'Neath the Hoof of the Tartar; Or, The Scourge of GodJósika, Miklós, báró
History
'Neath the Hoof of the Tartar; Or, The Scourge of God
Jósika, Miklós, báró
Hungary -- History -- Mongol Invasion, 1241-1242 -- Fiction
Many of the Knights Templar had joined the army, and some of them, in
their white, red-crossed mantles, were now standing about him. Close
behind him was his brother Kálmán, in armour of steel, inlaid with gold;
and near at hand was the fiery Archbishop Ugrin, the most
splendid-looking man in the army, so say the chroniclers, his gold chain
and cross being the only mark which distinguished him from the laymen.
The Bishop was a devoted patriot, and though he had not forgiven the
King for "leaving him in the lurch," he was sincerely attached to him.
He was the leading spirit of the campaign.
It was Ugrin who had urged the King to take the field without further
delay; Ugrin, who, with much valour and enthusiasm, but with little
military experience, had advised Duke Kálmán where to pitch the camp;
and again it was Ugrin, who, convinced that the Mongols were in retreat,
had pressed the King to give hurried chase, whereby the army had been
fatigued to no purpose, and had finally been brought precisely to the
spot where Batu wished to see it. The Bishop, however, happy in his
ignorance, was under the delusion that it was he who had forced the Khan
into his present position.
Just now the King was giving patient hearing to the opinions, frequently
conflicting, of those about him. Black care was at his heart, but he
looked serene, even cheerful, as usual, as he asked his brother in an
undertone whether he had managed to reduce his men to anything like
order.
The Duke, for all reply, shrugged his shoulders and looked decidedly
grave.
"Ah!" said the King, stifling something like a sigh, "just as I
expected!"
Then he heard what the leader of the Knights Templar had to say, and
then he turned to Ugrin, well knowing that the Bishop's one idea was to
attack, and of course beat, the enemy, and that he had no room in his
head for any other.
"You don't think Batu Khan will attack?"
"Attack! not he!" said the Bishop, scornfully. "They are all paralysed
with fear, or they would never have pitched their tents between three
rivers. They have three fronts, and they have put those wretches the
Kunok and Russians foremost! Here have we been face to face for days and
nothing has come of it! And yet," continued the Archbishop eagerly,
"nothing would be easier than to annihilate the whole army. All we have
to do is to deliver one attack across the Sajó, while we send another
large force to the left through the woods at night, and across the
Hernád, and we shall have the Mongols caught in their own net!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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