and fire the city, and in the confusion open the gates to the Turks.
To pacify the people the five men were dragged into the market place-for they could no longer walk-to be broken on the wheel and then quartered; their dismembered bodies were then impaled on stakes in the sight of all. When these stakes were set up I felt very cold and spewed up my wine, and in a faint voice I pleaded with Andy to take me away.
But the crowd was now in an ugly mood. Men looked askance at one another and soldiers began shouting that the Jews must be in league with the Sultan since they had crucified our Lord. They set upon a terrified Jew who had strayed by chance into the market place, stoning him and hurling him to the ground to kick his yellow face,. before streaming away toward the ghetto.
Heedless of my pitiable state Andy gripped my arm and soon we found ourselves before the barred gate of the City of Affliction, which from what we could see well deserved its name. Sunlight could never penetrate the stinking alleyways, all doors and windows were shut, and not a living soul was to be seen. As soon as the soldiers began breaking into the houses the rabbis and elders who had fled to the cellars sent a swift messenger by secret ways to the Christian duke, to offer him the customary protection money.
When the officers had allowed their men to wreck the houses, throw out and smash the furniture, and violate two luckless Jewesses, they sent mounted men to put an end to the tumult and drive the excited mob back into the city. The horsemen took their time over this and addressed the pillagers in a friendly tone, explaining that while they would not seem to defend the butchers of Christ, yet it was wise to let them survive because they were useful, and a Christian could always squeeze a few coins from them at need. Meanwhile Andy and I hid ourselves under some straw in a stable, and having emptied the last drops from a little Hungarian keg he had brought with him from camp, we sank into the deep sleep of exhaustion.
It was night when we woke, but the Jews were still singing songs of lamentation and strewing ashes in their hair as they examined their ravaged dwellings. So mournful and eerie was the sound in the darkness of night that cold shudders ran down my spine, but Andy said, “That’s an old song. I’ve heard it in every Christian city where Imperial troops have been quartered. Let us seek out Aaron, for hunger rumbles in my belly.”
I went with him to the house whence came the terrible lamentation, but the singing died away when we appeared among the crouching figures and asked for Aaron. I believe they were accustomed to the sudden arrival of strangers in their midst at night, for they were not at all alarmed. Having assured themselves that we were to be trusted they opened a secret trap door and took us down into a cellar, from which through evil-smelling underground passages we came to Aaron’s house.
Aaron was an emaciated man with an expression of suffering. He seemed unsurprised at the sight of Ibrahim’s ring, but kissed it reverently. Bowing deeply before us, he said, “We hoped for a miracle from Jehovah and believed that the new Solomon would ride into the city on a white horse; we would have welcomed him with green boughs, as a conqueror. But Jehovah would not have it so.”
He rubbed the diamond against the sleeve of his black kaftan and admired its brilliance in the light of a smoking oil lamp. Then he sighed, “Keep the ring, if you think it safer with you than with me. I should only send it back to the Grand Vizier, for I can do nothing in this matter.”
We spent the night in Aaron’s house and the following day also, for we did not know what else to do. But with the approach of night-the night which the Grand Vizier had appointed for the fire-Andy said, “I should like to do at least something to deserve the ring that Aaron refuses to take, and am weary of being cooped up in this miserable house. Let us go back into the city, brother Michael, and inspect the King’s powder magazine and grain store. Perhaps we could manage at least a small fire, though the Grand Vizier can have little use for it now.”
To avoid the soldiers posted at the gates of the ghetto, we crept out of the place through the sewers, according to Aaron’s directions. I should mention that this honest Jew refused to take a penny for his help and protection, and merely begged us to speak a good word for him to the Grand Vizier. We found that the powder magazine and the duke’s stables were guarded by numerous sentries; we had no chance, therefore, of starting even the most innocent little fire and so fulfilling in part our promise to the Seraskier.
In the market place a great crowd of women had assembled about the cooking pots from which compassionate monks were distributing food to the fugitives, who would otherwise have perished from hunger. But on the doorstep of a deserted house I saw a young girl; she had thrown her petticoat over her head and was rocking silently to and fro. Her mute distress so moved me that I spoke to her and offered alms; but she looked up and retorted sharply that she was no trollop to be bought with money. I was startled to see how beautiful she was and to learn that she was one of those who thanks to Andy had escaped from the Turkish camp. She recognized us too, and with a cry of surprise asked how we had come off with our lives, when all other escaped prisoners had been hanged for deserters.
I begged her to be silent for the love of God, and not attract the attention of the guards, for our lives were now in her hands. She was very lovely, though her hair was soaked with rain and her clothes tattered and muddy. We learned that she and her parents had fled from Hungary-where her father owned an estate near the Transil- vanian border-to join King Ferdinand, but during their flight to Vienna the akindshas slew all the household save herself, whom they led away into slavery.
When she told her name and sought protection with the military authorities in Vienna, she was received with scorn and her dead father reviled as a rebellious Hungarian. Every Hungarian herd maid, they told her, who escaped from the Turks became a nobleman’s daughter as soon as she entered Vienna. However, for her beauty’s sake one of the court gentlemen promised to take pity on her and sleep with her regularly, provided she would enroll herself among the prostitutes and earn her bread honestly like other fugitives. Twice, because of her hunger, she had spoken to soldiers in the street and begged them for the love of God to give her food and shelter. But these men, having eagerly promised their help, merely led her into some side alley to debauch her, and then left her lying in the mire. She said, “I would give anything to return to my home and seek the protection of the Turks and King Zapolya. Perhaps he would let me keep my father’s estate since I am the only survivor, and then marry me to one of his followers. Not even Turks could treat me as badly as Christians do.”
Just then heavy raindrops began falling. Andy looked up at the murky clouds and said, “We’re in for a sharp storm, so let’s seek shelter. There we can discuss the matter further, my fair young lady, for your youth and your distress have cut me to the heart.”
But the poor girl crossed herself and vowed that never again would she go with strange men into alleyways, but would rather perish of cold and hunger where she sat. But we reassured her so earnestly and the rain came down so hard that after anguished hesitation she agreed to go with us. With lowered eyes she told us in a faint voice that her name was Eva, and gave her family name also, but it was one of those heathen Hungarian words that no one can pronounce. We knocked at the doors of many houses but no one would let us in. Fortunately we met one of the hucksters who supplied the landsfaechts, pushing his handcart along the street and looking about for shelter. He sold us bread, meat, and cheese and told us of a respectable brothel-the only place where we could be safe from the provost marshal’s men, as the mistress of it paid the marshal a substantial sum to be allowed to carry on her business in peace.