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CHAPTER LXXI. But the war about Jmud between the Knights of the Cross and Vitold had occupied people in the kingdom so greatly that they could not avoid inquiring as to its progress. Some felt sure that Yagello would give aid to his cousin, and that all would soon see a general expedition against the Order. The knighthood were impatient for action; and in all settlements of nobles, men said to one another that a considerable number of the lords of Cracow, who were in the king's council, had inclined to war, considering that it was necessary to finish once for all that enemy who would never be satisfied with his own, and whose mind was intent on seizing what belonged to another even when fear before the power of his neighbor had seized him. But the prudent Matsko, who as a person of experience had seen and learned much, did not believe that war was impending, and he spoke of this matter often to Yasko and other neighbors whom he met at Kresnia. "While the Grand Master Konrad lives, nothing will come of this, for he is wiser than others, and he knows that it would be no common war, but a slaughter: 'Thy death, or mine.' And he, knowing the power of the king, will not let matters go that far." "Yes; but if the king should declare war first?" inquired the neighbors. Matsko shook his head. "You see, I have examined everything closely, and I have noted some points. If the king were of our ancient stock, if he were of kings Christian for generations, he might perhaps strike first on the Germans. But our Vladislav Yagello (I have no wish to diminish his fame, for he is an honorable lord, may God preserve him in health) was Grand Prince of Lithuania and a pagan before we chose him king; Christianity he received only some time ago, while the Germans calumniate his Majesty throughout the world and say that the soul in him is pagan. For this reason it would seem terribly unbecoming in him to declare war first, and spill the blood of Christians. For this cause he will not move to help Vitold, though his hands are itching, for I know this, that he hates the Knights of the Cross as he does leprosy." By such speeches Matsko acquired for himself the reputation of being a keen man who could lay everything out, as it were, on the table. So in Kresnia people gathered around him in a circle after Mass every Sunday, and afterward it was customary for this or that neighbor, when he heard news, to turn in at Bogdanets, so that the old knight might explain to him what an ordinary noble head could not analyze. Matsko received all with welcome, and spoke to each of them willingly; and when at last the guest, having said what he wanted, was departing, the host never forgot to take farewell of him in these words,— "You may wonder at my reason, but when Zbyshko, with God's will, comes back here, you will begin to wonder really! He might sit even in the king's council, such a wise and ingenious man is he." And by persuading guests of Zbyshko's greatness he persuaded himself of it at last, and also Yagenka. Zbyshko seemed to them both from afar like the king's son in a fairy tale. When spring appeared they could hardly remain in the house. Swallows returned, storks returned, land-rails were playing in the meadows, quails were heard in the green growth of grain; earlier than all, flocks of cranes and teal had come. Zbyshko alone did not return to them. But after the birds had flown back from the south, a winged wind from the north brought news of war. Men spoke of battles and numerous encounters in which the clever Vitold at one time was victor, at another the vanquished; they spoke of great disasters, which winter and diseases had wrought among the Germans. Till at last the joyful news thundered throughout the country, that Keistut's valiant son had taken New Kovno, or Gotteswerder; he had destroyed it, he had not left one stone on another, or one beam on another. When this news reached Matsko, he mounted his horse and flew off to Zgorzelitse without halting. "Ha!" said he, "those places are known to me; for Zbyshko and I with Skirvoillo beat the Knights of the Cross there,—beat them mightily. There it was that we captured that honest De Lorche. Well, it was God's will to sprain the German foot this time, for that castle was hard to take." But Yagenka had heard before Matsko came of the storming of New Kovno,—she had even heard more; namely, that Vitold had begun negotiations. This last news concerned her more than the former, for should peace be concluded Zbyshko would return home, of course, were he living. Then she fell to inquiring of the old knight if that were credible; and he, when he had thought a while, answered,— "Every news is credible in Vitold's case, for he is a man different