The Knights of the Cross/Volume 2/Chapter 39

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

CHAPTER XXXIX.

On the morrow, after a mild, hazy night, came a day which was at times bright, at times gloomy, because of clouds which, driven by the wind, sped on in flocks through the sky. Matsko commanded to break camp just at the gray of dawn. The tar-burner, who had undertaken to guide them to Budy, declared that horses could pass everywhere, but in places men would have to take the wagons apart and carry them over in pieces just like packs, provisions, and clothing. This could not take place without delay and effort, but the people, hardened and accustomed to toil, preferred the greatest labor to slothful rest at the empty inn; therefore they took the road willingly. Even the timid Vit, emboldened by the words and presence of the tar-burner, showed no fear.

Immediately beyond the inn they entered a forest of lofty trees, without underbrush, in which with skilful driving it was possible to advance among the branches without taking the wagons to pieces. At times the wind ceased, at times it burst forth with unheard-of violence, striking the limbs of the pine-trees with giant wings, bending them, twisting them, turning them around as if they had been arms of windmills, and breaking them; the pine forest bent under the wild breath, and even during intervals between one attack and another it did not cease to roar and thunder, as if in anger at that attack and superior force. Now and then clouds hid the daylight completely, rain mixed with snowflakes cut men's faces, and the air grew as dark as at evening twilight. At such times Vit lost his courage, and cried: "The evil one is angry and will harm us;" but no one paid heed to him. Even the timid Anulka did not take his words to heart, especially since Hlava was so near that she could strike his stirrup with hers, and he looked ahead as bravely as if he wished to challenge the very devil to combat.

Beyond the tall forest began one with an undergrowth, and therefore a thicket through which they could not go with vehicles. They had to take the wagons apart; but that was done adroitly and in a twinkle. Wheels, poles, and axles, as well as packs and provisions, were borne by strong men on their shoulders. There were three furlongs of that bad road, and the party arrived at Budy late in the evening, where the tar-burners received them hospitably, and declared that they could reach the town through Chartsi Vandol, or, more correctly, by passing along the side of it. Those people, inured to life in the wilderness, saw bread and flour rarely, but they did not suffer from hunger, since they were wading in dried food of every sort, especially eels, with which all the swampy places were swarming. They gave these, therefore, bountifully, stretching out grasping hands to receive cakes in return for them. Among these people were women and children, all black from tar-smoke. One man more than a hundred years old remembered the massacre of Lenchytsa, and the utter destruction of that town by the Knights of the Cross in 1331. Matsko, Hlava, and the two young women, though they had heard almost the same narrative from the prior at Sieradz, listened with curiosity to the old man, who, sitting by the fire, and poking it, seemed to poke out the dreadful memories of his youth. So in Lenchytsa, as well as in Sieradz, they spared neither churches nor priests, and the blood of old men, women, and children flowed down the knife-blades of the conquerors. The Knights of the Cross, always the Knights of the Cross! Matsko's thoughts and Yagenka's flew continually toward Zbyshko, who was just then in the jaws of the wolf, as it were, among a hostile race, knowing neither pity nor guest rights. Anulka's heart grew faint; she was not even sure that they would not have to go among those terrible people in their chase after the abbot.

But the old man began to tell of that battle of Plovtsi, which put an end to the invasion of the Order. He had fought with an iron flail in his hands at that battle, as an attendant in the infantry furnished by a commune of land-tillers. In this battle perished the Grady save one, hence Matsko knew all its details completely; still he listened as if it were new to that narrative of the dreadful defeat of the Germans, when they fell under the swords of Polish knights and the power of King Lokietek.

"Ha! I remember it well, be sure of that," said the old man. "They came into this land, they burnt towns and castles. Why! they slaughtered children in the cradle; but the black end came to them. Hei! that was a worthy battle. When I shut my eyes now I see the field there before me."

And closing his lids he was silent, merely moving the coals lightly in the ashes, till Yagenka, impatient for the narrative, asked,—

"How was it?"

"How was it?" repeated the old man. "I remember the place as if I were looking at it this moment. There was brush, and on the right a swamp, and a strip of rye, a little field of it. But after the battle there was neither brush, nor swamp, nor rye; nothing but iron on all sides, swords, axes, spears, beautiful armor, one piece on the top of another, as if some one had covered the whole sacred earth with them. Never have I seen so many slain people together, never have I seen so much human blood flowing."

Matsko's heart was strengthened again by this remembrance, so he cried,—

"It is true! The Lord Jesus is merciful! They seized hold of the kingdom at that time, like a fire or a pestilence. They destroyed not only Lenchytsa and Sieradz, but many other towns also. And what? Our nation is tremendously vigorous, and has inexhaustible strength in it. Even if thou, O dog brother of a German, seize a Pole by the throat thou'It not choke him, he will knock out thy teeth for thee. For just look! King Kazimir has built up Lenchytsa and Sieradz in such beauty that they are better than ever, and meetings take place as of old in them, and the Knights of the Cross who were trampled at Plovtsi are lying there and rotting. God grant such an end to them always!"

The old man, hearing these words, began at first to nod his head in agreement, but at last he said,—

"They are not lying there, and perhaps they are not rotting; the king commanded foot soldiers to dig ditches after the battle, and men from the neighborhood came to help in the work, till their backs were all breaking. We put away the Germans in ditches and covered them in good order, so that disease might not hatch from them, but they did not stay there."

"How, not stay? What happened?"

"I did not see this myself, but I tell what people said later After the battle an awful wind came, which lasted twelve weeks, but only in the night-time. In the day the sun shone as is proper, but at night the wind almost tore the hair from men's heads and faces. That was devils; whole crowds of them were roaring in the night wind, each with a pitchfork, and when a devil came up he thrust his fork into the ground, raised out a Knight of the Cross, and flew off to Hell with him. The people in Plovtsi heard a noise like that of dogs howling in packs, but they could not tell whether the Germans were howling from terror, or the devils were howling from gladness. It was that way till a priest blessed the ditches, and the ground froze so hard at the New Year that no fork could go into it."

Here he was silent, but added after a while,—

"God grant, lord knight, such an end as you say, though I shall not see the time; youths like these two will live to it, but they will not see what my eyes have seen."

Then he began to look at Anulka and Yagenka, to wonder at their beautiful faces, and shake his head.

"The poppy in the wheat field is no man's," said he, "and I have never seen any one like these two lads."

In this way they talked through a part of the night, then they lay down to sleep in the cabin on moss soft as down, and were covered with warm skins. When deep sleep had strengthened their limbs they moved on faster next morning, after clear daylight.

