A World to Win Read online

  Apart from the old Count, the whole family was there, together with Baroness Meleki, the two Acsádys and Colonel von Avenheim, the gentlemanly new commander of the garrison at Vanora. Caught in the midst of them, Lajos paused and stood still as the horses carelessly walked or trotted past him. I was used to thinking of Lajos as the danger to them, but now, seeing him stand there, so slight a figure among the rich, powerful people he had made his enemies, I was shocked by the fear that suddenly crept through me. He looked — defenceless.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I felt Mark’s brief, respectful touch on my arm. “I’d stay here till they’ve gone,” he breathed, and I obediently stepped further back into the shadows, from where I could still see a good part of the yard. I appeared to be in a tack room.

  Mark went out, calling orders to the stable lads, and in the ensuing bustle of dismounting and unsaddling, I hoped Lajos would escape unnoticed. But Mattias Szelényi, no doubt with the best of intentions, put paid to that.

  “Evening, Lajos!” he called cheerfully, as he dismounted and gave the reins to one of the boys. From my shadows, I saw several people turn and look at Lajos. István appeared slightly irritated, but not particularly angry, so I presumed he was used to running across Lajos on the castle premises; Baroness Meleki also stared deliberately, though I was sure she had seen him as soon as she had entered the yard. However, it was Baron Acsády who caught and held my attention. Still astride his big grey horse, he cast his eyes at Lajos and immediately I saw his thin lips curl in one of the most unpleasant sneers I have ever seen.

  Lajos, with much his normal manner, lifted his hand in acknowledgement to Mattias and to the party in general, and began to go on his way. But suddenly, Acsády’s horse was in his path. “Why, Monsieur Lázár!” he said mockingly. “You do indeed move in the best circles these days. I didn’t realize, István, that Monsieur Lázár was one of your guests.”

  “A guest of the stable boys, perhaps,” István said drily, and I heard one or two laughs, distinctively Baroness Meleki’s. I began to feel indignant on my friend’s behalf. Lajos himself stood still, looking up at Acsády unflinchingly, but I could tell from his posture that he was wary. István moved towards them.

  “He’s a popular man,” Acsády marvelled. “Why, only the other night, I hear, he was the guest of the tavern-keeper at Szelényi. I hear also that you and I, among others, were the butt of his crude, peasant wit.”

  My heart sank into my shoes.

  The rest of the party had dismounted, and now stood around watching expectantly. I had the impression they were awaiting entertainment.

  Lajos said, “I’d like to stay and repeat all my old jokes to you — some of them are really quite good — but unfortunately I’m expected elsewhere. So if you’ll excuse me...” He moved to step round Acsády’s horse, but a touch of the Baron’s heel pushed the animal again into his path. My discomfort was turning into anxiety.

  “Oh no, I don’t think we can excuse you so quickly,” Acsády mocked. “I understand you are valuable company these days — at least to traitors and criminals.”

  “Let him be, Acsády, he’s not that bad,” Mattias said uneasily.

  “No? Didn’t you hear he was responsible for getting the traitor Ehlberg released? I don’t know what the Vienna courts are thinking about. I’d have had the two of them strung up on the same gallows, side by side. What did Ehlberg pay you with, Lázár? Pieces of silver? Thirty perhaps?”

  “Brotherly love,” Lajos said blandly. “You should acquire a little sometime — it might make you less angry.” I closed my eyes. I hoped Lajos could talk himself out of trouble too.

  “What? Does the peasant now advise the lord?” Acsády said sardonically, after a pregnant pause. “Oh, forgive me, I forgot. You are no longer a peasant, but a gentleman of Pest, a writer of learned articles, a lawyer of dubious repute!”

  That raised another laugh, but with even greater alarm I recognized an ugly note behind Acsády’s mockery. The man meant worse than mischief; for some reason, his hatred seemed to be more spiteful even than István’s. He leaned down a little from the saddle, as if to speak confidentially to Lajos, though he made sure his voice could be heard all round the yard.

