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CHAPTER LIX. Zbyshko had said to himself in spirit reproachfully that while suffering he had forgotten his uncle. And since he was accustomed in every case to accomplish quickly whatever he had planned, he set out with De Lorche for Plotsk the next morning. Roads at the boundary even in time of greatest peace were full of peril because numerous ruffian bands were upheld there by the Knights of the Order, and attended by their fostering care. With this King Yagello reproached them keenly. In spite of complaints which were supported in Rome even, in spite of threats and stern measures of justice, the neighboring comturs often permitted their hirelings to join robber bands, disowning, it is true, those who had the ill fate to fall into Polish hands, but giving refuge to those who returned with booty and prisoners, not only in villages of the Order, but also in castles. Into robber hands of just this kind did travellers fall frequently and also inhabitants near the border, and especially were children of wealthy parents snatched away for the sake of ransom. But the two young knights, having considerable retinues, composed each, besides wagoners, of a number of armed footmen and mounted attendants, did not fear attack, and reached Plotsk without adventure; there a pleasant surprise met them immediately on their arrival. At the inn they found Tolima, who had come a day earlier. It had happened in this way: the starosta of the Order at Lubav, hearing that Tolima, when attacked near Brodnitsa, had succeeded in hiding a portion of the ransom, sent him back to that castle with an order to the comtur to force him to show where the money was hidden. Tolima made use of that circumstance and fled. When the knights wondered that he had succeeded so easily, he explained the affair to them as follows: "It was all through their greed. The comtur at Brodnitsa would not send a more numerous guard with me, for he did not wish to make a noise about the money. Perhaps he had agreed with the man of Lubav to divide, and they thought if there was noise they would have to send a large part to Malborg, or give those Von Badens all thou didst remit to them. So he sent only two guards to take me,—one a confidential man at arms, who had to row with me on the Drventsa, and some kind of scribe. Since they wished no one to see us, they sent us at nightfall, and ye know that the boundary is near by there. They gave me an oar of oak—well—and God's favor, for here I am in Plotsk." "I know, but did not the others return?" called out Zbyshko. A savage smile lighted Tolima's face. "The Drventsa flows always into the Vistula," said he. "How could they return against the current? The Knights of the Cross will find them perhaps in Torun." After a while he added, turning to Zbyshko,— "The comtur of Lubav took from me a part of the money, but that which I hid when attacked I recovered, and have given it, lord, to thy attendant for keeping; he lives in the castle with the prince, and it is safer in his hands than with me in the inn here." "Then is my attendant in Plotsk? What is he doing?" inquired Zbyshko, with wonder. "He, after bringing Siegfried, went away with that young lady who was at Spyhov and is now in waiting on the princess here. As I told thee." But Zbyshko, dazed by his grief for Danusia, had not inquired and knew nothing. Now he remembered that Hlava had been sent away in advance with Siegfried; and while recalling this his heart was straitened with sorrow, and with desire for vengeance. "True," said he. "But where is that executioner? What has happened to him?" "Did not Father Kaleb tell? Siegfried hanged himself, and you have passed his grave in coming hither." A moment of silence followed. "Hlava said that he was going to you, and he would have gone long ago, but he was forced to guard the young lady, who fell ill here after coming from Spyhov." "What young lady?" inquired Zbyshko, shaking himself out of painful remembrances, as if out of a dream. "Why, that one, your sister or kinswoman who came with the knight Matsko to Spyhov in a man's dress, and found our lord groping along on the highway. Without her, neither the knight Matsko nor your attendant would have recognized our lord Yurand. Our lord loved her greatly after that, for she took as much care of him as would a daughter, and she was the only one except Father Kaleb who understood him." The young knight opened his eyes widely with astonishment. "Father Kaleb told me nothing of a young lady, and I have no kinswoman." "He did not tell, since you forgot everything through pain. You knew not God's world." "And what is the name of that young lady?" "Yagenka." It seemed to Zbyshko that he was dreaming. The idea that Yagenka could come from distant Zgorzelitse to Spyhov had not occurred to him. Why should she come? It was no secret that the girl was glad to see him and was attached to him in Zgorzelitse, but he had told her that he was to marry Danusia; in view of this he could not suppose in any case that Matsko would bring her to Spyhov with the intent to give her to him in marriage. Besides, neither Matsko nor Hlava had mentioned her. Hence all this seemed to him wonderfully strange and beyond explanation, so he fell