The Knights of the Cross/Volume 2/Chapter 36

The Knights of the Cross (1918)
by Henryk Sienkiewicz, translated by Jeremiah Curtin
Volume II, Chapter XXXVI
Henryk Sienkiewicz1703406The Knights of the Cross — Volume II, Chapter XXXVI1918Jeremiah Curtin

CHAPTER XXXVI.

Though Hlava was hastening to Zgorzelitse he could not move so quickly as he wanted, for the road had grown immensely difficult. After a sharp winter and hard frosts, after snows so abundant that whole villages were hidden beneath them, great thaws came. February, in spite of its name Luty (Savage), did not turn out in the least degree savage. First rose dense and impenetrable fogs, then rains came which were almost downpours, rains from which the white drifts thawed before the eye. During intervals between downpours winds blew such as were usual in March, hence fitful and sudden,—winds which broke up and blew away swollen clouds in the sky; on the earth they whined through thickets, roared through forests, and devoured that snow under which just before limbs and branches were dreaming in the calm sleep of winter. On the fields the widely spread water wrinkled its surface, rivers and streams rose. Fish alone were delighted with such abundance of the fluid element; all other creatures, held as it were on a halter, hid in huts and houses. In many places the passage from village to village was possible in boats only. There was no lack, it is true, in swamps and forests of roads or dams made of beams and round logs, but the dams had grown soft, and the logs in low places had sunk in quagmires, so that passage over them was dangerous or quite impossible. Especially difficult for Hlava was the advance through Great Poland, which was full of lakes where the overflows were greater than in other parts, and travelling, particularly for horses, more difficult. He had to halt often, and wait entire weeks, either in small towns, or in villages with nobles who received him and his people hospitably, according to custom, glad to hear him tell of the Knights of the Cross, and to pay with bread and salt for the news which he gave them. Therefore spring had announced itself in the world distinctly and March had passed in greater part before he found himself near Zgorzelitse and Bogdanets.

Hlava's heart throbbed when he thought that he would soon see his lady, for though he knew that he would never win her, just as he would never win stars from the sky, he extolled and loved her with all the soul that was in him.

But he determined to go directly to Matsko, first because he was sent to him, and second because he was taking men who were to remain at Bogdanets. After Zbyshko had slain Rotgier he took his retinue, composed, according to the regulations of the Order, of ten horses and as many men. Two had gone to Schytno with the fallen knight's body, but Zbyshko, knowing the eagerness of old Matsko in seeking for settlers, sent the rest with Hlava as a gift to his uncle.

The Cheh, on reaching Bogdanets, did not find Matsko. The old man had gone, as the servants informed him, with crossbow and dogs to the forest, but he returned during daylight, and, on learning that a considerable retinue had halted at his mansion, he hurried his steps so as to meet the newcomers, and offer entertainment; he was tremendously astonished at first, and, throwing his crossbow and cap on the ground, cried out,—

"As God lives! they have killed him! Tell what thou knowest!"

"He is not killed," answered Hlava; "he is well."

When Matsko heard this he was confused somewhat and fell to panting; at last he drew a deep breath.

"Praise to Christ the Lord!" said he. "Where is the man?"

"He went to Malborg and sent me hither with tidings."

"But why did he go to Malborg?"

"For his wife."

"Ah! fear the wounds of Christ, boy. What wife?"

"The daughter of Yurand. There will be something to talk about, even the whole night through, but permit me, respected lord, to draw breath, for I am dreadfully road-weary, and since midnight I have lashed my beast forward."

Matsko stopped inquiries for a while, though mainly because astonishment had taken speech from him. When he had recovered somewhat he shouted to the boy to throw wood on the fire and bring food, then he walked through the room, waved his hands, and talked in soliloquy,—

"I cannot believe my own ears—Yurand's daughter—Zbyshko married—"

"He is married and not married," said Hlava, who now told slowly what had happened, and how it had happened. The old man listened eagerly, interrupting with questions at times, for not everything was clear in the narrative. Hlava did not know, for example, exactly when Zbyshko had married, for there had been no wedding, but he declared positively that there had been a ceremony performed at the instance of Anna Danuta, the princess, though it was announced publicly only after the arrival of Rotgier, with whom Zbyshko, after challenging him to the judgment of God, had fought in presence of the court of Mazovia.

