The Reluctant Trophy Wife

by Judith Petres Balogh

  “Are you aware how differently the rest of the world presents the early history of the Magyars?” Lena asked. She knew history, at least the version that was taught at the university she attended.

  “Of course I am aware. ‘History is written by the victors’, said Sir Winston Churchill, and he was absolutely right. The usual western version is that because of their constant raids into the neighboring lands the Magyars were a menace to the stability of Europe. But does it not seem odd that an entire continent would feel threatened by a smallish group of marauding horsemen? It is estimated that the seven Magyar tribes combined consisted of no more than 200.000 people, including children and women. Even if all even tribes would have united and gone forth on a pillaging tour, they could hardly make an entire continent shake in fear. Of course, there are very few written accounts available and the ones extant are questionable. At any rate, so the western version of the raids goes, to stop this perceived danger, Otto the Great met them in 955 at Lechfeld near Augsburg to teach a fine lesson. He was victorious. Chastised, the Magyars returned home. The German Emperor thus curbed the menace of the Magyars and the world was safe again. Enters Stephen, humiliated by the memory of the defeat, and converts his tribe to Christianity and is crowned as the first king of Magyars in 1001. End of story. At least as told by the victors. Am I right? Is this the gist of what they teach you?”

  “Actually, yes. This is about it.”

  “If a given historian knows what to leave out and how to emphasize what is left in the story, is biased about what resource he selects as evidence, and is able to take truth lightheartedly, then he can come up with a version that would please his emperor on whom he depends for his bread, butter, coach and horses. And thus history is mongrelized.”

  “But what is the story behind the story?” Lena was asking.

  “Otto the Great had his own grave problems, not unusual in those times and it had little to do with the Magyars or their infamous excursions into western lands,” he explained.

  According to the old law, inherited from the times of Moses, or perhaps even earlier, after the death of a king the succession (and incidentally the wife of the dead ruler as well) went to the oldest member of the tribe. The New Testament, the foundation of western civilization, rejected this so-called ‘seniorate’, and instead established the law of primogeniture; accordingly the crown went henceforth to the first-born son of the king, to the crown prince. The transition from the old tribal or Mosaic laws was difficult for every group in Europe, whether they were enclosed in the Holy Roman Empire, or were just trying to get in. It is very tough to give up old customs, and when in addition an outdated law could be dragged out to serve a desired goal, it is convenient to forget the newer belief and slip back into pagan convictions. Necessity is a powerful mistress.

  During that age, almost all the rulers in Europe faced the same issue. Some lost not just the coveted crown, but also the head that would hold it. Otto was in an especially dangerous position, because his family and his sons from two marriages fought bitterly for his crown, even before he died. One side insisted on the law of seniorate, as if they still lived in a pagan, nomadic tribe. On the other side one of his sons, suddenly more devout than a congress of certified saints, insisted on his first-born rights. The fight was hard and they did not shrink from much; at one time the royal father was even captured and imprisoned. Liudolf, one of the sons, invited foreign military groups, including the Magyars, to help defeat his father. The Magyars were at Lechfeld as allies of Liudolf. It was not a random raiding group that Otto surprised in their unholy doings and successfully defeated; it was an army of between ten and twenty thousand warriors of different nations, and it was a well-planned battle and not stray horsemen caught at red-handed at an illegal raid. Historians later claimed that Otto wanted to teach a lesson in civilized behavior and so discourage the Eastern tribes from their sporadic raids. He might have wished to do that, but the reason for that particular battle at Lechfeld had another objective as well.

  “This little information could change some of the texts in history books, but then is the evidence and the proof strong enough?” Sarah mused. “And are you questioning the reliability of historical truth?”

  “Historical truth? I would rather call it historical interpretation.”

  “In other words, you would not order the study of it into the category of exact sciences,” mocked Sarah.

  “Not any more than the study of fairy tales, although in the human context the study of both are justified and important. I am also fair and freely admit that the methods of historical reporting have greatly improved during recent times and some of the old misinformation is gradually corrected. Anyhow the Magyars badly miscalculated not just the situation, but also their so-called allies and their character, and consequently lost the battle. Unfortunately, this miscalculation would repeat itself over and over again in the history of Hungary,” Father Paul concluded the impromptu lecture. “It was a grave mistake to get involved in the first place, but a thousand years later, it is pointless to argue about it.”

  “Is it, Reverend Father? Then why on earth are you reading Belloc’s book and why are you talking about it with such lively interest?” Sarah asked, because she could not resist teasing him.

  “Because I feel that the basic question is not outdated. Whenever the pillars of a culture are showing signs of damage or weakness, it is time to pay attention. And I can see dangerous cracks on the venerable edifice at this time. The world is injured and is hurting. Nous dansons sur un volcan. Considering the errors of the past might help us avoid the pitfalls in the future. Indeed we are dancing on a volcano.”