to overwhelming Tolima with questions like a man who cannot believe his own ears and desires that incredible news be repeated. Tolima could not tell him more than he had told already, but he went to the castle to look for Hlava, and soon, before sunset, returned with him. The Cheh greeted his young master gladly but also with sorrow, for he had heard of everything which had happened in Spyhov. Zbyshko also was glad from his whole soul, feeling that Hlava had a faithful and friendly heart, one of those which a man needs most in misfortune. He grew tender and sorrowful in telling of Danusia's death, and Hlava shared his sorrow, pain, and tears, just as a brother might share them with a brother. All this lasted long, especially as at the prayer of Zbyshko Pan de Lorche repeated for them that morning hymn which he had composed about the dead woman, and sang it to the sound of a cithara at the open window, raising his eyes and his face toward the stars. At last they were relieved considerably, and then spoke of affairs awaiting them in Plotsk. "I have taken this road to Malborg," said Zbyshko, "for thou knowest that my uncle is a captive, and I am going to him with ransom." "I know," replied Hlava. "You have done well, lord; I wished myself to go to Spyhov to advise you to come hither. King Yagello will have a meeting in Ratsiondz with the Grand Master; near the king it will be easier to make a claim, because in presence of majesty the Knights of the Cross are not so haughty, and they feign Christian honesty." "Tolima told me that thou hadst the wish to go to Spyhov, but the ill health of Yagenka, Zyh's daughter, detained thee. I hear that Uncle Matsko brought her to these regions, and that she was in Spyhov. I wonder greatly at this. Tell me, why did my uncle take her from Zgorzelitse?" "There were many reasons. The knight Matsko was afraid that if he left her without protection the knights Vilk and Stan would fall on Zgorzelitse, and injustice be inflicted on the younger children. Her absence, as you know, was better than her presence, for in Poland it happens that a noble takes a girl by force if he cannot get her otherwise, but no one would raise a hand on little orphans; the sword of an executioner prevents that, and infamy severer than a sword. But there was another reason: the abbot died and made the young lady heiress to his lands over which the bishop here has care. Therefore knight Matsko brought the lady here to Plotsk." "But did he take her to Spyhov?" "He took her during the absence of the bishop and the prince and princess, for there was no one with whom to leave her. And it is well that he took her to Spyhov, for had the young lady not been with us, we should have passed the lord Yurand as a strange old beggar. It was only when the lady pitied him that we discovered who the old beggar was. The Lord God arranged this all through her pitying heart." And he told how Yurand afterwards could not live without her, how he loved and blessed her; and though Zbyshko knew this already from Tolima, he listened to that narrative with emotion, and with gratefulness to Yagenka. "God give her health!" said he at last. "But it is a wonder to me that ye did not mention her." Hlava was a little troubled, and wished to gain time to think over the answer, and asked,— "Where, lord?" "With Skirvoillo, off there in the Jmud land." "Did we not say anything? As I live! It seems to me that we said something, but there were other thoughts in your head." "Ye said that Yurand had returned, but not a word of Yagenka." "Ei! have you not forgotten? But God alone knows! Perhaps the knight Matsko thought that I spoke of her to you, and I thought that he spoke. To tell you anything at that time, lord, would have been the same as not to tell. And no wonder! Now it is different. Luckily the lady is in Plotsk; she will be of service to the knight Matsko." "What can she do?" "Just let her say one word to the princess, Alexandra, who loves her greatly! The Knights of the Cross refuse nothing to the princess, for, first, she is the king's own sister, and, second, she is a great friend of the Order. Now, as you have heard, perhaps, Prince Skirgello (the king's brother) has risen up against Vitold, and fled to the Knights of the Cross, who wish to assist him and put him in the place of Vitold. The king is very fond of the princess, and lends his ear to her gladly, as they say; so the Knights of the Order wish that she should incline the king to the side of Skirgello against Vitold. They understand, their mother is in hell! that could they be free of Vitold, they would be at rest. Therefore the envoys of the Order are bowing down before the princess from morning until evening, and try to divine every wish of hers." "Yagenka loves my uncle greatly, and will take his part," said Zbyshko. "Be sure of that. She will not do otherwise. But go, lord, to the castle, and tell her how to act and what to say." "I am going with Pan de Lorche to the castle, in any case. I came here for that purpose. We have only to curl our hair now, and dress befittingly." After a while he added,— "I intended to cut my hair in mourning, but forgot to do so." "It is better as it is," said Hlava. He stepped out to summon the attendants, and returned with them