The Knights of the Cross/Volume 1/Chapter 12
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CHAPTER XII. After the conversation with Zbyshko, Yagenka did not show herself for three days in Bogdanets. Only on the third day did she drop in with the news that the abbot had come to her father's. Matsko received the news with a certain emotion. He had, it is true, something with which to pay the amount of the mortgage, and even had calculated that enough would remain to increase the number of settlers, and introduce herds and other things needful in management; still in the whole affair much depended on the good-will of the wealthy relative who could, for example, take away the men settled by him in the clearings, or leave them, and by that act decrease or heighten the value of the property. Matsko, therefore, made very minute inquiries of Yagenka touching the abbot. In what mood had he come? Was he gladsome, or gloomy? What had he said of them, and when would he visit Bogdanets? Yagenka answered his questions wisely, trying to strengthen and calm him on every point. She said that the abbot had arrived in good health and spirits, with a considerable retinue, in which, besides armed attendants, were some wandering clerics and choristers; that he was singing with Zyh, and was glad to lend his ear not only to hymns, but to worldly melodies. She remarked also, that he had inquired with great attention about Matsko, and had listened eagerly to Zyh's narratives of Zbyshko's adventures in Cracow. "Ye yourselves know better what to do," said the shrewd girl, at last; "but I think that it would be well for Zbyshko to go at once and greet the elder relative, without waiting for him to come first to Bogdanets." This advice struck Matsko, and convinced him; hence he commanded to call Zbyshko, and said,— "Array thyself nicely, and go to embrace the feet of the abbot, show him honor, so that he also may be gracious to thee." Then he turned to Yagenka: "Even wert thou simple, I should not wonder, for thou art a woman, but because thou hast wit I admire thee. Tell me how to entertain the abbot best, and how to please him when he comes hither." "As to eating, he will tell himself what he relishes. He likes to eat well, but if there is plenty of saffron it will not hurt!" When he heard this Matsko seized his head. "Where shall I find saffron for him?" "I have brought some," said Yagenka. "God grant that such girls be born on stones!" cried Matsko, delighted. "And to the eye they are dear, and good housekeepers, and wise, and pleasant to people. Oh, if I were young, I would take thee this minute!" Yagenka glanced now an instant at Zbyshko, and, sighing in silence, said,— "I have brought also dice and a cup and a cloth, for after every meal he likes to amuse himself with dice." "He had this custom before, but therewith he was very quick-tempered." "He is quick-tempered now; often he throws the cup to the ground, and rushes out through the door to the field. But afterward he comes back smiling, and is the first to blame his own anger—besides you know him; only do not oppose, and there is no better man in the world." "But who would oppose him, since he has more mind than others?" They were conversing in this way while Zbyshko was dressing in his room. He came out at last so fine-looking that Yagenka was dazzled, just as she had been when first he came in his "white jacket" to her father's house. But now deep sorrow possessed her at the thought that that beauty of his was not for her, and that he loved another. Matsko was glad, for he believed that the abbot would be pleased with Zbyshko, and would raise no difficulty in bargaining. He was even pleased so much at this thought that he decided to go himself. "Command to get the wagon ready," said he to Zbyshko. "I was able to ride hither from Cracow with iron between my ribs, I can go now without iron to Zyh's house." "Unless you faint on the road," said Yagenka. "Ei, nothing will happen me, for I feel strength in myself. And even if I should faint a little, the abbot will know how I hurried to him, and will show himself the more bountiful." "Your health is dearer to me than his bounty," said Zbyshko. But Matsko was determined and insisted on his own way. He groaned on the road somewhat, but did not cease to tell Zbyshko how he must bear himself; especially did he enjoin on him obedience and humility in presence of the rich relative, who never endured the least opposition. On reaching Zyh's "court" they found him and the abbot on the porch looking out at God's serene universe and drinking wine. Behind, on a bench near the wall, sat six attendants in a row, among them two choristers and one pilgrim, whom it was easy to distinguish by his curved staff, by the bag at his girdle, and by the shells worked on his dark mantle. The others looked like clerics, for they had shaven crowns, but they wore the dress of laymen, they were girded with oxhide, and had swords at their sides. At sight of Matsko in the wagon, Zyh went out quickly; but the abbot, mindful as it seemed of his spiritual dignity, remained in his seat, only he began to speak to his clerics, some more of whom came out through the open door of the front room. Zbyshko and Zyh brought in the feeble Matsko, holding him by the arms. "I am a little weak yet," said Matsko, kissing the abbot's hand; "but I have come to bow down to you, my benefactor, to thank you for your management, and beg your blessing, which is needed most of all by a sinful man." "I have heard that you are better," said the abbot, pressing his head, "and that you have made a vow to the tomb of our late queen." "Not knowing to which saint I should turn, I betook myself to her." "You have done well!" cried the abbot, passionately; "she is better than others, and let any one dare to envy her!" And anger came to his face in one moment, his cheeks filled with blood, his eyes began to flash. Those present knew his irritability, so Zyh laughed, and cried,— "Strike, whoso believes in God!" The abbot panted loudly, turned his eyes on all present, then laughed as suddenly as he had burst out before, and looking at Zbyshko inquired,— "This is your nephew, and my relative?" Zbyshko inclined, and kissed his hand. "I saw him when he was little; I should not have known him now. But show thyself!" He examined Zbyshko from head to foot, with quick eyes. "Too good-looking! A maiden, not a knight!" said he, at last. "The Germans took that maiden to dance," said Matsko; "but whoever