The Knights of the Cross/Volume 1/Chapter 16

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

CHAPTER XVI.

The "foolish Zbyshko" had ridden out of Bogdanets with a heavy heart, really. First, he felt strange somehow and awkward without his uncle, from whom during many years he had not parted, and to whom he was so accustomed that he did not know well how to live without him either on the road or in war. Second, he regretted Yagenka; for, though he said to himself that he was going to Danusia, whom he loved with all his soul, it had been so pleasant for him near Yagenka that he felt now for the first time what delight there had been in her company, and what sadness there might be without her. And he wondered at his regret, and was even disturbed by it. Had he been longing for Yagenka as a brother for a sister it would be nothing; but he saw that he wanted to grasp her by the waist and seat her on the horse, or take her from the saddle, to carry her through streams, squeeze water from her hair, go with her through the forests, look at her, and take "counsel" with her. So accustomed had he grown to this, and so pleasant was it to him that now, when he began to think of it, he forgot straightway and entirely that he was journeying on a long road to Mazovia, and immediately that moment was present to his eyes when Yagenka gave him aid in the forest while he was struggling with the bear. And it seemed to him that that was yesterday, as also it was yesterday when they were going to find the beaver in Odstayani Lake. He had not seen her when she swam in after the beaver, but now it seemed to him that he saw her, and at once those same shivers seized him which had seized him a couple of weeks earlier, when the wind played too freely with Yagenka's clothing. Then he remembered how she had gone to church in Kresnia dressed splendidly, and he had wondered that a simple maiden seemed to him like some lady of high lineage on a journey with her court.

All this was the cause that around his heart something began to make a disturbance, at once sweet and sad and full of desire, and if he thought besides that he might have done what he wished with her, that she was drawn to him also, if he remembered how she gazed into his eyes, how he nestled up to him, he was hardly able to sit on his horse. "If I had met her somewhere and said farewell and embraced her on the road," said he to himself, "she might have let me;" then he felt that that was untrue, and that she would not have let him, for at the very thought of such a parting sparks passed along his body, though there was frost in the world at that moment.

At last he was frightened at those recollections, too much resembling desires, and he shook them from his soul as he would dry snow from an overcoat.

"I am going to Danusia, to my dearest," said he to himself. And he remarked at once that that was another love, as it were,—more pious, and passing less through the bones. Gradually, too, in proportion as his feet became chilled in the stirrups, and the cold wind cooled his blood, all his thoughts flew to Danusia. To her in truth he owed them. Had it not been for her, his head would have fallen long before on the square of Cracow. For when she said, in presence of knights and citizens, "He is mine," she took him by those words from the hands of the executioner, and thenceforth he belonged to her as much as a slave to his master. It was not he who had taken her, it was she who had taken him; no opposition from Yurand could avail against that fact. She alone could release him, as a lady might release a servant, though he in that case would not go far, for he was bound by his vow. But he thought that she would not release, that she would rather go with him even from the Mazovian court to the end of the world; and thinking thus he began in his soul to praise her to the prejudice of Yagenka, as if it were Yagenka's fault exclusively that temptations had attacked him, and that his heart had been divided. It did not occur to him now that Yagenka had cured old Matsko, and besides, without her aid, perhaps the bear that night would have taken the skin from his head; and he was deliberately indignant at Yagenka, thinking that he was serving Danusia in that way, and justifying himself in his own eyes.

But now appeared the Cheh, Hlava, who had been sent by Yagenka, and who brought with him a pack-horse.

"Let Him be praised!" said he, bowing low.

Zbyshko had seen the man once or twice at Zyh's house, but did not recognize him; so he said,—

"Praised for the ages of ages! But who art thou?"

"Your attendant, renowned lord."

"How my attendant? Here are my attendants," said he, pointing to the two Turks given him by Zavisha, and two sturdy youths who sitting on two stumpy horses were leading the knight's stallions. "These are mine but who sent thee?"

"Panna Yagenka."

"Panna Yagenka?"

Zbyshko, who had been full of indignation, and whose heart was full yet of ill-will, said,—

"Go home and thank Panna Yagenka for her kindness. I do not need thee."

The Cheh shook his head.

"I will not go, lord. I have been given to you; and besides, I have sworn to serve you till death."

"If thou hast been given me, then thou art my servant."

"Yours, lord."

"Then I command thee to return."

