Stephen Sisa : The Spirit of Hungary

The most famous traveler in Hungarian history was the Dominican monk Brother Julian, who lived in the 13th century. Spending long days and nights studying languages and old chronicles in a monastery, he became proficient in Greek, Arabic, German and Bessenyő (Petcheneg). His studies led him to believe in the existence of a distant land called Magna Hungaria, populated by the descendants of Proto-Magyars who had remained behind and settled there while their brethren continued their westward migration toward the Carpathian Basin.

Julian's conviction became an obsession to learn the truth about Magna Hungaria, and the only way to find the truth was to go there himself. His venture seemed a "mission impossible," since he had found no clues to the location of that distant land, except that it lay somewhere to the east.

Taking the other monks as companions, Brother Julian began his long expedition into the unknown in 1235, the same year that King Béla IV ascended to the Hungarian throne. It was an incredible voyage spanning almost two years and covering thousands of miles. They traveled in disguise, letting their hair and beards grow long pagan style, but to no avail. One by one they fell victim to the trials and

tribulations of their Odyssey until Julian alone remained alive. Despite the loss of his companions, he kept pursuing his quest, until finally he reached an area in the North, along the western shores of the Volga River once known as Baskiria.

And there he found them, hundreds of thousands of proto-Hungarian kinsmen! Julian's joy was indescribable when he understood their speech and they, his. (A superb account of this encounter can be found in the novel Julian Barát by János Kodolányi.)

The proto-Magyars Brother Julian had found in Magna Hungaria were pagan warriors who lived a primitive lifestyle. They ate horse meat and wolf meat, drank mare's milk and even blood, a staple not unusual in that age. Their legends mentioned their "big brothers" who had migrated westward many hundreds of years ago. Upon learning whence Julian had come, they overwhelmed him with hospitality.

Julian began the return journey to Hungary on June 21, 1236, and arrived at Esztergom, then the capital of Hungary, by Christmas that same year.

Encouraged by King Béla IV, Brother Julian started off the next year on a second journey, taking with him other monks for missionary work. Fate willed that this time his mission would indeed become impossible. He found the road to Magna Hungaria blocked by Mongols, who, bursting out of Asia toward the West, simply overran and dispersed that faraway branch of the Magyars. As a result, King Béla's goal of bringing them into the fold of their brethren living in the Carpathian Basin also turned into an impossible dream.

This tragedy was but a prelude to the cataclysm that would hit the Hungarians a few years later.

His hopes crushed, Julian returned in a great hurry to Esztergom bearing ominous news, including a detailed account of the Mongols' thrust. From this story, the king could discern the premonitory rumblings of a "Yellow Storm" raging toward the Carpathians. He judged that it was only a matter of time before the Mongolian invasion would reach Hungary, a key target in their path.

Genghis Khan's Destruction Machine

It was Genghis Khan who introduced the concept of "total war" into history, and the first to organize a nation for the exclusive purpose of waging war. His huge army demonstrated the same qualities, on a larger scale, that the conquering Magyars had possessed centuries ago. They rode on small, tireless Mongol horses that could survive even if watered only once in three days, and could find fodder almost anywhere. The Mongolian riders were just as tough; they could stay in the saddle all day, sleep in the snow, and survive without food for several days. Half a pound of dried milk curd would nourish them for a day. The Mongols' armor was like that of the Magyars' at the time of the Conquest, made of rawhide, hardened and lacquered. Each man had two bows, one for use on horseback, another for use on foot. He had three types of arrows, for long, medium and close range.

Cruelty was a cold-blooded policy of the Mongols. If a city resisted, the Mongols burned it to the ground, slaying everyone they could find. Heads were cut off to prevent anyone from feigning death. Genghis Khan used caravan merchants as agents for his propaganda machine to frighten prospective enemies with horror stories about the Mongols' exploits. No wonder that news of the Mongols' approach caused panic in communities lying in their path - so much so, that in some cases the populace of entire villages committed mass suicide rather than await slaughter by the "Tartars."

History writers have often interchanged the names "Mongols" and "Tartars" because Mongol attacks were spearheaded by Tartar troops. For this reason their invasion was called tatárjárás in Hungary and this term has been used ever since.

