After Dionysius Banfy had freed himself from the snare set and the sound of the pursuit grew faint, he began to take his bearings in the starry night, and chose his way so successfully through forests and over stubble fields that by daybreak the towers of Klausenburg were in sight. Rage now took the place of fear. At first he thought that the night attack had been only an attempt of his personal enemies, planned without the knowledge of the Prince by those who knew well that it was easier to get approval for a deed done than for one to be done. But the attempt had not succeeded and the lion escaped from the toils of his foes had still strength enough and the will necessary to turn on his pursuers and impress them with respect for the law.
In the open field outside the town Banfy's troops were going through their manœuvres in the early morning, when their leader rode up to them with haggard face, head bare, without his caftan and without his weapons. His chief men hurried to him in terror and met him with a questioning look.
"I have just escaped from a murderous attack," said Banfy, with husky voice and breathing hard. "My enemies fell upon me; I have escaped but my wife is in their hands. By their voices I recognized Kornis and Daczo among my pursuers."
"In fact Daczo's name is worked on the trappings of this horse," said Michael Angyal, who came up just then.
Banfy's face was perturbed as if he could get no clear idea of either past or present.
"I cannot understand the whole affair. If the attack followed a command of the Prince then there must have been a suit, a summons or certainly a sentence. If it was only private revenge then my hand is more than a match for both these good Szeklers. In that case stay here outside the city ready for an attack, while I hurry back to my castle. In a few hours I shall know what course we must take."
Banfy rode into town accompanied by Michael Angyal. As he turned the corner of his palace he had to pass the place where Madame Szent-Pali's house had stood. Only a corner stone was left, and as Banfy chanced to look that way he saw sitting on this one stone the former mistress of the house, who was waiting there for the lord with her face lighted with fiendish joy, and as he turned his head aside greeted him mockingly.
"Good-morning, my gracious lord."
But Banfy galloped on defiantly. At the castle gate his steward from Bonczida was already waiting for him. After the Szeklers had forced their way into Bonczida he had escaped; but not willing to make a sensation with his Job's message had told nobody, and now only whispered briefly to his lord that everything in the castle from top to bottom was upturned and that the Szeklers had entertained themselves after their own heart. Banfy answered not a word. He called for his armor and his war-horse and made his preparations quietly.
"My gracious lord would perhaps do well to make haste," urged the steward. "The Szeklers are already in the house."