"I have sworn, and though I am a prisoner and a poor man, I am a noble."

Zbyshko was angry.

"Be off ! How is this? Wilt thou serve me against my will, or what? Be off, or I shall command to draw a crossbow on thee."

Hlava unstrapped quietly a cloth mantle lined with wolfskin, and gave it to Zbyshko, saying,—

"Panna Yagenka sent you this, lord."

"Dost wish that I should break thy bones?" inquired Zbyshko, taking a spear from the hands of an attendant.

"And here is a purse at your command."

Zbyshko aimed the spear, but remembering that the man, though a prisoner, was a noble by blood, who had remained with Zyh only because he had not the means to redeem himself, lowered the spear point. The Cheh bowed to his strirup, and said,—

"Be not angry, lord. If you do not command me to go with you, I will go behind you one or two furlongs; but I will go, for I have sworn on my soul's salvation to do so."

"But if I give command to kill, or to bind thee?"

"If you command to kill me it will not be my sin; if you command to bind me I will remain bound till good people unbind me, or till wolves devour me."

Zbyshko did not answer, he merely urged his horse forward, and his people moved after him. Hlava, with a crossbow at his shoulder and an axe in his hand, dragged on behind, taking shelter in the shaggy skin of a bison; for a sharp wind began to blow, bringing snow-flakes.

The storm increased with every moment. The Turks, though in skin coats, were stiff from cold. Zbyshko's attendants began to swing their arms, to beat themselves with their hands, and he also, not clothed sufficiently, cast his eyes once and a second time on the wolf-skin mantle brought by Hlava, and after a while told one of the Turks to bring it to him.

Wrapping himself closely in the mantle he soon felt warmth passing over his whole body; especially convenient was the hood, which sheltered his eyes and a considerable part of his face, so that the storm almost ceased to annoy him. Then he thought, in spite of himself, that Yagenka was an honest maiden to the bones, and he reined in his horse somewhat, for the desire seized him to ask Hlava about her, and everything that had happened at Zyh's house. So beckoning to the man he asked,—

"Does old Zyh know that Panna Yagenka sent thee to me?"

'He knows."

"And he did not oppose?"

"He opposed."

"Tell how it was."

"Pan Zyh was walking through the room, and Panna Yagenka after him. He screamed, but she not a word; when he turned toward her she dropped to her knees. And not a word. Pan Zyh said at last: 'Art thou deaf, that thou sayst nothing in answer to me? Speak, for at last I shall permit, and when I permit the abbot will take off my head.' Then the young lady saw that she would get what she wanted, and began to thank him with tears. The old man reproached her for tormenting him, and complained that everything had to be as she wished, but at last he said: 'Promise me that thou wilt not run out in secret to take farewell of him; if thou promise I will permit, otherwise I will not.' Panna Yagenka was vexed, but she promised; and he was glad, for he and the abbot were terribly afraid that the wish might come to her to see your grace. But that was not the end, for later the lady wished that there should be two horses, and he refused; she wanted a wolf-skin and a purse; he refused. But what value in those refusals? If she had thought to burn down the house her father would have consented. For this reason you have the second horse, the wolf-skin, and the purse."

"An honest girl!" thought Zbyshko in his soul. After a time he asked,—

"But was there no trouble with the abbot?"

Hlava laughed like a shrewd man, who takes note of everything passing around him, and answered,—

"They both kept secrets from the abbot, and I know not what would have happened if he had known this, for I went away earlier. The abbot, as an abbot, thunders sometimes at the young lady, but then he casts his eyes at her, and looks to see if he has not done her too much injustice. I have seen myself how he scolded her once, and then hurried to a casket and brought a chain such that a better could not be found in Cracow, and he said, 'Here.' She can get on with the abbot too, for her own father does not love her more than he does."

"That is true certainly."

"As God is in heaven."

Here they were silent, and went on farther through the wind and the snow-flakes; but suddenly Zbyshko reined in his horse, for from one side of the forest was heard a certain complaining voice, half smothered by the sound of the trees.

"Christian, save a servant of God from misfortune!"

At the same moment a person dressed half like a cleric, half like a layman, ran out to the road, where he stood before Zbyshko and said,—

"Whoever thou be, O lord, give aid to a man and a neighbor in dire distress!"

"What has happened, and who art thou?" asked the young knight.

