In this highflown manner did I apostrophize the whitened bones of Mohacs. But then an unspeakable anguish seized me as I remembered the glorious cathedrals and smiling cities of Christendom, from whose steeples the hoarse voice of the muezzins might soon be calling the faithful to prayer. My blood, the faith in which I had been bred, and the memory of my forefathers bound me to the nations of the West which by their divisions had dug their own grave. Yet I was severed from the fallen Mohacs by my desire to live, even in changed conditions; I felt no urge to die for a faith that had doomed itself.
At that moment we heard the thunder of many hoofs, and the wind bore to us the clashing music of the janissaries’ drums and cymbals; life itself seemed on the march toward this field of death. Sultan Suleiman was proceeding to the scene of his greatest victory, and though in general his troops marched as silently as shadows, on this day the Sultan allowed the bands to play and the banners to fly before he called a halt for the night. With this martial music ringing in our ears we perceived the futility of our reflections, and hurried to our tent on the banks of the river.
Like magic the mighty camp sprang up on the desolate plain. Each man knew what he had to do, and soon the janissaries were seated in their groups of ten about the cooking pots and crackling fires. The Sultan’s pavilion with its awning stood on the highest knoll whose slopes were covered, as with a living carpet, by the bodyguard. The duty of these men was to sleep on the bare ground about Suleiman’s tent, with their bows beside them. While herdsmen watered the camels and oxen at the river and mowers cut hay for the spahis’ horses, Grand Vizier Ibrahim, attended by a brilliant retinue, rode forward to meet King Zapolya.
Next morning when we had washed ourselves and said the morning prayer, I met Master Gritti, who was evidently suffering from the effects of a carouse. He hastened to embrace me and said, “For the love of God, Master Carvajal, tell me where in this accursed camp a keg of refreshing wine may be had! Later today I have to accompany King Janos to the Sultan, lest he forget the Hungarian bishopric he promised me.”
I was far from pleased to see this licentious and scheming man, but common humanity required me to help him. Just then Andy, who had spent the night inspecting his cannon aboard the newly arrived rafts, came up to us and I asked his advice. After some deliberation he went to borrow a couple of horses for Master Gritti and myself to ride, and walked beside us to the camp of the Christian akindshas half a mile away. Unlike the Moslems they were filthy in their habits, and had befouled a lovely grove of beeches with their garbage and ordure. Janissary patrols, far from inspecting this camp, kept as far away as possible. In return for Master Gritti’s gold the ruffianly akindshas dug up a cask of excellent Tokay that they had buried and eagerly invited him to quench his thirst.
Like the experienced toper he was, Master Gritti drank only enough to bring the blood back to his head and put him in a good humor, for important tasks awaited him. Then we left the camp and he hastened to his tent to change his clothes and prepare to join King Zapolya’s suite. In order to receive the King in a worthy manner, the Sultan paraded his great army on either side of the reception tent, so that when after the noon prayer the lawful King of Hungary approached with his following he seemed like a drop that at any moment might be swallowed up by the ocean. I was not admitted to this ceremony, but afterward Master Gritti gave me a detailed account of what had passed. It seemed that the Sultan was pleased to walk three steps to meet Zapolya and to extend his hand to be kissed, and that he then invited him to take his seat beside him on the throne. I fancied that in thus honoring Zapolya the Sultan but honored himself, but Master Gritti had a better explanation to give.
“The cause goes deeper, for although Janos Zapolya is a man of no consequence and brings only six thousand horsemen, yet he has in his possession a magic talisman of far greater importance than an army, and it was this object that the Sultan by his flattering reception was able to secure. Zapolya is better as a scout than as a soldier and his partisans have by cunning caught and held the keeper of St. Stephen’s crown. I was compelled to confide this secret to my brother Ibrahim, or the Sultan would scarcely have troubled to receive the fellow.”
I answered politely that I failed to grasp his meaning, since a mere crown made no man king. To win a kingdom a powerful army was needed. But Master Gritti said, “Holy Stephen’s crown is unlike any other. The Hungarians are still a barbarous and superstitious people and recognize no one as king of Hungary until he has been crowned with this crown. Therefore it is their greatest treasure and the Voivod Zapolya removed at least half the obstacles in his path when he discovered its secret hiding place. And now this credulous man has sold it to the Sultan, for a matter of four horses and three kaftans, and five hundred trustworthy spahis are on their way to fetch it before King Zapolya repents of his bargain.”
It seemed that Master Gritti was right, for during our continued march to Buda I observed that no one took much notice of King Zapolya. He and his followers brought up the rear of the column, and the janissaries referred to him disrespectfully as Janushka. Three days after leaving Mohacs, we pitched camp in the vineyards about Buda. The walls of the city appeared exceedingly massive and the German garrison kept up so lively a fire that I hastened to visit the warm springs of the region, while Sinan the Builder set his men to sapping and mining in preparation for the siege.
The Sultan and the Grand Vizier, wearing plain kaftans and helmets and attended by a few of the bodyguard, made a tour of inspection to hearten their men before the assault. I had the good fortune to meet them as I was bringing food to Sinan, who was so engrossed in his work that he often forgot to eat. When the Sultan, no doubt to display his excellent memory, addressed me kindly by name, some unexplained impulse made me mention a dream I had had.
“I’ve been told that your wife also has dreams,” the Sultan remarked, “and that she can see coming events in a bowl of sand. Tell me then what you saw in your dream.”
I was taken aback, and stammered, and glanced at the handsome Ibrahim, who seemed not altogether pleased at the Sultan’s words. It was a mystery to me how Suleiman could know anything of Giulia, but now I had begun there was nothing for it but to continue.
“Yesterday I bathed in the marvelous springs of this region, and was afterward so weary that I fell asleep. I dreamed, and saw the fortress of Buda and a vulture flying heavily over it, bearing in his beak a strange crown. The gates of the citadel opened and the defenders prostrated themselves before the vulture. Then the Son of the Compassionate stepped forward and the vulture set the crown upon his head. This I saw, but a wiser man than I must interpret the vision.”
I had indeed had this dream, which was no doubt suggested by Master Gritti’s account of St. Stephen’s crown, though in fact I had seen the crown fall from the vulture’s talons, crushing all Buda beneath its weight. My vision of the opened gates was no doubt born of a lively desire to see the city fall as rapidly as possible into the Sultan’s hands, that I might escape the perils of an assault.
So, as is usual, I improved the dream a little, yet not too transparently, I thought, since neither the Sultan nor the Grand Vizier could know what Master Gritti had blabbed to me of St. Stephen’s crown. Nor did they seem to suspect any deceit; they looked at one another in the greatest astonishment, and the Sultan exclaimed, “Allah’s will be done!” Even Ibrahim’s handsome face brightened. Later I received from the Sultan a new coat and a well-filled purse in reward for my dream.