The Turks called to each other. Three of them rode into the meadow he had just left. They spread out, looking for signs. The ground was too hard to hold tracks.
Now he could understand what they were saying. They knew that it was Rakóssy they had flushed. One of them suggested that they head north, because he had been going north when they jumped him. The others thought this was a rotten idea.
There was a shout from the trees. Somebody had found a trail. The three in the meadow galloped back. Rakóssy strained his ears. He caught the Turk word for deer and a shout of laughter.
He lay still. The mare twitched once, trying to get up, and he pressed her head down. The smell of decaying leaves was all over him. He yawned. The sound of the Turks moving in the forest died away. He got up and let the mare rise, mounted, and turned north. He rode cautiously, staying under the highest trees.
The Old Man was a rock formation just northwest of Mustafa’s fortress at Cliff’s Eye. When Rakóssy got there Alexander was cooking a dove over a low fire. Rakóssy circled the rock entirely and came in, unsaddled the mare, and let her go. Alexander took the dove off the fire and split it. He handed the bigger half to Rakóssy.
“Have any trouble?” Rakóssy said.
“I went all the way up to the heights and came that way. I saw some Turks but none of them near me.”
“They’re thick as fleas on this slope.” Rakóssy cracked one of the bird’s small bones between his teeth and sucked out the marrow. He spat out the crushed bone and gristle. “Did you see anything of that valley where Mustafa keeps his herds?”
“No, I didn’t go that far west.”
If I were Mustafa, Rakóssy thought, I would go toward Hart and try to pick off anybody trying to sneak back that way. “I’d guess he’s pulled off most of his herders.”
“Aha. You’re going to steal his cattle.”
Rakóssy laughed. “Not quite. Wake me up at dawn.” He lay back and went to sleep.
He woke up by himself at dawn. Alexander was fast asleep. Rakóssy climbed up to the top of the Old Man and lay on the cool stone, looking west down the slope. He could see the crag that overhung Cliff’s Eye. He could see nothing moving. Turks moved like ghosts in these mountains.
He went back down and woke Alexander. They rode together down to the edge of the valley where Mustafa kept his herds. The valley was almost circular, flat and wide. The slopes were thick with aspen and larch. All the herds were crowded along the southern edge where the spring was.
“Do you see any guards?” Rakóssy said.
“No.”
“There they are. Over there.”
The guards were up on the western slope, nearly under the trees. They had a fire going. Rakóssy had seen the smoke of it first.
“I’m hungry,” Alexander said.
“So am I. Let’s start a fire.”
“Are you crazy?”
“No.” Rakóssy dismounted. He heaped up brush against a tree. “That grass is dry as tinder. It hasn’t rained in three weeks.”
“Oh. I follow you.”
“That’s good.”
Rakóssy made a pile of brush against the tree as high as his shoulder. Alexander said, “I think they’ve seen us.”
“The fire will cover us.”
“They have. Here they come.”
Rakóssy bent down. He struck a spark with his tinderbox. The spark leapt into the brush and died. He swore steadily. He knelt and tried again. This time he let the spark flare up in the box’s tinder. He knocked the fire into the brush. It caught with a roar.
“Let’s go,” Alexander said.
Rakóssy stirred the fire with a long stick. When the stick was burning, he mounted the black mare, still holding the stick.
“This way,” he said, and headed toward the valley, striking for the herds. Alexander followed him. Rakóssy signaled him to come abreast of him and leaned down, trailing the burning stick through the grass. The stick began to burn up toward his hand. The mare snorted and tried to break his strong hold on the rein. The grass burst into flame like a trail behind him. The fire on the stick singed his hand, and his sleeve began to smolder. He hauled himself back into the saddle and flung the stick away. The grass was burning in a wide swath behind him.
The Turks wavered between attacking Rakóssy and Alexander and fighting the fire. Half of them raced for the burning grass. The rest swung around to head the Magyars off. Rakóssy charged the mare straight at the herds. The cattle were already nervous from the smell of fire. The black mare was tired and stumbled once, almost throwing Rakóssy. He steadied her and galloped around the farthest edge of the herds and began to shout and whistle and wave his arms. Alexander followed him. The great-horned cattle flung up their heads and bellowed. The horses began to bunch up a little way away. The herd stallion bugled and drove them together. Rakóssy yelled and crowded the mare into the cattle.
The cattle broke into a shambling trot, their horns clashing and ringing like swords. The horses followed them. They headed straight across the valley. As soon as they were in a full run, Rakóssy turned west. He waved to Alexander and raced for the cover of the trees.
They rode straight for Hart Castle. The Turks were too occupied to chase them. From a ridge well west of Cliff’s Eye Rakóssy could see a tower of smoke rising towards the sun.
“Good enough,” he said. “Come on. I’m hungry.”
Arpád and his men returned to Hart two days after Rakóssy. He had burned two bridges and started a landslide to cover the road in a little pass. He had not lost a single man. Rakóssy nodded.
“Everybody’s back except one — what’s his name from Mohács,” Rakóssy said. “He may just be cornered, or he may be captured.”
“Maybe he went back to Mohács.”