"Ah! Has he fought?" cried Matsko, with flashing eyes, and immense curiosity. "Well, and what?"

"He cut the German in two; and God gave me luck also in fighting with Rotgier's attendant."

Matsko panted again, this time with satisfaction.

"Well, he is not to be laughed at. The last of the Grady, but, as God be my aid, not the least of them. Yes! and that time against the Frisians—a mere stripling in those days."

Then he looked once and a second time at the Cheh more attentively.

"But thou also dost please me. It is clear that thou art not lying. I know a liar even through a plank. That attendant I do not esteem overmuch; thou hadst no great work with him, as thou sayst, but thou didst wrench the arm of that dog-brother, Danveld, and earlier thou didst kill the wild bull,—those are praiseworthy deeds. But the plunder," asked Matsko on a sudden,—"was it considerable?"

"We took arms, horses, ten men, eight of whom the young lord has sent to you—"

"What did he do with the other two?"

"He sent them away with the body."

"Could not the prince send his own men? Those two will never come back to us."

Hlava smiled at such greed, which for that matter Matsko showed frequently, and he answered,—

"Spyhov is a great property."

"Great! But what of that? It is not his yet."

"Whose is it?"

Matsko rose up.

"Tell me! But Yurand?"

"Yurand is in a dungeon with the Knights of the Cross, and death is hanging over him. God knows whether he will recover; if he does, whether he will return. Even should he recover and return, Father Kaleb has read his will, and he has declared to all that the young lord is his heir."

This news produced, it was clear, an immense impression on Matsko, for it was so favorable and unfavorable that he could not grasp it, nor bring into order the feelings which shook him one after another. The news that Zbyshko had married pricked him painfully at the first moment, for he loved Yagenka as if he had been her father, and wished with all his soul to unite her and Zbyshko. But on the other hand he had grown accustomed to look on the matter as lost, and again Yurand's daughter brought that which Yagenka could not bring, the favor of Prince Yanush, and a dowry which, she being an only child, was much greater. Matsko saw Zbyshko in his mind as the prince's comes, lord in Bogdanets and Spyhov; nay more, a castellan in the future. The thing was not improbable, for people said also in those days of a poor noble: "He had twelve sons; six fell in battle, and six became castellans." Both nation and family were on the highroad to greatness. Considerable property could only help Zbyshko on that road; hence Matsko's greed and his family pride had something in which to find comfort. Still the old man had no lack of reasons for fear. He had gone once himself to the Knights of the Cross to save Zbyshko, and had brought back iron between his ribs from that journey, and now Zbyshko had gone to Malborg, as if into the throat of the wolf. "Will he wait for his wife, or for death there? They will not look on him kindly," thought Matsko,—"he who has just killed a famed knight, and before that rushed against Lichtenstein. They, the dog bloods, love vengeance." At this thought the old knight was concerned greatly. It occurred to him also that as Zbyshko was choleric he would not escape without a battle against some German. But touching this he felt less fear. Matsko's greatest dread was that they might seize him. "They had seized Yurand and his daughter, they had not hesitated on a time to seize the prince himself in Zlotorya; why should they spare Zbyshko?"

Here this question occurred to him, "What would happen if the young fellow, though he should escape from the hands of the knights, were not to find his wife anywhere?" For an instant Matsko comforted himself with the thought that Zbyshko would inherit Spyhov after her, but that was brief comfort. The old man was concerned greatly about property, but he was concerned no less about his race, about Zbyshko's children. "If Danusia should disappear like a stone under water, and no one know whether she were dead or living, Zbyshko would not be able to marry another—and then there would be no Grady of Bogdanets in existence. Hei! with Yagenka it would be otherwise! A hen could not cover Mochydoly with her wings, nor a dog with his tail, and she would give a birth every year without missing, just like that apple-tree out in the orchard." So Matsko's sorrow surpassed his delight at the new inheritance, and from this sorrow and alarm he fell again to inquiring of Hlava how and when the marriage had been solemnized.

