In a second, all the servants behind the boyars drew their daggers and struck them; other soldiers under the captain of mercenaries entered and slashed at them with their swords. In the meanwhile Lapushneanu took Motzoc by the hand and drew him to the open window whence to watch the butchery which began. He laughed; but Motzoc, forcing himself to laugh, felt the hair rising upon his head, and his teeth chattering. And, in truth, it was horrible to watch that bloody scene. The fancy must picture a hall 33 ft. long and 30 ft. wide, a hundred and more desperate men, determined to kill, executioners and victims, some fighting with the fury of despair, others with drunken rage. The boyars had had no suspicions, thus treacherously attacked from behind, and unarmed, they fell unable to defend themselves. The older men died making the sign of the cross; but many of the younger ones defended themselves with desperation; chairs, plates, the implements upon the table became weapons in their hands; some of the wounded gripped with fury the throats of the assassins, and in spite of the injuries they received they squeezed them till they suffocated. If one among them found a sword he sold his life dearly. Many a mercenary perished, but finally not a boyar remained alive. Forty-seven corpses lay upon the floor! In the struggle and turmoil the table was overturned; the jars were broken and the wine mixed with blood made a pool upon the boards of the hall.
Simultaneously with the murder upstairs began the massacre in the courtyard.
The boyars' servants, finding themselves set upon without warning by the soldiers, tried to flee. Only a few escaped with their lives; they succeeded in scaling the walls and gave the alarm in the boyars' homes: they called out others of the boyars' retainers and men, and roused the populace. The whole city flocked to the gates of the courtyard, which they began to destroy with axes. The soldiers, stupid with drink, made little resistance. The crowd grew stronger and stronger.
Lapushneanu, when he recognized the strength of the crowd, sent an esquire to inquire what they wished. The esquire went out.
"Well, Vornic Motzoc," he said, turning towards that person, "tell me, have I not done well to rid myself of this rabble, to free the land from this sore?"
"Your Highness has acted with great wisdom," replied the obsequious courtier; "I have long had it in my mind to advise your Highness to do this, but I see your Highness's sagacity has anticipated me, and you have done well to destroy; because--why--it was----"
"I see the esquire tarries," said Lapushneanu, cutting short Motzoc, who was becoming involved in his speech. "I think we will give orders to fire a round into the mob. Ha! what think you?"
"Certainly, certainly, let us turn the guns on them; there is not much loss in a few hundred churls dying when so many boyars have perished. Yes, let us destroy them root and branch."
"I expected just such an answer," said Lapushneanu with irritation, "but we will see first what it is they ask."
At that moment the esquire stepped through the door into the courtyard, and making a sign, cried:
"Good people! His Highness sends to inquire what it is you want and ask, and wherefore you are come with so much noise?"
The crowd stood open-mouthed. They had not expected such a question. They had come without knowing why, or what they wanted. They collected quietly into little groups and asked one another what it was they did want. At last they began to shout:
"Remit the taxes!" "Cease to harass us!" "Do not kill us!" "Do not rob us!" "We remain poor!" "We have no money!" "Motzoc has taken our all!" "Motzoc! Motzoc!" "He fleeces us and ruins us!" "He advises the Voda!" "Let him die!" "To death with Motzoc!" "We want the head of Motzoc!"
The last words found an echo in every heart, and were like an electric spark. All the voices rang together as one voice, and this voice cried:
"We ask for Motzoc's head!"
"What do they ask for?" asked Lapushneanu, as the esquire entered.
"The head of Vornic Motzoc," replied the esquire.
"How? What?" cried Motzoc, jumping like a man who has trodden on a serpent. "You did not hear aright, fool! You try to jest, but this is no time for jesting. What words are these! What would they do with my head? I tell you, you are deaf, you did not hear well."
"But very well," said Alexandru Voda, "just listen. Their cries are audible here."
In fact, as the soldiers no longer resisted them, the people had begun to clamber up the walls whence they shouted at the top of their voices:
"Give us Motzoc!" "We want Motzoc's head!"
"Oh, miserable sinner that I am!" cried the wretched man, "most Holy Mother of God, do not let me be destroyed. What have I done to these men? Holy Virgin save me from this danger, and I swear to build a church to pray for the rest of my days, I will enshrine with silver the miracle-working Icon from the Neamtzu Monastery. But gracious Prince, do not listen to these common people, to these churls. Command that the guns decimate them. Let them all die! I am a great boyar, they are only churls!"
"Churls, but many of them," replied Lapushneanu coldly: "would it not be a sin to murder many men for the sake of one? Only reflect. Go and sacrifice yourself for the good of the realm, as you yourself said when you told me that the country neither wanted me nor loved me. Rejoice that the people repay you for the service you rendered me, betraying to me the army of Anton Sechele, then destroying me, and taking Tomsha's side."
"Oh, unfortunate man that I am!" cried Motzoc, tearing his beard, for he realized from the tyrant's words that there was no escape for him. "At least let me go and put my house in order! Have pity upon my wife and children! Give me time to confess!" And he cried and screamed and groaned.
