They Were Counted (32 page)

Azbej arrived a few days later. He received the countess’s orders with suitable deference and, bowing very low indeed, he
expressed
himself overjoyed that he would have the young count for his master. His whole conversation was punctuated with bows, which he made still sitting on the edge of his chair so as to show the depth of his loyalty and respect.

Although Balint had seen him each time he had been at
Denestornya
he had never before talked to the little lawyer. Until now he had sensed that his mother somehow did not want him to meddle with the management of the estate. When he spoke to her of such matters she had never gone into any detail but had merely
complained
of the worry and torment it caused her without once
explaining
what she was talking about. Balint had therefore strictly avoided discussing estate matters with Azbej lest his mother should think he was going behind her back. This was therefore the first time that he had heard the lawyer speak of such matters. Azbej knew how to make a good impression despite an unprepossessing appearance, for he was a dwarfish little man with short arms and a pot-belly, practically no neck and a round head covered in black hair cut the same length as his beard; of all which had the singular effect of suggesting that above his high collar there sat a porcupine. Two clever bulging little eyes projected from the
porcupine
’s quills and, in the centre, there was a very red little mouth from which emitted, when he spoke, a surprisingly educated voice expressing precise and well-phrased thoughts. As to the estate business he had all the figures, details and dates at his finger-tips. He assured his new master that the Noble Count would find everything in good order, all done strictly according to the
instructions
and wishes of the Gracious Countess. He emphasized the fact that he had at all times acted for the best while never
deviating
from the orders he had been given. Another phrase emerged from time to time. Should Balint, finding some
procedure
either surprising or old-fashioned, ask a question, he would find Azbej answer always ended with the words ‘as his late
Lordship
, with the wisdom of his sacred foresight, intended.’ This
happened
whenever Balint asked about the management of the forests, which seemed extremely haphazard to him.

Azbej bowed himself out, swearing strict obedience to Count Balint’s orders, which would be carried out with alacrity. His manner oozed eagerness to serve, and nothing revealed his
determination
to keep the young man in such ignorance that no changes would be made. He had already decided this when he had received a letter from the two ladies, Tothy and Baczo, who had immediately reported to him everything that had passed
between
the countess and her son.

It was clear to Azbej that two things were of the utmost
importance
if he were to be able to maintain his control of the Abady properties. The first was that the young count should continue to be a member of the House of Representatives, which would often keep him in Budapest. If he were to remain permanently at home in Denestornya it was inevitable that sooner or later he would stumble upon some of the things Azbej would rather were kept from him. It was not that the agent had ever broken the law, he had never gone quite as far as that; but over the years certain
practices
had become established which would cease at once if Balint discovered their existence. From the first days when Countess Roza had given him any responsibility Mr Azbej had exacted
commissions
on every transaction he arranged. Sometimes they were small, almost symbolic such as little ‘presents’ of turkeys, wine or flour from the miller, innkeeper or fuller, or hay from the smaller farms. Sometimes the benefits were more substantial as when, for example, Mr Azbej’s sheep and cattle – and he kept surprisingly large herds on all the Abady farms – grazed in the Abady meadows and fed, in winter, on the feed raized for the Abady livestock. Countess Roza, of course, knew nothing of this. In the beginning, before Azbej had started his operations on a big scale, it so
happened
that once or twice a discontented servant or angry tenant would try to denounce him, but Azbej would take such swift action to discredit his accusers that they would be forced to contradict themselves and withdraw their complaints. When this lesson had been well learned by everyone who worked under Azbej’s control, only anonymous complaints sometimes found their way to the countess’s desk – and these she would ignore, having been warned against such things by her late husband. So Azbej, at the time of Balint’s return, was getting everything as he wanted it and even those who had cause for complaint kept silent since the agent himself turned a blind eye as long as they followed his example. But if Count Balint were allowed to stay at home with time on his hands it was inevitable that all this would come to light.