After Genghis Khan's death, Great Khan Ogotaj followed him on the throne and it was he who directed Batu Khan, Genghis' grandson, to lead the invasion against Europe. Under Batu's leadership they overran the Russian plains and ransacked Kiev in 1236. Then, in a mighty three-pronged advance, the "Golden Horde" struck further westward. Their northern wing penetrated Poland, and the southern wing crushed southern Cumania, in present-day Rumania. However, Hungary was to bear the brunt of the main Tartar invasion.

Omens of Evil

The year preceding the Tartar invasion, 1240, seemed filled with ominous signs in the eyes of the superstitious. Rumors circulated about an unusual number of deformed newborns. Wolf packs descended from the wilderness upon villages in numbers seldom seen before. The ultimate omen struck on a summer day when the sun disappeared from the sky at high noon - a total solar eclipse that darkened the land and terrified Hungary's people. As if all this were not enough, the sky was suddenly illuminated on a late summer night by a brilliant comet trailing a gigantic tail. The ragged streaks of the tail were like five fingers pointing towards the East, and the whole phenomenon seemed like a yellow broadsword hanging over the Carpathians. On that terrifying night frightened people ran from their houses in the cities

and villages, wailing and praying. Many of them believed that Doomsday was at hand.

And, soon enough, a "doomsday" of sorts did arrive, to engulf the unfortunate country not for a day, but for an entire year.

By the winter of 1240-41 it was obvious that the enemy would strike in just a few months' time. King Béla IV did not pass the winter months in idleness. Announcing to all concerned that the Tartars were planning to conquer not only Hungary but Europe as well, and that the fate of the continent would be decided in Hungary, he urgently solicited aid from the Pope, the Holy Roman Emperor and neighboring monarchs. His warnings went unheeded, his requests ignored. This was the first time in Hungarian history that Hungary had to play the role of a Christian bastion against onslaughts from the East, if King László's defensive wars against the Cumanians and the Petchenegs are not counted.

A ray of hope for assistance arrived, unexpectedly, not from the Christian West but from the East, with the arrival of 40,000 Cumanian families, who were fleeing the Tartar invasion of Cumania. Their king, Kuthen, offered King Béla his army to help fend off the expected Tartar attack. In return, Béla allowed the Cumanians to settle between the Danube and Tisza rivers. This, however, involved unforeseen difficulties. They were pagans and unruly, and constantly harassed the Hungarian population, whose sympathy they soon lost. Public exasperation with the Cumanians (Kuns) worked itself to such a pitch that King Béla thought it wise to bring King Kuthen and his family to the Royal Court for personal protection. Béla had good reason for his reluctance to punish the Kuns: he did not want to alienate a potential ally. However, the Hungarian people suspected that the Kuns were actually a fifth column sent ahead by the Tartars to cause trouble. Public opinion turned against King Béla IV, who found himself isolated just when he most needed unity.

A Breakthrough Across the Carpathians

Signaling that the country was in mortal danger, Béla, following an ancient custom, had a bloodstained sword carried around the land, calling the nobility to arms. The alarm did not bring about its desired effect until reports came that the Tartars had crossed the Carpathians with ease, and the Palatine, Dénes Tomaj, had almost lost his life in the first encounter with the enemy.

The unexpected ease with which the Tartars broke through the Carpathians stunned the Magyars. They believed that the mountain passes were impenetrable, especially since they had erected enormous barriers of huge rocks and the felled trees of whole forests. Against an ordinary enemy these fortifications might have been adequate, but the Tartars were more, much more, than an ordinary foe. Batu Khan, having received spy reports of the blocking of the passes, force fully recruited an advance "army" of 40,000 Slav woodcutters, who, working around the clock, had been able to clear a path through the "impenetrable" barrier within a few days.

The main body of the Tartar army under Batu's leadership entered the country through the Verecke Pass while other contingents swarmed through the Transylvanian passes towards the Great Hungarian Plain (Alföld). By the end of March, 1241, the swift Tartar horsemen had already reached Pest after destroying every town and village on the way. The sky was red from the flames of the burning houses left in their wake.

