They Were Divided - Miklos Banffy [143]
The news of Simo’s counter-action reached Denestornya without delay in a letter from Kalman Nyiresy, the pensioned-off forestry director of the Abady estates, who wrote a fulsome and repetitious account of what had happened. It was clear from the letter what joy Nyiresy took in passing on the bad news, despite the terms of flattery and simulated homage in which it was phrased.
Nyiresy had never forgiven Balint for having enforced his retirement, even though he had been presented with a large house at Banffy-Hunyad with a garden that reached down to the river Koros, and a pension amounting to half his former salary. The reason was that for more than thirty years he had been able to lord it up in the mountains, doing no work but living well at his employer’s expense. He still lived well at Banffy-Hunyad, giving parties and entertaining his friends as if he were a country gentleman. But this was nothing compared to his life up on the Beles where he had been overlord of sixteen thousand acres, where he could shoot what he liked, eat as much venison as he wished, fish for trout in and out of season, and use the meadows for his own grazing; for, until Balint himself took an interest, no one had ever asked him to account for his stewardship.
In sombre mood Balint read Nyiresy’s letter. He was disgusted by it, for he could almost see the outrageous old man with his white beard, sitting at his desk and pulling at a long pipe, smiling wickedly under his huge tobacco-stained moustaches as he contemplated with what displeasure his former master would read what he had to tell. He was certain that the news came direct from Simo, for the two had been friends for many years; and indeed it was more than probable that they had composed the letter together, chuckling with joy as they poured out more wine and champagne and drank toasts to the notary’s certain triumph.
Throwing down the letter Balint tried hard to banish this disagreeable picture from his mind lest it should cloud his judgement.
The Juon aluj Maftye affair had now become serious. That Simo had embezzled the old man’s money was certain, and would remain so; but that the young Kula, with this new evidence, would be found guilty seemed equally certain. What else could the County Court do? And Zutor too might well suffer.
Balint knew that he could never let this happen. He could never sit idly by, doing nothing, while simple people who had trusted him and acted on his orders found themselves in trouble because of him. That was unthinkable.
And yet, what could he do?
There was only one thing, and that was to insist upon appearing as witness for the defence. In this way he could tell the whole truth and shoulder any blame that might come his way. If he went into the witness box he could tell the world everything he knew about the criminal alliance between Simo and the popa Timbus, and how for years they had extorted everything they could from the mountain people. It was true that he could prove nothing, but what did that matter? He would also make it clear that the denunciation of Simo had been his idea, and that he had organized it from the start. Let them condemn him if they wished. It did not matter so long as Kula and Zutor went free, for they had only acted on his orders.
It was an ugly and indeed dangerous situation, even though, as a Member of Parliament, he was immune from prosecution in the county courts. In such circumstances he would be allowed to resign his seat – and of course would himself insist on his release. Then a few weeks later he would find himself in the place of the accused. In the meantime what a picnic the scandal-press would have, dragging his name in the mud, vilifying the lazy aristocrat who had dared to slander the clean-living notary who worked so hard in his humble country