Next it was important to find some task, or problem, that he could put in the young count’s way that would occupy him so much that he would be deflected from taking too much interest in the running of the farms or the relations with the Denestornya
estate
tenants. From a hint or two that Azbej had picked up during his first talk with Balint, the lawyer had noticed that the new young master had not seemed entirely convinced by his report on the forestry management. The forests were some way from
Denestornya
… in the mountains … ah, there lay the solution! From the few objections that Balint had raised he realized that the young man had ideas of his own for introducing modern theories of planting and felling, and installing modern equipment in the saw-mills. Well, let him! Let him get involved in all the petty
intrigues
going on among the men in the mountain villages! Let him sink his teeth into the lengthy negotiations that would be
necessary
! Let him find out all the difficulties for himself: he’d have his hands full there all right!

Azbej laid his plans carefully. He sent instructions to Beles for the forest manager to present himself at Denestornya directly after the Christmas holiday. Everything went just as he had hoped, for Kalman Nyiresy was of the old school and,
overconscious
of his status as a member of the minor country gentry, made no effort to ingratiate himself with the young count. Where Azbej had cunningly disguised his contempt for his employer and thus had made a good first impression, Nyiresy, puffed up with a sense of his own importance, sat down before being invited, lit an evil-smelling meerschaum pipe and, in a patronizing
manner
, was unwise enough to admit that he had not himself set foot in the Abady forests for over ten years. Why should he? He knew every tree as well as his own hand! Balint realized at once that the old man was incompetent and, worse, arrogant. When, coldly, he stated his intention of making a tour of inspection
directly
after the New Year, Nyiresy burst into loud derisive laughter.

‘You don’t know what you’re saying, sir! Not even bears go there in winter … or birds either, for that matter!’

Azbej, seeing that the old man had made just the impression he had hoped for, then intervened and made him agree to supply horses and guides as soon as word arrived from the castle.

‘Well, sir, you can do as you like, I don’t mind! Nothing’ll come of it, mark my words! I’ll offer your Lordship some good wine and the hospitality of my house, but go up there? Ha, ha! Quite impossible!’ and, still laughing at the young Count’s folly and
ignorance
, he took his leave.

As it turned out Balint was prevented from going when he had planned. On 5 January Tisza dissolved Parliament and
announced
new election for the 28th of the same month. Despite his previous decision to abandon politics, Balint renewed his
candidature
and postponed his trip to the mountains until February so that he could work on his election speeches.

The election campaign had been carefully engineered by Azbej.

Living at Kuttyfalva was a man of the lesser nobility whose name was Janko Cseresznyes, which meant ‘cherry-tree’. He had once been town clerk, though only for a short time before losing the job for reasons that were never made public. Since then he had become a jack of all trades, now selling farm produce, now doing a little horse-coping, now buying and selling cattle or farm machinery. He did not mind what he set his hand to. It was,
however
, at election time that he really came into his own for his real talent was rabble-rousing. With a huge voice capable of making itself heard above the loudest hubbub and a wicked sense of
humour
, he was in his element whenever a new election provided a demand for his services. And these services were given to
whichever
party would pay the best. Though naturally inclined to the left, he usually found that the government side would pay more. Azbej who had previously found his services useful and employed him when certain rather shady deals were in the offing, sent Cseresznyes to Balint’s constituency at Lelbanya with
instructions
to round up an impressive delegation of local notabilities and bring them to Kolozsvar to beg the count, whom they loved so much, not to desert them.