altogether from others, and surely the keenest of all lords in Christendom. When he needs to extend his dominion toward Russia, he makes peace with the Germans; and when he has done what he planned, he takes the Germans again by the forelock! They cannot manage either him, or that suffering Jmud land. One time he takes it away from them, another time he gives it, and not only gives it, but helps them to crush it. There are men among us, yes, in Lithuania also, who take this ill of him that he plays thus with the blood of that ill-fated people. And I, to speak truth, would consider it infamous on his part, if he were not Vitold. But I think to myself, 'Well, he is wiser than I, and he knows what he is doing.' I have indeed heard from Skirvoillo himself that Vitold has made of that land a boil always festering in the body of the Order, so that that body should never have health in it. Women in the Jmud land will always bear children, and it is no harm to spill blood unless it be spilt to no purpose." "I care only for this: will Zbyshko come back," said Yagenka. "If God permit, he will come; but may the Lord grant, girl, that thou hast said these words at a lucky moment." Still months passed. News came that peace had been really concluded, grain with its heavy ears had grown yellow, the fields sown with buckwheat were ruddy, but of Zbyshko no tidings. At last when the first work was done, Matsko could endure no longer and declared that he would hurry to Spyhov, and as it was nearer to Lithuania get news there and inspect Hlava's management. Yagenka insisted on going with him, but he would not take her, so they began disputes on this point, which held out a whole week if not longer. At length, on a certain evening when they were disputing in Zgorzelitse, a youth from Bogdanets rushed into the yard like a whirlwind, barefoot, without a cap on his yellow head, and cried to them before the porch on which they were then sitting,— "The young lord has come home!" Zbyshko had come home indeed, but he was strange in some way: not only had he grown thin and was tanned by the winds of the fields and seemed suffering, but he was also indifferent and of few words. Hlava, who, with his wife, had come also, spoke for Zbyshko and for himself. He said that the young knight's expedition had found success evidently, for he had placed on the tomb of Danusia and her mother in Spyhov a whole bundle of peacock and ostrich plumes from knights' helmets. He had brought back captured horses and suits of mail, two of which were of very great value, though terribly hacked with blows of swords and axes. Matsko was burning with curiosity to know everything in detail from the lips of his nephew, but the latter merely waved his hand and answered in single syllables, and the third day he fell ill and was forced to his bed. It appeared that his left side had been battered and that two of his ribs had been broken, these, being badly set, "hindered" him in walking and in breathing. The injuries received in his encounter with the bison were felt also, and to complete the breaking up of his strength the journey from Spyhov was added. All this of itself was not terrible, for the man was young, and as sound as an oak-tree; but at the same time he was possessed by immense weariness of some kind, as if all the toils which he had ever gone through had begun now to move through his bones for the first time. Matsko thought, to begin with, that after two or three days' rest in bed all would pass, but the opposite had happened. There was no help from rubbing with ointments, or smoking with herbs, which the local shepherd recommended, nor from the decoctions sent by Yagenka and the priest of Kresnia: Zbyshko grew weaker and weaker, more and more wearied, more and more gloomy. "What is the matter with thee? Wouldst thou like something, perhaps?" inquired the old knight. "I want nothing: all things are the same to me," replied Zbyshko. In this way, day followed day. Yagenka, coming to the idea that this was perhaps something more than an ordinary cough, and that the young man must have some secret which was crushing him, fell to urging Matsko to try once more to discover what that could be. Matsko consented without hesitation, but after thinking a while he said,— "Well, but would he not tell it more easily to thee than to me? For—as to liking—he likes thee, and I have seen this, that when thou art moving through the room his eyes follow thee." "Have you seen that?" inquired Yagenka. "If I have said that his eyes follow, they follow. And when thou art not here for a long while, he looks time after time toward the door. Ask him thou." And it rested there. But it turned out that Yagenka did not know how, and did not dare to ask. When it came to something serious, she