revel; wassail was in its halls, and music in its bower-chambers. All the nobles who had fought under the banner of its lord were constant guests, who came and went unquestioned; while every magnate, attracted either by the renown or the good cheer of Zeredy, found there a ready and a sumptuous home.
But the nearest neighbour and most constant associate of the Count was John Rákotzy, the Suzerain of the castle of Sarossa, a noble whose magnificence vied with his own, and whose ostentation was as remarkable as his wealth. Rákotzy, when he rode forth from his castle, was always mounted on an Arab horse of matchless breed and sinew, attended by a numerous band of inferior nobles, and a train of liveried and armed attendants; his riding-dress was of velvet laced with gold, and as he played with his jewelled bridle the sunshine glinted over it and drew out sparks of light.
This profusion, so far from disgusting the old warrior, only excited his emulation; and whatever extravagance Rákotzy exhibited to his observant nature, was sure to be exceeded on the next occasion by the Lord of Makowitza. Their mutual visits, frequent as they were, on most occasions lasted several days, and the court-yards of their castles were filled with crowds of retainers, guards, and grooms. No one seemed to remember that famine had ever visited the land, for the recklessness of the nobles descended to the offices; and it would have been easy to believe that the fountains ran wine, after watching for a time the wassailing of the motley crowds who hung upon the track of the rival chieftains.
The Count Caspar, excited and amused by the friendly conflict, looked not beyond the present; but Rákotzy was a man of subtler mould, and never, while partaking the profuse hospitality of his friend or listening to his proud reminiscences of earlier days, did he forget the tenure by which he held the princely castle and domain of Makowitza.
For awhile he remembered it only with regret, and a vague speculative conjecture as to its future possessor; but after a time he began to covet that which he had at first only admired, and wild and wandering schemes flitted through his brain, only to be abandoned from their impracticability.
Yet still he clung to the hope, vague as it was, that he might eventually succeed in possessing himself of the castle of Zeredy; and he multiplied his visits to its lord, and strained them to their extremest extent, in the trust that some unguarded moment might enable him to pierce the unsuspicious old man in the joints of his armour by some bold and hardy stratagem.
It chanced on one occasion, when Rákotzy was as usual the guest of the Count Caspar, and that they sat together after the banquet, surrounded by a score of other nobles, that the wine, which had circulated freely, had already produced a visible effect upon the wits and spirits of the revellers, and almost converted hilarity into uproar, when Rákotzy craftily led the conversation to the great wealth and power of their host, dwelt upon the number and nature of his possessions, and affected to speculate upon their value. "Truly, you are a happy man, Lord of Makowitza!" said he, with a bland and gratulatory smile; "for your wealth can scarce be counted. You have strongholds in ten provinces, and a little army of vassals; and yet you will acquit me of all want of generosity, when I tell you that you possess nothing which I covet save this good castle in which we are now assembled. You may not have heard that, ere it was granted to you by our brave sovereign, I had offered a heavy sum in purchase of it—no less than sixteen thousand ducats.
A light laugh of amused gaiety passed from lip to lip round the board, nor was the mirth of Zeredy the least loud. "Nay, nay—you run a risk by your profusion, my noble neighbour," was his retort. "Why, such uncalculating generosity of purpose would almost tempt me to turn chapman, and to barter the old walls for gold. Sixteen thousand ducats!—why, it was the price of a province!"
A second shout of merriment acknowledged the bitter pleasantry of this new sally.
"You encourage me to repeat the offer," said Rákotzy, without relaxing a shadow of the smile which still played about his lip; "I would fain become the Lord of Makowitza, even at that outlay of gold."
"You do my poor castle too much honour," said the host, following up the jest; "but, unless you could pay the ducats all in the same year's coinage, I should scarcely like to receive them."
"I will even engage to do that," exclaimed Rákotzy, eagerly.
"Impossible!—impossible!" was echoed from lip to lip.
"It must be impossible, as you say, my friends," laughed the Count Caspar, heated with wine, and somewhat ruffled by the pertinacity of his neighbour; "and therefore, if the good noble, my guest, on this day twelve months, come hither prepared to pay down the stated sum in the same coinage—but hold! it is scarce fitting that I should incur all the risk; therefore, I repeat, if the sixteen thousand ducats be so paid on this day's anniversary, the fortress of Makowitza shall be fairly purchased; but should the sum fail even by one ducat, then one third shall be forfeited to me, and I swear to expend it in feasting and revelry, to which I hold all here invited guests."