"I have said, respected lord," answered Hlava, "that I know not; and I will not swear to my own guesswork."

"What is thy guesswork?"

"I did not leave the young lord during his sickness, I slept in the same room with him; but one evening he commanded me to go away, and later I saw how the Gracious Lady went to him, and with her the young lady, Pan de Lorche, and Father Vyshonek. I even wondered, for the young lady had a garland on her head, but I thought that they were to give my young lord the sacrament. Maybe it was at that time. I remember that he commanded me to array him beautifully, as for a wedding, but I thought then that it was to receive the Lord's body."

"And how was it afterwards? Were they alone?"

"Ei, they were not, and even if they had been he had not strength at that time to give himself food. And people had come who announced themselves as sent by Yurand, and she went away with those people in the morning."

"Has Zbyshko seen her since then?"

"Human eye has not seen her since that day."

Silence followed.

"What dost thou think?" inquired Matsko after a while; "will the Knights of the Cross give her up?"

Hlava shook his head and waved his hand. "To my thinking she is lost forever," said he, slowly.

"Why so?" inquired Matsko, almost with fear.

"For this reason: If they were to say that they have her there would be hope; it would be possible to make a complaint, or pay a ransom, or take her by force. But they say: 'We intercepted a girl and informed Yurand. He would not own her as his daughter, and in return for our kindness he slew so many of our men that a good battle would not have slain more of them.'"

"Then they did show Yurand some girl?"

"The report is that they did, God alone knows. Perhaps this is not true, and perhaps they showed him another girl. That the master of Spyhov killed people is true, and the Knights are ready to take oath that they never carried off his daughter. Oh, this is a terribly difficult matter. Even if the Grand Master should give an order they will say that they have never had the girl. Who can convict them? The case is all the more difficult since the courtiers at Tsehanov speak of a letter from Yurand in which he states that his daughter is not with the Knights of the Cross."

"But maybe she is not."

"I beg your Grace! If bandits carried her away it was only to get a ransom. Besides, bandits could not have written the letter, nor imitated Yurand's seal, nor sent an honest-looking escort."

"True, but what did the Knights of the Cross want of her?"

"Revenge on Yurand. They prefer revenge to mead and wine, and as to cause, they have cause enough. The master of Spyhov was a terror to the Order, and that which he has done just now has enraged them to the utmost. My lord too, as I hear, raised hands on Lichtenstein, and he has killed Rotgier. God aided me in wrenching the arm of that dog brother, Danveld. Ei! just think of it, there were four of them, cursed be their mothers! Now only one is alive, and he is old. Your Grace, we can bite also."

Again came a moment of silence.

"Thou art clever," said Matsko at last. "To thy thinking what will they do with her? "

"Prince Vitold was a mighty prince; they say that the German Caesar bowed as low as his girdle to him, and how did the Knights treat Vitold's children? Are their castles few? Are their dungeons few? Are their walls few? Are their ropes and halters few?"

"By the living God!" exclaimed Matsko.

"God stop them from hiding away my young master, even if he has a letter from Prince Yanush, and goes with Pan de Lorche, who is a powerful person and related to princes. Indeed I had no wish to come hither, for there it would be easier to fight, but he commanded me. I heard him talking once to the old master of Spyhov. 'Art thou cunning?' asked he, 'for I lack cunning; but with them cunning is needed. Oi,' said he, 'my uncle Matsko is the man for this place!' And that is why he sent me to Bogdanets. But even you could not find Yurand's daughter, for she is in the other world perhaps by this time, and against death the greatest cunning is powerless."