while the two young knights were arraying themselves properly for the evening banquet at the castle, then he narrated further what was happening at the courts of the king and the prince. "The Knights of the Order," said he, "undermine Vitold with all their power; for while he is alive and rules a powerful country at commission of the king, they can know no peace. In fact, he is the only man they fear. Hei! they are digging and digging, like moles! They have roused against him already the prince and princess here, and people say that even Prince Yanush bears anger against him because of Vizna." "But have Prince Yanush and Princess Anna Danuta come also?" inquired Zbyshko. "There will be a multitude of people here whom I know; I am not in Plotsk now for the first time." "Yes," answered Hlava, "they are both here; they have many affairs with the Knights of the Order, which they will bring up against the Grand Master in presence of the king." "Well, and the king, on whose side is he? Is he not angry at the Knights, and does he not shake his sword above them?" "The king does not like the Knights of the Order, and they say that he has been threatening them with war this long time. As to Vitold, the king prefers him to his own brother, Skirgello, who is a drunkard and a whirlwind. And therefore the knights who attend his Majesty say that the king will not declare against Vitold, and will not promise the Order not to help him. This may be true, for during some days past Princess Alexandra is very attentive to the king and seems in some way anxious." "Has Zavisha Charny come?" "He has not, but a man cannot take his eyes from those here already, and should there be war— Mighty God! chips and splinters will fly from the Germans!" "It is not I who will pity them." A few Our Fathers later, they were in splendid dress and on the way to the castle. The evening feast that day was to be, not at the prince's palace, but at the house of the city starosta, Andrei of Yasenets, whose spacious mansion stood within the castle walls at the Greater Bastion. Because of the wonderful night, which was almost too warm, the starosta, fearing lest the air might be too sultry in the chambers, commanded to set the tables in the court, where between the stone flags grew yew and service trees. Burning tar kegs illuminated the place with a clear yellow light, but clearer still were the rays of the moon, which on a cloudless sky, amid swarms of stars, shone like the silver shield of a champion. The crowned guests had not appeared yet, but there was a throng already of the local knighthood, of clergy and of courtiers, both of the king and the princes. Zbyshko knew many of them, especially those of Prince Yanush, and of his former acquaintances of Cracow: he saw Kron of Koziglove, Lis of Targovisko, Martsin of Vrotsimovitse, Domarat of Kobylany, and Stashko of Harbimovitse, and finally Povala of Tachev, the sight of whom pleased him specially, for he remembered the kindness which that famous knight had shown him formerly. But he was unable to approach any man immediately, for the local knighthood of Mazovia had surrounded each of them in a close circle, inquiring of Cracow, of the court, of the amusements, of various warlike excellencies, gazing meanwhile at their brilliant dresses, their hair, the splendid curls of which were rubbed with the white of eggs to give consistency, taking from them models of manners and politeness in everything. But Povala recognized Zbyshko, and, pushing aside the Mazovians, he approached him. "I know thee, young man," said he, pressing his hand. "How art thou, and whence hast thou come? God bless me! I see a belt and spurs on thee. Other men wait for these till gray hairs, but thou, it seems, art serving Saint George most worthily." "God give you happiness, noble lord!" answered Zbyshko. "Had I hurled down from his horse the best German, I should not be so glad as I am to see you in health at this moment." "I am glad to see thee. But where is thy father?" "That was my uncle, not my father. He is a captive among the Knights of the Cross, and I am going with ransom to release him." "And that maiden who put a veil on thee?" Zbyshko made no answer, he only raised his eyes, which filled with tears in one moment, seeing which the lord of Tachev said,— "This is a vale of tears, a real vale of tears, nothing else. But let us go to a bench under the service-tree; there thou wilt tell thy sad adventures." And he drew him to a corner of the courtyard. Zbyshko sat down at his side and told of Yurand's misfortunes, of the seizure of Danusia, how he had sought her, and how she had died after he had rescued her. Povala listened carefully, and on his face were seen in turn wrath, amazement, compassion, and horror. At last, when Zbyshko had finished, he said,— "I will tell this to our lord the king. He has in every case to make claim of the Master on behalf of little Yasko of Kretkov, and obtain the stern punishment of those who seized the boy; and they seized him to get a rich ransom. For them it is nothing to raise hands on children." Here he was thoughtful for a while, then he spoke on as if in soliloquy,— "An insatiable race, worse than Turks and Tartars. In their souls they dread the king and us; still they cannot hold