When King Matthias read this letter, he laughed aloud, well pleased.
"See," said he, showing the letter to those who were standing near him. "This was a ragged beggar lad—perhaps by this time I should have had to have him hanged. As it is, I have gained a man in him.—Zokoly," said he to the young knight who was just then with him, "fetch the boy here; and if he is up to the mark, put him into a coat of mail and then bring him to me. But I will answer his letter first, for he might abuse my father and mother for my bad manners if I were to leave it unnoticed."
The king wrote as follows:—
"All good to you from God, Miska. As you can read and write, I meant to make a precentor of you, good boy; but if you wish to join the Black Legion instead, no matter. Mount one of the horses you have had charge of, and lead the other hither. Mind what you are about, and don't get drunk.—Your well-wisher,
"King Matthias."
No first fiddle, no Palatine even, in all this wide world could think himself a greater man than Michael did when the king's letter, written with his own hand, was given to him.
He threw himself into the governor's arms in a transport of joy, and then, when he had made himself clean and tidy and put on his best clothes—well, then, there was no keeping him. He would neither eat nor drink, and in a little while he was off, riding one of the horses and leading the other; and as he went he said, "God keep King Matthias!" repeating the words over and over again. "Let him only get into some great trouble one day, just to let me show that there is a grateful heart under this smart dolmány."
When Zokoly presented the lad to the king clad in the stern, manly garb of the Black Legion—wearing, that is to say, a network coat of black mail, with a heavy sword by his side, and a round helmet on his head—Matthias was quite surprised.
The king, as has been said, possessed the rare gift of being able to read men, and seldom made a mistake in his choice of those whom he took into his service. And now as he cast a searching glance at the boy's noble countenance, and noticed the open, honourable expression of his piercing eyes, and above all the broad forehead which was so full of promise, the great king—for great he was, though not yet at the pinnacle of his greatness—the great king felt almost ashamed to see the lad standing before him in the garb of a common soldier, as if he were merely one of the ordinary rank and file. The jest with which he had been about to receive him died away unuttered on his lips. But he welcomed his man good-naturedly, and said,—
"Michael Tornay, from this day forth you are ennobled. I will give you the parchment to-morrow, and I will make a landed proprietor of you."