understood that it would be necessary to speak of Danusia and of Zbyshko's love for the dead woman, and those things could not squeeze through her lips. "You are shrewder," said she to Matsko, "and you have more mind and experience: speak you; I am not able." Matsko, willing or unwilling, set about the task; and one morning when Zbyshko seemed somewhat fresher than usual, the old man began a conversation of this sort. "Hlava tells me that thou hast placed a good bundle of peacock plumes in the vault of Spyhov." Zbyshko, without taking his eyes from the ceiling, at which as he lay face upward he was gazing, merely nodded his head in agreement. "Well! The Lord Jesus has given thee luck; for in war it is easier to find camp followers than knights. A man may get as many common warriors as he pleases; but to find a knight one must look around very carefully sometimes. But did they come under thy sword of their own will?" "Some I challenged a number of times to trampled earth, and once they surrounded me in battle," said the young man, lazily. "And thou didst bring booty enough?" "Something; Prince Vitold gave me a present." "Is he so bountiful yet?" Zbyshko nodded his head again, not having evidently the wish to speak further. But Matsko did not yield up the victory, and determined to approach the real subject. "Tell me sincerely," said he: "when the tombs were covered with those crests, thou must have been relieved immensely? A man is always glad when he accomplishes a vow. Wert thou glad?" Zbyshko removed his sad eyes from the ceiling, turned them on Matsko, and answered as if with a certain astonishment,— "No." "No? Fear God! I thought that when thou shouldst satisfy those saved souls, there would be an end to thy trouble." The young man closed his eyes for a moment, as if in thought, and answered at last,— "It is clear that souls in paradise do not wish human blood." A moment of silence followed. "Then why didst thou go to that war?" inquired Matsko, at last. "Why?" answered Zbyshko, with a certain animation; "I thought that it would ease me. I thought that I should please Danusia and myself. But when all was over I was astonished. I came out of the vault where the coffins are, and I was as much oppressed as before. So it is clear that to souls in paradise human blood has no value." "Some one must have told thee that, for never wouldst thou have thought it out thyself." "I remarked it myself just because the world did not seem more gladsome to me afterward than before. Only Father Kaleb said,— "'To kill an enemy in war is no sin, it is even praiseworthy,' and these were enemies of our race." "I do not consider it a sin either, and I am not sorry for those Germans." "But is thy grief always for Danusia?" "Well, when I think of her I am sorry. But it is the will of God! She is happier in the court of heaven, and—I am now accustomed to my present state." "Then why not shake off these glooms? What dost thou need?" "If I knew what." "Thou wilt not fail of rest, the cough will soon leave thee. Go to the bath, bathe well, drink a bottle of mead, perspire, and hots!" "Well, and what next?" "Thou wilt be glad right away." "Whence shall I get gladness? I shall not find it in myself; and as to lending me gladness, no one will lend it." "But thou art hiding something!" Zbyshko shrugged his shoulders. "I have no gladness in me, but I have nothing to hide." And he said this so sincerely that Matsko dropped his suspicions that moment, and began at once to smooth his gray forelock with his broad palm, as was his custom when thinking severely, and at last he said,— "Well, I will tell it, something is lacking thee. One work is finished, but the other is not begun yet; dost understand?" "Perhaps I do, but not clearly," answered the young man. And he stretched himself like one who is sleepy. But Matsko was convinced that he had divined the true reason. He was greatly delighted, and his alarm ceased altogether. He gained also more confidence in his own prudence, and said in spirit, "It is not to be wondered at that men ask advice of me!" And when after that conversation Yagenka came on the evening of that same day, before she could dismount he told her that he knew what troubled Zbyshko. The girl slipped down from the saddle in one moment, and then for the inquiry,— "Well, what is it? tell! "It is just thou who hast the medicine for him." "I? what?" And he put his arm around her waist and whispered something into her ear, but not long, for in a moment she sprang back from him as if burned, and hiding her blushing face between the saddle-cloth and the high saddle, she cried,— "Go away! I cannot endure you!" "As God is dear to me, I am telling truth," replied Matsko, laughing.
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