At the most critical moment, Hungarian troops captured a Tartar soldier, who turned out to be a Kun. Not realizing that the unfortunate Kun had been captured earlier by the Tartars and forced to join the Tartar troops, the Hungarians believed that their fears that the Kuns were Tartar infiltrators had been justified. Enraged, they launched a murderous assault on the Kun King Kuthen and his entourage at Court. The Kuns, in turn, became furious over the death of their king, and defected en masse. Some went over to the Tartars, while the great majority left the country southward, leaving a wake of vengeful destruction. With their dramatic departure, King Béla's last hope for a Hungarian-Kun alliance against the Tartars was gone.

Under such circumstances the "moment of truth" was quickly approaching for the Hungarian king, whose army had grown to the considerable strength of 60.000 to 65,000 men.

Disaster on Muhi Puszta

From a military point of view it would have been fascinating to observe a clash between the Tartars and the Hungarian Army - if the latter had still been using the equipment and tactics of the Árpád era. In such a case the Tartars probably would have met their match, with the outcome questionable. However, the Hungarian forces of Béla IV, now fully Westernized and clad in heavy armor, were no more a match for the swift-riding, unending waves of Tartars than the armies of western Europe had been against the early Magyars.

In early April 1241, King Béla started moving his troops against the invaders. Surprised by the Magyars' numerical strength, Batu Khan decided to retreat in order to gather his scattered forces and select an advantageous battle-ground. He found a hilly area encircled by the rivers Tisza, Hernád and

Sajó commanding the flats of Muhi Puszta (Plain of Muhi).

Hungarian forces arriving at the scene had to pitch camp on the land left to them - the Plain of Muhi, where they were sitting ducks for the Tartars hiding in the surrounding hills. The many thousands of mail-clad Hungarian horsemen were confined to a crowded camp, tent on tent, their movements greatly restricted. A ring of heavy wagons serving as stockades prevented them from forming a line of battle quickly.

"Victory will be ours, because the Magyars are crowded like sheep in a pen!" exclaimed Batu Khan when he saw the Hungarian camp from his headquarters overlooking Muhi. To fulfill his prophecy he decided to lead the charge himself and take the enemy by surprise.

The next morning before sunrise, the Tartars showered the Hungarian tents with arrows just as the Magyars were awakening. In the narrow confines they were unable to get into battle formation. Some, such as Ugrin, the Archbishop of Kalocsa, and the Superior of the Knights Templar attempted to resist. They opened a counterattack across a bridge, but both were killed. In the ensuing chaos the Hungarian army was almost completely annihilated without even having a chance to fight an ordinary battle. But, again, the Tartars were anything but an ordinary foe.

The Hungarians' only "success" on that fateful day was a negative one: the escape of King Béla IV, made possible by a heroic act of self-sacrifice. A loyal follower donned the king's battle colors, enabling the real king, protected by a small bodyguard, to escape. The king's party rode three days and three nights to evade capture. This heroic ruse saved not only the king's life, but also Hungary's existence in the long run.

For the time being King Béla IV became a refugee, as did his people, most of whom hid in marshes and forests where they languished in misery, awaiting the hour of deliverance. That hour appeared deceptively soon, in the form of a Tartar trick. The Tartars, using the king's official seal which they had found on the Muhi plain after the battle, sent messages throughout the country calling the peasants to harvest their crops. Many thousands gullibly obeyed the call, only to be massacred by the enemy after the harvest was gathered.

Taking advantage of the hard winter of 1241-42, the Tartars crossed the frozen Danube after desperate Magyar attempts to break the ice with axes along the shoreline on the Hungarian side had failed. As the Tartars crossed the Danube, Transdanubia suffered the same fate as the other parts of the country. Still, there were pockets of resistance, like the Abbey of Pannonhalma, located on a hill, that successfully withstood the Tartars' onslaughts.

The Fate of the Refugee King

Meanwhile,. King Béla IV fled to his former friend, Duke Frederick of Austria, asking for his help. But instead of aid he met with treachery in the form of extortion: Béla was forced to hand over to his "host" all the treasures of Hungary which had been saved. Adding insult to injury, the Austrian Duke also pressured Béla to cede him three frontier counties of Hungary. Years later Frederick paid dearly for his perfidy.