"Enough!" cried Lapushneanu. "Do not wail like a woman. Be a brave Roumanian. What can you confess? What can you say to the priest? That you are a thief and robber? All Moldavia knows that. Come! Take him and give him to the people and tell them that this is the way Alexandru Voda serves those who rob the country."
The esquire and the captain of mercenaries immediately laid hands upon him.
The wretched boyar yelled as loudly as possible, trying to protect himself, but how could his old hands shield him from the four strong arms that carried him? He tried to stand upon his feet, but they caught in the dead bodies of the victims and slipped upon the blood which had congealed upon the boards. As last his strength became exhausted, and the tyrant's satellites carried him more dead than alive to the door of the courtyard, and thrust him out among the crowd.
The miserable boyar fell into the arms of the many-headed Hydra, which in a second tore him to pieces.
"See how Alexandru Voda rewards those who rob the land!" said the tyrant's emissaries.
"Long live His Highness the Voda!" replied the crowd. And they dispersed, rejoicing over their victim.
While the unhappy Motzoc was being thus treated, Lapushneanu ordered that the table should be replaced, and the utensils collected; the heads of the murdered were then cut off, and the bodies thrown out of the window. After which, he took the heads and quietly and methodically set them in the middle of the table; he placed the less important boyars below, and the more important above, according to their family and rank, until he had made a pyramid of forty-seven heads, the top of which he crowned with the head of an important Logofat. Then after washing his hands, he went to a side door, withdrew the bolt and wooden bar which secured it, and entered the Princess's apartment.
From the beginning of this tragedy, the Princess Rucsanda, ignorant of what was taking place, had been anxious. She did not understand the cause of the noise she heard, for, according to the custom of the time, women could not leave their apartment, and the servants could not risk going amongst soldiers of whose discipline they knew nothing. One among them, bolder than the others, had gone out, had heard it said that an attack had been made upon the Voda, and had carried these tidings to her mistress.
The gentle Princess was terrified, fearing the fury of the mob, and when Alexandru entered he found her praying before the Icon, with her children by her side.
"Ah," she cried, "our Lady be praised that I see you again! I have been greatly frightened."
"Wherefore? Because I promised I would prepare you a remedy for fear? Come with me, Madam."
"But those cries, those shouts we heard?"
"Nothing. The servants began to wrangle, but they are quiet now."
So saying he took Rucsanda by the hand, and led her to the dining-hall. She gave a cry of horror at the terrible sight and fainted.
"A woman is always a woman," said Lapushneanu, smiling, "instead of rejoicing, she is horrified."
He lifted her in his arms, and took her back to her apartment. Then he returned again to the hall where he found the captain of mercenaries and the esquire awaiting him.
"You can throw these corpses over the wall to the dogs, but set their heads upon the wall," he said to the mercenary. "And you," he said, addressing the esquire, "are to lay hands upon Spancioc and Stroici."
But Stroici and Spancioc were already close to the Dniester.
Their pursuers only caught up with them when they had crossed the frontier.
"Tell him who sent you," Spancioc shouted back, "that he will not see us till he is about to die!"
Four years passed since this scene, during which time Alexandru Lapushneanu, faithful to the promise made to the Princess Rucsanda, did not execute a single boyar. But, because he was unable to stifle his overmastering desire to witness human suffering, he invented various forms of torture.
He had eyes put out, noses cut off, he mutilated and maimed any person he suspected; even his suspicions were imaginary, for no one ventured to make the slightest complaint. All the same he was not at ease, for he could not lay hands on Spancioc and Stroici, who remained at Kamenitza, waiting, abiding their time. Although he had two highly-placed sons-in-law with great influence at the Polish court, he was anxious lest these two boyars should solicit the aid of the Poles, who were only seeking a pretext to invade Moldavia; but these two Roumanians were too good patriots not to reflect that war and the arrival of foreign soldiers would be the ruin of their native land.
Lapushneanu wrote to them many times in succession that if they would only return he would pledge himself, by the most sacred oath, to do them no harm; but they knew the value of his oath. In order to observe them more closely, he moved to the town of Hotin which he fortified with care, but he became ill from spleen here. The disease made rapid strides, and the tyrant soon saw himself at the portal of the tomb.
In the delirium of his fever he seemed to see all the victims of his cruelty, terrifying and admonitory, threatening him and calling to the most just God for justice. In vain he tossed upon his bed of sickness, he could not find relief.
Summoning Teofan, the Metropolitan, the Bishops and boyars, he informed them that he felt the end of his life to be approaching; he humbled himself, and implored pardon for all the wrong he had done. Finally, he begged for consideration for his son, Bogdan, to whom he left the throne of the realm if they would assist him. Being of tender years, and surrounded by powerful enemies, he would be unable to protect either himself or his country unless the boyars preserved unity among themselves and affection and loyalty to the Ruler.