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CHAPTER LXIII. Matsko and Zbyshko held each other in a long embrace, for each had loved the other always, and during recent years adventures and mishaps met in common made that love still stronger. The old knight divined from the first glance at his nephew that Danusia was not in the world then, so he made no inquiry; he merely drew the young man to his bosom, wishing to show by the power of that pressure that Zbyshko was not altogether an orphan, that there was still a kindred soul which was ready to share a sad fate with him. At last, when sorrow and pain had flowed away with their tears considerably, Matsko asked, after a long silence,— "Did they seize her again, or did she die in thy arms?" "She died in my arms at the very edge of Spyhov," said Zbyshko. And he told what had happened, and how it had happened, interrupting his narrative with sighs and weeping. Matsko listened attentively; he sighed also, and at last inquired, "But is Yurand still living?" "Yurand was living when I left Spyhov, but he has not long to abide in this world, and to a certainty I shall not see him again." "It would have been better, perhaps, to remain at Spyhov." "But how was I to leave you in this place?" "A couple of weeks earlier or later would be the same." Zbyshko looked at his uncle carefully, and said,— "You must have been sick. You look like Piotrovin."[1] "Perhaps, for though the sun warms the world, it is always cold underground, and the dampness is terrible because there is water around all these castles. I thought that the mould here would kill me. There was no air to breathe, and my wound opened because of my suffering,—that wound, thou knowest, through which the arrow splinter came out after I had drunk bear's oil." "I remember," said Zbyshko, "for Yagenka and I went for the bear. But did the dog brothers keep you underground here?'* Matsko nodded his head, and answered,— "To tell the truth, they were not glad to see me, and it was going ill with me. There is great hatred here against Vitold and the Jmud men, but still greater against those of our people who help them. It was useless for me to tell why we went to the Jmud land. They washed to cut my head off, and if they did not cut it off it is only because they did not wish to lose the ransom; for, as thou knowest, money has more charms for them than even vengeance, and besides they wish to have in hand a proof that King Yagello helps Pagans. That the Jmud people, the unfortunates, beg for baptism, if only it is not from German hands, is known to us who have been in their country; but the Knights pretend not to know this, and they calumniate those people at all courts, and with them our king, Yagello." Here Matsko was seized by a panting fit, so he had to be silent for a time, and only after he had regained breath did he continue,— "And I might have died underground, perhaps. It is true that Arnold von Baden took my part; he wished to save the ransom. But Arnold has no weight here, and they call him a bear. Luckily De Lorche heard of me from Arnold, and he made a tremendous uproar immediately. He may not have told thee of this, for he hides his own good deeds willingly. They hold him in consideration here, for a De Lorche held high office once in the Order, and this man is rich and of renowned family. He told them that he was our captive, and that if they took my life, or if I died through dampness and hunger, thou wouldst behead him. He threatened even to tell throughout the courts of western Europe how the Knights of the Cross treat belted knights. They were frightened, and removed me to a hospital where there is better food and the air is purer." "I will not take one copper from De Lorche, so help me God." "It is pleasant to take ransom from an enemy, but it is a proper thing to forgive a friend," added Matsko;"still, since there is, as I hear, an agreement with the king about exchange of prisoners, thou wilt not have to ransom me." "Well, but our knightly word?" inquired Zbyshko. 'The king's agreement is an agreement, still Arnold might accuse us of dishonor." When he heard this Matsko was concerned; he thought a while and said,— "But it might be possible to reduce the amount somewhat." "We put our own estimate on ourselves. Are we of less value now?" Matsko was concerned still more, but there was an expression of wonder in his eyes, and, as it were, of still greater love for Zbyshko. "He will guard his honor; he was born with that power," muttered the old man. And he sighed. Zbyshko thought that it was from regret for the money which they had to pay Arnold, so he said,— "You know that we have wealth enough now, if only our fate were not so grievous." "God will change it for thee," said the old knight, with emotion. "I have not long to live in this world as I now am." "Do not say that! You will be well, only let the wind blow around you." "The wind? The wind bends a young tree, but breaks an old one." "Nonsense! the bones are not decaying in you yet, and it is a long way from you to old age. Be not sad!" "Wert thou gladsome, I should laugh. But I have another cause for sadness, and to tell the truth, not only I, but all of us." "What is it?" "Dost remember how I reproached thee in Skirvoillo's camp because thou didst glorify the might of the Order? Our men are firm in the field, I know they are, but from near by, I see these dog brothers now for the first time." Matsko lowered his voice, as if fearing lest some one might overhear him. "And I see now that thou wert right; I was not. May the hand of God defend us; what power, what strength! The hands of our knights are itching, and they wish to strike the Germans at the earliest; but they do not know that all nations and kings are helping the Order, that Knights of the Cross have more