One episode of the Tartar invasion will long be remembered as a pursuit unequaled in the history of warfare: the relentless Tartar search for King Béla IV. Continuing the pursuit that had begun immediately after Béla's escape from Muhi, the Tartar chief Kadan led thousands of his horsemen across the Danube, hard on the heels of Béla and his entourage, as he fled toward Dalmatia. At times the distance between the pursuers and their target was only a few miles, but the king always managed to evade capture. To cut off the king's escape route, he led his troops through the wild and barren mountain ranges of Monoszla and Zrin in Croatia which were thought to be insurmountable by armed forces. According to old chronicles, the Slavs tending their goats and sheep in the mountain became panic-stricken and could scarcely believe their eyes when Kadan's "mounted demons" emerged from nowhere and seemed to fly across the prohibitive terrain which, until then, had never seen four-footed animals other than goats and sheep.

Kadan and his troops performed miracles in the chase, but success eluded them. Still. they kept after their target like madmen. laying waste to city after city until they reached the spot where the island fortress of Trau faces the shores of the Adriatic Sea a few hundred yards from the coastline. It was there that they finally were able to set their eyes - but not their hands - on the king. He was so close, and yet so far. The King with his entourage was sitting on the deck of a ship shielded from the Tartars' arrows, but not from their shouts. This dramatic confrontation is colorfully described in a book entitled The Yellow Storm by Sándor Makkai, a noted Hungarian novelist. (The passage describing this event is included at the end of this chapter)

That was almost the final episode of the tatárjárás, which would have continued had not an unforeseen event saved Hungary from complete annihilation: the Chief Khan, Ogotaj, Emperor of the Mongols, died suddenly in Karakorum, Asia. Batu Khan, who hoped to succeed him, immediately ordered his

troops to withdraw from Hungary and return to Asia. But before they did so, many thousands of Hungarian prisoners met their personal Doomsday when, as a parting gesture Mongol-style, Batu Khan ordered their wholesale execution.

Béla IV, the "Miracle King"

After the 'Yellow Storm" subsided, King Béla returned immediately to Hungary. His ravaged land had been reduced to ashes and at least half of the population had been exterminated. In most cities, like Pest and Vác, not a single house remained habitable. Starvation and pestilence threatened those who remained alive, hidden in caves and forests. To make things worse, an invasion of locusts devoured whatever was left in the fields.

Father Rogerius, an eyewitness who, having escaped Tartar captivity, lived through these terrible times in outlying forests, gave a harrowing account of the wholesale murder and devastation committed by the Tartars in his Carmen Miserabile. One example: Tartar children used Magyar children as living targets in archery competition. No wonder that rumors reaching the West reported that, after 350 years of existence, the Hungarian Kingdom had been wiped off the map of Europe.

These reports were exaggerated, but if ever a miracle was needed to save Hungary from extinction, this was the time.

And King Béla IV was the man chosen by Providence to perform such a miracle. The way he had eluded Tartar captivity had been a miracle in itself.

Béla undertook the work of reconstruction without delay. He reassembled the scattered population, and created new settlements by inviting people from the neighboring countries - Poles, Slovaks and a small number of Wlachs - to replace, at least partially, the Magyars killed in the tatárjárás. In retrospect, the invitation sent to the 'Wlachs (today's Rumanians) to settle in the country has proved to be a move of grave consequence. Multiplying fast, centuries later they claimed Transylvania - the region they settled in great numbers - as ancestral Rumanian territory.

King Béla provided the peasants with corn and also cattle brought in from abroad for breeding. Towns were rebuilt, many of them surrounded by walls. He made peace with the nobles and encouraged them to build strongholds, since experience had shown that fortresses were able to withstand Tartar onslaughts. The remains of many fortresses throughout the Carpathian Basin still stand as silent memorials to these defensive efforts. Years of blood, sweat and arduous toil finally restored order and peace in the land. In the true tradition of the Árpáds, he welcomed even the Kuns, their former enemies, as foreign settlers, after a much needed reconciliation.