The road along Chartsi Vandol was not very easy, but it was also not difficult; hence before sunset they saw the castle of Lenchytsa. The town had been raised again from its ashes. It was of red brick, and even partly of stone. It had lofty walls, defended by towers, and the churches were richer than the churches of Sieradz. From the Dominicans they got news of the abbot easily. He was better, they said, and rejoiced in the hope of recovery, and some days before he had gone on his journey. Matsko did not wish greatly to overtake him on the road, for he had determined already to take the two girls to Plotsk, whither the abbot would have taken them; but as he was in a hurry to find Zbyshko he was terribly distressed by news that after the abbot's departure the rivers had swollen so that it was quite impossible to go farther. The Dominicans, seeing a knight with a considerable escort, and going, as he said, to Prince Ziemovit's, received and entertained him hospitably, and even gave him a tablet of olive-wood, on which was written in Latin a prayer to the angel Raphael, the patron of travellers.

His forced stay at Lenchytsa lasted two weeks during Which time the young shield-bearer of the castle starosta discovered that the passing knight's attendants were maidens, and fell in love madly with Yagenka; Hlava wished to challenge him to trampled earth straightway, but as this happened on the eve of their departure Matsko advised him against that action.

When they started on the journey to Plotsk the wind had dried the roads somewhat, for though frequent rains fell, as is usual in spring-time, they were brief in duration. The heat also was great, for spring had come at last. In the fields bright strips of water were shining in the furrows. From the plowed land came a strong odor of damp earth in the wind, the swamps were covered with buttercups; in the forest the wolf's foot had blossomed, and thrushes were raising a joyful twitter among branches. In the hearts of the travellers new hope and desire had risen, especially as they were travelling easily, and after sixteen days' journey they halted before Plotsk, but they arrived in the night-time. The gates were closed, hence they had to lodge outside the walls at a weaver's house. The girls, going to bed late, slept like stones, after the toil and hardships of a long journey. Matsko, whom no toil could conquer, did not wish to rouse them, but just as the gates were opened he went alone to the city, where he found the cathedral easily, and the bishop's house, where the first news which he heard was that the abbot had passed away six days earlier.

He was dead a week; but according to the custom of that age masses were celebrated over the coffin, and the funeral feasts continued six days. The burial was to take place that day, and after it services, and the final feast in honor of the departed.

Matsko from great distress could not look at the city, which moreover he knew somewhat from the time when he had travelled taking a letter from Princess Alexandra to the Grand Master. He returned as quickly as possible to the weaver's house outside the wall, and on the way said to himself,—

"Well, he is dead; eternal rest to him! There is no help against death in this world; but what am I to do now with those two girls?"

And he began to hesitate over this, and to think whether it would be better to leave them with Princess Alexandra, or Princess Anna Danuta, or take them to Spyhov. More than once on the road it had occurred to him that were Danusia no longer alive there would be no harm were Yagenka near Zbyshko. He had no doubt that Zbyshko would mourn long for Danusia, whom he loved beyond all people, and would weep long after her; but he had no doubt either that if a girl like Yagenka were there at his side she would have her own effect. He remembered the young man, though his heart was tearing away beyond the pine woods of Mazovia, was taken by shivers when close to Yagenka. For these reasons, and believing also profoundly that Danusia had perished, he had thought more than once that in case the abbot died he would not send away Yagenka. But since he was somewhat greedy of earthly goods, he was concerned about property left by the abbot. The abbot had been angry at them, it is true, and had said that he would will them nothing; but might not compunction have come before death to him? That he had left something to Yagenka was certain, for more than once he had mentioned that fact in Zgorzelitse; through Yagenka it might also not miss Zbyshko. So at times a desire seized Matsko to tarry in Plotsk to learn the how and what, and occupy himself with that business; but he soon put an end to these thoughts. "I shall be here," said he, "bothering about property, and my boy may be stretching his hands from some dungeon of the Order, and awaiting salvation from his uncle." True, there was one escape: to leave Yagenka under the guardianship of the princess and the bishop, with the entreaty not to let her be wronged in case the abbot had willed her some property. But that idea did not please Matsko in anyway. "As it is, the girl has a good fortune," said he to himself; "if she inherits from the abbot, some Mazovian will take her, as God is in heaven, and she will not hold out long either, for even Zyh said that she was as if walking on live coals of fire." And the old knight was frightened at this idea, for he thought that in that way Danusia and Yagenka both might miss Zbyshko, and for aught on earth he would not have that come to pass.

"Let him have the one God has predestined, but one of these two he must take."

He determined first of all to save Zbyshko, and if he had to part with Yagenka he would leave her in Spyhov, or with Princess Danuta, not in Plotsk, where the court was incomparably more brilliant, and where there were handsome knights in good number.

Burdened with these thoughts he went with brisk steps toward the weaver's to announce to Yagenka the death of the abbot, but he promised in soul not to tell her immediately, for unexpected bad news might stop her breath and make the girl barren.

When Matsko reached the house he found both maidens dressed, even ornamented, and joyous as thrushes; so sitting down on a bench he called the weaver's servant to bring a mug of heated beer, and then put frowns on a face which was stern enough without them.

"Dost hear," asked he, "how the bells of the town are ringing? Guess why they are ringing, for it is not Sunday, and thou hast slept over early mass. Wouldst thou like to see the abbot?"

"Of course I should like to see him," answered Yagenka

"Well, thou wilt see him, as King Nail."

"Has he gone farther?"

"He has gone farther indeed! But dost thou not hear that they are ringing bells?"

"Has he died?"

"Say eternal rest."

So all three knelt down and repeated eternal rest with voices resonant as a bell. Then tears flowed in streams along Yagenka's face, for she loved the abbot greatly. Though quick-tempered with people, he had wronged no one, and had done good with both hands, and her, his godchild, he loved as if she had been his own daughter. Matsko, remembering that the abbot was his kinsman and Zbyshko's, was moved also, and cried some; only when a part of his sorrow had vanished in tears did he take Hlava and the two girls to the church for the funeral.

The funeral was splendid. Bishop Yakob of Kurdvanov led the procession himself. All the priests and monks of Plotsk were there, all the bells were rung; discourses were delivered which no one understood save the clergy, for they were in Latin. Then clergy and laity returned to a feast at the bishop's. Matsko went there taking the two youths, for he had every right as a relative of the dead man. The bishop too received him, as a kinsman of the abbot, with good-will and honor, but immediately after greeting he said,—

"There are some forests left you, the Grady of Bogdanets; but whatever remains and does not go to cloisters and abbeys is to belong to his goddaughter, a certain Yagenka of Zgorzelitse."

Matsko, who had not expected much, was glad of the forests, but the bishop did not see that one attendant of the old knight raised moist eyes, as blue as star thistles, and said,—

"God reward him, but I would rather he were living." Matsko turned to her and said: "Be quiet, for thou wilt make shame for thyself."