The brow of Rákotzy contracted for a moment, and he appeared absorbed in thought; but ere long he resumed his gaiety, and, stretching forth his right hand to the host, he said, "Be it even so; and be these brave nobles our witnesses, that as true men we will not fail in our contract."
On the morrow, when his brain was cooler, and his judgment more clear, Zeredy shuddered at the memory of the silly jest of the preceding night; but the more he reflected, the more he felt the almost utter impossibility of collecting so large a sum of money under such a restriction, and was inclined to smile at the clever way in which he should have secured the fine. Nevertheless, as time sped on, there were moments when he recalled to mind numerous instances of subtlety and cunning on the part of his noble neighbour, and he began again to ask himself whether, in twelve long months, the thing were indeed so impracticable as he had at first believed, until, between hope, and fear, and suspense, and doubt, the stalwart old chief became pale, and thin, and nervous, to a degree which alarmed all those about him.
The eventful day came at last; and morning had scarcely dawned gray and cold over the hills, ere Zeredy was at the tall casement which commanded the approach to the fortress. But for hours nothing unusual was to be seen, and the Count amused the intervals of his watch by wandering from one stately apartment to the other, and gazing upwards to the groined roof, or round upon the sculptured cornices and pillared halls. Never had they seemed to him so vast in their dimensions, so noble in their proportions, or so costly in their decorations; and then he whispered to himself that it was impossible that they could pass away from him, or that he could die elsewhere than amid these proud monuments of the prowess of his manhood; and as the hours stole on, and the long shadows of the westering sun began to lie long upon the earth, he once more felt inclined to scoff at his idle fears, and to enjoy the prospect of receiving the forfeit coin of his too venturous neighbour.
Suddenly a cloud of dust became visible upon the far horizon, on the very verge of the puszta; and although the Count Caspar at first tried to teach himself to believe that long and earnest watching had caused the dimness which now invested distant objects, he was not long able to hug the dear deceit; for the dense cloud travelled on, and increased as it neared the castle; until at length the floating plumes and jewelled mantles of a rich and gallant train of horsemen could be distinctly defined even from the high window.
A few more anxious moments, and Zeredy could distinguish the tall figure of the Lord of Sarossa, who led the van, mounted upon his beautiful Arabian, and followed by a score of other nobles; while in the rear of the courtly party marched a body of armed men, leading horses, whose apparently precious lading was covered with embroidered cloths. Yet there was hope! They came, perhaps, to pay the forfeit! And the proud chief of Makowitza hastily donned his velvet mantle, clasped with gems, and edged with miniver, snatched his trusty sword from its resting-place, girt it on with a jewelled belt, and vaulted into his saddle with almost the activity of former years.
His train were already mounted in the court-yard; and concealing beneath a painful smile the anxiety and doubt which were grappling at his heart, the old man galloped across the drawbridge, and down the mountain-side, to meet his coming guests.
It was between the villages of Hoszuréth and Bartseld, that the Count Caspar encountered the gallant band; and when they met, the two chiefs dismounted and exchanged a fraternal embrace before their assembled retainers. "Here are the ducats!" said Rákotzy, as he raised his head from the shoulder of his friend, and pointed towards the led horses.
"They must be counted one by one, and examined closely;" replied the Count Caspar, while it seemed to the old man as though an icy hand had suddenly grasped his heart, and impeded its pulsations; "for should even one coin differ from its fellows, I shall claim the forfeit."
"Be it so!" was the reply; nor were further words wasted between the parties. Each was too eager to determine the issue of the adventure, to invent delays; and a horseman's cloak having been spread upon the ground, the golden shower was poured into it, destined to decide which of the two nobles was hereafter to cross the threshold of the castle of Makowitza as its rightful lord.
Intense was the anxiety with which all present watched every succeeding coin, as it passed through the hands and under the searching eyes of Zeredy, and was subsequently flung into a second cloak spread to receive it. But the feelings of the old chief himself were wound up to agony, as he saw the vast heap before him gradually dwindling away, without one opportunity of doubt or cavil. At length he cast the last ducat from him—he was no longer the Lord of Makowitza—he turned one long heartbroken gaze upon the princely pile, which crested the mountain like a mural crown, faltered out "Gone!" in an accent which seem to blight the ears on which it fell, and in the next instant sank to the earth a corpse!
A lofty column of stone yet marks the scene of this melancholy event, upon whose shaft the following words are inscribed:—
On this spot expired sudvenly, in the pear 1570,
Caspar Zeredy, the last of the name.
This monument was erected to his memory in 1590,
By his daughter Susanna, wife of the Duke of Ostvoi.