"I am a servant of God, though without ordination, and it has happened this morning that my horse broke away, having on his back a casket with sacred objects. I was left alone, without arms; evening is coming, and it is short waiting till savage beasts will be heard in the forest. I shall perish unless you save me."

"If thou perish because of me must I answer for thy sins? How am I to know that thou speakest truth, and that thou art not a cutpurse, or a vagabond, many of whom are dragging along the roads these days?"

"You will know by my caskets. More than one man would give a purse filled with ducats to possess what is in them, but I will share their contents with you if you take me and them."

"Thou callest thyself God's servant and knowest not that a man is to be rescued for heavenly, not for earthly rewards. But how hast thou kept the caskets, since the horse ran away?"

"Before I found the horse the wolves had devoured him in an opening of the forest, and the caskets were left. I brought them to the road so as to wait for the favor and help of good people."

Thus speaking, and wishing to show that he had told truth, he pointed at two bark caskets lying under a pine tree. Zbyshko looked at the man rather suspiciously, for to him this stranger did not seem over honest; and besides, his speech, though pure, betrayed an origin in distant regions. Zbyshko, however, was loath to refuse assistance, and permitted the man to sit, with his caskets, which proved to be very light, on that detached horse led by Hlava.

"May God increase your victory, valiant knight!" said the unknown. Then, seeing the youthful face of Zbyshko, he added in an undertone, "and also the hairs in your beard."

A moment later he was riding by the side of the Cheh. For some time they could not talk, as a strong wind was blowing and the noise of the forest was tremendous, but when it had calmed somewhat Zbyshko heard the following conversation behind,—

"I do not deny thy visit to Rome, but thou hast the look of a beer guzzler."

"Guard thyself against eternal damnation," answered the unknown, "for thou art talking with a man who last Easter ate hard-boiled eggs with the Holy Father. Talk not on such a cold day to me of beer, even though it were heated; but if thou hast on thy person a flask of wine, give me two or three gulps of it, and I will give a month's indulgence from purgatory."

"Thou art not ordained, for I heard thee say so thyself; how couldst thou, then, give me indulgence for a month of purgatory?"

"I am not ordained, but I have a shaven head, for which I received a dispensation; besides, I bear with me indulgences and relics."

"In those caskets?"

"In these caskets. And if thou wert to see what I have, thou wouldst fall on thy face,—not only thou, but all the pines in the forests, and all the wild beasts."

The Cheh, who was clever and experienced, looked suspiciously at the dealer in indulgences, and added,—

"But the wolves ate thy horse."

"They did, for they are the devil's relatives; but they burst. I saw one of them burst with my own eyes. If thou hast wine give it, for though the wind has stopped, I am chilled from sitting at the roadside."

Hlava did not give the wine, and again they rode on in silence, till the dealer in relics inquired,—

"Whither are ye going?"

"Far. But at present to Sieradz. Wilt thou go with us?"

"I must. I will sleep in the stable, and to-morrow mayhap that pious knight will give me a horse, and I shall go farther."

"Whence comest thou?"

"From the land of the Prussian lords, from near Malborg." Hearing this, Zbyshko turned his head, and beckoned the unknown to him.

"Thou art from near Malborg? Whence comest thou now?"

"From near Malborg."

"But thou art not a German, thou speakest our language so well. What is thy name?"

"I am a German, and they call me Sanderus; I know your language, for I was born in Torun, where all people speak it. Later I lived in Malborg, but it is the same there. Nay! even brothers of the Order understand your language."

"And art thou long from Malborg?"

"I have been in the Holy Land, in Constantinople, and in Rome, whence I returned through France to Malborg; from Malborg I went to Mazovia, carrying holy relics, which pious Christians buy gladly to save their souls."

"Wert thou in Plotsk, and also in Warsaw?"

"I was in both places. May God give health to both princesses! Not without cause do the Prussian lords themselves love Princess Alexandra; she is a saintly lady, though Princess Anna, the wife of Prince Yanush, is not inferior."

"Hast thou seen the court in Warsaw?"

"I have not met it in Warsaw, but in Tsehanov, where the prince and the princess received me hospitably as a servant of God, and gave me rich gifts for the road. But I left relics which must bring them God's blessing."

Zbyshko wished to inquire about Danusia, but at once a certain indecision possessed him, and a certain shame; for he understood that that would be the same as to confess his love to an unknown man of low origin, who, besides, had a suspicious look, and might be some common deceiver. So after a moment's silence, he asked,—

"What relics art thou bearing through the world?"

