Although the Hungarian government had captured almost everyone inside and outside Budapest during the battles that came before, Hungary as a whole—the Lands of the Crown of Saint Stephen—still had a population of thirteen million.
Besides, there were still roughly fifty thousand Hungarians in the Austrian Empire's army. If they could return to Budapest or rise up in various parts of the Austrian Empire—
Kossuth remained full of hope for Hungary's future, and his followers grew ever more fanatical.
But Petofi found the man before him increasingly unfamiliar. Before, he had only doubted the Hungarian government's righteousness. Now, he even doubted the righteousness of this war.
Bell Tower, by Petofi.
"The greatest enemy hides among us,
Those vile brothers who betray their country,
One man can undo the efforts of ten million,
Like a drop of poison in a cup of wine.
Only by purging the enemy within
Can we defeat the enemy at our gates!
Now I shall lay down my lute,
Run to the bell tower, and ring the alarm."
In the end, the great poet was imprisoned for alluding to the great Hungarian government. Three days later, Petofi died in his cell for reasons unknown. The alarm bell was never rung.
But perhaps death was a release. At least he did not have to witness his ideals crumble.
Meanwhile, the ancient city of Košice, on the eastern stretch of the Hornád River near the Hungarian border, was ringing its alarm bells loud and clear.
"The Hungarians are back!"
The man in the bell tower cried out, his voice thick with fear.
In no time, the once fairly bustling streets stood empty.
The people fled home and barred their doors and windows, afraid to show their faces. Some shops didn't even have time to put away their wares,