  “Well, since you are now such a fine gentleman, I’ll make you a gentlemanly wager.” He paused and dismounted, all aristocratic grace, waiting no doubt for Lajos to enquire the nature of the bet. Lajos, however, merely stood looking at him. I couldn’t see the expression on his face. “I’ll wager ten forints — I’m sure a lawyer’s pay will stretch that far — against your jumping Count István’s horse over that wall.”

  He indicated the outside wall of the stable yard, which must have been at least six feet high with God knew what on the other side of it. István’s horse, I should add, was an excitable, spirited brute of a stallion, very little loved by the grooms, and quite a challenge even to an experienced horseman. The boy who had just taken the beast’s saddle off looked round with a hunted expression.

  I found I was holding my breath in dread of Lajos accepting; so was the rest of the company, including the grooms and stable lads, for Acsády was as good as inviting Lajos to kill himself — to say nothing of István’s horse. At the very least he was ridiculing him for his lack of gentlemanly accomplishments.

  Lajos glanced at the wall, at the horse, and back to Acsády. “Sorry,” he said coolly, and I felt my body relax with relief. “I leave pointless wagers to the bored aristocrats who have nothing better to do. Cheer up. It’ll save you ten forints, which I’m sure you’ll be grateful for when feudal servitude is gone. Good evening, gentlemen. Ladies.”

  And he flourished a bow to the company, at once mocking and supremely elegant. I felt a surge of pride in him, for there was no doubt that he had come off best on all fronts, and was about to make an equally impressive exit.

  However, as he turned away, I clearly saw István’s foot go out to trip him. Outraged, I opened my mouth as if to call a warning that was already too late. The next instant, he sprawled full length on the hard, cobbled ground, to the delighted laughter of the noble watchers. That would have been bad enough, but István had chosen his position well, and it was into the particularly large pile of fresh manure just deposited by Acsády’s horse, that Lajos fell.

  For a second he lay quite still, and I was appalled as much by his possible injury as by his obvious humiliation. Instinctively, I started out of the tack room with the intention of going to help him whatever the cost, but again Mark was there. “No,” he said softly, catching my arm and pushing me back. “Leave him. He’ll cope.”

  Helplessly, I watched as he got slowly to his feet and turned back to face his tormentors. My heart went out to him, for the manure was everywhere, in his hair, on his face, all down his shirt and the front of his trousers, which caused a fresh outburst of shrill laughter. The loudest, I noticed again, was Teréz Meleki: not only was she failing to defend her lover, she was deliberately — or perhaps just carelessly — adding to his indignity. Well, I suppose it would have been funny, except for the deliberate malice with which it was done. Briefly, I caught sight of Katalin’s distressed face, and had time to be pleased with her before my attention was all held by Lajos.

  He stood facing Acsády and István, thoughtfully wiping one filthy hand on the back of his trousers, revealing no trace of the mortification I knew he must have felt. A man of the soil, he was hardly over fastidious about dirt, but to be deliberately flung into it so that it dripped from him for the sole purpose of debasing him in front of those he claimed as his equals — that was different.

  There was a faint, unpleasant smile of triumph on István’s lips which angered me even more. It struck me that he had waited a long time to so publicly shame Lajos; it must have been a bonus to have been able to do so before his mistress.

  “Very well,” Lajos said unexpectedly. “Since you insist, I accept your silly wager.” And before Acsády could even guess his intentions, he had seized the Baro
n’s hand in his own filthy one to shake on the bet. “Ten forints it is,” he said blandly, as I heard a few smothered sniggers from the stable lads, and Acsády wrenched his hand free with an expression of strong revulsion.

  “I beg your pardon,” said Lajos gently. “It’s only shit.”

  From somewhere came a shocked, feminine giggle. And only from that one unnecessarily foul word could I see his anger. Deliberately, he shook the dirt from his other hand, splattering it in front of him. István quickly stepped back, but even from some distance away I could see the stains on his coat. There was even a spot on his chin which gave me some satisfaction, but before he could react, Lajos suddenly sprinted under everyone’s astonished gaze to where István’s ill-tempered horse stood, saddleless and restless in the hands of the open-mouthed boy.

