"Ah! who knows?" said Father Roger gently. "Who knows? But he did not think matters would go as far as they did; no, I am sure he did not!"
It was not in Father Roger's nature to think the worst of any, still less of one to whom he owed his life, and he knew nothing of the attack on Master Peter's house or of the despicable part which Libor had played with regard to Dora, or he would have spoken less leniently.
Libor had "climbed the cucumber-tree" to some purpose; and this last service rendered to the Khan had won for him the praise of Batu and all the chiefs, who called him one of themselves. He had reached the pinnacle of greatness, his fortune was made.
The Hungarian prisoners came to him for his advice and assistance, and Libor always received them with the kindly condescension of a great man, and was always ready with fair words and empty assurances to allay their fears.
Late in the autumn, and without any previous intimation to anyone, came an order to Libor and all the other chief magistrates that they were to assemble on a certain day at various appointed spots, each at the head of the entire population for which he was responsible. They were to come with their old and with their young, and they were to be provided with presents for the Khan.
It was a gloomy day, and the storm-clouds were chasing one another across the sky, as if they, too, were going to hold a rendezvous somewhere, to consult perhaps how many thunderbolts would be required to reduce the country to a heap of ruins.
Batu Khan's tent was pitched in the centre of a vast plain, and round it were gathered a large number of Mongols, some mounted, some on foot. In the background, making a terrific noise, were a swarm of filthy Mongol children, who were lying about under a group of tall trees.
The mud huts and numberless tents of the Mongol camp formed an extended semicircle at some little distance, and within this were drawn up a number of Mongol horsemen, quite unconcerned apparently at the blackness of the sky and the distant muttering of the thunder.
Batu Khan was seated on a camp-stool brilliantly attired as if for some great ceremony. Around him stood more than thirty chiefs, armed from head to foot, and among them was Libor, who had surpassed himself in the magnificence of the apparel which he had assumed in honour of the day's festivity.
He stood on the Khan's right hand, and more than once had the honour of being addressed by that personage; behind him, as behind the other chiefs, stood a swarm of servants, their ears—if they were still lucky enough to possess such appendages—ever attentive to catch the commands of their masters. Father Roger had been present in Libor's retinue on this occasion, a slave among slaves.