Tatar Storm

By Tibor Gergely

In a sealed box uncovered in the ruins of a medieval castle, a manuscript is found….

Hungary, 1241: The Golden Horde of the Mongol Khan is gathered at the border ready to strike.

Told through the eyes of Detre, a knight of King Bela IV, Tatar Storm is the epic story of the invasion that followed, and the heroic Hungarian defence of the gates of Christendom.

The historic events of the invasion at Verecke, the sack of Pest and Vác, the massacre of the Cumans, the Battle of Muhi, the destruction of the Knights Templars and more are interwoven with Detre’s own story, and the valour and love which lead him inexorably to the Castle of Göd, outnumbered and besieged on all sides by the merciless Tatar Foe.

 “His majesty, Béla, as an act of piety, ordered that this box with its contents be put back in the cellar where it was found and buried as in a grave, then that the remains of castle Göd be demolished. Further, he forbade anyone from ever rebuilding it, so the heroic defenders may rest in peace. If, centuries from now, someone should find this chronicle then please give due reverence to these brave heroes of the past.”

In prose rich with period detail Tibor Gergely paints a vivid picture of harsh times when a Knight’s honour was valued more highly than life itself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tibor Gergely
• Release date: Mar 1, 2020

Book preview

Ware

PROLOGUE

In the bustle of the construction site, over the cacophony of jigsaws and angle grinders, from amongst the busy labourers rose a chorus of wolf whistles. A stranger had appeared in their midst, a woman in her forties, dressed in suit and high heels, standing by the freshly laid concrete. Two workers carrying a wooden board stepped out of her way, grinning as her high heels caught in the wheelbarrow ruts and she stumbled and almost fell in front of her excited audience. She limped on, brushing dirt from her light grey trousers. She’d never thought of herself as graceful but, in this male environment she felt positively clumsy.

It was clear that she had never been in a place like this before, and also that she was looking for someone. She gathered up the remains of her confidence and was approaching a workman cutting a piece of wood in the corner when she heard a voice rough from shouting behind her.

Welcome! Did you come from the museum? They promised to send a professor of archaeology

She turned to find herself facing a tall, well-built man.

Yes, she said, slightly confused, and went to shake his hand but pulled back when she noticed the bundle of sketches in his hand. Instead, she spoke. I’m told you’ve found something interesting.

We were expecting you earlier. Come on, I’ll show you what it’s about said the man, turning away, then adding I’m the site manager and this is a right spanner in the works. As if I don’t have enough delays with goods and deliveries arriving late, and employees giving me grief, now I have this to deal with as well.

Come on, tell me what you’ve found? she demanded impatiently.

The construction manager paused for a moment then, without turning back, carried on walking. No. I’d rather show you.

The archaeologist was taken aback by what she saw, as she stood in the twilight of the basement. The damp smell of collapsed earth blended with the rotting stench of crumbling wooden beams.

This part collapsed under one of the trucks this morning. The machine almost fell in. We think it was an old underground tunnel, and only the wooden beams were keeping the walls in place he said, in response to her open mouthed expression.

She was still speechless with amazement, barely noticing the fresh smudges of muck her clothing had acquired from the climb down into the basement. She stood and stared intently at the closed door at the end of the corridor. It was a richly decorated copper-bound door, thickly covered with a green patina, but with the two engraved images in the middle still clearly visible. She pointed at them, saying softly,

The image of The King sitting on the throne, holding an orb, and the double cross in the triangular shield. That, without doubt, is the double seal of Béla IV.

We thought it was old, but not that old. he said, stunned, but as he reached out to touch, the archaeologist jumped in fast as a wounded tiger, speaking now with a confident tone, secure in her expertise. Yes, it certainly is! So old that it’ll be a very long time before anybody but us can set foot in here.

I had a feeling that was coming, he replied in an aggrieved voice, rapidly pulling his hand back as if from a hot iron.

