"I did."
"Now, look here! Forty persons have slept in that room; all of them have had experience of the marvel, and not one of them has looked to see if there was anything in the skulls."
"They feared, perhaps, that it would fare with them as with the adventurous clergyman."
"Were you not afraid?"
"Certainly, a little, but my curiosity was even greater than my fear.
And now I very much regret I did look."
"Why?"
"Because I am an historical anecdote the poorer."
At this Squire Gabriel laughed more than ever.
"And I will make free to ask another question. Are the anecdotes, which I noted down in my memorandum-book yesterday, equally authentic?"
"You may boldly light your pipe with them," replied the nobleman, with a smile.
I only did not do so because I am not in the habit of eating smoke.
Only one thing Squire Gabriel begged of me. I was not to mention my discovery to any one else, so that he might be able to give a salutary shock of terror to others also.
I promised that I would keep the secret for ten years.
The ten years expired last week, so the story of the two ghostly skulls can now become public property.
IX
THE BAD OLD TIMES
In those sad times when the accursed, merciless Tatar was ravaging our good country, two good Hungarian brother warriors and kinsmen, Simon and Michael Koppand, after the devastation of Tamasfalu, of which great city not a vestige remains to the present day, escaped somehow from the burning and massacring, and taking refuge among the bulrushes, lay concealed therein for many days and nights, often up to the tops of their heads in water, for the evil, bloodthirsty enemy scoured even the morasses in search of fugitives, with the firm determination of extirpating every Magyar from the face of the earth once for all.
Thus, hiding by day and skulking by night, they made their way gradually but steadily towards the west, so far as the course of the stars pointed it out to them, hoping still somewhere to find a refuge. They had no other food but the eggs of wild ducks and moorhens, and whatever they might find in the nests of the marsh-birds that they lived upon.
One day, when they had already gone a long way and thought that they had well distanced the Tatars, they ventured to emerge from the wilderness of rushes, and by the beautiful light of the moon they then beheld, some distance in front of them, a tower.
That means there must be a town there, they thought, let us make for it, there we shall be in safety, so far the Tatar has not come. For every man in those days believed that then, as had been usual at other times, every robber horde, bursting into a kingdom, when once it has well loaded itself with booty, returns again as a matter of course to its own country.
All night, then, they proceeded in the direction of the tower before them. When they drew close to it they perceived for the first time that this tower had no roof; but when they got closer still they saw that all the houses of the town had been levelled with the ground, and when they entered the street they saw that none dwelt there, but wolves and savage dogs bayed at them from behind the pillars of the gates, within which every sort of human shape was lying, shapes without heads, women transfixed with darts, mothers with long, dishevelled, black tresses covering their children with their dead bodies.
The youths covered their eyes with horror at this spectacle.
But still there they must remain till the night of the following day, concealed somewhere, for dawn was now close at hand and it was not good to come out in the open in the bright sunlight.
So they went into the church that they might hide themselves there, either in the crypt or perhaps in a sacristy.
Hah, the whole church was a funeral vault. There they had cut down the pride, the flower of the nation. Women, men, and children lay heaped up together among the burnt rafters, the pale moon shining through the roofless and dilapidated building illuminated them.
Inside they had to wield their swords with right good will to drive out the wolves who had come hither to perform the office of grave-diggers, and who as often as they were chased away came back and bayed at the open door.
Then said Simon, the elder of the two brethren: "Brother Michael, these evil wolves will give us no peace, and because of them we shall get no rest, and yet, for sheer weariness and want of sleep, we can go not a step further. Lie you down, therefore--your best place will be close beside the altar, for there God is not far from you, and I meanwhile keep guard the door and keep the wild beasts away from you, and when I am aweary, then you shall rise up and watch over me."
Michael sought him out, therefore, a place near the altar, and lay down beside the dead body of a warrior, it looked just as if the two of them were sleeping, or as if the two of them were dead. Simon, meanwhile, gathered together some fallen darts from the field of battle, found him a bow, and leaned against the lintel of the doorway. Whenever the hideous monsters approached, he shot an arrow among them, and every time he did so a fight arose between the wounded wolf and the others, which he thought had bitten him. This disgusting combat lasted amidst ugly snarling and snapping for about an hour, when an old wolf began to howl hideously, as if by way of signal to his fellows, who howled back again from every part of the town, and then suddenly the whole lot of them made off, scattering in every direction.