took her fell, not to rise again," "And he bent a bow without a crank!" cried Yagenka, suddenly. "But what art thou doing here?" asked the abbot, turning to her. She blushed till her neck and ears were rosy, and said in great confusion,— "I saw him." "Have a care that he should not shoot thee perchance; thou wouldst need three-quarters to recover." At this the choristers, the pilgrim, and the "wandering clerics" burst into one immense laugh, from which Yagenka lost herself completely, so that the abbot took compassion on her, and, raising his arm, showed her the enormous sleeve of his robe. "Hide here, girl," said he, "for the blood will spurt from thy cheeks." Meanwhile Zyh seated Matsko on the bench, and commanded to bring wine, for which Yagenka hurried. The abbot turned his eyes to Zbyshko. "Enough of joking! " said he, "I compared thee to a girl, not to blame thee, but from pleasure at thy good looks, which more than one maiden might envy. I know that thou art a splendid fellow! I have heard of thy deeds at Vilno; I have heard of the Frisians, and of Cracow. Zyh has told me everything—dost understand!" Here he looked sharply into Zbyshko's eyes, and after a while said again,— "If thou hast vowed three peacock-plumes, find them, it is praiseworthy and pleasing to God to hunt down the enemies of our race; but if thou hast vowed something else in addition, know that while thou art waiting here I can absolve thee from those vows, for I have the power." "When a man has promised something in his soul to the Lord Jesus, what power can absolve him?" said Zbyshko. On hearing this, Matsko looked with a certain dread at the abbot; but evidently the abbot was in excellent humor, for, Instead of bursting into anger, he threatened Zbyshko joyously with his finger, and said,— "Ah, thou art a witling! See that that does not happen thee which happened the German, Beyhard." "And what happened him?" inquired Zyh. "They burned him at the stake." "Why?" "Because he said that a layman is just as well able to understand the secrets of God as a spiritual person." "They punished him severely!" "But justly!" thundered the abbot, "for he blasphemed against the Holy Ghost. What do ye think? Can a layman make any decisions as to God's secrets?" "He cannot in any way!" called the wandering clerics, in an agreeing chorus. "But ye 'playmen' sit quietly," said the abbot; "for ye are no clerics, though ye have shaven crowns." "We are not thy playmen nor indigents, but the attendants of your grace," answered one of them, looking that moment at a great pitcher from which at a distance came the odor of hops and malt. "See! he talks as if from a barrel!" cried the abbot. "Hei, thou bearded! Why look at the pitcher? Thou wilt not find Latin at the bottom of it." "I am not looking for Latin, but beer which I cannot find." The abbot turned then to Zbyshko, who was gazing at those attendants with wonder, and said,— "All these are 'clerici scholares,' though each one would prefer to fling his book away, seize a lute and wander through the world with it. I have taken them all in and feed them, for what can I do? They are good-for-nothings, inveterate vagrants; but they know how to sing, and have picked up the divine liturgy a little, so in the church I find use for them, and defence in them when need comes, for some are resolute fellows. This pilgrim here says that he has been in the holy land; but it would be vain to ask him about any sea or land, for he does not know the name of the Greek emperor, or in what city he has his residence." "I knew," said the pilgrim, in a hoarse voice, "but when the fever shook me on the Danube, it shook everything out of me." "I wonder most at their swords," said Zbyshko; "for I have never seen such at any time with wandering clerics." "They are free to carry swords," replied the abbot; "for they are not consecrated, and that I bear a sword too at my side is no wonder. A year ago I challenged Vilk to trampled earth, for those forests through which you passed before reaching Bogdanets. He did not appear." "How was he to meet a spiritual person?" interrupted Zyh. At this the abbot grew excited, and, striking the table with his fist, he cried,— "When in armor I am not a priest, but a noble! And he did not appear, because he preferred to attack me at night with his attendants in Tulcha. That is why I carry a sword at my side! Omnes leges, omniaque iura vim vi repellere cunctisque sese defensare permittunt. (All laws, all rights, permit us all to defend ourselves with force against force.) That is why I have given them swords." When they heard the Latin, Zyh and Matsko and Zbyshko grew silent and bent their heads before the wisdom of the abbot, for not a man understood one word of it; he looked around a while longer with angry eyes, and said at last,— "Who knows that he will not attack me here?" "Oh, just let him come!" said the wandering clerics, grasping their sword hilts. "Let him attack! It is dreary for me too without a battle." "He will not attack," said Zyh; "he will come with obeisance and peace rather. He has renounced the forest; he is thinking now of his son—you understand. But there is no use in his waiting." Meanwhile the abbot was pacified, and said,— "I saw young Vilk drinking with Stan in the inn at Kresnia. They did not know us at first, for it was dark; besides they were talking of Yagenka." Here he turned to Zbyshko, "And of thee." "What did they want of me?" "They did not want anything; but it was not to their liking to find a third man in the neighborhood. This is how Stan spoke to Vilk: 'When I tan his skin he will not be pretty;' and Stan said: 'Maybe he will fear us; if not, I will break his bones in a twinkle!' Then both declared that thou wouldst be afraid." When Matsko heard this, he looked at Zyh, Zyh at him, and their faces took on a cunning and delighted expression. Neither felt sure as to whether the abbot had really heard such conversation, or had invented it only to prick Zbyshko. Both understood, but especially Matsko, who knew Zbyshko well, that there was no better way in the world to push him to Yagenka. "And indeed they are deadly fellows!" added the abbot, as if purposely. Zbyshko did not betray anything on his face, but he asked Zyh, with a kind of strange voice,— "Will to-inorrow be Sunday?" "Sunday." "Shall you go to holy mass?" "Yes." "Whither to Kresnia?" "Yes, for it is nearer. Where should we go?" "Very well, we shall go!"
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