There also was the powerful Yendrek of Brohotsitse, who, when he had broken his sword on the head of a Knight who had an owl's face on his shield, and a visor in the form of an owl's head, seized him by the arm, crushed him, and snatching the man's sword, took his life from him with it immediately. He also seized the young Knight Dünnheim, whom, seeing without a helmet, he had not the heart to kill; being almost a child, Dünnheim looked at him with the eyes of a child. Yendrek threw him, therefore, to his attendants, not thinking that he had taken a son-in-law, for that young knight afterward married his daughter and remained thenceforth in Poland.
Now the Germans pressed on with rage, wishing to rescue young Dünnheim, who came of a wealthy family of counts on the Rhine, but the knights before the banner, Sumik and two brothers from Plomykov, and Dobko Okwia, and Zyh Pykna, pushed them back, as a lion pushes back a bull, and pressed them toward the banner of Saint George, spreading destruction and ruin among them.
With the knightly guests fought the royal household regiment, which was led by Tsiolek of Zelihov. There Povala of Tachev overturned men and horses with his preterhuman strength, and crushed steel helmets as if they had been eggshells. He struck a whole crowd alone; and with him went Leshko of Goray, also another Povala, of Vyhuch, and Mstislav of Skrynev, and two Bohemians, Sokol and Zbislavek. Long did the struggle last here, for three German regiments fell on that single one; but when Yasko of Tarnov came with the 27th regiment to assist, the forces were more or less equal, and the Germans were driven back almost half the shot of a crossbow from the point where the first encounter had happened.
But they were hurled still farther by the great Cracow regiment, which Zyndram himself brought, and at the head of which among the men before the banner went the most formidable of all Poles, Zavisha Charny. At his side fought his brother Farurey, and Florian Yelitchyk, and Skarbek. Under the terrible hand of Zavisha valiant men perished, as if in that black armor death were advancing in person to meet them. He fought with frowning brow and distended nostrils, calm, attentive, as if performing some ordinary labor; at times he moved his shield slightly, warded off blows, but at each flash of his sword the terrible cry of a stricken man gave answer, while he did not even
