The Pasha was not in the city, having encamped opposite Buda, in the plains near Pesth, called Rakos,[148] where, after the custom of the Hungarians, he was holding a muster of Turkish feudal militia. Several of the neighbouring Sanjak-beys were with him, but more were expected; and so when I asked for an audience, he put me off for three days, in order that he might have a greater assemblage of Sanjak-beys and soldiers. On receiving a summons, I crossed the Danube and came to his camp. He made many complaints of the outrages committed by certain Hungarians. There is one point in which the Turks and Hungarians have precisely the same way of proceeding, the latter being quite as bad as the former. When they have committed some outrage, they complain of their unfortunate victim as if he were the one in fault. The Pasha also added threats of reprisals, thinking, probably, that I should be intimidated by the presence of his army. I replied briefly that his charge against the Hungarians might with much better reason be brought against the Turks. I told him that, even on my way there, I had come across soldiers of his who were engaged in plundering and harrying the property of some unhappy Christian peasants who were subjects of his Royal Majesty (King Ferdinand), which was perfectly true. The Pasha replied that he had handed over to the soldiers certain rebellious Christians, who were the Sultan’s subjects, to be chastised and pillaged. After rejoinders of this kind, he dismissed me, more dead than alive, for this was the day on which my fever recurred.
On the next day we set out for Gran, under the escort of some Turkish horsemen. My intention was to cross the Danube, and spend the night in a village which lies on the opposite bank over against Gran, so that the next day I might reach Komorn at an earlier hour, and in this way lessen the effects of the fever, which I expected to recur on that day. Accordingly I requested our conductor to send some one forward to bring the ferry-bridge across to our bank, with a view to accelerating our passage. Although there were several reasons which rendered this plan scarcely feasible, still, partly from a wish to please me, and partly because he was anxious to announce my coming to the Sanjak-bey, he despatched a couple of men.
When the men had ridden forward for the space of one hour, they noticed four horsemen under the shade of a tree, which stood at a little distance from the road. As they were dressed in Turkish fashion, they took them for Turks, and rode up. On coming nearer, they inquired whether the country in that direction was fairly quiet. The four horsemen made no reply, but charged on them with drawn swords, and slashed one of the Turks over the face, cutting his nose nearly off, so that the greater part of it hung down on his chin. One of the Turks was leading his horse by the rein. This the horsemen seized, and one of them mounted on its back, leaving his own scurvy jade in its place. After this exchange of steeds they took to flight, while the Turks fell back to our party—the man whose face had been damaged bellowing lustily, and showing the horrid wound he had received. They told us to make ready for fighting our way through an ambuscade they had discovered. Even I got into the saddle, in the hope of encouraging my men. But we came too late; the battle was all over. The fellows, who were far more anxious to carry off their booty than to bandy blows, were already galloping back to Raab, a town which our people hold, and of the garrison of which they formed a part. The Turks pointed them out to us, as they rode across the neighbouring hills on their way to Raab.
After this adventure we came to Gran, where next day the Sanjak-bey, after giving me a hearty welcome, recommended me, amongst other things, not to forget the proof I had just received of how insolent Hungarian soldiers could be, and to remember that not even the respect due to the presence of his Royal Majesty’s ambassador had kept them from playing their old tricks. He requested me also to see that the horse which had been taken away was returned. Meanwhile, my friend the Turk who had been wounded was standing in a corner of the Sanjak-bey’s hall, with his head covered with bandages and his nose freshly sewn up. As he drew his breath there was a kind of hoarse, uncomfortable sound. He kept asking me for something to comfort him under his misfortune. I promised to give him that which should cure his wound, and presented him with two gold ducats. He wanted more, but the Sanjak-bey cut him short, and declared that it was enough, and more than enough, to cure him, reminding him that his misfortune must have been predestined, and therefore I could not justly be held responsible for it!
After this I was allowed to resume my journey, and on the same day reached Komorn. Here I waited patiently for my fever to come on at its regular time. At last I found that it had left me, and that the Turkish fever had not ventured to cross into Christian territory! Hereupon I gave thanks to God for delivering me, in one and the same day, both from sickness and also from the toils and troubles of a long and difficult journey.
Two days later I reached Vienna, but I did not find my most gracious master Ferdinand, King of the Romans, in the city. At present his place at Vienna is occupied by Maximilian, King of Bohemia, whose kindness has made me well nigh forget the hardships I have undergone; but I am still so reduced by loss of flesh and lack of care, and the inconveniences arising from travelling whilst sick, that many imagine I have been poisoned by the Turks. At any rate, the other day, when the Archduke Ferdinand was here and I bowed to him, on his asking one of his people who I was, the man replied, loud enough for me to hear, that ‘my looks might tell from what country I had come;’ probably intending to suggest that I had swallowed the same sort of mushroom as Claudius[149] of old. But I am quite certain that I am suffering from nothing of the kind, and that after a little rest I shall recover my colour, my strength, and my general condition; indeed, I feel every day that there is a gradual change for the better.
In the meantime I have sent news of my return to the King of the Romans, informing him at the same time of the six months’ truce, and giving him a short account of the negotiations in which I have been engaged. When he returns from the Diet, in the affairs of which he is now engaged, I shall be able to give him a full report.
Many, who from fear or some other reason, shrank from accompanying me to Constantinople, would now give a handsome sum for the honour of having returned with me. Their case reminds me of the famous line in Plautus—
‘Let him who would eat the kernel crack the nut.’
A man has no right to ask for part of the profit, if he has not taken on himself part of the work.