They Were Counted (79 page)

‘I interrupted your discourse. Please go on. I should like to learn something new!’ Boros then went back to his dissertation on common law. Absolon listened quietly for a long time as the lawyer spoke carefully and mellifluously. From time to time he nodded as if in agreement. Then he took out a short black cigar, bit it firmly with his white teeth and spat out the end.

‘That’s very interesting, very good!’ he said. ‘We need laws. Everyone needs laws, even in the desert! There, if someone steals a woman he can redeem himself with two sheep, though, of course, if he steals something valuable, a camel for instance, then he’s hanged without mercy!’

Zsigmond Boros went pale with anger. Icily, from behind his carefully trimmed spade-shaped beard, he said: ‘I don’t see the connection.’

‘Perhaps there is none!’ replied Absolon, laughing heartily.

‘But, since we were speaking about the law …’

There was some whispering in the background and someone sniggered sensing that Absolon’s apparently innocent remark might be more mischievous than it sounded, for most people had heard some rumours that Boros was in difficulties concerning a legacy from some deceased female client. However, the lawyer merely looked coldly at Absolon for a moment or two before
resuming
his legal discourse.

While this was happening at the coffee-house a private closed carriage, with its glass windows tightly shut, entered the square from the road that came from the mountains. It was driven by an elderly coachman and was pulled by two horses who were
obviously
tired after a long drive.

As soon as the carriage stopped one of its windows was let down just a crack and a young man went up to it and spoke to whoever was inside. In a moment he was replaced by another, both
presumably
making their reports to the person, still invisible, who was seated within. Then the Chief Justice was called to the
carriage
window. A minute or two later, he came back to the café table and spoke to Abady.

‘Countess Sarmasaghy would like a word with you,’ whispered Galffy,. ‘She’s in the carriage over there.’ Balint found this very tiresome, but there was nothing to be done but obey.

From the darkness of the carriage a little shrivelled hand reached out to him. ‘Get in!’ said a thin, piping voice; and
talon-like
fingers drew him into the carriage. As soon as he was seated she ordered the coachman to drive on.

‘I need to have you with me, nephew Balint, my young friend, because I have to go to a public restaurant and a lady of my age and standing could not possibly go there unaccompanied!’

The tired horses were now trotting very slowly. Old Lizinka complained: ‘It’s terrible how much I’ve got to do. I’m quite
exhausted
. I’ve spoken to dozens of people. I have to if I’m going to prevent that old no-good Absolon having his way!’

‘Where are we going?’ asked Balint.

‘Just to the edge of the town. There is some sort of an inn where it seems I shall find that good-for-nothing nephew of mine, Tamas Laczok. I’ve got to speak to him. Why? Because of this
ridiculous
assembly, of course. They tell me he’s on good terms with the chief engineer of the railways and I want him to help me persuade the man to vote with us – for Suspension.’

The old woman sighed deeply as she explained to her nephew how much work you had to do if you took up a cause. It was
almost
more than she could do, but no one would ever say that she, Lizinka Sarmasaghy, had given up easily!

Finally they arrived at a small restaurant in a garden on the outskirts of the town. Little tables covered with red cloth were placed in the shade of acacia trees. In the middle there was a long table at which sat a group of young men, students and
agriculturists
from the University of Kolozsvar, arguing in loud voices. Nearby, alone, sat Tamas Laczok the railway builder.

Balint recognized him at once for he looked exactly like his brother, Jeno, the Lord of Var-Siklod, though not quite so fat. He had the same short body, bald head and inscrutable oriental face. Aunt Lizinka went swiftly over to him, saying: ‘Good evening, dear Tamas! How are you, my dear boy? It is an age since I’ve seen you and you haven’t changed a bit, not a bit! I am lucky to have found you.’ and she ran on, tapping his cheeks and pressing a wet kiss on his forehead. Then she introduced Balint, sat down, and started talking politics. She talked so much, and so swiftly – producing a seemingly endless stream of political argument backed by quotations of common law – that no one, should they have wanted to, could possibly have stopped the flow. As it was, Tamas Laczok just sat back calmly with the bland expression on his face of one who understands nothing of what is being said to him, taking sips from his tankard of beer and rolling one cigarette after another, licking them as the Spaniards do, and smoking quietly. He just let Lizinka talk without himself saying a word. Finally she begged him to use his influence with the chief engineer so as to be sure he voted in the right way. When at length she paused, hoping for a reply he looked up and replied, in French:
‘
Ma
chère
tante,
vous
avez
eu
la
bonté
de
tant
radoter
sur
mon
compte
–
as you have been so kind as to spread evil gossip about me – I can see no reason why I should do you the smallest favour.’

Lizinka protested but to no avail. Tamas merely shook his head and repeated:
Mais
oui,
ma
chère
tante,
c’est
ainsi,
c’est
ainsi
–
that’s how it is!’

Lizinka at last realized that she would get nowhere with him and jumped up screeching:
‘
Tu
es
un
cochon
’
!
Tu
as
été
un
cochon!
Tu
sera
toujours
un
cochon
–
You’re a pig, always have been and always will be!’ and ran out of the garden faster than anyone would have thought possible for such a frail old lady. In her rage she
completely
forgot Abady, who only recovered from his surprise after she had jumped back into her carriage and been driven away.

