They Were Counted (The Writing on the Wall: the Transylvanian Trilogy)

by Bánffy, Miklós

  Gyeroffy was thrilled and delighted by the little lawyer, despite his plethora of lordships and ladyships, and readily signed the paper that Azbej put in front of him authorizing the lawyer to take complete charge of Laszlo’s affairs. The authority had no limits and gave Azbej full power of attorney, but this signified nothing to Laszlo.

  † Equivalent to over eleven thousand English acres. – Trans.

  Chapter Seven

  Dear AB,

  I want to ask a favour of you which I can’t ask of anyone else. Would you please buy me a little Browning revolver, you know the sort you can put in your pocket. I seem to remember that I’ve seen them in Emil Schuster’s shop in Kolozsvar; also a box or two of ammunition. Can you get it to me here at Almasko, but secretly so that no one knows. Will you do it? I want to surprise Pali Uzdy!!!

  Yours sincerely Ad.

  P.S. Could you get it to me within the next two or three weeks?

  THE WORDS ‘secretly’ and ‘surprise’ were underlined twice. This note arrived at the end of August.

  Balint sat at the window of his room reading Addy’s letter and thinking that it was a strange request. It was odd that she would want to buy a present for her husband and even odder that she should want him to do it for her; and he found himself feeling somewhat resentful. He wondered about the matter. What could have happened between husband and wife that she suddenly wanted to surprise him with a present? It had always been his impression that neither of them was much concerned to give the other pleasure by such little attentions as surprise gifts. What could have happened between them? Was it possible that something had changed in their relationship, that things were different and that at last they had become friends as well as man and wife? After five years, had they just discovered each other so that now Adrienne no longer dreaded the physical realities of married life?

  Balint’s heart missed a beat at this last thought and he jumped up from his seat. Of course it was possible! It always had been possible. If it were so then it would be best for all of them, and for him it would mean freedom at last from that ever-present longing for her that he had found so destructive to his peace of mind. If she were reconciled to her husband it would be easy for him to break the invisible chains that bound him to this senseless, profitless adventure. He decided that he would comply with her strange demand and buy the Browning. Then he would take it himself to Almasko so as to make sure that Adrienne knew that he had understood what the purchase of this gift symbolized. As long as he did that she would not dare to mock his love for her, even if she had become a real wife to her husband, and he searched in his mind for the right ambiguous phrases with which to address her when they next met. Try as he would, however, instead of the lofty, disinterested, ironic words for which he sought, all that he could think of sounded bitter and vengeful, as if nothing could suppress the hurt in his soul. Later on he could think of nothing at all to say, even when one Sunday morning in early September he was already seated in the train with the little automatic in his bag and, later, when the Uzdy carriage brought him from Banffy-Hunyad to Almasko his mind was as blank as ever.

  When they reached Nagy-Almas the coachman turned to Balint and asked if his Lordship would mind if they stopped to pick up the priest?

  An elderly white-haired monk in a Franciscan habit was waiting for them in the town square. He got into the carriage and sat next to Balint. From their conversation Balint learned that every Sunday his companion went to say mass in the castle chapel.

  ‘But I thought the Uzdys were Protestant?’ remarked Balint.

  ‘Count Pali is, and the young Countess too, but Countess Clémence is a Catholic and so are some of the servants,’ said the monk, but he did not pursue the subject and soon fell silent.

  Balint had hardly descended from the carriage when Adrienne walked out across the forecourt to meet him. The old butler Maier at once led the priest away and Adrienne and Balint were alone.

  ‘Did you bring it?’ Adrienne asked softly and then, rather more loudly than usual, she said: ‘Let’s go into the garden! I hate it indoors at this time of year!’

  They sat down on the same bench where they had talked on the first day of Balint’s last visit, and once again he was impressed by how gloomy the landscape seemed. Some of the beeches were already turning gold but the great oaks were still as dark as before, some of them almost black. Only in the distance the divided walls of the ruined fortress shone white in the noonday sun. Somehow conversation did not come easily to either of them; for both of them were thinking of other things. From behind one of the ground-floor windows there was the sound of a bell, and the voice of the priest could be heard intoning: ‘Dominus vobiscum …’

  Below where Adrienne and Balint sat Pali Uzdy’s tall figure appeared from the right walking along one of the lower paths in the garden. His mother was on his arm, and they walked slowly towards the beech copse and the orchard beyond.

  ‘Doesn’t the old Countess go to mass?’ asked Balint, turning towards Adrienne. The sight of her face surprised him, for it seemed as if she were irradiated by some inner glow that shone through her delicate skin. Her head was held high and her big, amber-coloured eyes were wide open. It was the face of Medusa, thought Balint, beautiful and at the same time frightening. A malicious smile hovered on her full lips as she watched the pair below her, and she did not speak until they had disappeared among the trees.

