The men, of course, had some of them been going out more or less all the time, hunting, or—as we have said, stealing, but the accounts they had brought back had been not only imperfect, but often so contradictory that it was hard for the refugees to form any clear idea of what had really been going on, and, naturally enough, they were intensely eager to hear.
No one was more eager than Aunt Orsolya, and it cost her no small effort to repress her curiosity, or rather anxiety; but she did it, and not only forbore to question Roger herself, but strictly forbade everyone else to do so also.
But as soon as she saw that the Canon was able to walk about a little, that his appetite was good, and that he was gradually regaining his usual calm, she reminded him of his promise; and one evening they all gathered round him in the firelight to hear the story which he afterwards wrote in Latin verse, and to which he gave the title of "Carmen miserabile," or "Lamentable Song."
Roger began his narration by telling of the battle of Mohi and the King's escape to Thurócz; and Orsolya heard with pride how Stephen, Peter, and Akos Szirmay had shared his flight, how Stephen had fallen by the way, and how Master Peter had survived all the perils and dangers by which they were beset, and how Akos, too, had not only survived the Kun massacre, but was safe and sound when last the Canon had heard of him, and had distinguished himself by many an act of bravery and devotion; and the old lady's eyes grew very bright as she listened, and she put out her hand to stroke that of the pale, slim girl who sat beside her, eagerly drinking in every word. Father Roger's information came from the captives brought in at different times, and stopped short, so far as the King and his followers were concerned, at the time when they had taken refuge in the island of Bua, and Kajdán had found himself baffled in his pursuit. To indemnify himself for the loss of his prey, he had plundered Dalmatia, Croatia, and Bosnia, had vainly stormed Ragusa, and had set fire to Cattaro. The last Father Roger knew of him was that he had turned east and was expected to join Batu in Moldavia, by way of Albania, Servia, and Bulgaria.
The name of Kajdán was not unknown to the refugees, for it was he who had led the Mongol horde which had poured into Transylvania from the north-east; it was he, or rather probably only his vanguard, who had been defeated by the men of Radna; it was he who had suddenly attacked them in force on March 31st, when they were gaily celebrating their victory; it was he who had consented to leave their town and mines uninjured on the condition that Ariskald, their Count, should act as his guide. It was he, as Father Roger knew too well, who had crossed into Hungary and joined Batu in reducing it to a desert; for his own cathedral city, Grosswardein (Nagyvárad) was one of the many places which Kajdán had captured.
"And about yourself, Father Roger?" asked Orsolya. "Tell us about yourself, where you were taken, and how you escaped with your life."
"I had fled from Nagyvárad before Kajdán reached it, and was a fugitive, hiding in the woods, living on roots and herbs and wild fruits until the autumn, and then—I was deceived as others were!"
Father Roger went on to explain that Batu, by way of keeping those of the inhabitants who had not yet fled, and of luring back some who had, in order that the harvest might be secured, had issued a proclamation in the King's name.
"But how?" interrupted Orsolya. "You were deceived! Can he write our tongue? Besides, the King's proclamations have the King's seal."