“Maybe. Could you make a map of that part of the road you traveled on?”
“I don’t think so.”
“But you remember it.”
“Yes.”
“Go find my brother and tell him everything you can remember about it. Everything. South of Robbers’ Pass.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Leave me alone.”
Arpád left the room. Rakóssy went to the great hall and sat down. He put his feet up on the table. His boots were filthy. He thought of — what was his name? The men all called him Mohács. If he was cornered, he would probably surrender.
He wondered if Malencz would attack him this year. He doubted it. Malencz would try to go through the Diet of Hungary first. He was glad that Malencz was the King’s commander in the south — if anybody but János Rakóssy had to be. Malencz was a fool and worse, but Rakóssy never lost his temper with Malencz. Levolt, now, Rakóssy lost his temper with Levolt as often as he saw him. Because Levolt was stupider than Malencz and small-thinking. Malencz had big thoughts at least.
If Malencz attacked him this year it would be difficult. He got up and took off his mail shirt and sat down again. Next year for Malencz. Unless the time ran out on him. By next year he would have handled Levolt, too.
The door behind him opened. Soft footsteps came toward him. Two hands laid themselves on his shoulders, and Mari’s voice said, “Weary, my lord?”
Rakóssy looked at her right hand. She was fingering the cloth of his shirt. She wore a new ring.
“The Gypsies came while I was away.”
She laughed. “The villagers ran them off. They stole a baby.”
“Gypsies don’t steal babies. The villagers need a lesson.”
She laughed again. She sat down on the arm of his chair and carefully settled herself back until she lay in his lap, with her arms around his neck. “I missed you,” she said.
“All of me?”
“Don’t be coarse, Jansci.”
“No.”
“Smile a little. There, you look best when you smile.” She put her hand against his cheek. “You look like that big painting of your father.”
“The devil I do. It doesn’t look much like him, eithe
r.”
“You do.”
She ran her fingers lightly over his face. The light cloth of her bodice clung to her breasts. He touched the cloth. It was damp.
“Sweating rather more than usual, aren’t you?”
“Damn you.” She sat up. Her weight slid off the arms of the chair and came full on his legs. He jerked away. She started to fall and he caught her. She stood up and pulled the damp cloth away from her skin.
“You damned bastard.”
“At least I know that you go to the trouble of making yourself enticing.” He stood up. She smiled and leaned against him.
“Let’s go upstairs,” he said.
“You still haven’t kissed me.” She fooled with the laces of his shirt. “I can’t be very enticing.”
“Let’s go upstairs. I’ll kiss you then.”
They went upstairs. They made love and Rakóssy sent Ivo for something to eat. It was still daylight. He lay beside her, thinking of Malencz.
“Jansci,” she said. She turned over. She crossed her arms behind her head. “What are you thinking about?”
He reached down and pulled the cover up over her breasts. “Not about you.” He stretched.
“Do I bother you?”
“If I said yes, you’d be all over me, and if I said no, you’d be angry.”
“I mustn’t, then.”
“Oh, you do. You do.”
“Good.” She rolled over again and breathed into his ear, “You bother me, you know.”
“Women. You’re all mad. Shut up for once, will you?”
She breathed into his ear without saying anything. He thought about Malencz. After a while he stopped thinking about Malencz and reached for her.
They ate in bed. Ivo served them, keeping his eyes on the floor, on the ceiling, on Rakóssy while Mari sat eating, smiling, not caring that her back was naked. Rakóssy lay back again and thought about Denis. Ivo left. Mari climbed out of bed and put her clothes on. Rakóssy watched her. She had a big, beautiful body. Her face showed the Slav blood in her.
“Jansci,” she said, “if I told you I was going to have a baby—”
“You’d be lying. The Gypsies were just here.”
“Well, I could have wanted it.”
“Too bad for you.”
She laughed. She flung herself across the bed and kissed him. “You’re wonderful.”
“I’m also going to be married.”
“Married? You?” She raised herself on her elbows. “Who is the unfortunate lady?”
“Spanish noblewoman. Go tell everybody. They’ll laugh their fool heads off.”
“Pity.” She sat up and combed out her hair with her fingers. “I’ll miss you.”
“Oh, I’ll be around.”
“Not you. You’re the faithful type.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Oh, reasons.”
“She’s a stick, this one. She lacks your—” he patted her left breast — “equipment.” He got out of bed and dressed.
“If you imported one all the way from Spain, you could have gotten a good one.”
“Vienna. And I tried. Very hard.”
“And failed? You?”
“She got herself married.”
“So somebody closer to the tree caught the fruit that you shook down?”
“Quite.” He buckled his belt. “You aren’t really pregnant, are you?”
“No.”
“Good. It might not appeal to my bride.”
“I thought she was a stick.”
“Even sticks have feelings. She’s very . . . intelligent, and I like her. We were good friends in Vienna.”
“Can I wait on her?”
“I think the comparison might be too much for my blood.”
“Oh, Jansci, please? Anna hates me. She gives me all the dirty work. I had to clean out the soap pot yesterday and it ruined my knees, kneeling on the stones all day long. Look.”