Unbelievable as it may sound, six years after the battle of Muhi, Hungary was at war again, this time of its own volition. By 1247, King Béla felt his army to be strong enough to settle his account with his friend - turned - extortionist, Duke Frederick of Austria. The Duke, reluctant to return Hungary's treasures and the counties ceded to him by Béla under duress, ended by paying much more dearly: with his life, lost in a battle against Béla. Her lands and prestige restored, Hungary stood once again as the strongest power in Central Europe and King Béla IV went down in history as "the second builder of the Hungarian Kingdom."

As bad as the Tartar invasion was, it did produce for Hungary a notable gain: a Saint. At the height of the Mongol onslaught Béla's wife was pregnant. In religious fervor she made a vow to offer the child still in her womb to God's service. if only Hungary were saved from extinction. The child who was born was a girl, whom her parents named Margaret (Margit). In 1254 at the early age of twelve Margit joined the Dominican Order. Later rejecting two royal suitors, she pledged a solemn vow in 1261, and embarked upon an arduous life of service, mortifying her flesh to atone for the sins of others, performing menial work and serving her fellow nuns. Margit died at the age of twenty-nine, in the island convent built by her royal parents, where she was buried. Legends soon sprang up about Princess Margit's life, and later miracles were attributed to her intercession. Margit - beatified immediately after her death - was canonized almost seven centuries later, in 1943.

The island where St. Margit spent her short life is in the Danube where it flows through the heart of Budapest. Before Margit's time it was known as the Island of the Hares, but shortly after her death it was renamed Margit's Island (Margitsziget) as a sign of the special place she holds in Hungarian hearts.

Margit's father, King Béla IV, lived to see his sixtieth year, an unusually long life among the kings of the Árpád dynasty. During the twenty-eight years of his rule the country flourished, so much so that twenty years after the Tartar invasion there were more cities in Hungary than before.

Béla IV was the last strong king of the House of the Árpáds.

We're Going Home

From the novel: The Yellow Storm by Sándor Makkai

Kádán first swooped down on KIissza and, in total disregard of the laws of nature, he forced his horses to rival the eagles and fly to the top of the cliff. The little horses did their best, and though they were swept back again and again by the avalanche of stones the defenders of the fortress hurled on them, they wouldn't give up the impossible struggle. They even reached a few huts huddled on tiny shelters along the cliffs of the fortress hill. The Mongols threw the rubble from the abandoned hovels down into the abyss as though they were swallows' nests. Still they couldn't reach the fortress.

Convinced that the king and his family were hiding on top of this enormous point of a needle, Kádán tried madly to do the impossible. His only stroke of luck was that he heard reliable news of the futility of the frenzied endeavor - neither the king nor any of his relatives were in Klissza. He rushed on, fuming like a wild boar, and fell on Spalato.

Seeing the troops rushing down the mountain, the refugees who had taken shelter outside the city thought they were a band of Croatian robbers. However, the disabled who had seen battle quickly recognized the terrifying banners of the Mongols and limping. falling, jumping up, clambering all over each other in their eagerness to reach the gate, shouted that everyone must run for their lives, the Tartars were coming.

Even those who managed to get inside the gate rushed about madly, wailing that all was in vain, no one would escape bitter death.

Those who were left outside perished beyond help at the hands of the wild Mongols, who had lost all traces of humanity in their rage at their failures and especially the fiasco at KIissza.

They didn't spare even those terrifying lepers who displayed their sores trying to make the Mongols understand that they were neither soldiers nor Hungarians.

In spite of everything, the city itself escaped destruction because Kádán found out that the king was not there... He made do with trampling everything he found bloody and grinding it to ashes, then like a whirlwind galloped off to Trau at breakneck speed.

The king. accompanied by his family, nobles and relatives, boarded the two galleys of the Brebirs where they watched as Kádán's messenger, interpreted by a Croatian prisoner, shouted to the sentries on the walls to hand over the king and all those with him. They would be spared if they did so, but if they did not, the Great Lord's wrath would grind them into the dust.

