Page:Sienkiewicz - The knights of the cross.djvu/779

This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
THE KNIGHTS OF THE CROSS.
341

At this, Matsko's face contracted ominously, and it became, as was usual on such occasions, exactly like a wolf's face.

"Kuno Lichtenstein," said he, "I will not raise a sword on a disarmed man, but I tell thee this: If thou refuse me battle, I will command to hang thee with a rope, like a dog."

"I have no choice. Come out!" cried the grand comtur.

"To the death, not to captivity," forewarned Matsko.

"To the death!"

And after a while, they fought in presence of the German and Polish knights. Kuno was younger and more adroit, but Matsko surpassed so much in strength of arms and legs his opponent that in the twinkle of an eye, he brought him to the ground, and pressed his breast with his knee.

The comtur's eyes turned in his head with terror.

"Spare!" groaned he, throwing out foam and saliva from his lips.

"No!" answered the implacable Matsko.

And putting the misericordia to the neck of his opponent, he thrust it in twice.

Kuno coughed dreadfully; a wave of blood burst through his lips, death quivers shook his body, then he stretched and the great pacifier of knights put him to rest forever.

The battle became now a pursuit and a slaughter. Whoso would not surrender perished. There were many battles and conflicts in the world during those centuries, but no man remembered a defeat so dreadful. Before the king had fallen, not only the Order of the Cross, but all the Germans who as the most brilliant knighthood assisted that "Teutonic vanguard," which was eating more and more deeply into the Slav body. Of about seven hundred "white mantles," who as leaders went before that Germanic deluge, there remained barely fifteen. More than forty thousand bodies (of the Knights of the Cross and guests) lay on that blood-stained field in endless sleep. The various banners which as late as midday waved over that immense army of the Order had all fallen into the bloody and victorious hands of the Poles, not a single banner was saved; and now the Polish and Lithuanian knights threw them down at the feet of Yagello, who, raising his pious eyes heavenward, repeated with emotion,—