  “Obviously, ever since the Age of Enlightenment, Europe made up its mind about the direction it wishes to take, and I too am sad about it,” said Sarah. “I know that you are a confounded optimist Padre, but you have to admit that the Church is the first victim of the changing philosophy. Even in our small village, where people are more devout than in the cities, you see many of your parishioners in a horizontal position only; they are either resting in the arms of their godparents, waiting to be baptized, or else in a coffin, waiting for you to pray over their grave. You do not see some of them between these two events, unless they attend somebody’s wedding or funeral.”

  “We should never, never give up hope for spiritual renewal. Hope is very much part of Christianity.”

  “Much of the hope is ridiculed nowadays. Religion is labeled as too conservative, too out of step with the new millennium, not trendy enough. Modern man wishes to create a spiritual wellness religion that is non-demanding, comfortable and fits into this Brave New World. He wants a sort of divine, spiritual Jacuzzi, provided that he still has some desire left over for religion and spirituality.” Lena spoke truthfully, but felt uncomfortably dishonest arguing on the side of the Church, to which she more or less cut the ties. Because she was married to a divorced man she was excluded from taking the Sacraments. Soon she arrived at the inevitable conclusion that going to church as a nonparticipating semi-outsider was pointless. Why go when one is only partially admitted? This was one of the issues she did not consider when she decided to marry Clyde. It was not a problem for her at that time, but lately it bothered her at an increasing rate. Just how honest is she while she defends the church that closed her out? She belonged to those chance worshippers Sarah indicated and inevitably felt accused.

  “You have accurately touched the central problem. Man attempts to create his own religion and in true narcissistic fashion he put himself at the center. Such a religion is not a religion at all, but something infinitely vulgar, pointless and ridiculous. The nature of religion is and always has been the powerful presence of God. By its very definition it is God-centered. Our goal in life is to understand His teaching and to seek, to know, to adore Him, and through prayers and meditations build that close personal, meaningful connection to Him, which makes us worthy of our status as humans and which also gives content to our life. Without this d
eep conviction and the sincere searching, all attempts to reform an existing religion or to create a new one is a farce and totally pointless, because its very essence is negated, even mocked.”

  “It sounds like ‘all or nothing’ doesn’t it?” remarked Sarah.

  “I is.” He was not aggressive, but absolutely unbendable.

  Lena, still stumbling between belief and doubt, felt uncomfortable; she preferred a history lesson to disapproval.

  “Do I guess correctly that your story does not end here?” she asked in order to change the conversation into a less disturbing direction.

  “No, it does not, but that it is yet another story for another time. I already talked too much. It is an occupational malady.”

  “You can’t possible introduce this king of yours, declare that he was great and then let your ignorant American friends wondering about the rest of it,” announced Sarah with mock indignation.

  “Indeed, I would not do that.” Considering the women had a busy day and were probably tired, he summarized the king’s ruling years as quickly as he could.

  As early as the year 1001 he established a civilized, Catholic state, Father Paul told them. His royal court was cultured and well organized. As an example during the first decades of 1000 A.D. Canut, or Cnut, exiled Edward from Scotland. Hungary was selected by the Scotch loyalists as a safe asylum for the royal children. Exiled Edward’s daughter was born in Hungary in 1045, she spent her youth there and received an outstanding education, not usually given to females in those times. Later she became historically the ‘Pearl of Scotland’, beloved queen of the Scots and also a saint of the Church. These facts prove that the Hungarian court was not a wild, pagan anomaly, or a constant threat to civilization. Thirty-six years after Stephen’s rule, King Kálmán (1074 -1116) was truly enlightened and continued to rule in King Stephen’s spirit. Some of the famous additions to the original laws were the restriction of the death penalty to just very special cases, and the prohibition of torture. He realized that the family is the basic element of the State, and his laws protected it and the children. He regulated how the inheritance should be divided among the siblings. In order to keep out uneducated men from church positions, he decreed that priests had to talk Latin to each other.

  “King Kálmán’s laws were truly remarkable,” Father Paul concluded, “With the famous sentence in the codex: De strigis vero quae non sunt, nulla questio fiat,-- of witches, who are not (non-existent) nothing must be said—he eliminated witch trials. And this about 600 years before Salem! I cannot say that all men were happy about this decree, because a witch trial was an inexpensive and virtuous alternative to divorce. You can’t have everything, as the wise man said.”

  “This was truly an instructive evening, and if I sounded somewhat pessimistic, please, forgive me,” Sarah said as she poured the last of the wine. “Please note that talking of the Biblical four horses is the uncontested right of aging women, who are either suffering from weather changes or rehearsing for the Grand Exit. Youth alone is blessed with the gift of sustaining hope and with the conviction that old age and death only happen to others. Only the young have the power or the ignorance to dismiss all concerns about an undefined and unfathomable future. So forgive me and more power to your positive outlook.”