But he stopped suddenly; astonishment gleamed in his eyes; then his face grew stern and wolf-like, for at a distance, near the side of the door through which Princess Alexandra was entering at that moment, he saw Kuno Lichtenstein, bent in courtly client fashion, that same man through whom Zbyshko came near his death in Cracow.

Yagenka in her life had never seen such a Matsko; his face wrinkled like the jaw of an angry mastiff, and under his mustaches the teeth glittered. In one moment he tightened the belt around his waist, and moved toward the hated Knight of the Order. But half-way he restrained himself, and drew his broad hand along his hair. He remembered in season that perhaps Lichtenstein was at the court of Plotsk as a guest, or more likely an envoy, and that if he wished without making inquiry to fight with him, he would act just as Zbyshko had acted on the road from Tynets.

So, having more reason and experience than Zbyshko, he restrained himself, loosened his belt, made his face affable, and when the princess, after greeting Lichtenstein, spoke with the bishop, he approached her, bent low, reminded her who he was, and said that he considered her his benefactress because of the letter with which on a time she had furnished him.

The princess barely remembered his face, but she recalled the letter easily and the whole affair connected with it. She knew besides what had happened at the neighboring Mazovian court: she had heard of Yurand, and the kidnapping of his daughter, the marriage of Zbyshko and his deadly duel with Rotgier. Her curiosity was roused greatly by all these details, just as it would have been by a narrative of knighthood, or by one of those ballads which were sung by minstrels among the Germans, or by choristers in Mazovia. It is true that the Knights of the Cross were not so hateful to her as to Anna Danuta, the wife of Prince Yanush, especially since they, wishing to win her to their side, surpassed one another in flattery and homage, and showered gifts on the lady richly; but this time her heart was on the side of the lovers. She was ready to aid them; and moreover it pleased her to have in her presence a man who could relate the whole course of events most minutely.

And Matsko, who had determined earlier to win the protection and aid of the powerful princess by every means possible, seeing with what attention she listened, told her willingly of the sad fate of Zbyshko and Danusia, and almost moved her to tears, and this the more quickly since he himself felt more keenly than any one the misfortune of his nephew, and grieved with his whole soul over it.

"I have heard nothing more touching in my life," said the princess at last, "and the greatest pity seizes me for this cause, that, having married the girl, she was his; still he knew no happiness with her. But do you know surely that he did not?"

"Ei, mighty God!" answered Matsko, "would that he had; but he married her at night, when he was tied to his bed with grievous illness, and at daybreak they took her."

"Do you think that Knights of the Cross took her? For here they talk about robbers who deceived the Knights of the Cross by giving them another girl. They speak also of a letter from Yurand—"

"Not the judgment of people has decided this now, but the judgment of God. They say that that Rotgier was a great knight, who brought down the doughtiest, and still he fell at the hand of a stripling."

"Yes, such a stripling," said the princess, smiling, "that it would be very safe for any man not to creep into his way. An injustice was done, it is true, and you complain with reason; but still of those four three are no longer living, and that old man who remains barely escaped death, as I hear."

"But Danusia, where is she? and where is Yurand?"asked Matsko; "where are they? God knows, too, whether some evil may not have befallen Zbyshko, who went to Malborg."

"I know, but really the Knights are not such scoundrels as you deem them. In Malborg, near the Grand Master and his brother Ulrich, who is a knightly person, nothing evil can have happened to your nephew; he has a safe-conduct and letters from Prince Yanush. Unless he challenged some knight there and fell, for in Malborg there is always a number of the most renowned knights from all countries."

"Ei, I do not fear that greatly," answered the old man. "If they do not shut him up in a dungeon, or slay him treacherously, and he has some iron in his grasp, I am not much afraid. Only once was there found a man stronger who put him back in the barriers, and that was the Prince of Mazovia, Henryk, he who was bishop here, and who was in love with the comely Ryngalla. Though Zbyshko was a mere boy in those days, he was as ready to challenge a certain man as to say amen to Our Father,—the man whom I, too, have promised to challenge and who is here."

And he indicated with his eyes Lichtenstein, who was conversing with the Voevoda of Plotsk.

But the princess frowned, and said with that severe and dry tone which she used always when anger was beginning to seize her,—

"Whether you have made a vow or not, remember this, that he is on a visit; whoso wishes to be our guest must observe politeness."

"I know, gracious lady," answered Matsko. "I had already tightened my belt, and was going toward him, but I restrained myself, thinking that perhaps he was an envoy."

"Yes, he is an envoy. And the man is distinguished among his own people; the Grand Master himself values his counsel, and does not refuse him anything. God perhaps granted that he was not in Malborg when your nephew was there. As to Lichtenstein, though of honorable family, people say that he is stubborn and vengeful. Did he recognize you?"

"He could not have done so, for he has seen me little. We were in helmets on the Tynets road, and afterwards I visited him only once on Zbyshko's business, but that was in the evening when he was busy. I noticed now that he looked at me, but he did so only because I talked rather long with you, gracious lady, for he turned his eyes after that very quietly in another direction. He would have known Zbyshko, but he overlooked me, and has never heard of my vow, perhaps, having something better to think of."

"How better?"

"Yes, better, for vows touching him have been made by Zavisha of Garbov, Povala of Tachev, Martsin of Vrotsimovitse, Pashko Zlodye, and Lis of Targovisko. Each one of these, gracious lady, could manage ten like him, and what must it be when he has all of them against him? Better for him that he had never been born than to have one such sword above his head. As to me, not only shall I not remind him of my vow, but I shall try to enter into intimacy with him."

"For what purpose?"

Matsko's face took on a cunning expression immediately, and looked like the face of an old fox.

"For this purpose, that he should give me a letter of such kind that I may travel safely through the country of the Order, and, in case of need, rescue Zbyshko."

"Is that worthy of knightly honor? asked the princess, with a smile.

"It is," answered Matsko in tones of decision. "Were I, for example, to fall on him from behind, without calling on the man to turn, I should disgrace myself; but to trick an enemy in time of peace by quick wit is no disgrace to any one."

"Then I will make you acquainted," said the princess.

So she beckoned to Lichtenstein, and presented Matsko; thinking that even were Lichtenstein to recognize him, no great harm would come of that.

But Lichtenstein did not recognize Matsko, for really he had seen him in a helmet on the Tynets road, and afterward had spoken with him only once, and that in the evening when Matsko came to him to beg pardon for Zbyshko's offence.

Still he bowed rather haughtily; but when he saw behind the knight two splendid, richly dressed attendants, he thought that no ordinary noble could have such, and his face brightened somewhat, though he did not cease to curve his lips haughtily, as he did always when not dealing with ruling persons.