"I bear indulgences and relics; the indulgences are various. I have plenary indulgences, indulgences for five hundred years, for three hundred, for two hundred years, and less, cheaper, so that even poor people acquire them, and thus shorten the torments of purgatory for themselves. I have indulgences for past sins, and for future; but do not think, lord, that I put away the money which people pay for them. A morsel of black bread and a gulp of water suffices me; the rest of what I collect I take to Rome, so that in time I may make a new journey. There are many money grabbers who go through the world, it is true, but have only false things, indulgences, relics, testimonials, and seals; such persons as these the Holy Father pursues justly with his letters, but on me the prior of Sieradz has wrought injustice and wrong, for my seals are genuine. Look, lord, at the wax and you will know yourself."

"But what did the prior of Sieradz do?"

"Oh, as God lives, I thought unjustly that he was tainted with the heretical teaching of Wyclif. And if, as your attendant has told me, you are going to Sieradz, I prefer not to show myself to him, so as not to bring him to sin and blaspheme against holy things."

"That means, without saying much, that he took thee for a cheat and a cutpurse."

"May I forgive him, lord, through love for my neighbor, as indeed I have done already; but he has blasphemed against my sacred wares, for which I fear greatly that he will be damned beyond rescue."

"What sacred wares hast thou?"

"Such that it is not proper to speak of them with covered head; but since I have indulgences with me, I give you, lord, permission not to take off your cowl, since the wind is now blowing afresh. Buy of me, therefore, a little indulgence to have in supply, and the sin will not be accounted to you. What is it that I have not? I have a hoof of the ass on which the flight to Egypt took place; it was found near the pyramids. The King of Aragon offered me indeed fifty ducats for it. I have a feather from a wing of the Archangel Gabriel, who dropped it during the Annunciation; I have two heads of quails sent to the Israelites in the wilderness; I have oil in which pagans wished to boil Saint John, and a round from the ladder which Jacob saw in his vision. I have tears dropped by Mary of Egypt, and some rust from the keys of Saint Peter. I cannot mention all, because I am chilled, and your attendant, lord, would not give me wine; and moreover I could not name them all between this time and evening."

"Those relics are great if they are genuine," said Zbyshko.

"If they are genuine? Take the lance from the hand of that attendant and plant it before you, for the devil is near who gives you such ideas. Keep him, O lord, at the length of the lance. And if you will not bring misfortune on yourself buy of me an indulgence for that sin; unless you do, the one whom you love most on earth will die in three weeks."

Zbyshko was terrified at the threat, for Danusia came to his mind, and he said,—

"It is not I who doubt, but the prior of Dominicans in Sieradz."

"Look yourself at the wax of the seals; as to the prior, God knows if he is alive yet, for Divine justice is swift."

But when they arrived at Sieradz it appeared that the prior was alive. Zbyshko even betook himself to him to give for two masses, one of which was to be offered for the benefit of Matsko, the other on account of those peacock-plumes for which Zbyshko was going. The prior, like many in Poland at that time, was a foreigner, from Tsylia by origin, but during fourteen years' residence in Sieradz he had learned Polish well, and was a great enemy of the Knights of the Cross. When he heard, therefore, of Zbyshko's undertaking, he said: "A greater punishment of the Lord will meet them yet, but I will not dissuade thee from what thou hast intended; first, because thou hast taken an oath, and, second, because a Polish hand can never squeeze them sufficiently for what they did here in Sieradz."

"What did they do?" inquired Zbyshko, who was glad to hear of every injustice committed by the Knights of the Cross.

Here the old prior spread apart his hands and began to repeat audibly "Eternal rest;" then he sat on a bench, and kept his eyes closed for a while, as if to summon old memories.

"Vincent of Shamotur brought them here," said he at last. "I was twenty years old then, and had just come from Tsylia, whence my uncle, Petzoldt, the custodian, brought me. The Knights of the Cross attacked this town in the night, and burned it immediately. From the walls we saw them put men, women, and children to the sword on the market square, and hurl infants into the fire; I saw them kill even priests, for in their rage they spared no man. And it happened that the prior Mikolai, from Elblang by origin, knew Hermann, the comtur, the leader of the Germans. The prior went out with the older monks to that savage knight, and kneeling down, implored him in German to spare Christian blood. 'I understand not,' replied Hermann the comtur, and gave command to go on with the slaughter. Then they slew the monks, and with them my uncle, Petzoldt; next they bound Mikolai the prior to the tail of a horse. Toward morning there was not a living man in the town, save the Knights of the Cross,—and save me; I was hidden on a beam in the belfry. God punished them for that at Plovtsi, but they are rising up continually to the destruction of this Christian kingdom, and they will rise up till the arm of God crushes them utterly."