A couple of days later, back at the museum, the archaeologist bent over the dull silvery box and produced a specialist tool to break its lead seal. The room silence was almost palpable, such that the sound of every breath was magnified, as she removed the remarkably intact solder from the ancient metal of the chest. When she had finished, she slowly lifted the lid, taking care not to break the loudly complaining hinge, and revealed a thick pile of parchment sheets, in surprisingly good condition considering how long they had been sat in the box.

This is amazing, what we have here is Old Hungarian script! she exclaimed. Then, without removing it from the box, she began to read the first page…

"I Detre, son of Máté, the Count of Borsod county, lord of Pelsőc and Berzéte, by God's grace and with our King and lord Béla IV’s mercy, record this story for posterity from behind the rampart protected walls of castle Göd. We, who have been locked away from the outside world for 9 months now, starving, cold and with mortal terror in our hearts, not knowing whether there are any other Hungarians still alive on this side of the Danube, must now, in the month of January in the year 1242, give up all hope of survival. Because the Lord is no longer tolerating our sins he sent not only the Tatar people who were bent on our destruction, but also a winter of such unprecedented cold that even our elderly struggle to recall so frigid a season. The marsh defending three sides of the castle has never frozen before, but now its crust of ice thickens daily, filling us with the certainty of imminent destruction, the parts of the ramparts next to the marsh being not reinforced against attack, leaving without protection. The handful of people who had, despite all tribulations, had stayed resolute. We grow fewer by the day! Some die from starvation, and some from the Tatar`s showers of arrows. We can’t even honour our dead; as it is impossible to bury any more inside the castle and must therefore sink the bodies of our loved ones in the swamp. It is certain that the end will soon be upon us too, so – after finding the scrolls of Magister István, Bishop of Vác and my former teacher- I have decided that, until the time is upon us, until our Lord's judgment is fulfilled, I shall write down all that I witnessed during this last year, when our beautiful flourishing country became filled with corpse-stinking air and littered with rotting ruins hither and yon, until the time is upon us, until Our Lord's judgment is fulfilled. My story started here, in this small castle by river Danube exactly a year ago, and how, as the king’s vassal I came to be here, and not, rather sharing the bitter bread of exile with my master, is all explained in the history of events recounted below…

PART ONE

Ornaments and beauties of Göd castle,

Pride of Hungary,

Oh how joyful life can be

When heart meets heart

But mourning follows laughter

When fire consumes virgin, age`d and babes in arms alike.

CHAPTER I.

Erdő could you be quieter? If you wake his lordship you might end up keeping vigil here instead than ride out with him.

I heard through my guest room window, a girl’s voice, clear as the finest of Venetian crystal goblets tapped with a stiletto blade. Noémi, daughter of Count Sebred, Lord of the castle, was rebuking Erdő her six-year-old brother. Seeing the two of them reminded me that I had promised to take him with me to the bog. It was on the third day that I had been a guest of Count Sebred that his Majesty the King charged me and my brother Fülöp with the task of escorting Magister István Báncsa, Bishop of Vác, with all his luggage, to the city of Pest. When, on the way to Vác we stopped at Göd's Castle to rest, so mesmerised was I by the beauty of the Count's daughter, that even my brother noticed. Just before our departure the lord of the castle enquired if we could stay for a few days more. Fülöp offered to carry on alone with the Bishop. He wouldn’t need help with the packing and it would be more than good enough if I were to rejoin them for the return journey. Only if this was acceptable to the lord Bishop, of course. Bishop István had lived in our father’s castle and been our schoolmaster for seventeen years. He knew both of us well and straight away recognising our intentions, kindly agreed to my staying behind. However, after helping him into the huge saddle of his white stallion by the gate he looked at us slyly and said.

I see through your plans you scamps. Even as kids, you always backed each other up. Did you think I didn't know that it wasn't your father`s dog that spilled the ink on the chronicle. I had been copying for half a year? But you Detre, you were always the smart one.

While this other one was struggling to get anything into his head you mastered all the letters and could write as well as any monk. I had always hoped that you would choose a sacred vocation, but instead I see that you have a longing for passion rather than the cloister" and while saying this he smacked me with his prayer beads, with some force, albeit in a playful way.