  ‘What did you ask? Ah, yes, my mother-in-law!’ Adrienne laughed so mockingly that it might have been a pæan of triumph. ‘You know, AB, she too is quite, quite mad! She has decided to be en froid with God – not on speaking terms. I promise you it’s true! She’s not an atheist, not in the least! On the contrary, she’s a firm believer. But she became angry with God when her husband went insane and died despite all her prayers that he should be saved. She implored God, even made him some kind of vow; but God decided to take her husband all the same and she’s never forgiven him! Since those days she has never been to church and she never prays. In her bedroom the image of Christ is turned face to the wall. She has the priest brought here, as always; but it is only for Maier and some of the other servants. As for her, she wishes to show God that He is not welcome in her house because He was not obedient to her wishes.’

  ‘It’s very sad if what you say is true.’

  Adrienne laughed cruelly. ‘She can’t bear it if anyone does anything that she herself has not decided and ordered. She didn’t succeed with Almighty God, and now she’s punishing Him for it!’

  There were five at lunch, the three Uzdys, Balint and the priest. Before they sat down grace was said and Balint, remembering what Adrienne had told him, watched the old countess carefully. Indeed the dowager Countess Uzdy did not pray, nor join her hands, nor cross herself as the others did. She simply stood erect, her arms at her side, and stared at nothing. Her head, with its crown of thick white hair, was, if anything, held even higher than at other times.

  The butler served the meal, as always in total silence.

  The conversation was desultory. All Balint’s attention was concentrated on watching how the Uzdys behaved towards each other.

  The atmosphere was strained, and there was an uneasy sense of pain in the room that was quite different from the last time Balint had been there. Most of the conversation was being carried by Adrienne, who talked more loudly than she usually did, apparently confident that thereby she could somehow defy her mother-in-law and dominate her husband. Uzdy was different too, more subdued and more attentive to his wife, as if he were now in some way subordinate to her, and was using his position to mediate between Adrienne and his mother. All this was barely perceptible but, to Balint’s heightened sensibility, it seemed painfully obvious that the relationship between husband and wife was no longer the same. It must be true then, what he had suspected and feared! This could be the only explanation. The woman in Addy had been set free at last. It must be that. It could only be that … and yet he could still hardly believe it. When he l
ooked into Addy’s face, studied her laugh and the relaxed way she sat in her chair, he sensed that there was something else in her, something reckless and secret and determined, which called for some explanation that was not at all as simple as that he had worked out for himself. He noticed that from time to time Pali would look at him with an expression that seemed to combine mockery, condescension and – and this was the most offensive of all – something of pity.

  When lunch was over Balint walked out on to the terrace with Adrienne.

  ‘I will take you to the ruins,’ said Addy. ‘Then you’ll see what a wonderful view there is from there.’

  Uzdy started off with them, but left them as soon as they reached the lower door of the Swiss wing. ‘I’m sorry not to be able to go farther with you,’ he said, ‘but I have to copy out the daily estate reports.’ Balint looked at him enquiringly. ‘You see, every day each of the estate’s managers and agents brings me his report – about weather, fodder for the animals, the work done by the men we take on by the day, the milking, ploughing, maintenance, stock-breeding programme, everything that we do here. Each afternoon I collate it all into corresponding columns in a master register, and from these I work out the statistics. Of course it all makes a lot of paper-work for me, but it does mean that I know everything that is going on, even when I’m not here. This keeps everyone on their toes and afraid, and that is not only desirable but absolutely necessary!’

  He laughed and said goodbye: ‘I leave Adrienne in your charge. I know that with you she’s in good hands, the best, the most expert of hands! So I know you’ll take good care of her, naturally, of course!’

  He started to mount the creaking stairs with slow ponderous steps. Then, from above he called out to them once more: ‘Go ahead! Walk! Walk! It’s very good for you, the more the better! Of course, naturally! Go on! Walk!’ and his figure disappeared into the darkness of the stairway.

  It took Balint and Adrienne just over half an hour to reach the ruins. They first arrived at a giant doorway hewn from the natural rock by masters of a long vanished era. A grassy road now passed that way between perpendicular stone walls over three metres high. This road led to Nagy-Almas and to get to the ancient fortress itself one had to follow a narrow path which wound its way diagonally up the steep cliffs that dominated the valley and on top of which the castle had been built. At the top was a grassy meadow which surrounded the ruins.

  On their walk neither Balint nor Adrienne had felt like talking. Addy had asked him if he had brought the pistol with him and after he had confirmed that it was in his pocket they had not spoken again until they were almost in the shadow of the castle’s crumbling walls. Then, when they sat down together on a fragment of old dressed stone Adrienne asked him to give it to her. Balint took from his pocket a small tooled leather case and opened it. Inside lay the little Browning and fitted beside it were two loaded cylinders and slots for reserve bullets.

  ‘Oh, how pretty it is!’ cried Adrienne, like a small child seeing a new toy for the first time. She took the weapon from its case with practised hands, for she had often shot with Uzdy’s revolvers, and inspected it with a most professional air. Then she slid one of the cylinders into place and clicked back the safety-catch. ‘I’ll try it at once,’ she said. ‘I want to see what it can do!’ She took aim at the trunk of a nearby oak tree, which stood some ten paces away, and fired. The bullet tore a narrow yellow wound in the tree’s bark. ‘It’s good. Thank you so much, it was sweet of you to get it for me.’