‘Believe me, I have nothing to do with all this,’ he said to Laczok apologetically. ‘When she asked me to bring her here I had no idea …’

‘I’m very glad she did!’ said Tamas, laughing. ‘At least it gave me the chance to tell the old witch what I thought of her! Stay and have a drink! Then I’ll be able to exchange a few words with at least one of my cousins. Since I came back all the others have been avoiding me like the plague!’

Balint stayed on and was pleased to discover how agreeable and interesting this strange character really was. Tamas was
obviously
delighted to have someone to talk to and to whom he could relate some of his varied experiences. He talked of his time in Paris where, at the age of forty, he had finally qualified as an engineer; of Algiers, where he had had a contract to build a
railway
, and build it he did despite having his superior killed by wild Arab tribes before his very eyes; how they had begged him to stay on there, at an unimaginably high salary. ‘But who in hell wants to stay there,’ he said, ‘who in hell?’

While Balint was listening to Tamas’s tales he noticed that the two younger Alvinczys had joined the group of students at the long table. They seemed to be issuing some sort of orders, though Balint could catch only an occasional phrase: ‘Be quiet to begin with. Don’t start until I raise my hand! Understand, only when I raise my hand!’ They leaned forward and continued to whisper among themselves. Tamas Laczok was still in full swing. Now he was
saying
: ‘… no matter what anyone says, home is best, if only so as to annoy my beloved brother!’ He then explained how Jeno Laczok had formed a company with Soma Weissfeld, the banker, to exploit the Laczok forests in Gyergyo. These forests belonged equally to the two brothers, and Tamas was convinced that the others had done this so as to deprive him of his rightful income. It didn’t matter much, he said, as at least now he could earn his own living; but from time to time he would write to them demanding statements; and then they had to set to and scribble away
preparing
accounts, balance-sheets, statements of profit and loss and goodness knows what else as well. ‘Of course I never look at them!’ he said. ‘But just think how cross they must be! It’s great fun!’

The students all now got up from their table and started to leave. Balint was almost sure he heard Akos Alvinczy saying to one of the other young men: ‘The eggs will be handed out in the morning, at least ten each …’

Ten eggs each? thought Abady. Some breakfast that’ll be! But Laczok was still telling his tales and Balint soon forgot all that he had overheard at the next table.

 

The town hall of Vasarhely was already packed to overflowing long before ten o’clock when the Assembly was due to be officially opened. This was because a rumour had spread among the
members
of the Suspension Party that that wicked fellow, the notary-
in-chief
, had planned to shut the doors at nine-thirty and install the government’s prefect while the hall was still half empty. A rumour had also reached the Decree Party that their opponents were
plotting
to barricade the entrances so that they alone would be in place when any decision was reached. All the official delegates therefore came early, well before the appointed time, and they were joined by a band of thirty or forty university students who, bear-led by the two young Alvinczys, forced their way up the stairs and into the hall before the policeman on duty could do anything to stop them. Some took their seats in the public gallery where Aunt
Lizinka
presided like some wicked fairy – though she thought of herself rather as some Guardian Angel of the Resistance – while the
majority
crowded together at the back of the hall facing the platform where the president would sit surrounded by his officers-of-state.

The platform was empty: none of the officials had yet arrived.

The two parties took their places on opposite sides of the hall. On the right was the great Samuel Barra, the older Bartokfay, Varju, Isti Kamuthy, Uncle Ambrus and the Alvinczys. All these sat in the front row. On the left, Miklos Absolon sat by himself, as if enthroned, and behind him were ranged all the delegates from the Maros and Gorgeny districts, a nameless and faceless mob who listened only to their beloved leader. Many people were moving about, greeting friends, arguing and joking among
themselves
. Everybody was in a good mood, happily and merrily
looking
forward to the morning’s great battle, which they all expected to provide great fun for them all, and talking about the latest news from Budapest. Meanwhile, behind the door leading to the presidential platform, the officials were busy conferring among themselves and with others as to how to have the students removed, since the notary-in-chief refused to open the meeting if they remained in the hall. They also discussed who should be
allowed
to speak first, Barra or the spokesman for the Decree Party. After much talk they decided that the first speaker should be Barra, for he had guaranteed that the students would keep quiet, at least while he was on his feet. At last, towards eleven o’clock, the door opened and Bartokfay, the president of the chancery court, and the assistant notaries came in and took their places on the platform. Then the notary-in-chief, Beno Peter Balog, entered, sat down in the presidential chair and rang the bell. Everyone sat down, silent and eager with anticipation.

‘I hereby declare open this session of the County General Assembly,’ he said in an official tone. He went on to have the
minutes
read and announced the names of the absentees. This
noncontroversial
business being brought to an end, he then started: ‘The Minister of the Interior has sent an order …’ but he was not allowed to go on for at these words bedlam broke out. From all sides there were cries of ‘Shame on you! There is no minister! Villains! Shame!’

One of the officials tried to read out the rules of assembly, but no one could hear what he said.

Then Barra rose to speak, and for a moment the hubbub
subsided
. Then all at once it started again, for the door behind the
president’s
chair had opened and a tall thin man with a deathly pale face entered the hall. It was the government nominee. He had his hand on his heart and few people could see, behind his thick-lensed glasses, the scared expression in his eyes. The president rose once again and tried to read something from a paper in his hand.