  In a trice, Lajos had seized the animal round the neck and hauled himself onto its bare back. I had a glimpse of István’s startled face, and then my attention was all on Lajos.

  “Here, Gábor!” he called to the lad, seizing the reins and clinging determinedly to its back as the horse plunged and reared with an angry whinny that sounded more like a scream of rage.

  “My God,” I whispered with horror, “He’s not going to do it? Not like that...?”

  It seemed he was. A moment later the horse was careering wildly towards the wall, scattering people to left and right as it went. On its back, I had a glimpse of Lajos, his hair flying out behind him, his expression showing only supreme concentration.

  I couldn’t watch any more. I closed my eyes, listening in terror to the buzz of amazement in the yard and my own thundering heart. I heard someone’s nervous laugh, then a collective gasp as the clatter of hooves abruptly stopped.

  “My God, he did it!” yelled Mattias, and I opened my eyes again, relief flooding through me like a pain.

  “Is he all right?” Katalin asked urgently, “István, look and see...”

  “The wall is too high,” István said indifferently, and I could have hit him. I had no idea what was on the other side of that wall, but I was very afraid it was a steep slope. The horse made no sound that I could hear, so I could only pray they had not come to grief...

  “Look out!” called a voice from beyond the yard, and a second later Lajos, still astride the angry horse, came flying back over the wall. My heart leapt back into my mouth. I heard the hooves catch against the stone, saw the horse stumble as it landed, but somehow it kept its balance and came to a shuddering halt just in front of István and Acsády, blowing furiously and rolling its eyes while Lajos held it firmly in check.

  It seemed he was not the novice horseman everyone had assumed him to be: somewhere, since leaving Szelényi, he had learned to ride, and ride well. Lifting one leg across the beast’s back, he slid lightly to the ground; then, with a gesture somehow insolent, he held the reins out to the Baron.

  “Care to try?”

  The reins, as well as the horse itself, were covered in manure from Lajos. Acsády regarded the animal distastefully. “Not on that. I’ll ride my own horse.”

  “Oh no,” said Lajos. “That wouldn’t be fair. The bet was on this horse. Play or pay.”

  “He’s got you,” said Mattias, and I could understand his delight.

  “Give him his money, for God’s sake,” István said impatiently. “I can’t abide the smell of him.”

  “Then you should keep your noble feet flat on the ground,” Lajos said evenly, and into the sudden silence which followed came the sound of slow, mocking applause.

  It was the old Count himself, standing by the door I had used only half an hour before, a faint, sardonic smile on his thin lips. I wondered how much he had seen, how much worse his presence would make things for Lajos.

  “Bravo!” he called, still mocking, as he moved towards the little group. At the sound of his voice, Lajos turned quickly, as if he couldn’t help himself, and suddenly, in spite of everything, I was intensely curious to see these two men together. Though the Count had paid for his education, it had not been willingly; there could have been little love lost between them even without Lajos’s politics.

  Their eyes met briefly. Lajos did not bow, or tug his forelock like the grooms; instead, he nodded, much as he did to everyone, and oddly, the Count didn’t seem to mind. I presumed he had got used to it.

  “Do you know,” said the Count conversationally, “you are only the second man ever to have made that particular jump?”

  “No, I didn’t know; but I’m sure you were the first.” It sounded automatic, and indeed his attention had already returned to Acsády.

  “I was,” the Count admitted modestly. “A long time ago... But I didn’t know you had learned to ride, Lajos.”

  “I’ve learned a lot you don’t know about.” There was no smile on his lips or in his voice. More than anything else, this distressed me, but again the Count seemed to see nothing unusual in his manner.

  “I’m sure,” he said drily, turning to the others. “What is this all about?”

  Now, to my surprise, I saw that István was looking uncomfortable. It was Lajos who answered.

  “M. Acsády had the urge to redistribute his wealth.”

  A breath of laughter trembled in my throat and was still, for the Count stepped away from Lajos, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

  “Good God, boy, must you come up here looking — and smelling! — like that? Don’t tell me there’s no water in the village!”