This delegation arrived on 7 January. Headed by Janko Cseresznyes it consisted of about ten people; the chemist and
public
notary in black morning coats, the judge and a few other
prominent
citizens in navy-blue Sunday suits, and also some
shabbily-dressed
peasants, as Janko thought that a group drawn from all social classes would be all the more effective. They brought with them a written petition with some two hundred signatures
begging
Count Balint Abady to renew his candidature and thus not forsake his faithful friends. The judge, who was also the mayor, made a speech and Janko, who felt it had not been sufficiently
forceful
, backed it up with another improvised peroration which brought in the thousand-year-old Hungarian Constitution, the wickedness of German-speaking foreigners, the tobacco
concessions
, Kossuth, taxation, the greatness of the Noble Count’s
illustrious
ancestors and free access to salt deposits! Balint was duly impressed by this show of mass affection and reluctantly agreed to stand again.

On 14 January he addressed the people of Lelbanya from a first floor window of the town hall which overlooked the
market-place
. To Balint’s surprise he was received with a marked lack of enthusiasm which, despite an occasional cheer to break the
general
silence, almost amounted to hostility. He thought that maybe this was due to the extreme cold and Azbej, who accompanied him back to Kolozsvar, confirmed that this must be the reason and assured him that all would be well.

But it wasn’t.

The political fever that swept Budapest had spread even to the little town of Lelbanya where the atmosphere was no different from that anywhere else. The leading articles in the Budapest
papers
and the party manifestos, filled as they were with the election slogans and ringing war-cries of party strife, were passed eagerly from hand to hand and provoked as much argument and bad blood among the citizens of Lelbanya as they did among the more sophisticated
habitués
of the Casino Club in the capital. In one sense the discontent aroused in the little country town became even more serious as the date of the election approached. It was such a small constituency that it returned only one member and now, just as the independence of Hungary seemed threatened by the
complacency
of the ruling party, there was only one serious candidate – and he was no revolutionary vote-buying politician from the
capital
but only their own Count Abady, the owner of the lake and the industries that depended on it, who relied on his social position to get elected but from whom the locals could expect no other benefit, and certainly no bribes! Unrest mounted to such a point that Abady’s prospect of election became far from certain.

Azbej had already sensed what was happening and when Janko Cseresznyes, worried by the seriousness of this unexpected
development
which threatened both their interests, went to see the little lawyer to explain that money, and quite a lot of it, would be needed if the count were to have any hope of being re-elected. They
whispered
together, made notes on slips of paper, added up some figures … and a wad of banknotes disappeared into Janko’s pocket.

Three days later Mr Azbej presented himself to Countess Roza, now installed for the winter in her town house at Kolozsvar. Mysteriously he asked for a private interview. This was so
unusual
that, for once, the Countess asked the two ladies to leave the room and turned questioningly to the little lawyer who stood, wringing his hands and bowing with an excess of apparent
humility
and embarrassment.

A long and flowery speech followed. Before reaching the real reason for the interview Azbej dwelt on how long and faithfully he had served her Ladyship’s interests, how he had always worked only to maintain the good name of the Counts Abady whose great past had contributed much glory to the nation’s history and how he would go to any lengths to shield her Ladyship and His
Excellency
the Count Balint from any embarrassment or affront.

The countess, thoroughly alarmed, begged him to explain.

With seeming reluctance he recounted the growing unrest at Lelbanya and how Count Balint’s re-election was menaced by the growth of revolutionary fervour. So far he told only the truth; there was no need to invent. Now, however, was the time for a
little
embroidery. In the last few days, he told Countess Roza there had been a new and even more serious development. Another candidate had presented himself, a worthless demagogue who had made himself much beloved by the gullible country folk of Lelbanya, and he, Azbej, felt he could never again hold up his head if such a scoundrel of a popular agitator should set himself up as a rival to the young Count and beat him at the polls! It was terrible, unthinkable! He had not slept all night worrying about this
dreadful
dilemma they now faced. It was no longer possible for the young master to withdraw his candidature, for he had already made his election address and this had been printed in the newspapers. To withdraw now would be an admission of weakness, of defeat, of lack of courage – a mortifying blow to the prestige of the
family
. And for the future lord of Denestornya to be defeated by such a low class rascal …! He left the phrase unfinished.