You know my lord Bishop, I bowed away from him smiling, I was never any good at Latin. I can barely manage reading and writing in Hungarian.

And what of romance? That’s the truth then, eh, young pup, and he looked pointedly towards the beautiful girl standing beside her father, holding her brother’s hand. I can see she is a beauty. Just be sure not to embarrass me!

Rest assured my lord. I have no bad intentions towards any girl. I said and turned to my brother. I always feel comforted when I look at Fülöp's honest, open face.

He was twenty-three years old, two years younger than me, but we are like two peas in a pod. We inherited our giant build and strength from our father, but our wavy hair and soft features are from our mother, as are our gentle brown eyes. Fülöp wore a coloured headband, and unlike me he had not only a mustache but also a short beard, framing his face. He lifted his long, triangular shield, which carried on it our crest: a falcon with wings outstretched. He leant towards me from behind the shelter of his shield and whispered in a childish tone. Don't think I’m being selfless leaving you here... Rumour has it Vác is full of gorgeous girls!

That's the last thing we need your terrible pagan! You whole city will be after me in my old age, and they’ll have me in court and prosecuted for corrupting the innocent! I’ll have you locked up in the church and you won't be going anywhere until we are ready to start our return journey! the Magister shouted in mock rage.

You may say you are old sir, but if you donned armour, no knight on earth would care to do battle with you Fülöp snapped back.

Well, I admit, there is some strength left in this old body. But we better get going! said the Bishop, changing the subject and stepping towards Count Sebred who was heading towards us with his children. After saying goodbye to him he leaned over to Noémi, bending his lanky figure at such an angle that his mitre nearly toppled from his head.

Never mind doing battle with me, look at these two buffalo! Detre, just last week in front of the whole yard, twisted a two-inch-thick iron rod on his arm as if it were just a rope, and last summer at the famous tourney in Cologne where more than three dozen famous knights and swordsmen were left dead in the arena, and he, as a vassal of the Hungarian King, won a glorious victory to the acclamation of the whole world.

Even Konrad von Winterstetten, the knight of emperor Frigyes II. could not vanquish them, even though he has such strength he can swing his giant broadsword, an inch wide at the base, with but a single hand, when two normal warriors would struggle to even carry it. `Their innocent girl-like faces conceal the strength of bears. He sat up straight in his saddle, closed his long, white habit, and with the two Dominican monks behind him he rode out through the gate. Remembering this, I recalled how good it had felt to see the sincere joy in Noémi’s eyes when she found out I had accepted her father's invitation to stay. The following days she made every effort to please me, which wasn't at all difficult. Every time I saw her slender figure, her flowing hair, her charming face with eyes shining like black diamonds, her cherry lips and cheeks dimpling sweetly when she smiled, I was straight away filled with joy at being close to her. Trying to please her, I offered to take Erdő with me that day to give her a break from child care, which she had inherited, along with all the other duties of motherhood, since their mother had died. I had a quick wash and slipped into my calfskin boots, tucked my shirt into my cotton trousers and donned my sheepskin coat over the top of my leather waistcoat, for even though March was greeting us mildly the frost still touched the grass some mornings. I then hooked on my belt with a sheathed, double bladed dagger and ran downstairs to the impatiently waiting child, who was running up and down, ignoring his sister`s disciplinary warnings, and proudly telling the busy servants about all the adventures awaiting him.

See? I told you! Noémi said to her brother when she spotted me and as we greeted each other. You disturbed the knight and now he will no longer take you!" She turned from the terrified Erdő to me.

My father left for the pasture before dawn. It seems there might be a bear among the cattle. Erdő has barely slept since father went, and is so excited he’s woken everyone up, or you could have slept longer my lord.

That's alright! I made a promise to take him. Is Uros up and ready yet?

He is preparing the boat. He is waiting for your graciousness by the riverbank.

