But he had never lost sight of Bogdanets. To Lithuania he went with the hope that after he had grown rich from booty he would return in time to redeem the land, settle it with captives, rebuild the castle, and fix in it Zbyshko. Now, after the happy escape of the youth, he was thinking of this and counselling with him concerning it at the house of the merchant, Amyley.
They had something with which to redeem the land. From booty, and ransoms which knights taken captive by them had paid, and from the gifts of Vitold, they had collected supplies which were rather considerable. Especially large was the profit which that battle to the death against the two Frisian knights had brought them. The armor alone which they had taken formed a real fortune in that period; besides armor they took wagons, horses, servants, clothing, money, and a whole rich military outfit. The merchant Amyley purchased much of that booty, and among other things two pieces of wonderful Frisian cloth which the provident and wealthy knights had brought with them in the wagons.
Matsko had sold also the costly armor, thinking that in view of near death it would be of no use to him. The armorer who bought it sold it the next day to Martsin of Vrotsimovitse with considerable profit, since armor of Milan was esteemed above all other armor on earth at that period. Zbyshko regretted the armor with his whole soul.
"If God return health to you," said he to his uncle, "where will you find another such?"
"Where I found that,—on a German," answered Matsko. "But I shall not escape death. The iron broke in my ribs, and the fragment remained in me. By plucking at it, and trying to drag it out with my nails. I pushed it in the more deeply; and now there is no cure for me."
"If you would drink a pot or two of bear's fat!"
"Yes. Father Tsybek also says that that would be well, for perhaps the fragment might slip out in some way. But how can I get it here? In Bogdanets we should only need to take an axe and watch one night under a bee-hive."
"Then we must go to Bogdanets. Only, you must not die on the road."
Old Matsko looked with a certain tenderness on his nephew.
"I know where thou wishest to go,—to the court of Prince Yanush, or to Yurand of Spyhov, to attack Germans of Helmno."
