Miklós Bánffy - They Were Found Wanting

The hare that was put up down by the river was a real St Hubert’s Day hare who clearly knew what was required of him. After showing himself several times on the crest of the hill — where the ladies could get a good glimpse of the hunt — he allowed himself to be caught after only twenty-five minutes of the chase. This, everyone agreed, was most considerate of him since it was time for the luncheon that had been prepared for them all at the Hubertus House.

The kill took place at a bend in the valley just beyond the last crest of the hills; and then, after the ‘worry-worry’ when the hounds had devoured the dead hare, most of the riders trotted back to the road to rejoin the ladies. Not the Master, however. Knowing the dangers of bringing a pack of hounds among such a crowd of horsemen, he took them off to drink at a spring on the hillside and then led them back to the crest of the hill, whence he could take them quietly back to their kennels.

A small band of riders stayed with him. These were Tisza and the two Whips; Abady, Farkas Alvinczy, Bogacsy, the retired major, and, of course, the two Laczok boys who would rather have died than miss a moment of their first hunt.

They were crossing a meadow at a slow trot and the hounds were widely spread out because it was unlikely that they would find here as they were riding through fields where the horses were always being taken for exercise.

Everyone was surprised, therefore, when a hare suddenly sprang out from behind a diminutive blackthorn bush.

The pack howled its delight and raced in pursuit. However, this was no young animal like the first quarry, but rather a huge meadow hare, strong and experienced, who had been chased by farm guard-dogs for several summers. He was in magnificent shape, well-muscled and gleaming with health; and as he ran it was clear that as yet he was not even in much of a hurry. With his great ears pricking backward and forward as he ran he made a few playful leaps as if to tell his pursuers he knew he could outdistance them all. Disdaining the usual advantage of racing uphill, he turned back to the north and sped away down the valley.

And so started one of the greatest runs of that season or any other.

The riders galloped gently across the soft meadow-grass. In a few moments they were down in the valley and there, clearly visible, was the great hare running smoothly up the hill on the other side.

The most notable feature of the Zsuk hunting grounds was that, though to the north the slopes were gentle and the fields rich and productive, on the southern side were steep cliffs with outcrops of bare rock emerging from the yellowing clay-skids. This was the chosen escape route of the quarry and with his long muscular hind legs he overcame all its difficulties so that he was already disappearing over the crest before the pack of harriers were barely one third of the way up the hillside.

Even so the hounds were naturally faster then the horses who, with the often considerable weight of their riders, needed to be carefully nurtured at this hazardous start to what promised to be a long run. The Master arrived at the summit soon after the pack and there he was joined by the rest of the field, some of whom rode up at a gentle canter while the others, more cautiously, took the hillside at a trot. When the Master arrived it was clear that the first of the hounds, which were the youngest and strongest and also, of course, the least experienced, had lost the scent and were nosing around in all directions and wagging their tails with excitement. Then there arrived the old lead-hound Toss-it-up and he, with years of experience behind him, hardly had his nose to the ground when he picked up the scent, let out a howl of delight, and raced off down the opposite side of the hill with the rest of the pack in full cry behind him. Again the hunt raced downhill.

However there were three hounds which did not hear the call as they were still searching some thorn bushes below the summit. From above Gazsi caught sight of them and spurred Honeydew again down the slippery clay slope. This the mare clearly did not like and although she did as she was told she showed her disapproval by quickly turning a full circle on the twenty-degree slope, as if she were executing a quick waltz, and found time to buck at the same moment. It was one of her party tricks on bad ground. Most other horses would have lost their footing with such a caper and if they had not fallen themselves at least got shot of their rider. But Honeydew was a marvellous creature and Kadacsay an excellent horsemen.

Quite unperturbed by Honeydew’s eccentric prancing Gazsi had no sooner reached the lost hounds than he was cracking his whip, calling to them and leading them swiftly back up the hill at a fast canter before hurling himself forward to rejoin the rest of the pack.

Now they were all off at a dizzying pace. And this was not only because these Transylvanian-bred harriers, unlike their counterparts in England who were not known for speed, had become as fast as deer-hounds, but also because the hilly Zsuk country exacted a rather special technique of sparing the horses when going uphill but letting them take the sharp descents at a full gallop. This was the only way that the riders could keep up with the hounds, and both riders and horses had to learn what to do if they wanted to keep up — in old Hungarian hunting parlance to shincoraz , which came from the French chien-courant.

And so it was for the whole run. Down at full gallop, up gently. Down again, up again. Down, up; down, up; down, up — in a straight line like a Roman road.

The hounds streamed out behind the leader like a bouquet of yellow and white flowers. Only Kadacsay kept close behind the Master, while Tisza and Balint followed at a respectable distance so as not to crowd the pack. Kozma stayed behind them and Akos Alvinczy and Major Bogacsy a hundred yards behind them. Lastly came the Laczok boys whose two stallions, though excellent mounts, were somewhat slow and arrived at the crest of each hill just as the rest of the field were already behind the hounds at the bottom of the succeeding dip.

The weather now grew misty and it was difficult to see far ahead. As a result they could only rarely catch a glimpse of the hare. Even so they knew they were on the right track since Toss-it-up was leading the pack in full voice and he had never been known to make a mistake.

‘I’m sure the hounds have switched to a fox!’ Gazsi called out joyfully to Abady. ‘Such a miracle hare can’t exist!’ and to regain his place as chief Whipper-in he spurred his new thoroughbred up the hillside at the speed of a hurdle-race. Honeydew responded at once, eager and fresh, and quite unperturbed, heedless of the spurs. It was clear that she revelled in these long runs.

After a steep run downhill the bed of the valley and the river became wider. It was a place, called ‘Borsa’ from the hillside above it, where the banks were made of boggy mud and the water too wide to jump. Balint crossed by an old bridge but Gazsi lost time looking for a shallow fording place.

The Borsa hill was one of the highest in the district. Its sides were deeply eroded and in places very steep indeed. When the first riders arrived at the bottom of the hill they found that even the hounds had had to spread out among the little bushes that were all that grew on that bare earth. Even so they did not have to wait, for the pack soon found the scent again and as the first four horsemen dug their spurs in to take the slope without drawing breath, the hare, who had stopped running for a moment, jumped up just ahead of the lead-hound.