"It is the pure truth, your Majesty. I heard the whole thing, and when I knew everything I took my life in my hand and crept through the bushes, swam across the Sajó, and then stole hither by the edge of the ditches! Well, your Majesty will see for yourself by to-night whether I have been telling lies or no."
"What more do you know? Are the Mongols in great force? Have they many prisoners?" the King asked, by way of getting at the lad's budget of news and forming some idea of its value.
"They are as thick together as a swarm of locusts, sir; and as for the prisoners, they are like the chaff of a threshing floor. There are gentlefolk there too. My old master is one of them—blast him with hot thunderbolts!"
"And who is your master?"
"My faithful governor—Libor!" exclaimed Paul Héderváry, stepping forward and answering for the groom in a tone of great displeasure.
"And have they treated the rest as they have treated you?" asked the Duke, pointing to the lad's bleeding ears.
"The Tartar women cut off the ears and noses of every pretty woman and girl, and the best looking of all they kill! They have killed most of the gentlemen too, and thrown them into the Hernád."
"And your master?" asked Paul quickly.
"My master? No master of mine! he's better fit to be master to the devil," said the prisoner, quite forgetting the King in his rage.
"What—whom are you talking about?" asked Paul, indignantly.