"This knight is going to Malborg," said the princess. "I myself will recommend him to the favor of the Grand Master; but he, hearing of the authority which you enjoy in the Order, would like to have a letter from you also."

Then she turned to the bishop. Lichtenstein fixed his cold, steel eyes on Matsko and asked,—

"What motive inclines you, sir, to visit our pious and modest capital?"

"A pious and an honest motive," answered Matsko, raising his glance; "were it otherwise, the gracious lady would not have vouched for me. But, in addition to sacred vows, I should like also to become acquainted with your Grand Master, who makes peace on earth, and is most renowned in the world of knighthood."

"He for whom the gracious princess, your lady and benefactress, gives guarantee will not complain of our modest entertainment; but as to the Master, it will be difficult to see him, for he went to Dantzig a month ago, whence he intended to go to Krolevets, and farther toward the boundary; for though a lover of peace, he is forced to defend the inheritance of the Order against the treacherous attacks of Vitold."

When he heard this Matsko was vexed so evidently that Lichtenstein, before whose eyes no one could hide anything, remarked,—

"I see that your desire to know the Grand Master is equal to your wish to perform religious vows."

"Yes, yes, of course," answered Matsko, promptly. "Then is war with Vitold certain?"

"Vitold has begun it himself by giving aid to insurgents in spite of his oath."

A moment of silence followed.

"Well, God grant that success to the Order which it merits," said Matsko at last. "I cannot make the acquaintance of the Grand Master, but in every case I will accomplish my vows."

But despite these words he did not know what he was to do, and with a feeling of immense vexation he put to himself this question,—

"Where am I to seek Zbyshko now, and where shall I find him?"

It was easy to foresee that if the Master had left Malborg and gone to war there was no reason to look for Zbyshko in Malborg, but in every case it was necessary to obtain more accurate information regarding him. Old Matsko was greatly vexed, but as he was a man of ready resources, he resolved to lose no time, but to continue his journey without delay on the morrow. It was easy for him to get a letter from Lichtenstein with the aid of Princess Alexandra, in whom the comtur had boundless confidence. He received, therefore, a recommendation to the Starosta of Brodnitsa and to the Grand Hospitaller in Malborg, but in return for these letters he presented Lichtenstein with a large silver goblet engraved beautifully in Vrotslav, such a goblet as the Knights were accustomed to place, filled with wine, near their beds at night, so as to have at hand, in case of insomnia, a remedy bringing sleep and consolation. This liberality of Matsko astonished Hlava, who knew that the old man was not overinclined to loading any one with presents, above all a German; but Matsko said,—

"I did this because I have made a vow touching that Knight, and I must fight with him. I could not in any way attack the life of a man who rendered me a service. It is not our custom to strike a benefactor."

"But it is a pity to lose the beautiful goblet," answered Hlava a little rebelliously.

"I do nothing without calculation, have no fear. If the merciful Lord Jesus permits me to bring down that German I shall win back the goblet, and capture a multitude of other costly things with it."

Then the two men, and with them Yagenka, began to counsel as to what they should do. It came to Matsko's mind to leave Yagenka and Anulka in Plotsk with Princess Alexandra, and to do so because of the abbot's will, which was deposited with the bishop; but the girl opposed this with all her unbending decision. It is true that it would have been easier to travel without her, for there would be no need of finding separate rooms, or thinking of ceremony, or danger, or various other things of similar import. However, they had not left Zgorzelitse to stay in Plotsk. The will in the bishop's hands would not be lost, and should it appear that the maidens must stay on the road somewhere, they would be safer in the care of Princess Anna than Alexandra, for at her court the people cared less for the Knights of the Cross, and were more inclined to Zbyshko. It is true that Matsko said, touching this, that wit does not belong to woman, and that it is not proper to argue with a girl, as if she had real reason; he did not oppose decisively, however, and soon yielded, for Yagenka drew him aside and said, with tearful eyes,—

"You know—God is looking at my heart—that I pray morning and evening for Danusia, yes, and for Zbyshko's happiness. God in heaven knows best of all the truth of this! But Hlava, and you too, declare that she is lost, that she will not escape from the hands of the Knights alive. If this be so, then I—"

Here she hesitated somewhat, the tears collected, flowed slowly down her cheeks, and she ended in a whisper,—

"Then I wish to be near Zbyshko—"

Those tears and words touched Matsko; still he answered,—

"If she perishes, Zbyshko will be so grieved that he will not look at thee."

"I do not want him to look at me, but I want to be near him."

"Thou knowest that I want what thou dost, but in his first grief he will be ready even to use harsh words against thee."

"Let him use harsh words," answered she, with a sad smile. "But he will not, for he will not know me."

"He will know thee."

"He will not know me. You did not know me. Tell him it is not I, but Yasko, and Yasko is like me to the very lips. Tell him that Yasko has grown, and it will not come to his head that it is I, and not Yasko."

The old knight said something now about knees bending inward, but as boys' knees also bend in sometimes, that could not be a hindrance, especially as Yasko's face was almost the same, and his hair, since the last cutting, had grown long again, and he wore it in a net like other noble youths, and knights also. For these reasons Matsko yielded, and now they fell to discussing the journey. They were to start on the morrow. Matsko decided to enter the lands of the Order, go to Brodnitsa, find an informant there, and if the Grand Master, in spite of the suppositions of Lichtenstein, was in Malborg yet, to go to Malborg; in the opposite case to cross the boundary of the Order in the direction of Spyhov, inquiring on the road for the young Polish knight and his retinue.

The old knight thought that he might learn something more easily of Zbyshko in Spyhov, or at the Warsaw court of Prince Yanush, than in any other place.

In fact they set out on the following morning. Spring had begun completely, hence there were overflows of water, and those of the Skrva and the Drventsa stopped the road, so that only on the tenth day after leaving Plotsk did they cross the boundary and find themselves in Brodnitsa. The town was clean and well-ordered, but immediately on entering one might recognize rigorous German rule, for immense walled gallows^[1] had been built outside the town at the side of the Gorchenitsa road and decorated with bodies of hanged people, of whom one was a woman. On the watch-tower and on the castle waved a flag which had a red hand on a white field. But the travellers did not find the comtur himself in the place, for he had gone with a part of the garrison, and at the head of the neighboring nobility, to Malborg. This information was given to Matsko by an old Knight of the Order blind of both eyes, who on a time had been comtur of Brodnitsa, and growing attached to the town and the castle, was passing the last of his life there. When the local priest read to him the letter from Lichtenstein, he received Matsko hospitably, and since he was living in the midst of a Polish folk he knew Polish speech excellently, so that it was easy to converse with him. It had happened to him also to be summoned to Malborg six weeks before, whither he had been called to a military council as a knight of experience; hence he knew what was happening at the capital.