money, that they are better trained, that their castles are stronger and their battle weapons better. May God's hand defend us! Both among us, and here, people say that it must come to a great war, and will come; but when it comes may God have mercy on our kingdom and our people!" Here he clasped his iron-gray head with his palms, rested his elbows on his knees, and was silent. "Well," said Zbyshko, "you see, taken separately, many of our men are stronger than single champions on their side, but as to a great war you yourself have grown thoughtful." "Oi! I have indeed! And God grant that those envoys of the king will grow thoughtful also, but especially Zyndram." "I saw how gloomy he became. He is a great man in war, and they say that no one in the world is so skilful in battle." "If this is true, perhaps there will be no war." "If the Knights of the Cross see that they are stronger, then war will come surely. And I tell you sincerely, God grant us an end of some sort, for we cannot live longer in this way." In his turn Zbyshko, as if crushed by his own and the general misfortune, dropped his head. "I grieve for our noble kingdom," said Matsko; "but I fear that God has punished us for great boasting. Thou rememberest how, in front of the cathedral in Cracow before mass, at the time when thy head was to be cut off, and was not, the knighthood challenged Timur the Lame, the master of forty kingdoms, the man who made a mountain of human skulls,—the Knights of the Cross were not enough for them, they must challenge all opponents at once,—and in this was offence against God, perhaps." Zbyshko at this reminder seized his golden hair, for great grief had come on him unexpectedly, and he cried,— "But who saved me at that time from the headman, if not she? O Jesus! My Danusia! Jesus!" And he tore his hair, and then began to gnaw his fist, with which he tried to stifle his sobbing, so did the spirit whine in the man from sudden pain. "Keep God in thy heart, boy! be quiet!" cried Matsko. "What wilt thou gain? Restrain thyself! Be calm!" But Zbyshko was unable for a long time to calm himself, and he came to his mind only when Matsko, who was really ill yet, grew so faint that he tottered on his feet, and fell to the bench quite unconscious. Then the young man placed him on the bed, strengthened him with wine, which the comtur of the castle had sent, and watched over him till the old knight dropped asleep. They woke late next morning fresher and rested. "Well," said Matsko, "it must be that my time has not come yet; and I think that if the breeze of the field were blowing about me I could ride to the end of my journey." "The envoys will remain here some days yet," answered Zbyshko, "for people are coming with requests about captives caught in Mazovia or Great Poland while robbing; but we may go whenever you wish, and when you feel strong enough." At this moment Hlava came in. "Dost know what the envoys are doing?" asked the old knight of him. "They are visiting the church and the High Castle,—the comtur of the castle acts himself as their guide; afterward they will go to the chief refectory to a dinner to which the Grand Master is to invite your Graces." "But what hast thou been doing since early morning?" "Looking at German mercenaries, infantry, which captains are drilling, and I compared them with our Cheh men." "Dost thou remember Cheh infantry?" "I was a stripling when the knight Zyh captured me, but I remember well, for I was curious about such things from boyhood." "Well, and what?" "Oh, nothing! The infantry of the Order is strong and well trained, but the men are bullocks, while our Chehs are wolves. Should it come to action—but then your Graces know that bullocks do not eat wolves, and wolves like beef tremendously." "That is true," said Matsko, who evidently knew something of this; "the man who rubs against your people jumps back from them as from a porcupine." "In battle a mounted knight is as good as ten footmen," said Zbyshko. "But only infantry can take Malborg," answered Hlava. Remarks on infantry stopped there, for Matsko, following the course of his own thoughts, said,— "Hear Hlava; to-day, when I get up and feel in strength, we will go." "But whither?" "Of course to Mazovia. To Spyhov," said Zbyshko. "And shall we stay there?" Here Matsko looked at his nephew inquiringly, for thus far they had not spoken of what they were to do in future. The young man had his decision ready, but evidently had no wish to grieve his uncle, so he replied indirectly,— "First, you must be well." "And then what?" "And then? You will go back to Bogdanets. I know how you love Bogdanets." "But thou?" "I love it too." "I do not say that thou shouldst not go to Yurand," said Matsko, slowly, "for if he dies, we ought to bury him properly; but attend to what I say, for being young thou art not my equal in prudence. Spyhov is unfortunate in some way. Whatever good has met thee, has met thee elsewhere, but in Spyhov, only grievous suffering and anguish." "You speak the truth, but Danusia's body is in Spyhov." "Be quiet!" exclaimed Matsko, fearing lest unexpected pain should seize Zbyshko, as it had the day previous. But on the young man's face were reflected only tenderness and sorrow. "There will be time for counsel," said he, after a while. "You must rest in Plotsk anyhow." "Care will not fail your Grace in Plotsk," put in Hlava. "True," added Zbyshko. "Do you know that Yagenka is there? She is a damsel of Princess Alexandra. But of course you know, for you brought her there. She was in Spyhov too. It was a wonder to me that you said nothing of her while we were with Skirvoillo." "Not only was she in Spyhov, but had it not been for her, Yurand would be groping along a highway with his stick, or would have died somewhere at the roadside. I brought her to