"At Plovtsi too," answered Zbyshko, "nearly all the men of my family perished; but I feel no regret for them, since God gave King Lokietek such a victory, and destroyed twenty thousand Germans."

"Thou wilt see a still greater war, and greater victories," said the prior.

"Amen!" replied Zbyshko. And they spoke then of something else.

The young knight asked a little about the dealer in relics whom he had found on the road, and learned that many such cheats were wandering about on the highways, deceiving the credulous. The prior told him also that there were papal bulls commanding bishops to punish such dealers, and, in case a man had not genuine letters and seals, to condemn him immediately. Since the testimonies of this wanderer had seemed suspicious to the prior, he wished to send him at once to the jurisdiction of the bishop. If it appeared that he was a genuine bearer of indulgences no wrong would be done him. But this man preferred flight. Perhaps he feared delay on his journey, but through this flight he subjected himself to still greater suspicion.

Toward the end of Zbyshko's visit the prior invited the young man to rest and pass the night in the cloister; but he could not accept, since he wished to hang up a card before the inn with a challenge to battle "on foot or on horseback" to all knights who should deny that Panna Danusia was the most beautiful and virtuous maiden in the kingdom. It was not proper in any way to attach such a challenge to the gate of the cloister. Neither the prior nor other priests would even write a card for him. In consequence of this the young knight grew greatly vexed and knew not at all how to help himself. It occurred to him only on his return to the inn to ask aid of the dealer in indulgences.

"The prior does not know whether thou art a rascal or not, for he says: 'If he has genuine testimony why did he fear the bishop's court?"

"I fear not the bishop, but monks who have no knowledge of seals. I wished to go to Cracow, but as I have no horse I must wait till some man gives me one. Meanwhile I will send a letter, to which I shall put my own seal."

"I too thought to myself that if thou wouldst show that thou knowest letters it would be a sign that thou art not a simple fellow. But how wilt thou send the letter?"

"Through some pilgrim or wandering monk. Are the people few in number who go to the queen's grave in Cracow?"

"But couldst thou write a letter for me?"

"I will write anything that you command, smoothly and to the point, even on a board."

"Better on a board," said Zbyshko, delighted, "for it will not drop off, and will be good for another time."

So when Zbyshko's attendants had found and brought in a new board, Sanderus sat down to write. Zbyshko could not read what he wrote, but he commanded straightway to fasten the challenge on the gate, and to hang beneath it his shield, which the Turks guarded one after the other. Whoso should strike the challenge with his spear would indicate that he accepted it. But in Sieradz there was evidently a lack of volunteers for such matters, for neither on that day nor the day following till noon did the shield resound from a blow; at noon the young man, somewhat vexed, continued his journey. But first Sanderus came to him and said,—

"If you had hung up your shield in the land of the Prussian lords surely your attendant would have to strap on your armor."

"How is that? Knights of the Cross, being monks, cannot have ladies whom they love, for it is not permitted them."

"I know not whether it is permitted, but I know that they have them. It is true that a Knight of the Cross cannot engage without sin in single combat, for he takes an oath that he will fight with others only for the faith, but there is a multitude of lay knights from distant lands who come to aid the Order. These men are looking only to find some one with whom to fight, especially the French knights."

"Oh, indeed! I have seen them at Vilno, and God grant me to see them also at Malborg. I need peacock-plumes from helmets, for I have vowed to get them—dost understand?"

"Buy, O lord, two or three drops of the sweat which fell from Saint George when he fought the dragon. No relic is of more service to a knight. Give for them that horse on which you commanded me to sit. I will give besides an indulgence for the Christian blood which you will shed in the struggle."

"Say no more, or I shall be angry. I will not take thy wares till I know that they are genuine."

"You are going, lord, as you said, to the Mazovian court, to Prince Yanush. Inquire there how many relics they took of me,—the princess herself and knights and damsels at weddings where I was present."

"What weddings?"

