Neath the Hoof of the Tartar; Or, The Scourge of God

by báró Miklós Jósika

It was only a year or so since the first irruption of the Mongols, but the land was a chaos.

How the King laboured with might and main to restore the "years which the locust had eaten," and how he succeeded are matters which belong to history.

Very gradually and cautiously the people ventured forth from the dens in which they had concealed themselves. At first they came only one or two at a time, to reconnoitre; but when they were convinced that the enemy had utterly withdrawn himself, the joyful news was quickly conveyed to those who were still in hiding, and they flocked back to the ruined towns and villages, which began at once to rise from their ashes.

One by one the bells pealed forth again from the church-towers, and many, many a cross was put up in the graveyards to the memory of those who returned no more; not only of those known to be dead, but of those who had simply disappeared, no one could say how, but whose bodies were never found, and who might therefore have been carried away to a living death as slaves. Few indeed of the captives were ever seen again. Many a hamlet and small village of the plains had been wiped out as completely as if it had never existed, and some of these were never rebuilt, though their names live in the neighbourhood to the present day.

Many a young man who had been but a "poor relation" before the flood, now found himself the heir to large estates and great wealth.

Once more the plough was to be seen at work among the furrows, drawn now by an ox, now by a horse, and not infrequently by the farmer himself, the old owner or the new. Where there had been ten inhabitants there was now one; but that one seemed to have inherited all the energy, vigour, and hopefulness of the other nine, so fiercely he worked.

Buried treasures were dug up again, though often not by those who had buried them; many remained undiscovered for centuries; many have not been found to this day.

The wolves still roamed the plains as if the world belonged to them; they would even enter the scantily populated villages and carry off infants from the cradle, and from the very arms of their mothers. Clouds of ravens and crows still hovered over the countless bodies of those who had fallen victims to the Mongols or to starvation, exposure, disease. Both birds and beasts disputed the possession of the land with its returning inhabitants.

Of the forty members of the Szirmay family there now remained but four male representatives: Master Peter, his nephew Akos, and two others whose names have not come down to us; and all four of these were now wealthy landed proprietors.

Dora had been unable to communicate with her father; Gabriel had never reached him; and when at length Master Peter was able to re-visit his faraway castle, he did so not knowing whether his daughter were alive or dead. He found the whole place in ruins; for Dora had been only too right in her conjectures. The Mongols had paid it another visit not long after her departure; and, finding the house deserted and empty, had vented their rage upon it in such a way that nothing remained to receive their owner but the bare walls.