Good Michael Apafi believed that they were aiming at the princely coronet. This was a crime he was ready to believe in at a single word, and he urged the counsellors who had ordered the arrest at once to put the law into execution against the arrestants. But that is what these gentlemen took very good care not to do. It was much easier to kill the arrestants outright than to find a law which would meet their case.
In those days worthy Master Cserei was the commandant of the fortress of Fogaras, and the castle in which the arrestants were lodged was the property of the Princess. As soon as Anna heard of the arrest she summoned Cserei, and showing him the signet-ring on her finger, said to him: "Look at that ring, and whatever death-warrant reaches you, if it bears not the impression of that seal, you will take care not to execute the prisoners; the castle is mine, so you have to obey my orders rather than the orders of the Prince."
The Prince and his wife then returned together to Fejérvár. On the day after their arrival the chief men of the realm met together in council at the Prince's palace, and it was Teleki's idea that only those should remain to dinner who were of the same views as himself. So they all remained at the Prince's till late in the evening, and thoroughly enjoyed the merry jests of the court buffoon, Gregory Biró, who knew no end of delightful tricks, and swallowed spoons and forks so dextrously that nobody could make out what had become of them.
Apafi had not noticed how much he had drunk, for every time he had filled his beaker from the flagon standing beside him, the flagon itself had been replenished, so that he fancied he had drunk nothing from sheer forgetfulness. But his face had got more inflamed and bloodshot than usual, and suddenly perceiving that the chair next to his was empty, he exclaimed furiously: "Who else has bolted? It is Denis Banfy who has bolted now, I know it is. What has become of Denis Banfy, I say?"
The gentlemen were all silent; only Teleki was able to reply:
"Denis Banfy is dead."
"Dead?" inquired Apafi, "how did he die?"
"Paul Béldi formed a league against him and he was beheaded."
"Béldi?" cried Apafi, rising from his seat in blind rage, "and where is that man?"
"He is in a dungeon at present, but it will not be long before he sits on the throne of the Prince."