  Balint was still searching for that knowing ironic phrase which would tell Adrienne that he had understood the change in her and that no one was going to make a fool of him. The right words would not come, and though he tried to force himself to speak lightly, as if it were all a huge joke, what came out sounded hard and slightly offensive. ‘And for what joyous family feast is this little present intended?’

  ‘Present? For whom?’

  ‘Why, for your beloved husband I presume!’

  ‘No! No! No!’ Adrienne burst out laughing. ‘You thought that … You thought … You really believed … for Pali Uzdy?’

  ‘But in your letter, you wrote that you wanted to surprise him.’

  When she finally managed to control her laughter Adrienne turned back to Balint. Looking straight at him she put the little weapon carefully away in its case and then said: ‘I only meant it would be a surprise for him. Of course I see it could be understood differently, but I had to be rather vague. You would never have bought it for me if … well, if I had written the truth!’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  Adrienne was now deadly serious. The pupils of her amber eyes narrowed to pinpoints as she looked out over the shining valley of the Almas and across the wooded hills to the faint bluish line of the distant mountains beyond. She leaned her chin on her closed fist forcing her mouth into a sulky, discontented line, sad and stubborn.

  Then she spoke again, softly, in broken phrases, as if it were difficult for her to find the right words. ‘I have decided that I will not bring any more Uzdys into the world. Why should I? They’d only be taken away from me like the first one. No! Never again! Never! Am I to be only a brood mare, a cow in calf? No! If it happens again …’ She was silent for a while, and then went on slowly with great determination: ‘If I can find no other way I will shoot myself.’ She laughed again, even more bitterly than before and behind her bitterness Balint could sense a certain malicious delight. ‘That is going to be the surprise for Uzdy that I wrote to you about!’

  Balint listened to her words. He felt he had been turned to stone and he was filled with terrible foreboding and a deep pity for the girl who had been brought to this dreadful decision. His eyes filled with tears.

  ‘Addy! My darling Addy! You must never do that! Never!’

  He took her soft yielding hand in his, that hand which he had so often held before and whose fingers were so lissom they might have had no bones in them; and he stroked her arm until he wanted above all things in the world to draw her close to him. At once she stiffened and her hand tightened round his with sudden strength and violence. Then she pushed him away: ‘Not that! Not now! You must not touch me now.’ She got up and started to walk towards the tower, chatting light-heartedly as if she was determined to make him forget the harshness of what she had just said. They walked together in the ruins for some little time and the sun was already beginning to set when they started for home.

  When they had crossed the grassy slope just below the tower they started down the rocky hillside on separate paths: Balint chose the higher, while Adrienne set off on another, slightly lower down, which soon turned a corner of the cliff-face. She was walking very close to the edge, too close, thought Balint, for there was a sharp fall on the outer side. He was just about to call out a warning to her when Adrienne suddenly flung up her arms and disappeared into the abyss, It looked as though she had jumped deliberatedly, for she had made no sound, not a word, not a cry of terror or surprise. No stones followed her fall.

  After a moment in which he was too stunned with horror to move, Balint leapt down from the path above and scrambled across the rocks to where he had last seen her.

  Crazed with anguish he looked over the edge to see Adrienne on her feet on a grassy shelf not far below. She was wiping the palm of one of her gloves for she had muddied it when she fell. She laughed, looking guiltily up and lied: ‘It’s too silly, I slipped! It’s lucky the ground is so soft here. No, no, I didn’t hurt myself … I didn’t fall very far. The cliff’s not very high. We used to jump far further in the gymnastic class. You know when I was at school I could always jump farther than any of the others, always …’ And she gabbled on, making a joke of it. But Balint saw that she was very pale and did not regain her normal colour until they were almost home.

  Adrienne did not come down for dinner that night.

  ‘My daughter-in-law isn’t feeling very well,’ explained Countess Clémence in her cool, formal manner. Uzdy seemed w
orried and unusually distracted, with a deep crease between his slanting devil’s eyebrows. Nevertheless, he kept the conversation going and even essayed a mild joke or two; though Balint had the impression that his perpetual sardonic smile stayed on his face only through force of habit. Twice in the course of the evening he left the drawing-room for short periods. Later a carriage could be heard being swiftly driven away from the castle, its wheels crunching over the gravel as it raced out of the forecourt. No one spoke in the drawing-room and Balint could hear the clatter of the horses’ hoofs as they faded into the night. About ten o’clock everyone went to bed.

  Balint lay down but could not sleep. With teeth tightly clenched he tried to sort out in his mind what he had discovered that day. Only now did he understand that what she had feared had already happened. Poor, poor Addy! How desperate and how determined she was. He saw everything clearly now. Poor Addy!

  Towards midnight he again heard the sound of a carriage, this time coming back to the castle. There was the sound of whispered conversation in the passage and hurried steps. Presumably the doctor had been sent for and had just arrived. Then there was deep silence again and it was so quiet that the young man fancied he could count the seconds by the beating of his heart.