Matsko fell into meditation, and only after long silence did he say,—

"Ah, there is no help then; cunning cannot fight against death. But if I should go there and discover even this, that they destroyed the girl, Spyhov would remain even in that case to Zbyshko, and he could come back alone and take another wife."

At this Matsko drew a deep breath, as if he had cast some weight from his heart, and Hlava inquired with a low, timid voice,—

"The young lady of Zgorzelitse?"

"Yes," answered Matsko, "all the more that she is an orphan, and Stan of Rogov with Vilk of Brozova are attacking her more and more."

Hlava sprang to his feet.

"The young lady an orphan? Where is her father?"

"Then thou knowest nothing?"

"By the dear God, what has happened?"

"Indeed, how couldst thou know? Thou hast come here directly, and we have talked only of Zbyshko. She is an orphan. True Zyh never warmed a place in the house unless he had guests there. When he had no guests it was straightway unpleasant at home for him. The abbot wrote to Zyh some time ago that he was going to visit Prince Premko of Osvetsim and begged the knight to go with him. That was a delight for Zyh, so well was he acquainted with the prince, and more than once they had had gladsome times together.

Zyh came to me. 'I am going to Osvetsim,' said he, 'and afterwards to Glevitse, but will you keep an eye on my house?' Something struck me then, and I said to him, 'Do not go, take care of your land and Yagenka, for I know that Stan and Vilk are thinking up something evil.' And thou shouldst know that the abbot, out of anger at Zbyshko, wanted Vilk or Stan for the girl; but later on, when he knew the fellows better, he had them beaten and thrown out of Zgorzelitse. This was well, but not very well, for they became desperately angry. There is a little peace just now, for they have had a duel and are in bed, but before that there was not a moment of security. Everything is on my head, defence with guardianship. And now Zbyshko wants me to go to him,—how will it be here with Yagenka? I know not, but I will tell thee of Zyh. He paid no heed to my words; he went. Well, they feasted, they rejoiced. From Glevitse they went to visit old Nosak, Prince Premko's father.

"But Yasko, prince of Ratibor, out of hatred for Prince Premko, sent bandits against them under lead of a Cheh named Hran. Premko fell, and with him Zyh, struck by an arrow in the windpipe. The abbot they so stunned with an iron flail that his head trembles yet from it; he knows nothing of this world, and has lost speech, perhaps forever. But old Prince Nosak bought Hran from the lord of Zampah and gave him such torture that the oldest men have not heard of like suffering; but mind thee, that torture did not soften Nosak's grief for his son, nor did it resurrect Zyh, nor dry the tears of Yagenka. There is their amusement for them! Six weeks ago Zyh was brought home and buried."

"Such a strong man!" said Hlava, with sorrow. "I was no broken bit of a warrior at Boleslavets, but he did not spend the time of one Our Father in taking me captive. That captivity, however, was such that I would not have changed it for freedom. A good, honest man! God grant him light eternal. Ah, I am sorry, sorry, but most of all for the young lady, the poor thing!"

"Yes, indeed, the poor thing. Many a girl does not love her mother as she did her father. And besides, it is dangerous for her to be in her own house alone. After the funeral the snow had not fallen on Zyh's grave when Stan and Vilk attacked Zgorzelitse. Luckily my people heard of their intention, so I took men and galloped over to help her. God granted us to beat Stan and Vilk grandly. After the battle the girl seized me by the knees. 'I cannot be Zbyshko's,' said she; 'I will not be any one's; only save me from these traitors, for,' said she, 'I would rather have death than either one of them.' I tell thee that thou wouldst not know Zgorzelitse, for it is a real castle. They attacked twice after that, but, believe me, they could do nothing. There is peace, since, as I say, they have cut each other up in such fashion that neither is able to move hand or foot for the moment."