When they asked him about the young knight, he said that he did not remember his name, but that he had heard of some knight who had roused wonder first of all by this, that he was belted notwithstanding his youthful years, and then by his success at the tournament which the Grand Master had arranged for foreign guests before he set out on his expedition. Gradually he recalled even this, that Ulrich von Jungingen, the noble-minded though quick-tempered brother of the Grand Master, had conceived a liking for that knight, had taken him under his care, and given him special letters, which the young man took with him and went away toward the eastern boundary.

Matsko was comforted immensely by these tidings, for he had not the least doubt that that knight was Zbyshko. In view of this there was no reason to go to Malborg, for though the Grand Hospitaller, or other dignitaries, and Knights of the Order who remained there might give more minute information, they could in no case tell where Zbyshko was at the moment. Moreover, Matsko himself knew best of all where to find him. It was not difficult to divine that he was circling about Schytno, or, if he had not found Danusia in that place, he was searching for her in the remoter Eastern castles or towns of the comturs.

So, without losing much time, he moved through the territory of the Order toward the east, and Schytno. He passed the road quickly, for the numerous towns and villages were joined by highways which the Knights of the Cross, or rather merchants in the towns, had made, and maintained in good condition,—highways scarcely inferior to those which had appeared in Poland under the managing and active care of King Kazimir's government. Moreover, the weather was marvellous; the nights starry, the days serene, and at the hour of afternoon milking a warm, dry breeze blew, which filled people's bosoms with health and good feeling. Wheat was green in the fields, the meadows were covered richly with flowers, and pine woods gave out the odor of resin. Over the whole road to Lidzbark, and thence to Dzialdovo, and farther to Niedzbov, the travellers saw not a single cloud on the sky. In Niedzbov at night came the earliest shower, with thunder, heard then for the first time that spring. The shower was a short one, and next morning the dawn appeared clear, rosy, golden, and so filled with light that as far as the eye could see everything glittered like strings of pearls and diamonds; the whole earth seemed to smile at the sky and to rejoice in the wealth of existence.

On that morning they went out of Niedzbov toward Schytno. The Mazovian boundary was not distant, and they could have turned to Spyhov easily. There was a moment even when Matsko thought of doing so, but after weighing everything carefully, he chose to push on directly to that terrible nest of the Order in which a part of Zbyshko's fate had been decided so gloomily. He took a peasant guide, therefore, and commanded him to lead the escort to Schytno, though a guide was not absolutely needed, for a straight road led on from Niedzbov, and on this road German miles were marked with white stones at the wayside.

The guide went some tens of steps in advance; after him came Matsko and Yagenka on horseback; then, rather far behind them, was Hlava with the fair Anulka; and still farther were wagons surrounded by armed attendants. It was early in the morning. The rosy color had not left the eastern side of the sky yet, though the sun was shining well, changing to opals the drops of dew on the grass and the trees.

"Art thou not afraid to go to Schytno?" asked Matsko.

"I am not," answered Yagenka. "The Lord God is above me, for I am an orphan."

"Thou hast cause to fear, for they keep no faith in that place. Indeed Danveld was the worst of dogs; Yurand rubbed out him and Gottfried—so Hlava says. The second after Danveld was Rotgier, who fell under Zbyshko's axe, but the old man too is unpitying, sold to the devil. People know nothing clearly, but I think that if Danusia has perished it is at his hands. They say that some misfortune met him as well as the others, but in Plotsk the princess told me that be had squeezed out of it. He is the man whom we are to meet in Schytno. It is well that we have a letter from Lichtenstein, for likely the dog brothers fear him more than even the Grand Master. They say that he has weight, that he is cruel and very strict, and moreover vengeful. He does not forgive the slightest injury. I should not go to Schytno so confidently without this letter."

"And what is the name of that old man?"

"Siegfried de Löwe."

"God grant us to defend ourselves against him."

"God grant!"

Here Matsko laughed, and after a time continued,—

"The princess in Plotsk said to me, 'The wrong you commit is that of lambs against wolves, but in this case of the wolves three are no longer living, for the innocent lambs have slaughtered them.' And she is right if the truth be told."

"But Danusia and her father?"

"I asked the same question of the princess. But I am glad in soul that it seems very dangerous to wrong us; we understand, seest thou, how to grasp an axe and use it worthily. As to Danusia and Yurand, I think, as Hlava does, that they are no longer in this world, but really no one knows exactly. I am sorry indeed for Yurand, since during life he was consumed with grief for his daughter, and if dead he has died an awful death."

"When any one mentions him in my presence, I think immediately of papa, who is no longer in this life," answered Yagenka.

And she raised her moist eyes. Matsko nodded, and said,—

"He is in God's assembly and surely in endless light, for a better man than he there was not in our whole kingdom."

"Oi, there was not, there was not!" sighed Yagenka.

Further conversation was interrupted by the peasant guide, who reined in his colt all at once, then turning, flew toward Matsko at a gallop, and cried in a strange and terrified voice,—

"Oh, for God's sake! Look, lord knight, some one is coming toward us down the hillside!"

"Who? Where?" inquired Matsko.

"Over there! It must be a giant, or something."

Matsko and Yagenka, reining in their pacers, looked in the direction indicated by the guide, and in fact they saw on the hill, half a furlong or more away, a form which seemed to exceed the usual dimensions of man considerably.

"The fellow says truly that he is large," muttered Matsko.

Then the old man spat toward one side on a sudden and said,—

"A charm on the dog!"

"Why do you adjure?" inquired Yagenka.

"Because I remember how on the same kind of morning Zbyshko and I saw on the road between Tynets and Cracow a giant of such size. The people said then that it was Valger the Charming. Well, it turned out to be the lord of Tachev; but nothing good came of the matter. A charm on the dog!"

"This is not a knight, for he is on foot," said Yagenka, looking more sharply. "I see even that he has no weapons, he has nothing but a stick in his left hand."

"And feels the way out in front, as if the time were night," added Matsko.

"And he barely moves. It is sure that he is blind, or something."

"He is blind, he is blind! as I live!"

They spurred on, and soon halted in front of the old man, who, descending the hill very slowly, was searching for the road with a stick. He was indeed immense, though seen from near by he did not appear to them a giant. They discovered that he was entirely blind. Instead of eyes, he had two red depressions in his face. His right hand also was lacking; in place of it he carried a knot formed of a dirty rag. His white hair fell to his shoulders and his beard reached his girdle.

"The poor man has neither boy nor dog, and finds the road for himself by groping," said Yagenka. "In God's name I cannot leave him without help! I do not know whether he can understand me, but I will speak to him in our speech."

