They Were Divided (41 page)

There were few of Countess Roza’s retainers who did not feel a wave of relief as they regained the great stone stairway and could steal away.

I
N THE NEW YEAR, AT THE END OF FEBRUARY
, the affair which had led to the formal denunciation of Gaszton Simo by old Juon aluj Maftye, of Pejkoja in the mountains, took a new turn.

To recall what had led to this we should remember that in the spring of the previous year – 1912 – old Juon had received a tax demand which claimed the payment of some 286 crowns for arrears dating back to 1909. At this point he was not unduly
worried
. A year and a half before, he had received a similar reminder which had not been followed up since old Juon had at once
complained
to the local notary Gaszton Simo, to whom, when the demands had first come in, he had paid the tax money and from whom he had received a receipt. The notary had expressed
himself
outraged that the tax office should be in such a muddle and promised to go himself to the county offices in Banffy-Hunyad and see that the misunderstanding was cleared up. When no further demands had been delivered by the village policeman the old man assumed that Simo had been as good as his word. For eighteen months there was official silence until in that fateful spring of the previous year there had come a new demand for the same arrears, and in August this had been followed by an order for the seizure and sale of all Juon aluj Maftye’s possessions.

At that time old Juon’s affairs had been looked after by his grandson, Kula, who had at once taken the papers to Honey Andras Zutor, Abady’s trusted chief forester, to ask his advice. In his turn Honey had reported the matter to Balint because he
knew that for several years past his master, knowing how Simo had exploited the simple people in the mountain villages and extorted everything he could from them, had already once tried to have the notary removed from office. Now Balint had acted again. He had got young Kula to obtain from his grandfather a blank Power of Attorney, which had been delivered to Count Abady together with the notary’s original receipt.

Balint had then found a lawyer in Kolozsvar who was willing to handle the matter, had the power of attorney vested in him, and arranged for Simo to be denounced for embezzlement and false pretences at the appropriate office of the Ministry of Finance. And so the matter took an official turn.

However, wheels grind slowly and the enquiry by the tax inspectors became more and more strung out. The ball was thrown from court to court – but each time only after another long delay. Five weeks would pass before a letter received any reply. Then the men in the Ministry wrote to the county tax office which passed the letter on to the Sheriff. The Sheriff eventually returned the papers to the tax office saying that it was their responsibility, not his. The tax authorities wrote once more to the provincial county office stating that this matter came under their jurisdiction, not that of the tax office, since there was
nothing
on Simo’s receipt to say that it concerned anything to do with taxes. The finance office therefore disclaimed all responsibility in its turn, as in their opinion this was either a disciplinary matter for the county’s administrators or else a case to be heard in the criminal courts. The papers were then sent once more to the County Sheriff to determine whose responsibility it all was. In the meantime Gaszton Simo offered himself for a disciplinary
inspection
, but cunningly sent this offer to the wrong office. He did not approach the Under-Sheriff as he should have, but instead approached the association of local notaries of which he himself was president.

The notaries’ association refused Simo’s request to be
investigated
saying that it had authority only in internal disciplinary matters, not in anything that concerned members of the public. At the same time they held a special meeting and unanimously passed a vote of confidence in Simo’s probity: thereby making it clear to Balint that Simo had somehow manipulated the whole cadre of county notaries into taking his side.

This had been the situation at the beginning of March. Until then, though nothing definite had transpired, it had seemed as if
Damocles’s sword was suspended over Simo’s head. But then matters took a very different turn.

Gaszton Simo himself filed a complaint for false accusation, denouncing in his turn old Juon’s grandson, Kula, and accusing Honey Zutor not only of complicity but also of having instigated a plot against him.

For proof he offered a declaration from old Juon that his grandson had deceived him, that being unable to read or write he had had no idea that the paper on which Kula had forced him to put his mark had been a Power of Attorney, that he had only recently learned this and wished at once to disclaim any such intention, that the receipt from Simo that the boy had taken from him did not apply to anything to do with tax payments but only to an old debt that he had repaid and furthermore that he had never said anything against the notary Simo whom he held in the greatest esteem and respect. He ended by begging forgiveness, saying that his grandson had abused his trust, and that he was nothing but a simple helpless old man who had known nothing of what was happening.

It was a good document, well-written, clear and wonderfully precise. And not only precise but also very much to the point, for every accusation against the notary had been logically disposed of and refuted in advance. The declaration had been
countersigned
by two witnesses, Timbus, the parish priest of Gyurkuca, and one of the church-wardens. In a postscript the old man stated that he had dictated the declaration to the priest, and this too was countersigned by two witnesses, the same church-warden and the village school-teacher. Nothing could have been seen to be better nor more seemingly in order.

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 post! Weeks and months of insult and shame would be his lot until the case was finally heard and then, if the Minister of Justice declared a ‘non-suit’ in recognition of his years of unselfish public service, which was by no means
certain
, he might avoid a prison sentence though nothing would wipe away the stain on his name.

None of this was as important as the fact that he must stand up for those who were only involved because of him.

Only one consoling thought came to him at this bitter moment. He need no longer worry about his mother’s feelings, for the stroke had mercifully so incapacitated her that they could keep from her all knowledge of what was happening to her only son. She would not have to know how their good name was being besmirched.

But what if matters went so far that he was sent to prison, what would happen then? Could they keep that from her too? And, with a shudder, the wish arose in him that his mother should never live to see that dreadful day.

Two weeks went by, two weeks full of dismal foreboding, during which everyone at Denestornya, the secretary Ganyi, Peter the butler, the two housekeepers, Mrs Tothy and Mrs Baczo, and the other servants, even the retired stable manager, Gergely Szakacs, went about their work with worried faces. Everyone knew that the Simo affair had taken a sinister turn, though no one dared mention it.

Abady himself spoke of it only to Adrienne whom he used to visit from time to time in the evening at the Uzdy villa just
outside
Kolozsvar. Then, as they lay in each other’s arms, he would talk over with her all the horrible possibilities of the forthcoming case. Adrienne had at once approved of everything he intended to do, saying that he really had no choice, even if it meant going
to prison. They had talked over the case from every angle, but never found any other solution. Even so Balint returned from his visits to Adrienne with renewed hope for, despite the fact that everything seemed against him, Adrienne could never bring
herself
to believe that things would end badly. It was impossible, she said, impossible. It was a moral impossibility and so it just could not be! Faced with this intuitive certainty Balint somehow managed to keep up his own courage.

On the evening before the case was to be heard the principal actors were all in Banffy-Hunyad, even young Kula who was spending the night at the house of Honey Andras Zutor. Everyone would be taking the early train to Kolozsvar where the county courts were held.