Read Online They Were Counted by Miklós Bánffy - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Miklós Bánffy
Tags: Fiction, Cultural Heritage
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These two wings were then brought forward at right angles to form a symmetrical U-shape. And as defensive walls were no longer needed to keep out marauding tartars, that part of the battlements that lay in front of the house was demolished and replaced by a broad terrace which overlooked the spreading Laczok lands.
This was the aspect that the old fortress of Siklod presented to the arriving guests as their carriages passed from the long poplar avenue and through the great entrance gates which were bordered by the ancient spreading oaks that marked the boundaries of the park. The drive swept past the main façade of the house and climbed gently to the huge iron-studded doors under the eastern tower of the precinct. Beyond these doors the carriages passed through the stable court and, turning left again under an arch formed in the eastern wing, found themselves beneath the columned portico that gave onto the great terrace in front of the house.
When Balint arrived he found that the portico steps were lined with waiting servants. On the lowest rung was the butler, Janos Kadar, grey and stooping, dressed in the long braided coat of the Laczok livery. It seemed as if he were so frail that he could barely support the work and worry that would be his lot that day. Behind him stood the hired footmen, and with them the odd-job boy, Ferko, who rushed forward to take Balint’s coat and bag.
As he walked up the steps Balint told the old butler that before greeting the family he would like to wash off the dust in which he had been covered during the drive from Vasarhely.
‘Of course, my lord!’ he replied, and turning to the boy, ‘Ferko, show Count Balint to the corner room. And see that there is water … and clean towels!’ But thinking the boy too inexperienced he went on impatiently, ‘No! No! I’ll go myself’ and, taking Balint’s things from him, he hurried ahead, showing the latest visitor the way through the vast entrance hall to a door at the back. The room set aside for visitors had clearly already been used. A few soiled towels were scattered here and there, some on the floor, some on the washstand. The tin bucket was full of dirty water and the jug was empty.
‘I beg the Count’s pardon,’ said the old man, hurrying out through a door at the far end of the room. From the court behind the house his voice could be heard querulously chiding, ‘Aniko! Mali! Where are you … Hurry now … clean towels and water to the guest-room … quickly now! Must I do everything myself?’ And a door was slammed somewhere.
In a few moments a young servant girl bustled in, curtsyed to Balint and sighing deeply replaced the sodden towels with fresh ones, changed the water jug and hurried out with the tin bucket, her bare feet slapping softly on the scrubbed pine floorboards.
In a small drawing-room on the first floor the older ladies were gathering in a group round their hostess. Aunt Lizinka was already there, sitting as she always did with her knees drawn up in a large armchair, with the widowed Countess Gyalakuthy, the rich Adelma, and two or three other mothers who had brought their daughters to the dance. With them were some other ladies, among them Countess Bartokfay, who lived nearby, and the wife of the family lawyer, Beno Balogh-Peter, had come in merely to greet Countess Laczok on her name-day. Their husbands had already made a brief appearance upstairs, kissed their hostess’ hand, and then gone down to the garden where Count Laczok received the male guests. Only the ladies remained. They had been offered tea and coffee, plumcake, cold ham, sugared biscuits and lemonade, and the room was still littered with empty cups and crumb-filled plates, for the servants had more important things to do than clear away.
The little room soon filled up, the guests sitting on small chairs in a semi-circle round their hostess who, as she always did, had placed herself on a small sofa with its back to the wall near the door.
This was the aspect that the old fortress of Siklod presented to the arriving guests as their carriages passed from the long poplar avenue and through the great entrance gates which were bordered by the ancient spreading oaks that marked the boundaries of the park. The drive swept past the main façade of the house and climbed gently to the huge iron-studded doors under the eastern tower of the precinct. Beyond these doors the carriages passed through the stable court and, turning left again under an arch formed in the eastern wing, found themselves beneath the columned portico that gave onto the great terrace in front of the house.
When Balint arrived he found that the portico steps were lined with waiting servants. On the lowest rung was the butler, Janos Kadar, grey and stooping, dressed in the long braided coat of the Laczok livery. It seemed as if he were so frail that he could barely support the work and worry that would be his lot that day. Behind him stood the hired footmen, and with them the odd-job boy, Ferko, who rushed forward to take Balint’s coat and bag.
As he walked up the steps Balint told the old butler that before greeting the family he would like to wash off the dust in which he had been covered during the drive from Vasarhely.
‘Of course, my lord!’ he replied, and turning to the boy, ‘Ferko, show Count Balint to the corner room. And see that there is water … and clean towels!’ But thinking the boy too inexperienced he went on impatiently, ‘No! No! I’ll go myself’ and, taking Balint’s things from him, he hurried ahead, showing the latest visitor the way through the vast entrance hall to a door at the back. The room set aside for visitors had clearly already been used. A few soiled towels were scattered here and there, some on the floor, some on the washstand. The tin bucket was full of dirty water and the jug was empty.
‘I beg the Count’s pardon,’ said the old man, hurrying out through a door at the far end of the room. From the court behind the house his voice could be heard querulously chiding, ‘Aniko! Mali! Where are you … Hurry now … clean towels and water to the guest-room … quickly now! Must I do everything myself?’ And a door was slammed somewhere.
In a few moments a young servant girl bustled in, curtsyed to Balint and sighing deeply replaced the sodden towels with fresh ones, changed the water jug and hurried out with the tin bucket, her bare feet slapping softly on the scrubbed pine floorboards.
In a small drawing-room on the first floor the older ladies were gathering in a group round their hostess. Aunt Lizinka was already there, sitting as she always did with her knees drawn up in a large armchair, with the widowed Countess Gyalakuthy, the rich Adelma, and two or three other mothers who had brought their daughters to the dance. With them were some other ladies, among them Countess Bartokfay, who lived nearby, and the wife of the family lawyer, Beno Balogh-Peter, had come in merely to greet Countess Laczok on her name-day. Their husbands had already made a brief appearance upstairs, kissed their hostess’ hand, and then gone down to the garden where Count Laczok received the male guests. Only the ladies remained. They had been offered tea and coffee, plumcake, cold ham, sugared biscuits and lemonade, and the room was still littered with empty cups and crumb-filled plates, for the servants had more important things to do than clear away.
The little room soon filled up, the guests sitting on small chairs in a semi-circle round their hostess who, as she always did, had placed herself on a small sofa with its back to the wall near the door.
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