She sprang from her horse quickly, and standing in front of the old man looked for money in the leather pouch which depended from her girdle.

The old man, when he heard the tramp of horses, and the noise, stretched his stick foward, and raised his head in the manner of blind people.

"Praised be Jesus Christ!" said Yagenka. "Do you understand Christian speech, grandfather?"

But he, hearing her sweet voice, trembled, a wonderful ray shot across his face as it were of emotion and tenderness, he covered with his eyelids the empty pits of his eyes, and dropping the stick, fell before her on his knees with his arms stretched upward.

"Rise! I will help you. What is your suffering?" asked Yagenka with astonishment.

He made no answer, save that two tears rolled along his cheeks, and from his mouth came a sound something like a groan.

"Aa! a!"

"By the pity of God are you dumb, or what? "

"Aa! a!"

When he had uttered this he raised his hand, made a sign of the cross with it first, then passed it across his lips. Yagenka, not understanding, looked at Matsko, who said,—

"It must be that he is showing how they cut his tongue out."

"Did they cut your tongue out?" asked the girl.

"Aa! a! a! a!" repeated the old man a number of times, nodding his head therewith.

Then he pointed at his eyes with his fingers, thrust forth his right arm without a hand, and made a motion with his left like giving a blow.

Now both understood him.

"Who did this to you?" asked Yagenka.

The old man made a number of signs of the cross in the air.

"The Knights of the Cross!" cried out Matsko.

The old man dropped his head toward his breast in sign of affirmation. A moment of silence followed. Matsko and Yagenka looked at each other with fear, for they had before them a clear proof of that lack of mercy and absence of measure in punishment for which the Knights of the Cross were distinguished.

"Savage measures!" said Matsko at last; "grievously have they punished him, and God knows whether justly. But we shall not discover that. If only we knew where to take him, for he must be a man of these parts. He understands our speech, for the people here are the same as in Mazovia."

"Do you understand what we say?" asked Yagenka.

He confirmed with his head.

"Are you from this place?"

"No," answered the old man with signs.

"Then you may be from Mazovia?"

"Yes."

"From the dominions of Prince Yanush?"

"Yes."

"And what were you doing with the Knights of the Cross?"

The old man could not answer, but his face assumed in one moment an expression of such immense pain that the compassionate heart of Yagenka quivered with the greater sympathy, and even Matsko, though no small thing could move him, said,—

"Surely the dog brothers have done him evil, and perhaps without fault on his part."

Yagenka pressed into the palm of the poor man some small money.

"Listen," said she, "I will not leave you. You will go with us to Mazovia, and in every village we will ask if that is not your place. Maybe we shall talk the way to it somehow. And stand up now, for we are not saints."

But he did not rise; on the contrary he inclined and embraced her feet, as if giving himself into her protection, and returning thanks; but at the same time a certain astonishment, and even, as it were, disappointment, shot over his face. Perhaps it was that while taking note of her voice he had thought himself standing before a young girl, while now his hand touched rough leggings such as knights and attendants wore while on journeys.

But she said,—

"This is what we will do. Our wagons will come soon; you can rest and gain strength. But you will not go at once to Mazovia, for we must go first to Schytno."

At this word the old man sprang to his feet. Dread and astonishment were expressed on his face. He opened his arms as if to bar the way, and from his mouth came wild sounds, as if he were filled with terror.

"What is the matter?" cried Yagenka, with alarm.

But Hlava, who had now come up with Anulka, and who for some time had been looking fixedly at the old man, turned quickly to Matsko with a changed face, and said in a voice full of astonishment,—

"By God's wounds! let me speak to him, lord, for you do not think who he is!"

Then, without waiting for permission, he sprang to the old man. placed his hands on his shoulders, and inquired,—

"Are you coming from Schytno?"

The old man, as if struck by the sound of his voice, grew calm, and nodded in affirmation.

"And were you not looking for your child there?"

A dull groan was the only answer to that question.

Hlava grew somewhat pale, looked a moment longer with his wild-cat glance at the features of the old man, then said slowly and with emphasis,—

"You are Yurand of Spyhov!"

"Yurand!!" screamed Matsko.

But Yurand tottered at that moment and fainted. The tortures which he had passed through, the lack of food, the toils of the journey had thrown him off his feet. That was the tenth day on which he was going along feeling his way, wandering, and searching for the road in front of him with a stick, in hunger, in struggling, uncertain whither he was going. Unable to ask for the road in the daytime, he directed himself only by the heat of the sunrays; the nights he passed in ditches by the wayside. When he passed through a hamlet or a village, or when he met people going in the opposite direction, he begged alms with his one palm and the voice that was left him; but rarely did a compassionate hand give him aid, for generally he was looked on as a criminal whom the punishment of law and of justice had overtaken. For two days he had kept himself alive with the bark of trees and with leaves, and he was in doubt whether he should be able ever to reach Mazovia—when on a sudden compassionate, kindred hearts had encircled him, and kindred voices, one of which reminded him of the sweet voice of his daughter—and when at last even his own name was mentioned, the measure of emotions overflowed, the heart was straitened in his breast, thoughts went around in his head like a whirlwind, and he would have fallen with his face in the dust of the road if the strong arms of Hlava had not caught him.

Matsko sprang from his horse, then both took Yurand, carried him to the wagons and placed him on some hay in one of them. There Yagenka and Anulka revived the man, gave him food, gave him wine to drink, and Yagenka, seeing that he could not grasp the cup, held the drink herself to his lips. Immediately an invincible sleep seized the man, from which he was to wake on the third day only.

Meanwhile they held a prompt and decisive council.

"I will say at once," called out Yagenka, "that it is not for us to go now to Schytno, but to Spyhov, so as to leave him in a safe place among his own people, and leave him surrounded by every care."

"Look, how thou art ordering this," answered Matsko. "It is nceessary to send him to Spyhov, but not indispensable that we all go; one wagon can go with him."

"I do not order, but I think that we might learn much from him about Zbyshko and Danusia."

"In what language wilt thou talk with him, since his tongue is gone?"

"But who has shown you that he has no tongue, except himself? You see that without talking we have learned everything that was needed, and how will it be when we are accustomed to the indications of his head and hands? Ask him, for example, whether Zbyshko has returned from Malborg to Schytno, then be sure he will either affirm with his head, or deny; and it will be the same with other things."

"True!" said Hlava.

"I do not deny that this is true," said Matsko, "and I had the same thought myself; but with me judgment is first, and talk afterward."

Then he gave orders to turn the wagons toward the Mazovian boundary. On the way Yagenka approached time after time the wagon in which Yurand lay, fearing that he might have died while sleeping.