The king ordered the soldiers to give no answer. They just shook their spears at him, defying him to try. But Kádán, apparently, thought otherwise. Flying with his troops beneath the city, they swarmed all over the length of the seacoast and Kádán himself crazily drove his horse into the slime of the sea and swam for the galleys. Rolling his eyes and barking like a dog, he shook his fists at them. Several of his chieftains threw themselves into the water after him.

The king. standing with arms folded at the bow of the ship, looked at this mad determination silently and gravely.

"Shall we shoot, Milord?" grunted the captain of the Brebirian archers behind him as the Mongol chief and his men were approaching bow shot distance.

But the king, motionless, called back:

"No! Wait!"

With sincere amazement, he watched this peculiar barbarian who wanted to show that he would not give up the purpose for which he was sent, up to the last minute. It was the first time he had ever seen a royal Mongolian this close and a strange feeling surged through him. He could not deny it, admiration and respect were mixed with them. It was a terrible power and determination which, seeing its own inadequacy and wanting to surpass it, banged its head obstinately against the cliff of "no further." This force, even though it wasn't victorious now, bode ill for the future. This man would return again and again until he drew breath no more and with the spinning of time would thirst for his blood with growing lust.

This is what the king saw in Kádán's fury. Not for anything would he have allowed his soldiers to respond to this great message with arrows.

The little Asian horse foundered in the sea at the last of its strength. Only its pricked ears and muzzle thrust up again and again bobbed on the water's surface. Its rider had sunk to his shoulders, but he shook his fists savagely at the king and shouted something, his eyes turned up, the whites showing, foaming at the mouth. Perhaps, it was: "I shall return!..."

The little horse neighed with a sound like a human cry, its head sank under the waves and its long mane stretched over the sea. This is when the Mongol chieftains who had swum after Kádán grabbed and dragged their leader back toward the shore with amazing self-sacrifice. Kádán's horse had rolled over on its back, dragging one of the men out of his saddle. A whirlpool could be seen for a few moments and then both man and animal disappeared for good.

Another Mongol put his arm around Kádán and dragged him with one arm, lifting him up under the shoulder with terrible effort, while he beat his horse's head with the other fist, furiously spurring it under the water.

The Mongol prince, in turn, pummelled him with his fists as if he couldn't forgive him for trying to rescue him.

Again he threw his head back, uttering imprecations at the royal galleys.

Finally, with increasing numbers of reinforcements, they dragged him to the shore at the sacrifice of the death of three men, and galloped off with him.

That day the Trauians saw no enemies. The entire army withdrew among the cliffs. But the king strictly forbade anyone to go after them. He knew the Mongols' tactics and didn't want to walk into a trap.

A day and night full of anxiety followed. Then another. And a third. Still, the Mongols did not appear.

Móric Pók asked his king to let him steal out of the city and find out what they wanted.

"If God has kept you by my side this long, I don't want to lose you now!" said the king.

"My vow binds me as long as I breathe!" answered Móric.

Finally, the king agreed.

The days that followed were even more difficult. The Mongols did not appear; unfortunately. neither did Móric. The king almost began to think he would never see him again. The guards were exhausted from the deadly, tense waiting day and night.

But on the sixth day Móric came back.

He brought astonishing news. Kádán's army had rushed off, attacking helpless communities. but then turned toward the east and finally left the dominions of the Hungarian king.

The peasants claimed that a messenger had come to him from beyond the Drava river and brought the command to return to Asia. But Móric did not believe this so easily; he followed the army for days at the risk of his own life. when finally he was convinced of the truth of it.

The news that the Mongol invasion was over was carried by the wind from Trau to all places where Hungarian refugees huddled anxiously. The pealing of bells could be heard perhaps the world over; they tolled, rang and exulted, taking wing from the laughing and crying of the people. That Heaven heard it is certain. In the hearts of the people who looked to the sky echoed the music and songs of the angels...

At the same time, the king felt great peace and gratitude. This whirlwind of the yellow hurricane had consumed itself. The destruction it wreaked was terrible, but it had taught a lesson to be remembered forever. God stood behind it with raised finger as a warning never to be presumptuous and overconfident, but to work for the future with all one's strength. But the time of grace allotted by Heaven was over and he wondered if he and his people would be allowed to show whether they deserved to live or die...

Stephen Sisa : The Spirit of Hungary