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CHAPTER LXIV. Matsko and Zbyshko promised themselves to leave Maiborg straightway, but they did not depart during the day on which Zyndram had strengthened their spirits so mightily, for there was a dinner at the High Castle, and then a supper in honor of guests and envoys, to which Zbyshko was invited, and for Zbyshko's sake also Matsko. The dinner was given to a select company in the Grand Refectory, into which light came by ten windows, and the ceiling of which in pointed arches rested, through a rare architectural device, on one column. Of foreigners, besides Yagello's knights, there sat down to the table only one Suabian count, and one Burgundian, who, though a subject of rich lords, had come at their command to borrow money from the Order. Of local persons, besides the Grand Master, four dignitaries took part in the dinner, so-called pillars of the Order; that is, the grand comtur, the almoner, the master of the wardrobe, and the treasurer. The fifth pillar, the marshal, was at that time on an expedition against Vitold. Though the Order had vowed poverty, they ate on gold and silver and drank Malvoisie, for the Master wished to dazzle the Polish envoys. But despite a multitude of dishes and abundant cheer, that feast was somewhat irksome to the guests, because of difficulty in conversation and ceremonies which were to be observed on all sides. But supper was more gladsome, in the Grand Refectory (Convents Remter), for the Order met there, and all those guests who had not marched yet against Vitold with the army of the marshal. No dispute disturbed its joyousness, nor any quarrel. It is true that knights from other lands, foreseeing that they would have to meet the Poles sometime, looked at them with unfriendly eye, but the Knights of the Cross had informed them beforehand of the need to conduct themselves quietly, and had begged them most earnestly to do so, fearing lest they might offend the king and the entire kingdom in the persons of the envoys. But even then the ill-will of the Order was made manifest; they forewarned the guests against Polish temper: "For every word," said they, "sharper than common, the Poles will tear a man's beard out, or thrust a knife into his body." So the guests were astonished afterward at the courtesy of Povala and Zyndram, and the more quick-witted said that Polish manners were not rude, but that the tongues of the Knights of the Cross were malignant and venomous. Some of them, accustomed to refined amusements at the polished courts of western Europe, took away ideas not entirely favorable concerning the manners of the Knights in Malborg; for at that feast there was an orchestra noisy beyond measure, there were rude songs of "playmen," rough jests of buffoons, and dances of barefooted maidens. And when guests wondered at the presence of women in the High Castle, it was said that the prohibition had been removed long before, and that the great Winrich Kniprode himself had danced in his day there with the beautiful Maria von Alfleben. The brothers explained that women not only lived in the Castle, but came to feast in the refectory, and that the past year Prince Vitold's wife, who lodged in the old armory of the First Castle, had appeared every day in the refectory to play draughts made of gold, which the Knights presented each time to her. They played that evening also, not only draughts, but chess and dice; there was more of play than conversation, which was drowned by songs and by that too noisy orchestra. Still, amid the universal uproar quieter moments came, and, seizing one of these, Zyndram, as if knowing nothing, asked the Grand Master whether its subjects in all lands loved the Order. To this Conrad gave the following answer,— "Whoso loves the Cross is obliged to love the Order." That answer pleased the Knights and the guests, hence they praised it. The Grand Master, pleased at this, continued,— "Whoso is our friend is happy under us; but whoso is an enemy, against him we have two methods." "What are they?" inquired Zyndram. "Perhaps your Honor does not know that I come from my chambers to this refectory by small stairways in the wall, and near those stairways there is a certain vaulted chamber; were I to conduct you hither you would know the first method." "As true as life!" exclaimed the brothers. Zyndram divined that the Master was speaking of that "tower" filled with gold, of which the Knights boasted, so he hesitated a while, and then said,— "Once, oh, very long ago, a certain German Cæsar showed an ambassador of ours, whose name was Skarbek, such a chamber, and said: 'I have something with which to overcome thy lord!' But Skarbek threw into it a costly ring, and added, 'Go thou gold to gold; we Poles like iron better.' And you know what came after that, your Honor? After that came Hundsfeld."[1] "What is that Hundsfeld?" inquired a number of knights together. "That," answered Zyndram, quietly, "was a field on which they were unable to bury all the Germans, and at last dogs finished the burial." Knights of the Order and brothers when they heard this were greatly confused, and knew not what reply to make, while Zyndram said, as if in ending,— "Thou wilt do nothing with gold against iron." "Well," exclaimed the Master, "our second method is always iron. Your Honor saw at the First Castle armorers' workshops. Hammers are forging night and day there, and they forge swords and armor that have no equal elsewhere." In answer Povala stretched out his hand to the middle of the table, and took a strip of iron used for cutting meat; in length it was an ell and in width more than half a span. This he wound into a roll easily, like parchment, and raised it high so that all might see the roll; after that he gave it to the Master. "If the iron of your swords is of this sort, you will not do much with them." And he smiled with satisfaction, while the spiritual and lay knights rose from their seats and hurried in a crowd to the Grand Master; then they passed the iron roll from one to another, but all were silent, having timid hearts in their breasts in view of this strength in Povala. "By the head of Saint Liborius!" exclaimed the Master at last, "you have iron hands, lord." But the Burgundian count added,— "And better iron than this. He folded the strip as if it were wax." "He did not even flush, and his veins were not swollen," said one of the brothers. "Yes," answered Povala; "our people are simple: they have not such wealth and comfort as I see in this place, but they are healthy." And now Italian and French knights approached him and spoke to him in their resonant speech, of which Matsko said that it was as if some one were rattling tin plates. They wondered at his strength; then he touched goblets with them and answered,— "Such things as this are done at feasts among us frequently, and it happens that even a girl will roll a smaller strip." But the Germans, who liked to boast among strangers of their size and strength, were enraged and out of countenance, so old Helfenstein called across the table,— "This is a shame for us! Brother Arnold von Baden, show that our bones, too, are not made of church tapers! Give Arnold a strip." The servants brought a strip quickly and placed it before Arnold; but he, whether it was that the sight of so many spectators confused him, or that he had really less strength in his fingers than Povala, bent the strip halfway, but was unable to finish. More than one of the foreign guests, to whom the Knights of the Cross had whispered previously, and more than one time, that war with the King of Poland would begin the next winter, fell to thinking deeply, and remembered that winter in those regions was terribly inclement, and that it would perhaps be better to return in time to a softer climate and their native castles. There was this wonderful thing in the situation, that such thoughts came to their heads in July,—a time of hot days and splendid weather.
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- ↑ Dogsfield (Psie Pole in Polish). This battle was fought in 1109 near Breslau.