"I did not recognize him," said Matsko, "but that is no wonder. He was as strong as a wild bull! the Mazovians said that he was the only man among them who was able to meet Zavisha of Garbov—but now he is a real skeleton."

"There were reports," said Hlava, "that they were killing him with torture, but some people could not believe that Christians would act so with a belted knight, one having, moreover, Saint George for his patron."

"It was God's will that Zbyshko avenged him even in part. But see the difference between us and them. It is true that of four dog brothers three have fallen; but they fell in battle, and no man has cut the tongue out of one of them in captivity, or taken his eye out."

"God will punish them," said Yagenka.

But Matsko turned to Hlava,—

"How didst thou know him?" 'I did not know him at once, though I saw him later than you did. But something was going through my head, and the more I looked at him the more it kept going. He had no beard or white hairs before; he was a great lord, and a rich one; how was it possible to recognize him in such a beggar! But when the young lady said that we were going to Schytno and he began to howl, my eyes were opened that instant."

"It would be well to take him from Spyhov to the Prince, who cannot permit such a wrong done a man of importance to go unpunished."

"They will deny, lord. They carried off his child by deceit, and they denied; they will say of the master of Spyhov that he lost his tongue and his hand in battle, and his eye also."

"True!" answered Matsko. "Indeed they carried off the Prince himself on a time. He cannot war with them, for he cannot overcome them unless the king helps him. People talk of a great war, but here there is not even a small war."

"Yes, there is, with Prince Vitold."

"Praise be to God that he is a man who cares nothing for the Order. Hei, Prince Vitold is the prince for me! And in cunning they cannot beat him, for he alone is more cunning than all of them together. It used to happen that they, the dog bloods, would press on him till destruction, like a sword, was above his head, but he would slip away, like a snake, and bite them right there. Look out for him when he strikes, but look out still more when he coaxes."

"Is he that way with all?"

"Not with all, only with Knights of the Cross; with others he is kind and bountiful."

Here Matsko meditated, as if wishing to bring Vitold to mind better.

"He is a man entirely different from the princes in these parts," said he at last. "It was Zbyshko's duty to go to him, for under him and through him it is possible to do most against the Order."

After a moment he added,—

"Who knows that we may not find them both there yet, that is the place for most proper vengeance."

Then be spoke again of Yurand, of his evil fate, and the unutterable wrongs which he had suffered from the Knights of the Order, who first of all had murdered his beloved wife without cause, and then, paying vengeance with vengeance, had carried off his daughter, and tormented him with such cruel tortures that even Tartars would not have been able to invent anything to surpass them. Matsko and Hlava gritted their teeth when they thought that even the liberation of Yurand was a new and calculated cruelty. The old knight promised himself therefore in soul that he would try to find out accurately how that all was, and then pay for it with interest.

In such conversation and thoughts the journey to Spyhov passed. After a clear day came a calm, starry night, so they did not halt for a night rest; three times, however, they fed the horses plentifully. They crossed the boundary while it was still dark, and at dawn, under the direction of a hired guide, they were on the land of Spyhov. Old Tolima held everything under an iron hand there, evidently, for barely had they entered the forest when two armed men came out toward them; but these, seeing that there were no troops, merely a small escort, not only let them pass without question, but conducted them through flooded places and swamps impassable for persons unacquainted with the district.

At the castle, Tolima and Father Kaleb received the guests. The tidings that their lord had come, brought back by pious people, flew like lightning through the castle. But when they saw how he had come from the hands of the Knights of the Cross, such a storm of threats and rage burst forth that if there had been a knight in the dungeons of Spyhov no human power could have saved him from an awful death.

Horsemen wished to mount immediately, gallop to the boundary, seize what Germans they could find, and cast their heads at the feet of Yurand; but Matsko curbed this wish of theirs, for he knew that Germans lived in towns and castles, while the village people were of the same blood as he and Yurand 's men, though living under the constraint of foreigners. But neither shouts, nor uproar, nor the squeak of well-sweeps could rouse Yurand, whom they carried from the wagon to his room on a bearskin, and placed on a bed there. At his side remained Father Kaleb, his friend from years of youth, and his foster-brother, who loved him as if he had been his own brother. He began an imploring prayer that the Saviour of the world would restore to the unfortunate Yurand his eyes, his tongue, and his hand.

The road-weary travellers lay down to sleep after morning refreshment. Matsko woke when it was well on in the afternoon and gave command to call Tolima.

Knowing already from Hlava that Yurand, before his departure, had enjoined on all obedience to Zbyshko, and that he had given to him the inheritance of Spyhov through the mouth of Father Kaleb, he said to the old man in the voice of a superior,—

"I am the uncle of your young master, and until he returns my orders will be in force here. "

Tolima inclined his gray head, which resembled the head of a wolf somewhat, and surrounding his ear with his hand, inquired,—

"Then are you the noble knight of Bogdanets?"

"I am," replied Matsko. "Whence do you know of me?"

"The young lord, Zbyshko, expected you here, and asked about you."

When he heard this, Matsko sprang to his feet, and forgetting his dignity cried,—

"Zbyshko in Spyhov?"

"He was here, lord; he went away two days ago."

"By the dear God! Whence did he come, and whither did he go?"

"He came from Malborg and stopped at Schytno on the way; whither he was going he did not tell us."

"Did he not tell you?"

"He may have told Father Kaleb."

"Ei, mighty God! Then we passed each other," said Matsko, slapping his thighs with his hands.

Tolima put his hand around his other ear,—

"What do you ask, lord?"

"Where is Father Kaleb?"

"He is with the old master, at his bedside."

"Bring him here!—But—no I will go myself to him."

"I will call him!" said the old man.

And he went out. But before he brought the priest Yagenka came in.

"Come hither! Dost thou know what? Zbyshko was here two days ago."

Yagenka's face changed in one moment, her legs, enclosed in tight leggings, could be seen trembling under her.

"Was he here, and has he gone?" asked she with a throbbing heart. "Whither?"

"Two days ago, but whither perhaps the priest knows."

"We must see the priest!" said she with a voice of decision.

After a while Father Kaleb came in. Thinking that Matsko was calling for him to inquire about Yurand, he said, anticipating the question,—

"He is sleeping yet."

"I have heard that Zbyshko was here!" exclaimed Matsko.

"He was; he went away two days ago."

"Whither?"

"He did not know himself whither. He went to search, —to the boundary of Jmud, where there is war now."

"By the dear God, tell me, father, what you know of Zybshko."

"I know only what he told me. He was in Malborg and gained powerful protection there; that of the brother of the Grand Master, who is the first knight among them. At his command Zbyshko has permission to search all the castles."

"For Yurand and Danusia?"

"Yes, but he was not searching for Yurand, since they told him that Yurand was not living."

"Tell from the beginning."