"As usual before Advent. The knights marry one with more haste than another, because people say that there will be war between the King of Poland and the Prussian knights for the land of Dobryn. A man says to himself: 'God knows whether I shall return alive;' and he wishes, before the war comes, to experience happiness with a woman."

The news of the war occupied Zbyshko greatly, but still more that which Sanderus had said about weddings; so he inquired,—

"What damsels were married?"

"Oh, Princess Anna's damsels. I know not whether one remained, for I heard her say that she would have to seek new ladies-in-waiting."

When he heard this Zbyshko was silent for a time; after that he asked with a somewhat changed voice,—

"But Panna Danuta, the daughter of Yurand, whose name stands on the board,—was she married also?"

Sanderus hesitated in answering, first, because he knew nothing clearly, and second, because he thought that by keeping the knight in suspense he would win a preponderance over him and be able to exploit him the better. He had considered already in his mind that he ought to hold fast to that knight, who had a good retinue and sufficient supplies, Sanderus knew men and things. Zbyshko's great youth permitted him to suppose that the knight would be bountiful and not provident, casting around money easily. He had observed also that costly Milan armor, and the immense stallions for battle, which not every man could own; so he said to himself that with a young lord like him he would find secure hospitality at courts, and more than one chance to sell indulgences with profit; he would have safety on the road, and, finally, abundance of food and drink, which for him was supremely important. So when he heard Zbyshko's question he wrinkled his forehead, raised his eyes as if straining his memory, and answered,—

"Panna Danuta,—but whence is she?"

"Danuta, the daughter of Yurand of Spyhov."

"I saw them all, but what their names were I do not remember clearly."

"She is young yet, plays on the lute, and rejoices the princess with singing."

"Ah!—young—plays on the lute—young maidens also got married. Is she not dark as an agate?"

Zbyshko was relieved.

"That is not she! She is white as snow, but there is a blush on her cheeks, she is blond."

"One as black as an agate," said Sanderus, "remained with the princess, almost all the others got married."

"Thou sayst 'almost all;' that means not to the last one. By the dear God! if thou wish of me anything then bring it to mind."

"In three or four days I could recall everything; but most precious to me would be a horse on which I could carry my sacred objects."

"If thou tell truth, thou wilt get one."

"The truth will be known at the Mazovian court," said Hlava, who had been listening to the conversation from the first and was laughing in his fist.

Sanderus looked at him awhile and asked; "Dost thou think that I fear the Mazovian court?"

"I do not say that thou hast fear of the Mazovian court, but if it shall appear that thou hast lied thou wilt not go away on thy own legs, for his grace will give command to break both."

"As true as life!" said Zbyshko.

In view of such an announcement Sanderus thought it better to be cautious, and answered,—

"If I had wished to lie I should have answered at once that she was married, or was not married, but I said that I did not remember. If thou hadst wit thou wouldst have noted my virtue at once by this answer."

"My wit is not a brother to thy virtue, for thy virtue may be a dog's sister."

"My virtue does not bark like thy wit, and whoso barks during life may easily howl after death."

"And in truth thy virtue will not howl after death, but gnash, unless during life it loses its teeth in the service of Satan."

And they began a war of words, for the Cheh had a nimble tongue, and for every word from the German he found two. Meanwhile Zbyshko gave command to start, and they pushed on, having inquired first carefully of experienced people about the road to Lenchytsa. A little beyond Sieradz they entered deep pine forests with which the greater part of the country was covered. But through them in parts was a road, ditched at the sides, in low places even paved with round stones, a remnant of King Kazimir's management. It is true that after his death, amid disorders of the war roused by the Nalenchi and the Grymaliti, roads had been neglected somewhat, but during Yadviga's time, after the pacification of the kingdom, spades appeared again in the hands of dexterous people along swamps and in forests appeared axes. Toward the end of her life the merchant might conduct his laden wagons between the most important towns without fear of seeing them broken in ruts or stuck fast in mud holes. Wild beasts or robbers might meet one on the road, but against beasts there were torches at night, and crossbows during daylight; as to robbers and rascals, there were fewer of them than in neighboring countries. Moreover, the man who went with an escort and armed might advance without fear.