Plotsk for the Abbot's legacy, and I said nothing to thee about her; if I had, thou wouldst not have heard it. Thou wert paying no attention to anything, poor fellow, at that time." "She loves you greatly," said Zbyshko. "Praised be God that we needed no letters, but she got letters from the princess on your behalf, and through the princess from the envoys of the Order." "God bless the girl, for on earth there is not a better than she!" replied Matsko. Further conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Zyndram and Povala, who, since they had heard of Matsko's fainting fit, had come to visit him. "Praised be Jesus Christ!" said Zyndram, when he had crossed the threshold. "How is it with you to-day?" "God reward you! In a small way. Zbyshko says that if the wind were to blow around me. I should be well immediately." "Why should you not? You will be well! All will be well," put in Povala. "Besides, I have rested thoroughly. Not like your Graces, who, as I hear, rose early." "First people came to us to claim prisoners," said Zyndram, "and afterward we examined the management of the Order,—in the First Castle and the other castles." "Firm management, and firm castles!" muttered Matsko. "Surely they are firm. In the church there are ornaments in the Arabic style; the Knights said that they had learned that style from the Saracens in Sicily, and in the castles are special rooms on pillars which stand alone, or in clusters. You will see yourselves the great refectory. The fortress is tremendous in all its parts, such a fortress as there is in no other place. Such walls a stone cannon-ball, though the greatest, could not bite in any way. By my faith, there is pleasure in looking at it." Zyndram said this so joyously that Matsko looked at him with astonishment, and asked,— "But their wealth and good order, and troops, and guests, have you looked at them?" "They showed us all, as if through friendliness, but really to make the hearts sink in us." "Well, and what?" "Well, God grant that when war comes we shall drive them from here, beyond the mountains and seas,—to the place whence they came." Matsko, forgetting his sickness at that moment, sprang to his feet in astonishment. "How is this, lord?" asked he. "Men say that you have a quick mind. As to me, I grew faint when I saw what their power is. In God's name, whence do you get your conviction?" Here he turned to his nephew. "Zbyshko, command to bring wine, that which they sent us. Sit down, your Graces, and talk, since a better cure for my sickness than your discourse no physician could think out." Zbyshko, also very curious, put the wine on the table himself, and with it goblets; all sat around the table then, and Zyndram spoke as follows,— "This fortress is nothing; for what the hand of man has reared, the hand of man can pull down. Ye know what keeps brick together? Mortar! But do ye know what keeps people together? Love." "By God's wounds! honey is flowing from your lips!" exclaimed Matsko. Zyndram, rejoiced in his heart by that praise, continued,— "Of the people in this region one has in bonds with us a brother, another a son, another a relative, another a son-in-law, or some one else. The comturs of the boundary command their men to go out and rob us; hence many of them are slain, and many of them we capture. But since people here have learned already of the exchange of prisoners between the king and the Grand Master, they came to us from early morning to give the names of captives, which names our scribe entered down. First of all came a cooper, a rich citizen, a German, who has a house in Malborg, when he said at last: 'If I could serve your king and kingdom in any way, I would give my life and not merely my property.' I sent him away, thinking the man a Judas. But after him came a parish priest from near Oliva, to ask about his brother, and he spoke as follows: 'Is it true, lord, that ye are going to war with our Prussian masters? If ye are, be it known to you that the whole people here when they say "Thy kingdom come," are thinking of your sovereign.' Afterward appeared two nobles for their sons: these nobles live near Shtum on feudal lands; there were merchants from Dantzig, there were artisans, there was a bell-founder from Kvidjyn, there was a crowd of various people, and they all said the same thing." Here Zyndram stopped and looked around to see that no men were listening behind the doors; on returning he finished in a somewhat lower voice,— "I inquired long about everything. Throughout all Prussia the Knights of the Cross are hated by priests, nobles, citizens, and land-tillers. And not only are they hated by people who use our speech, or the Prussian, but even by Germans. The man who is forced to serve, serves; but the plague is more beloved than the Knights of the Cross are. That is the truth of the matter." "Yes, but what has this to do with the power of the Order?" asked Matsko, anxiously. Zyndram smoothed his broad forehead with his hand, thought a while, as if seeking a comparison, then smiled, and inquired,— "Have you ever fought within barriers?" "I have, and fought frequently." "Then what do you think—Will not a knight be thrown from his horse at the first onset, even though he be the mightiest, who has the saddle girths cut under him, and also his stirrup straps?" "As true as life!" "Well, do you see? the Order is a knight like that." "It is, as God is just!" shouted Zbyshko. "Even in a book thou'lt find nothing to beat that!" And Matsko was so excited that he said in a voice trembling somewhat,— "God reward you. For your head, lord, the armorer must fashion a helmet purposely, as there is none ready made on earth to fit it."
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- ↑ A man brought to life according to popular tradition by Saint Stanislav.