"Immediately; but I will draw breath and come to myself, for I am returning from the other world."

"How from the other world?"

"From that world to which a man does not go on horseback, but on prayer, and from the feet of the Lord Jesus, from whom I have begged for mercy on Yurand."

"You have asked for a miracle? Have you such power?" asked Matsko with great curiosity.

"I have no power whatever, but the Saviour has. If he wishes, he will return to Yurand eye, tongue, and hand."

"He can if he wishes," answered Matsko. "Still you have asked for no small thing."

Father Kaleb made no reply, perhaps he had not heard, for his eyes did not yet indicate full presence of mind, and it was evident that he had forgotten himself altogether in prayer. So now he covered his face with his hands and sat some time in silence; at last he shook himself, rubbed his eyelids, and then said,—

"Now inquire."

"How did Zbyshko win over to his side the Voyt of Samba?"

"He is not Voyt of Samba now."

"No matter. Take note of what I ask, and tell what you know."

"He won him at the tournament. Ulrich Von Jungingen is fond of encounters within barriers, so he met Zbyshko; for there was a multitude of knightly guests in Malborg and the Grand Master had arranged tournaments. The saddle girth burst on Ulrich's horse, and Zbyshko might have brought him down easily, but he, seeing that, struck his spear against the ground, and besides supported the tottering man."

"Hei! Well, seest thou?" cried Matsko, turning to Yagenka. "Ulrich fell to loving him for that?"

"Yes, for that. He would not meet him with sharp lances, or dull ones, and became his friend. Zbyshko, on his part, told him his sufferings, and he, because he cares for knightly honor, was inflamed with dreadful rage, and sent Zbyshko with a complaint to his brother. God grant him salvation for that, since there are not many among the Knights who love justice. Zbyshko told me too that Pan de Lorche assisted him much because they respect him there for his wealth and great family, and he gave testimony for Zbyshko in everything."

"But what came of the complaint, and the testimony? "

"This, that the Grand Master commanded severely the comtur of Schytno to send to Malborg at once all captives and prisoners in Schytno, not excepting Yurand himself. As to Yurand, the comtur answered that he had died of his wounds and was buried near the church there. Other prisoners he sent to Malborg, among them the idiot girl, but our Danusia was not among them."

"I know from Hlava," said Matsko, "that Rotgier, he who was slain by Zbyshko, mentioned such a girl. He said at the court of Prince Yanush that they had mistaken her for Yurand's daughter; and when the princess answered that they had seen and knew the real daughter of Yurand, who was not an idiot, he said, 'You are right, but we thought that the Evil One had changed her.'"

"The comtur wrote the same to the Grand Master: that that girl was not in prison, but under guard; that they had taken her from robbers, who swore that she was Yurand's daughter, who had been transformed."

"And did the Master believe that?"

"He did not know himself whether he was to believe or not, but Ulrich flashed up with still greater anger, and obtained from his brother this, that he should send an official of the Order with Zbyshko to Schytno, which happened. When they arrived at Schytno they did not find the old comtur, Siegfried, for he had gone to the war against Vitold, toward the eastern castles. They found an assistant voyt, who commanded to open all the cellars and dungeons. They searched and searched, but found nothing. They took people also to testify. One told Zbyshko that much might be learned from the chaplain, for he could understand the dumb executioner; but the old comtur had taken the executioner with him, and the chaplain had gone to Krolevets to some church congress. They meet there often, and send complaints against the Knights of the Cross to the Pope, for a hard life have the poor priests in the lands of the Order."

"But it is a wonder to me that they did not find Yurand," remarked Matsko.

"It is evident that the old comtur liberated him earlier. There was more malice in this liberation than if they had simply taken life from him; they wanted that he should suffer before death as much, nay more, than a man of his position could go through, blind, speechless, and without his right hand. Fear God! Neither able to go home, nor to ask about the road, nor to beg for bread. They supposed that he would die under a fence, sometime, from hunger, or that he would be drowned in water. What did they leave to him? Nothing but the memory of what he had been, and the experience of wretchedness. And besides, it was torture upon torture! He might have been sitting somewhere near a church, or at the roadside, and Zbyshko might have passed by and not recognized him. Perhaps even he heard Zbyshko's voice and could not call to him. Hei! I cannot talk from tears! God performed a miracle that you met him, therefore I think that He will perform one still greater, though my unworthy and sinful lips are those which beg for it."

"And what more did Zbyshko say? Whither did he go?"

"He said this: 'I know that Danusia was in Schytno, but they have either killed her or removed her. Old Siegfried,' said he, 'did that, and as God be my aid I shall not rest henceforth till I put hand on him.'"

"Did he say that? Then it is certain that he has gone to the eastern boundaries, but there is war there at present."

"He knew that there was war, and therefore he went to Prince Vitold. He said that he should be able to accomplish something against the Knights of the Cross through Vitold more quickly than through the king even."

"To Prince Vitold!" cried Matsko, springing up.

Then he turned to Yagenka,—

"Seest thou what sense? Did I not say the same? I foretold as true as life that we should have to go to Vitold."

"Zbyshko had the hope," said Father Kaleb, "that Vitold would burst into Prussia and capture the castles there."

"If they give him time he will not fail," answered Matsko. "Well! praise God, we know at least where to look for Zbyshko."

"Then we must go at once," said Yagenka.

"Be quiet!" cried Matsko. "It is not proper for attendants to give counsel."

And he looked at her significantly, as if reminding her that she was an attendant, so she recollected herself, and was silent.

Matsko thought for a while, and then said,—

"We shall find Zbyshko certainly, for he is nowhere else, except at the side of Prince Vitold; but it will be necessary to know whether he has anything else to seek in the world besides those heads of the Knights of the Cross which he has vowed to get."

"And how can that be known?" asked Father Kaleb.

"If I knew that that priest of Schytno had returned from the council I should like to see him. I have letters from Lichtenstein and can go with perfect safety."

"That was no council, it was only a meeting," said Father Kaleb, "and the priest must have returned long ago."

"That is well. Leave the rest to my head; I will take Hlava, two attendants with war horses, and go."

"And then to Zbyshko?" inquired Yagenka.

"And then to Zbyshko; but meanwhile thou wilt wait here till I return from Schytno. I think that I shall not be gone longer than three or four days. The bones in me are strong, and toil is nothing new to me. But first I will beg you, Father Kaleb, for a letter to the chaplain of Schytno. He will believe me the more easily if I show him your letter, since priests have always more confidence in one another than in laymen."

"People speak well of that priest," answered Father Kaleb, "and if any one knows anything it is he."

Towards evening the letter was ready, and next morning before sunrise old Matsko was no longer in Spyhov.

1. The ruins of the gallows remained till the year 1818.