Hlava was silent, but while listening to the tale of Stan and Vilk he gritted his teeth, which sounded as if some one were opening and closing a squeaky door, and then rubbed his strong hands along his powerful thighs, on which evidently he felt an itching. At last from his mouth came with difficulty the single word,—

"Reprobates!"

At that moment voices were heard in the entrance, the door opened suddenly, and in rushed Yagenka with her elder brother, the fourteen-year-old Yasko, who resembled her as much as if he and she had been twins.

Yagenka, hearing from peasants of Zgorzelitse, who on the road had seen an escort, that certain people led by Hlava were going to Bogdanets, was frightened in just the same way as Matsko, and when she heard still further that they had not seen Zbyshko, she was almost certain that something evil had happened, hence she flew with one breath to Bogdanets to learn the truth of the matter.

"What has happened? By the dear God!" cried she from the threshold.

"What could happen?" answered Matsko. "Zbyshko is alive and well."

Hlava sprang toward his lady, and dropping on one knee, kissed the hem of her garment; she took no note of this whatever, for when she heard the answer of the old knight she turned her head from the fire to the shadow, and only after a while, as if recalling that she ought to give greeting, she said,—

"May Christ Jesus be praised!"

"For the ages of ages," answered Matsko.

But now, noticing Hlava at her knees, she bent toward him, and said,—

"I rejoice from my soul, Hlava, to see thee, but why hast thou left thy lord?"

"He sent me hither, gracious lady."

"What did he command?"

"He commanded me to come to Bogdanets."

"To Bogdanets,—and what more?"

"He sent me for help, with a greeting and a bow—"

"To Bogdanets, and nothing more? Then it is well. But where is he himself?"

"He has gone to Malborg, to the Knights of the Cross."

Alarm was evident on Yagenka's face.

"Is life then not dear to him? Why did he go?"

"To seek, gracious lady, that which he will not find."

"I believe he will not find it!" added Matsko. "As thou canst not drive a nail without a hammer, so thou canst and force human will unless God's will be with thee."

"What do you mean?" inquired Yagenka.

Matsko answered her question with the question,—

"Has Zbyshko spoken to thee of Yurand's daughter?—for I have heard that he did speak."

Yagenka did not answer immediately; only after a time did she say, suppressing a sigh,—

"Oh, he did. And why should he not speak?"

"That is well, for since he spoke it is easier for me to talk," said the old man.

And he told her what he had heard from Hlava, wondering himself that at times the narrative came to him in disorder and with difficulty. But as he was really crafty, and the question with him was in every case not to mislead Yagenka, he insisted greatly on this, and moreover he believed it, that Zbyshko might never be the husband of Danusia, for Danusia was lost forever. From time to time Hlava supported him, repeating at one moment "As God lives," at another, "That is as true as life!" or, "It is thus, not otherwise."

The girl listened with eyelashes drooping toward her cheeks, making no inquiry, and so silent that the silence troubled Matsko.

"Well, and what dost thou say?" asked he, finishing the narrative.

She made no answer, but two tears glistened under her drooping lashes and rolled down her cheeks. After a while she approached Matsko, and kissing his hand said,—

"May He be praised!"

"For the ages of ages," answered the old man. "Then art thou hastening home? Stay with us."

But she would not stay, explaining that at home she had not given out supper. Matsko, though he knew that the noble woman Setsehova, who was at Zgorzelitse, might take her place, did not urge her overmuch to stay, understanding that sorrow is unwilling to show its tears, and that a man or woman is like a fish, which when it feels the hook within its body hides as deeply as possible under water. So he only stroked the girl's head, and conducted her in company with Hlava to the courtyard. But Hlava led forth his horse from the stable, mounted, and rode away after the lady.

Matsko, when he returned to the house, sighed, shook his head, and muttered,—

"There is a fool for thee, Zbyshko! That girl leaves her odor in the room!"