  “Our discussions would be very dull without your slightly acid humor!”

  “You don‘t find me cantankerous and obsolete?”

  “Never did.” And once again there was that smile on his face that spoke of a convincing inner peace and a happiness not known to outsiders.

  “Now I won’t die ignorant!” Lena’s tone was bantering, but she spoke with conviction. “When I first arrived here I did not expect to learn much about the country. My trip came about very unexpectedly and I did not prepare for it. I did not even know how I would communicate my daily, basic needs to the housekeeper.”

  “You managed splendidly! Or are you forgetting those eminent conversations with Juli néni on the OK level?”

  “How could I? I would never forget that, nor your willingness to adopt me. But arriving here was daunting.”

  And it was, but she did not want to talk about her initial loneliness and bitter confusion and so ruin the harmonious evening with bad memories. The night settled peacefully into the pleasant little room and it was not the time to talk about those devastating days when she faced her situation fully for the first time and felt as if condemned to solitary confinement for an indefinite period of time and little hope for mercy. At moments she thought that she would have liked to exchange her luxurious loneliness for the life of a tourist, even if it would have meant to be herded from one site to the next. Inevitable fatigue would have been a fair price for the privilege for being with others. And of course graveside fatigue would inevitably come even to the hardiest of tourist because his feet are killing him, he is thirsty, tired, hot; he is no longer able to concentrate on the guide’s bad English, and is stressed enough to do something socially unacceptable if the guide continued to tell which portrait was painted by whom, five hundred years ago. She was not made for this sort of experience. Still, at least momentarily it appeared to her more appealing than just sitting idly among the silent grapevines, wondering if it were possible to lose the skill of speech if not exercised.

  “I must beg you to forgive my long-windedness. Unfortunately when I start a topic of interest, I cannot stop while the battery is still working,” he said. “Once a teacher, always a teacher. Sometimes I get scared knowing that I must bore people most frightfully. While I preach on Sundays, part of my attention is constantly monitoring the congregation to detect that most frightful sound in any church: that of snoring.”

  “So far you haven’t bored us Padre, and be assured that I’ll be the first one to tell you when you do!”

  “This is something I do expect from you, Sarah,” then sensing that Lena’s thoughts wandered he turned to her and asked, “Don’t you have the desire to travel around a bit and learn about this country?”

  “Not now. I am content here. Perhaps later, when I had my fill of all this.”

  “You are wise for staying put. Or perhaps I am just selfish wishing you to stay here, because I love your company,” Sarah said. “Stay put; travel can wait. Sometimes you can learn an amazing amount by just standing still. Although I admit that in novels of the last century one often finds the expression ’welltraveled’, meaning this person possessed a special store of insights, truths and wisdoms because he was exposed to personal experiences in different countries and to different people while traveling.”

  “You don’t think this is happening anymore?” He asked and bent slightly toward Sarah in an attitude of sincere attention. Lena looked at him thoughtfully. Now that he finished lecturing, he again assumed the role of the listener. He had the grace to listen and the skill to make people talk freely.

  “I am not sure. Maybe it does, maybe it does not,” Sarah answered. “I have a neighbor, who spent two months in Europe a few years ago. After she came back, she visited me to tell all about her experiences. You know what she brought along to show me?” Sarah bent forward and gesticulated with such indignation that her wineglass was in danger of landing on the nun’s meticulously kept floor. “She brought a length of toilette paper! You heard me right, toilette paper! Think of it! She stood at the amphitheaters in Greece where the words of Homer echoed, walked where Roman senators made the laws; stood where Christians were thrown to the wild beast in the Coliseum; she gazed at the ceiling Michelangelo painted--and I will not list all what else she saw in the three months of travel, because it would take the rest of the evening. But what was the item that made a deep impression on her? A length of toilette paper! ’Look Sarah, this is what those people use there!’ she told me with self-righteous indignation and a refined shudder. The paper in question was truly ugly, grayish, most likely made of recycled stuff. It certainly lacked those graces and refinements which are highly praised in our TV commercials. Anyhow, so much for Eu
ropean civilization as far as some of the modern travelers are concerned! Am I to believe that through her privileged personal experiences she found truth and was enlightened? And that my friends, is terminal mediocricity!”

  “Is there such a word?” Lena asked poking Sarah gently and Father Paul looked puzzled, as he really did not know.

  “Now there is. Don’t confuse me with literary pedantry, and enjoy the rosy wine!”

  They laughed at the folly of Man and it was all good fun, but Lena recalled Adrienne’s concern about the condition of her powder room, and her remark about the women, who visit it and then proceed to judge the aesthetic, financial and moral qualities of the hostess, using the condition of the powder room as criterion. Adrienne was amusing, even a little silly, and she was exaggerating as always, but perhaps she was not so very far from the truth. Hostesses and civilizations beware and watch your powder rooms if you do not want to suffer grave humiliation and be registered as barbarians!