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Like his relatives, Albrecht Duerer the elder was born in the kingdom of Hungary, in a little village named Eytas, situated not far from a little town called Gyula, eight miles below Grosswardein; and his kindred made their living from horses and cattle. My father's father was called Anton Duerer; he came as a lad to a goldsmith in the said little town and learnt the craft under him.
The confiscated gold of Fatia Negra is still at Gyula Fehérvár, as a forfeit to the crown, and, sooner or later, must be sent to Vienna. Fatia Negra is not dead, his robber band has not been captured and does not sit in irons at Gyula Fehérvár, and the present tranquillity and imagined security suit their plans nicely.
The band now pretends to have vanished, but just you wait till the gold is sent under convoy from Gyula Fehérvár to Vienna and you will see some fun." "How do you know that?"
"Well, all I can say is that I do not understand what you have to do with this worthy man." The falsely coined gold pieces deposited at Gyula Fehérvár, had, after the trial was over, to be sent to Hungary to be recoined. The precious consignment filled two post-wagons and was of the estimated value of a million and a half. Four and twenty Uhlans were told off to escort it.
I had it from Hátszegi himself who was the president of the mixed commission that tried them, and signed the judgment himself. The whole fraternity is now sitting in chains in the trenches of Gyula Fehérvár and we have seen the last of it." "What guarantee have you of that?" "What guarantee? why the security of the whole region ever since.
Besides, it is a great mistake to resist him. Juon Tare actually had him in his hands, yet what was the result? He goes about now a blind beggar. Anicza betrayed him and brought down the soldiers upon him, yet what did she get by it? He vanished under the earth, but she reduced her old father to poverty and is now sitting with all her acquaintances in the dungeons of Gyula Fehervár!"
From Hidvár to Gyula Fehervár is a good day's journey, even with the best horses and in the best weather; in the rainy season the mountain streams make the journey still longer. Fortunately, exactly half-way lies the Mikalai csárdá, in which dwells a good honest Wallachian gentleman who also follows the profession of innkeeper.
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