I’ll go right away. I’d better see if lord Sebred is back, I really ought to greet him before I leave. I said and headed towards the gate. The castle of Göd village was built on a small island raised from the bog, the swamp surrounding the ramparts providing natural protection against all kinds of unwanted visitors, with just one approach from the east via a narrow embankment. A big, arched gate opened there, surrounded by a brick wall reinforced with lime mortar, although the rest of the wall was just an earthwork dike. The eastern side of the ramparts, around the gate, were some sixty feet in height and a hundred and twenty feet long, sheer in front with a sloping bank within. In contrast, the ramparts by the water were only twenty feet high, but extended seventy paces into the swamp. There was a small wall running along the outer face, with sharpened rods jutting up, and more of the same rods sticking out of the rampart to render climbing more difficult. The gate was also protected by a bascule bridge which arched over the ditch in front of it. To the sides, in addition to all this, bastions studded with more rods to protect the guards. In the middle of the courtyard stood the only stone building, the old tower, home of the Count and his family. Next to this, around the base of the wall were a wooden dining house, servant`s chalets, stables, hutches and drinking troughs. At the side of the pen stood an old stone catapult and a giant crossbow. Polished armour with gleaming straps was hung on the wall by the servants quarters. The two other doors to enter the castle were only accessible by boat. One at the western gate giving access for fishing in the Danube, and to hunt birds in the bogland. The other on the north side was reached through an underground tunnel which had a thick growth of reeds by its entrance, forcing anyone going through to duck to avoid hitting the ceiling. This entrance, known only to castle residents, was used as an emergency exit in times of trouble. Lord Sebred, having initially invited me to a tour of his wine cellar, also proudly showed off this innovation of his own devising. He’d had dug and developed a subterranean warren, with tunnels to store food and others for shelter when the castle was under attack. Soil from the excavation had then been used to strengthen the ramparts. Upon reaching the front gate I climbed up a rammed earth staircase to a walkway affording a clear view of all the surrounding area. Directly below was a path leading from the gate and widening out for about a hundred meters to where Göd`s pit dwellings were, along with a circular chapel, stone built and plain, with an unadorned iron cross to proclaim it the House of God. Beside the church, instead of a church bell, there was a tall pole with pegs of wood bound loosely around it with strands of hemp - the `Alarm tree`. When shaken the loose blocks rapped against the pole, the loud clacking serving to call the villagers back from distance, to remind them of prayer times or warn of danger. Of the village, little was visible, just the church, the stone fenced cemetery, the thatched roofs and the lingering smoke from the smokery and from the domestic stoves, seeping from under the eaves of the houses. Further away the military road connecting Pest and Vác wound through the wetland and on to the pasture beyond. There were hardly any cultivated areas in this marshland, instead subsistence for locals was eked from farm animals and fishing. Looking north, nothing in the vast stretches of marshland disrupted the view to the towers of Vác. Beyond the city were the Nagy-Szál Hills, an occasional glimpse of white limestone peeking through their blanket of green vegetation. Slightly further around to the east, above the lower hills, rose the church of the village of Sződ and beyond that the great forest of Gödöllő enclosed the view. Upon turning around, four or five hundred steps away, behind the castle, around the tree enveloped Monostori Island flowed the rolling river Danube. To the south, on a clear day a few stone houses could be seen shining on the hillside of Buda. From the top of the ramparts I could see Count Sebred approaching the village, and so descended to the gate to greet him. Uros, the old serf in white loose trousers, boots, inside out sheepskin coat and black sheepskin hat, bow and arrow in hand, I saw waiting by the drinking troughs. Sat on the bench beside Uros, cleaning my best travelling armour was Kozma, my weapon bearer. Him I dispatched to get my crossbow in case out on the bog, there chanced to be prey to hunt. The Count stepped through the gate. His son spotted him from a distance and started to run, Noémi following, her white skirt was tangling around her legs and hindering her efforts to keep pace with him. Sebred reached down, grabbed Erdő and sat his son in front of him in the saddle.