So Zbyshko feared neither robbers nor armed knights; he did not even think of them, for great alarm had fallen on him, and his whole soul was at the Mazovian court. Would he find his Danusia a damsel of the princess, or the wife of some knight of Mazovia? He knew not himself, and from daylight till darkness he wrestled with his thoughts on this question. Sometimes it seemed to him impossible that she should forget him, but at other times it came to his head that perhaps Yurand had come to the court from Spyhov and given her in marriage to some friend or neighbor. He had told him while in Cracow that Danusia was not fated for him, Zbyshko, and that he could not give her; so, evidently, he had promised her to another; evidently he was bound by an oath, and now he was keeping it. It seemed certain to Zbyshko that he would not see her again as a maiden. Then he called Sanderus and inquired a second time, but he merely made the affair still more doubtful. More than once he recollected the damsel, the daughter of Yurand, and her wedding, and then suddenly he put his finger to his lips, thought a moment, and answered, "It must be that it was not that one." In wine, which was to create clearness in his head, the German did not regain memory, and he kept the young knight continually between hope and mortal fear.

So Zbyshko travelled on in anxiety, suffering, and uncertainty. On the way he had no thought of his own or of Zyh's house, he was thinking only of what it behooved him to do. First of all was the need to go and learn the truth at the Mazovian court; hence he rode on hurriedly, halting only for short night rests at courts, inns, and towns, so as not to wear out his horses. In Lenchytsa he commanded to hang up his board again with the challenge before the gate, understanding in his soul that, whether Danusia remained in a maiden condition or was married, she was always the lady of his heart, and he was obliged to do battle for her. But in Lenchytsa there were not many who knew how to read the challenge; those of the knights to whom clerics skilled in letters explained it, shrugged their shoulders, not knowing foreign customs, and said: "Some fool is travelling; how can any man agree with him, or contradict him, unless he has seen the girl with his own eyes?"

And Zbyshko went on with increasing vexation and increasing haste. Never had he ceased to love his Danusia; when at home and while "advising" almost daily with Yagenka, and looking at her beauty, he had not thought so often of the other, but now she did not leave his eyes, his memory, or his thoughts day or night. In sleep even he saw her before him, blond-haired, with a lute in her hand, with red shoes, and with a garland on her head. She stretched forth her hands to him, but Yurand drew her away. In the morning, when dreams fled, greater longing than ever came straightway in place of them, and never had Zbyshko loved that maiden when in Bogdanets as he loved her then, when he was not sure but they had taken her away from him.

It came also to his head that surely she had been married in spite of her; hence at heart, he did not blame Danusia, especially since, being a child, she could not have her own will yet. But in soul he was angry at Yurand and Princess Anna, and when he thought of Danusia' s husband his heart rose to his throat, and he looked around threateningly on his attendants who carried his armor under a covering. He settled too, with himself, that he would not cease to serve her, and that though he might find her the wife of another he would lay the peacock-plumes down at her feet. But there was more grief in that thought than solace, for he knew not what he could begin to do afterward. Nothing consoled him save the thought of a great war. Though he had no wish to live without Danusia, he did not promise to perish surely, but he felt that somehow his spirit and his memory would be so diverted during war that he would be free of all other cares and vexations. And a great war was hanging in the air, as it were. It was unknown whence news of it had come, for peace reigned between the king and the Order; still in all places whithersoever Zbyshko went, men spoke on no other subject. People had, as it were, a foreboding that it must come, and some men said openly: "Why did we unite with Lithuania, unless against those wolves, the Knights of the Cross? We must finish with them once and forever, so that they may be rending our entrails no longer." But others said: "Mad monks! Plovtse did not suffice them! death is hanging over them, and still they seized Dobryn, which they must vomit up with their blood." And throughout all territories of the kingdom people without boasting prepared seriously, as is usual in a life-and-death struggle, with the deep determination of strong men who had endured injustice too long and were making ready at last to mete out dreadful punishment. In all houses Zbyshko met men who were convinced that the need might come any day to sit on horseback; and he was astonished, for though thinking, as well as others, that war must come, he had not heard that it would begin so soon. It had not occurred to him that the desire of people had anticipated events that time. He believed others, not himself, and was rejoiced in heart at sight of that hurry preceding conflict which he met everywhere. In all places all other anxieties gave way to anxiety about a horse and armor; everywhere men were testing with great care lances, swords, axes, spears, helmets, mail, straps for breastplates, horse trappings. Smiths were beating night and day on iron plates with their hammers, forging rude heavy armor which elegant knights of the West could hardly move, but which the sturdy "heirs" of Great and Little Poland carried easily. Old men drew forth from caskets in their closets faded bags with coin in them, to procure military outfits for their sons. Once Zbyshko passed the night with a rich noble, Bartosh of Belav, who having twenty-two stalwart sons mortgaged broad lands to the cloister in Lovich so as to buy twenty-two suits of armor, as many helmets, and other arms for the conflict. So Zbyshko, though he had not heard of this in Bogdanets, thought, also, that he would have to go to Prussia directly, and thanked God that he was equipped for the expedition so splendidly.