And the old man was sorry. He thought that if Zbyshko had taken her after their return home there would have been delight and pleasure there up to that moment. But now what? "Whenever she thinks of him the tear drops from her eye, and the fellow is wandering through the world, and will knock his head somewhere against Malborg fences till he breaks it; and the house here is empty, only weapons staring from the walls. No good from management, industry is profitless, Spyhov and Bogdanets useless, since there will be no one to whom it will be possible to leave them."

Grief began to storm then in Matsko's soul. "Wait, thou vagabond," said he aloud; "I will not go for thee, and do thou do what may please thee!"

But at the same moment a terrible yearning for Zbyshko came on him as if in spite. "No, I will not go," thought he, "but shall I sit here? This is the punishment of God! That I should not see that rascal even once again in life—this cannot be in any case! Again he has cut up a dog brother—and taken plunder. Another would have grown gray before winning a belt, but him the prince has belted already, and justly, though there are many splendid men among nobles; another like Zbyshko there is not, as I think." And growing altogether tender he examined the armor, the swords, and the axes which were growing dark in the smoke, as if considering which to take with him and which to leave behind. Then he went out of the room, first because he could not stay in it, and second to have the wagons tarred and a double portion of oats given the horses.

In the courtyard, where it was dark now, he remembered Yagenka, who a while before had mounted her horse, and again he grew sad on a sudden.

"If I go, then go," said he to himself, "but who will defend the girl here from Vilk and Stan? Would to God that a thunderbolt might split them!"

Meanwhile Yagenka was riding with little Yasko along the forest road homeward, and Hlava was dragging on in silence behind them, his heart filled with love and with sorrow. He had seen the girl's tears; now he was looking at her dark form, barely visible in the gloom, and he divined her pain and sorrow. It seemed to him also that at any moment the robber hands of Stan or Vilk might reach out after her from the forest darkness and density, and at this thought a wild desire for conflict seized him. This desire became at moments so great that the impulse came to grasp his axe or sword and slash even some pine-tree at the roadside. He felt that if he should give a good blow it would relieve him. Finally he would have been glad even to urge his horse into a rush, but they were riding on in front slowly, foot after foot, saying almost nothing; for little Yasko, though talkative usually, seeing after some attempts that his sister had no wish to speak, sank also into silence.

But when he was near Zgorzelitse sorrow rose in Hlava's heart and anger against Stan and Vilk. "I would not spare even blood," said he to himself, "if I could only comfort thee; but what can I do, I, poor unfortunate, unless to say that Zbyshko gave command to bow down to thee, and God grant that that give thee comfort!"

So after meditation he urged his horse up to Yagenka's.

"Gracious lady."

"Art thou riding with us? " asked the girl, starting up as if from a dream. "But hast thou something to tell me?"

"I have, for I forgot to say that my lord, when we were parting at Spyhov, called me, and said: 'Fall at the feet of the young lady of Zgorzelitse, since in good or evil fortune I shall never see her; for that,' said he, 'which she has done for uncle and for me may God reward her and preserve her in health.'"

"God reward him for the kind word," answered Yagenka. Then she added in a certain strange voice, so that Hlava's heart melted completely: "And thee, too, Hlava."

The conversation stopped for a time, but Hlava was pleased with himself, and with what she had answered, for he said in his mind: "At least let her not think that he has paid her with ingratitude." He began at once then to search in his honest head for something more to tell her of like sort, and after a while he began,—

"Young lady."

"What is it?"

"This—I wish to say—what I said to the old lord in Bogdanets, that that woman is lost for the ages, and he will never find her, even if the Grand Master himself were to help him."

"She is his wife," answered Yagenka.

The Cheh began to torture his head. "She is such a wife as—"

Yagenka did not answer, but at home, after supper, when Yasko and her younger brother had gone to sleep, she commanded to bring a pitcher of mead, and turning to Hlava inquired,—

"Perhaps you would rather sleep; I hope not, for I should like to talk a little."

Hlava, though road-weary, was ready to talk even till daylight; hence he began to converse, or rather he related again minutely all the adventures of Zbyshko, Yurand, Danusia, and himself.