back from robbery and murder. They attack villages, slaughter land-tillers, drown fishermen; they seize children as wolves might. What would they do did they not fear us? The Grand Master sends letters against our king to foreign courts, but fawns before his eyes like a dog, for he knows our strength better than others do. But at last he has overfilled the measure." Again he was silent for a moment, then he laid his hand on Zbyshko' s arm. "I will tell the king," repeated he; "this long time wrath is boiling in him, like water in a pot, and be sure of this, that dreadful punishment will not miss the authors of thy suffering." "O lord," replied Zbyshko, "not one of them is alive now." Povala gazed at him with great well-wishing friendliness. "God give thee aid! It is clear that thou dost not forget injustice. Lichtenstein is the only man whom thou hast not repaid, for I know that thou hast not had the chance yet. We also made a vow against him in Cracow; but to fulfil this vow there must be war—God grant us to see it!—Lichtenstein could not fight a duel without the Grand Master's permission, and the Master needs Lichtenstein's wit, therefore he sends him continually to various courts; he will not give him permission easily." "First, I must ransom my uncle." "Yes, true; and I have inquired about Lichtenstein. He is not here, and will not be in Ratsiondz; he has been sent to the King of England for archers. But let not thy head ache over thy uncle. If the king or the princes here say a word, the Grand Master will not permit evasion touching the ransom." "All the more, as I have a considerable captive who is a rich man and famous among them. He would be glad surely to bow down to you, lord, and become acquainted, for no one respects famous knights more than he does." Then he nodded to De Lorche, who had come near, and he, having asked previously who the knight was with whom Zbyshko was conversing, approached hurriedly, for indeed he had flushed up with desire to know a man so famous as Povala. When Zbyshko had made them acquainted, the polished knight of Guelders bowed with the utmost elegance, and added,— "There could be only one greater honor beyond pressing your hand, and that would be to meet you within barriers, or in battle." At this the strong knight of Tachev smiled, for near the slender and small De Lorche he looked like a mountain. "But l am glad," said he, "that we shall meet at full cups only; God grant never elsewhere!" De Lorche hesitated somewhat, and then answered as if with a certain timidity,— "But shouldst thou assert, noble lord, that the damsel Yagenka of Dlugolyas is not the most beautiful and most virtuous lady on earth, it would be for me a great honor—to contradict, and—" Here he stopped and looked into the eyes of Povala with respect, nay, even with homage, but quickly and with attention. Povala, whether it was because he knew that he could crush De Lorche with two fingers, as he might a nut, or because he had a soul which was immensely kind and gladsome, laughed aloud and said,— "On a time I made a vow to the Princess of Burgundy, and she in those days was ten years older than I; but if you, sir, wish to assert that my princess is not older than your damsel Yagenka, we shall have to take to horse straightway." When he heard this, De Lorche looked in amazement for a while at the lord of Tachev, then his face began to quiver, and at last he burst into kindly laughter. Povala bent forward, put one arm around De Lorche's body, then raised him from the ground and swayed him back and forth as easily as if the man had been an infant. "Pax! pax! as Bishop Kropidlo says!" exclaimed Povala. "You have pleased me, knight, and as God is true we will never fight for any lady." Then embracing De Lorche, he placed him on the ground; for just at the entrance the trumpets sounded suddenly, and the Prince of Plotsk entered with his consort. "The prince and princess here precede the king and Prince Yanush," said Povala, "for though the feast is given by the starosta, it is given in Plotsk, where they are rulers. Come with me to the princess, for thou knowest her since the feast at Cracow, when she took thy part before Yagello." And seizing Zbyshko by the arm, he conducted him through the court. Behind the prince and princess came courtiers and damsels, all in grand array, and brilliant; since the king was to be there, so the whole space was as bright from them as if they had been flowers. Zbyshko, while approaching with Povala, examined faces from a distance, thinking to find among them some acquaintance, and all at once he halted from astonishment; for close behind the princess he saw, a figure and a face well known indeed to him, but so serious, beautiful, and queenlike that he thought his eyes must be deceiving him. "Is that Yagenka—or perhaps the daughter of the Prince of Plotsk?" But that was Yagenka, the daughter of Zyh, for at the moment when their eyes met, she smiled at once with friendliness and compassion; then she grew pale a little, and, dropping her eyelids, stood with a golden circlet on her dark hair, and with the immense brilliancy of her beauty, tall and wonderful, resembling not merely a young princess but a ruling queen.
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