Simon speedily conjectured the cause of this sudden flight, hastened back to his brother and cried--
"Awake, little brother! I hear the hoot of the horns, the Tatars are coming back."
There was no other hope of escape than for the pair of them to lie down among the dead bodies with their faces turned earthwards, thus quietly to await the new-comers.
Presently they appeared amidst the ruins of the church.
Ofttimes it happened thus. The Tatars thought to themselves: The people who have taken refuge fancy we have nothing more to seek in the devastated towns, and will come out of their holes, let us go and hunt them down. And in this way very many perished.
It was a man of that very town who led them back. An inhabitant of a Christian town had become a Tatar, joined himself to the enemies of his faith and country, and went before to show them the best places to plunder.
And this wicked, accursed man was now wearing the Tatar dress, a high-peaked fur cap, white breeches, and murdered the Tatar tongue to give them pleasure--God grant the words may stick in his throat and choke him.
The two brethren could gather from their talk that the evil renegade had led the enemy hither in order that he might show them the entrance to the crypt in which the fugitive population had concealed their treasures, and then walled up the door behind them. They immediately broke it open, and with a great racket and uproar dispersed among the discovered treasures, breaking in pieces whatever was too large to be taken away whole. The renegade got for his share the cover of a pyx, which the vile wretch stuck in front of his cap by way of ornament.
"Let me once get a fair hold of you!" thought Simon the warrior to himself. He was looking on at all this with half an eye as he lay among the dead bodies.
Then the murderous Tatars piled up a fire on the altar, slaughtered a horse in the church, broiled it in hunks on huge spits, and squatted down to devour it. It was an abomination to behold them. The Tatar convert ate along with them.
Suddenly a burning ember from the crackling fire lit upon Michael the warrior's extended palm. Simon the warrior saw it well, and trembled lest his younger brother might make some movement under this burning torture, when both of them must needs perish. But warrior Michael, very nicely and quietly, closed tightly the palm of his hand, so that nobody noticed it, and stifled the burning ember so that not even its expiring fizzle was audible.
Towards dawn the Tatars began to set off again, mounted their barebacked horses and scudded further on, never observing that they had left two living men among the dead bodies.
The two warriors were careful not to leave the church till late in the evening, but went on fighting there with the beasts of the field, and, in the daytime, they found yet other adversaries in the vultures who hovered all day above their heads, and all but tore their eyes out with their claws, because they stood between them and the dead bodies. They gave thanks to God when at sundown they were able to quit the horrible place and go on further.
Along the level plain they went as quickly as they could hasten, not even daring to look behind them, though there they would have seen nothing but the black clouds of smoke from the burning towns, which the wind drove over their heads. Behind them the Tatar was coming.
Towards evening they reached a lofty hill, in which dwelt a gipsy. The gipsy was doubly a foe, being both an alien and a heathen, he was, therefore, just the sort of man to give good advice to fugitives.
In those days all sorts of folks were flying from the Tatars, flying whithersoever they saw light before them, some on foot, some on horseback, some on cars, men, women, and children.
"Alas! my dear creatures," wailed the gipsy, "you come to a bad place when you come hither. You would do very much better to turn back in the direction whence the Tatar bands are coming, for they, at least if you surrender, will not cut you down, but will only make slaves of you. But, alas! in front a far greater danger awaits you, for in yonder forest dwell giants, terribly huge monsters with antlered heads and mouths so wide that they can swallow a man down whole. They seize all those who fly towards the forest and roast them on large spits. They don't hurt me because I give them wine to drink when they come hither."
Before now the refugees had heard from the warriors flying from the direction of Grosswardein of these Tatar giants who had scattered a whole host by simply appearing before it. Nay, a herdsman, a worthy man of Cumanian origin, had sworn that he had seen them. They strode over the fields, he said, four ells at one stride, and one of them had sat down quite easily on the roof of a house, with his legs dangling down.
At this rumour, the poor, terrified, common folks preferred to run back into the jaws of the Tatars, rather than fall beneath the fangs of these monsters; but the two Koppands said to one another very prudently--