Did you upset your sister again, huh? I see now, your poor, dead mother delivered me a vagabond! he chided the child with a pretended anger. Mentioning her mother brought tears to Noémi’s eyes. Still panting, she began a litany of complaint.

God only knows what happened to him father, he’s been rattling around the house annoying the servants since dawn. The maids are afraid to fetch water with him shooting at the back of their ears with his toy bow and arrows. Perhaps you should slap him a few times, until he behaves himself. The little lad looked up at his father with wide innocent eyes, and I spoke up in his defence.

I’m planning to go to the bog with Uros, and I promised Erdő that I would take him with us. I am sure he was just practising for that.

Well, please, be my guest! There are a few stray ducks and geese overwintering here, and in the shallows there will be plenty of golden jackal. said the Count cheerfully and ruffled Erdő`s hair.

And you young man, I will deal with you later! Shooting the maids, eh?

I thought that there may be some bigger game, Uros brought his bow and I sent him back to get the crossbow as well. I said to divert my host's attention back to hunting.

And what would you do with the crossbow in a small boat. No offence, but there isn't a lot of room, the boat would rock and you’d make a lot of noise drawing back the string. Also, by the time you’d got it cocked the target would have disappeared. smiled lord Sebred.

You’d be better off using a hand bow. It is quicker, quieter and more accurate to shoot with. Uros added kindly. Uros had the title Freeman of the Holy King bestowed on him by King Ender during the fifth Crusade and was thus treated like family and allowed, quite rightly, to take part in the debate. Hey, there were hardly any armed warriors back in my grandfathers times but, when a Hungarian pulled his bow, he could even shoot backwards through a ring from the saddle of a galloping horse

Tell me brother, could you also shoot through it? I asked the old man, but it was the Count who replied. Uros is the best archer I have ever met. Noone I’ve seen can hit the mark as well as he does.

That I’d love to see, I said and went to the stable where, next to the door, a few iron rings of the type that’s put in a bull's nose were hung on a nail. I took one, shouted. Here is the ring! and tied it tightly to a length of leather string and began to swing it.

It swung back and forth a few times then span it right round a couple more. Even if you’re not on the back of a horse, it’s no mean feat to shoot through this. I cried, then rejoined them, took the crossbow back from Kozma, leaned over and asked. Well then brother, can you shoot through this? Uros did not answer. He tucked his long grey locks under his hat and pulled the hat down, removing any distraction to better concentrate on his aim. He then twisted his shiny white catfish moustache pointing the two ends downwards like a stitching awl. His moves were languid, but the sparkle in his green eyes suggested that he was enjoying being put to the test. He fitted an arrow from the quiver, wound back the string, and took aim at the swinging ring. I had been waiting for this. I picked up my own crossbow by the string and in one move pulled it to my stomach tightly, cocked the string, pulled an arrow from my man’s quiver and slid it into position on the rail. Then I pushed the hardwood stock to my shoulder, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The arrow shot out with great power, straight through the rotating ring, halting its swing momentarily before burying near half its length into the tree behind. Uros`s arrow which only left his bowstring a moment after mine, stopped two fingers away from the ring in the stable`s wall, exactly where the ring would have been if my bow hadn't stopped its swing. I whistled at this glorious success, re-cocked the bow and this time hit not only the ring but also the leather strap that was holding the ring, provoking a low, astonished cheer from the others around.

He cocked it with his hand! Sir, you have the strength of a wild buffalo. said a surprised Uros, and, his handling of the bow is masterful. he added. I walked back to the stable.

And consider this, brother! A straight bow may be faster, maybe more accurate even, but that counts for nothing if you have to pierce armor. I said, pointing at the arrows.

My arrows are embedded deeply Uros` barely past the tip. You could shoot a dozen and do no harm. That’s why I favour the crossbow even for hunting, and don’t use crank or rope, neither do I make a noise.

That’s true. Count Sebred nodded. I’ve not seen anything like it. Others strain to cock the string two handed, but you, you just lift it to your stomach and it’s done! Go on Erdő, you go with the lord and