“All right. But as soon as anything happens, out.”
“Good.” She went to the door. “Shall I come back tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” She laughed. She shut the door softly.
He grinned. Catharine’s reaction to Mari might be interesting. He went to the window and looked down toward the mountains. He wondered what Mustafa was thinking about.
Mari started paying attention to Denis in the next few days. She came up to Rakóssy’s room once and he said, “What are you trying to do to my brother?”
“Seduce him. Maybe he’ll teach me to read and write.”
“You’ll have to teach him something. He’s probably still a virgin.”
“Actually, he’s quite charming. If you pay some attention to him.”
“He’s not your breed.”
“No, he’s a real Greek. But he’s fun. He told me a lot about Italy. It must be very interesting. Jansci, stop.”
“Um? Saving yourself for Denis?”
“He’s very nice.”
“Yes. He’s very nice. He’s very useless, too, and he has the spine of a . . . of a . . .” He searched for some spineless thing.
“Jansci, you’re being cruel.”
“If you were in my position and stuck with a brother like a soggy sweetmeat—”
“Jansci, don’t get so excited.”
“I’m not excited. And be quiet.” He shut his eyes. “Be quiet for once, will you?”
Denis, Rakóssy realized, liked to talk to Mari, but he either did not intend to or did not know how to let her seduce him. It was a hot summer, and getting hotter, enough to sap anybody’s strength. Mari dropped Rakóssy entirely, gave Denis another try, and finally settled on Arpád. Since Arpád and Alexander split the post of second-in-command between them, a rumor started that Mari was Arpád’s when Alexander was out raiding with Rakóssy, and Alexander’s when Arpád was away. It was pushing into midsummer, and they fought almost every day. Rakóssy thought that Fat Anna, who hated Mari, Arpád and Alexander almost equally, had started the rumor to get Arpád and Alexander fighting. The rumor didn’t bother Arpád at all. He was openly Mari’s lover, and even if the rumor were true he was willing to share anything with his brother. Almost all the young women in the castle had plots to get Rakóssy, and Ivo was in great demand, since he alone could know for sure who went up to Rakóssy’s room at night. Ivo said that the whole castle was amazed that Rakóssy had not yet gotten himself another mistress.
“The conniving around this castle is enough to drive me out of my mind,” he said to Denis.
“The morals are what irritate me.”
“Who — Mari? Mari looks out for herself.”
“She’s terribly sweet. But she’s so . . . I suppose it’s the Slav in her.”
Rakóssy grinned. “It’s the Slav in her, the Greek in me, the Czech in Arpád, and even the Magyar in some people.”
“I’m as Greek as you are.”
“Yes. Aren’t you glad you have me around? All this vicarious sin and you can stay as angelic as ever.”
“I don’t know. Mari isn’t my idea of a good — you know.”
Rakóssy blinked. “You mean you—”
“I’m not as innocent as I look.” Denis blushed. “I’m not exactly a virgin, you know.”
“I didn’t. Why not Mari? She’s a handful.”
“I’m not going to take your leavings.”
“Pride. A deadly sin. She’s not my leavings. I’m her leavings. She doesn’t want me anymore.” He broke off a chunk of bread.
“Why?”
“I told her about Catharine. Mari’s honorable. She’s quite a woman. You could do worse.”
“Well, Arpád’s got her now.”
“So he does. You could get her back. Pass me the milk.”
“Let’s not talk about it.”
“Shy?” Rakóssy said. “All you have to do is—”
“For the love of God, János.”
Rakóssy grinned.
The summer wore on. The
Turks burned a lot of the hay and Rakóssy had the horses put out to graze rather than use the feed in the castle. He led one raid deep into Mustafa’s territory, laid an ambush along the road to Belgrade, and captured a whole convoy of supplies. He lost half of them on the way back, and when he reached Hart the castle was in an uproar. Mustafa had attacked in force. Denis described the attack, excited even now.
He had been talking to Father Zoltan when he heard the horns blowing. He got to the courtyard just as the last of the horses was galloping in through the gate. The courtyard was filled with loose and frantic horses. Alexander led the defense, arming everybody with crossbows. Mustafa had brought a small bombard and bashed in the roof of the stable with a big stone before they finally drove him off.
“You were with Zoltan?”
“Yes.”
Rakóssy walked away without saying anything more. He went down into the basement of the castle and found Zoltan’s cubicle. Zoltan was writing a letter.
“I hope,” Rakóssy said, “that’s to the Bishop, asking him to relieve you here.”
Zoltan turned. He stood up. “It isn’t, my lord.”
“Stay away from my brother.”
Zoltan looked down. “He seeks me out. I don’t—”
“You carrion crow, I said stay away from him. Give me back talk, and I’ll kick your tailbone through your front teeth.”
Rakóssy slammed the door shut and went upstairs.
He wanted Denis to come raiding with him. Denis would not go. He said calmly that he was a coward and that he preferred talking to Father Zoltan.
“Not even Father was a coward,” Rakóssy said. “You’ll go. Not this time, but the next.”
Denis looked down at the courtyard. “Where are you going?”
Rakóssy Page 4