  Again, Teréz Meleki led the laughter at his expense, but this time I didn’t care. I was triumphant, for I knew from István’s face that for some reason the old Count would not condone his behaviour. It was not “suitable”. The tables were thus neatly turned, and István’s own father would be Lajos’s weapon against his tormentors.

  But Lajos never even glanced at István.

  “I haven’t had time,” he said briefly, and I almost shouted at him in frustration. István lifted his eyes from his whip to Lajos. I saw his lips twist slightly — whether with contempt or anger or simple amusement, I didn’t know — but he said nothing.

  Of course. They had grown up together. Lajos would not “tell” now, any more than he would have done when they were boys.

  “Make time!” the Count barked, beginning to stump away. “Get out of my sight till you do!”

  “I’m waiting for my money,” Lajos said evenly. “Ten forints.”

  But Acsády only laughed. “For a peasant? One is enough.” And he carelessly tossed a coin on to the ground. Lajos looked at it, then at the Baron, who laughed again. Neither moved.

  But the old Count had turned back.

  “In my day,” he said fiercely, “we did not make wagers with peasants.” The smile began to die on Acsády’s lips. “If we had done, I imagine we would have paid our debts.”

  Acsády’s face was flushed as he dug into his pockets and held a little pile of coins out at some distance from himself. For a moment, I thought Lajos wouldn’t take them: the Count had obtained them for him in the end, and had done so with a reminder of the difference between their stations in life. It must all have added to his humiliation. I felt as if I couldn’t bear much more.

  At last, Lajos lifted his hand, but instead of letting the coins drop into his palm as the Baron clearly intended, he deliberately took them from Acsády’s hold, making sure their fingers touched.

  “Thank you. It seems you’ll have nothing after all when your serfs are free. I have to thank you for a splendid evening’s entertainment. Good-bye.”

  And he dropped the reins at last and strolled off, filthy and dishevelled.

  “Insolent puppy!” the old Count shouted angrily after him, but his step never faltered. I watched his erect back, his casual gait until he was out of the yard. He looked as if he didn’t care, but I knew that he did. He wouldn’t have spoken as he had, done what he had done, if he had not felt pain at what Acsády and István had deliberately inflicted on him, solely for daring to stand up to them, for refusing to be bested
by those who regarded themselves as his social superiors.

  Weakly, I sat down on a rough bench, listening to their voices disappear. “...in the dirt where he belongs,” I heard István say viciously.

  “Yes, but he had the last laugh.” That was Mattias, with a grain of satisfaction in his voice. “Who’d have thought he could ride like that?”

  And Colonel von Avenheim, reasonable as ever: “There was no need to rile him at all. Given enough rope, the boy will hang himself without your aid.”

  Again I felt that lurch of fear. Then, as a shadow filled the door, I glanced up. It was Mark. “I told you he’d cope,” said the groom comfortably, coming into the room.

  I looked at him. “Does he have to put up with this sort of thing regularly?”

  “Oh, not now. When he was a boy it was worse. He used to come to the castle for lessons, and believe me, young István and his cronies made his life very hard indeed. The Acsády boy was the biggest bully of all. I think it maddened him that no matter how often Lajos was beaten, he never lay down... The village lads picked on him too — special treatment, you see — but Lajos got round them in the end, so now there’s not one of them wouldn’t do anything he asked.” He grinned. “He was always a persuasive young devil! But he never got round Count István. Oh no.”

  Fascinated in spite of myself, and in spite of the pity welling up in me for the abused, lonely boy I was beginning to imagine from Mark’s words, I asked, “Did he fight?”

  Mark shrugged. “Lajos? Only when he had to — cunning little bruiser he was, mind. He had to fight with his brain, because he didn’t have the height or the weight to deal with the bigger lads. Talk of the devil,” he added, as another figure appeared in the doorway.

  I glanced up to see Lajos standing there. His hair and his shirt were wet, but there were still stains on his trousers. Mark was regarding him warily.