The Golden Age in Transylvania

by Mór Jókai

CHAPTER V
CASTLE BODOLA

In a part of the country of upper Weissenburg, as soon as you have left the Pass of Boza or made a détour of the ravine in the footpath around the mountain heights, you catch sight of the valley of the Tatrang. On all sides are low mountains covered with light fog, and in the background the sky-piercing heights of the foothills of Capri, bright in the early autumnal snow. In the fog-wrapped valley are four or five hamlets with whitewashed houses, from which the smoke arises amid the green fruit trees. The little stream of Tatrang winds clear as crystal between the quiet villages, forming here and there waterfalls with snowy mist. The clouds hang so low over the valley as to shut out with their golden veil first one object and then another from the observer on the mountain-height. There is Hosszufalu with its long street; and the church of Trajzonfalu reflects the sunbeams from its painted metal roof. Tatrang is right on the bank of the stream, at this point crossed by a long wooden bridge; far in the distance appear dark and misty the walls of Kronstadt and the outline of the citadel, at that time still unharmed. Farther down in the valley are the scattered dwellings of the little village of Bodola, its church high on a hill; opposite the village stands a small castle with broad towers and black bastions with battlements; the western bastion is built on a steep rock. But it is only from afar that the castle looks gloomy; as you draw nearer you see that what appeared a dark green growth on the bastion is a garden of flowers. The great Gothic windows are decorated with sculpture and painted glass. Up the steep cliff is a well-kept, winding path, with mossy stone benches at every turn; at its summit is a parapet and the pointed turrets of the castle are painted red and topped with fantastic weather-vanes.

The road to Kronstadt through the Boza Pass leads to this little castle in a few hours, and at the very time when John Kemény had abandoned himself utterly to pleasure in Hermanstadt, a long line of horsemen was moving out of the castle; there might have been two thousand Turkish riders, recognizable from afar by their red turbans and their snow-white caftans; with them were a few hundred Wallachian howitzers in charge of men in brown woolen cloaks and black turbans. The way was so narrow here that the horsemen could ride only two by two, and those in the rear had hardly emerged from the mountain pass when the first riders were already in Tatrang. Their leader was a medium sized, sunburned man, with eyes like an eagle's; there was a long scar across his forehead; the sharp upward turn of his moustache indicated an unusually hot temper, an impression confirmed by the short, crisp speech, the proud turn of the head, and the abrupt movements. Beyond the village he called a halt to await the rear; at the very end rumbled two baggage-wagons and a melon-shaped calêche, the entire baggage of the Turk. A child followed, whose serious expression and gleaming short sword seemed hardly appropriate to the full round face; he might have been twelve years old. Within the carriage, the curtains of which had been thrown wide open to give free play to the evening breeze, sat a young woman of possibly two and thirty, whose dress was partly Turkish, partly Christian; for she wore the loose silk trousers and short blue caftan of Turkish women, but had taken off her turban. Her face, contrary to Turkish custom, was unveiled, and she looked calmly out of the window at the country and the passing peasants.

Beyond the village the Turkish leader marshaled his troops, evidently accustomed to some discipline. At the head of the left wing was the young boy; the right was led by a strong man.

"My brave men," said the Pasha to his troops, "you will encamp here. Let every man keep his place beside his horse and not lay down his arms. Ferhad Aga with twelve men will go to the village and say to the justiciary most respectfully that he is to send four hundred-weight of bread, as much meat, and twice as much hay and oats, for which he will receive four asper the pound,—no more and no less."

The Pasha then turned to the Wallachians. "You dogs, do not think that we have come here to plunder. Do not stir from your places. If I find that a single goose has been stolen from the village, I will have your captains hung and you decimated."

Then he chose four horsemen from the company. "You will follow me. The others are to rest. We will continue our march to-night. In my absence, Feriz Bey is in command."

The small boy saluted. "As soon as Feriz Bey receives word from me to leave you, you will be in command of Ferhad Aga until my return."

With that the Pasha struck spurs to his horse and galloped off to Bodola with his escort of four men. Then the boy called Feriz Bey by the Pasha, rode forward with soldierly bearing and in the clearest, firmest tones gave order to dismount. His Arab steed, with foaming bit reared and plunged, but the little commandant went on with his orders as if he did not notice the mad leaps of his horse. Meantime, the Pasha continued his ride toward the castle of Bodola. The lord of the castle, Paul Beldi, had just returned the day before with his wife from the court of Kemény, which he had left without parting words, and was standing before the dwelling when the Turkish riders came into the courtyard. In those days the relations of Transylvania and Turkey were such that a visit of this kind might take place without previous announcement. As soon as the Pasha caught sight of Beldi he jumped from his horse, hurried up the steps to him and presented himself briefly.