Indeed his armor roused admiration everywhere. People esteemed him the son of a voevoda, but when he said that he was only the son of a simple noble, and that such armor might be bought among the Germans if one would pay with an axe properly, hearts gained warlike desire. But more than one man unable to stifle greed at sight of this armor caught up with Zbyshko on the road, and asked, "Well, wilt thou fight for it?" But being in a hurry he would not fight; besides, the Cheh drew his crossbow. Zbyshko ceased even to hang out the board with the challenge at inns, for he noticed that the farther he advanced from the boundary the less people understood it, and the more they considered him foolish.

In Mazovia men spoke less of the war. They believed even there that it was coming, but they knew not the time. In Warsaw there was peace, the more since the court was at Tsehanov, which Prince Yanush had built over after the old attack of the Lithuanians, or rather he had built it entirely new, for of the earlier place there remained only the castle. In the town of Warsaw Yasko Soha, the starosta of the castle, son of the voevoda Abraham, who fell at the Vorskla, received Zbyshko. Yasko knew the young knight, for he had been with Princess Anna in Cracow; hence he was glad to entertain him. But before sitting down to food and drink Zbyshko inquired about Danusia. "Had she not been given in marriage at the same time with other damsels?"

Yasko could not answer that question. The prince and princess had lived in the castle of Tsehanov since early autumn. In Warsaw only he and a handful of bowmen had remained as a guard. He heard that in Tsehanov there had been various amusements and weddings, as happens usually before Advent, but who of the damsels had married and who had remained single he, as a married man, had not inquired.

"I think, however," said he, "that Yurand's daughter is not married. How could the marriage take place without Yurand? and I have not heard of his arrival. Two brothers of the Order are visiting at the court,—one is from Yansbork, the other from Schytno,—and with them are some foreign guests, it is likely; at such times Yuraud never comes, for the sight of a white mantle rouses him to madness. Unless Yurand was there, there was no wedding. But if it is thy wish I will send a messenger to inquire, and will order him to return quickly, though, as I live, I think that thou wilt find Yurand's daughter yet in the maiden state."

"I shall go myself to-morrow, but God reward thee for the comfort. Only let my horses rest, and I shall go, for I cannot rest till I know the truth. But God repay thee; thou hast relieved me at once."

Soha did not stop here; he inquired of one and another among the nobles, who were stopping by chance in the castle, and the soldiers, if any had heard of the marriage of Yurand's daughter. No one had heard, though there were men who had been in Tsehanov, and had even been at weddings. "Unless some one had taken her during recent weeks or recent days." It might have happened, indeed, for in those days people did not lose time in reflection. But Zbyshko went to sleep greatly strengthened. While there in bed he thought whether or not to dismiss Sanderus on the morrow; but he considered that the man might be useful, because of his knowledge of German, when the time came to go against Lichtenstein. He thought, too, that Sanderus had not deceived him; and though at inns he was very expensive, since he ate and drank as much as four persons, still he was serviceable, and showed his new lord a certain attachment. Besides, he had the art of writing, thus surpassing the Cheh and Zbyshko himself.

All these considerations caused the young knight to let Sanderus go to Tsehanov; at which the man rejoiced, not only because of the food, but because he thought that in honorable company he would rouse more confidence and find purchasers more easily for his relics. After another night spent at Naselsk, and travelling neither too briskly nor too slowly, they saw toward evening of the next day the walls of Tsehanov Castle. Zbyshko halted at the inn to put on his armor and enter the castle, according to knightly custom, in a helmet, and lance in hand. So he mounted his gigantic stallion and advanced, after he had made a sign of the cross in the air.

But he had not gone ten steps when the Cheh riding behind caught up with him, and said,—

"Your grace, certain knights are riding up after us,—Knights of the Cross, I think."

Zbyshko turned his horse and saw a showy retinue not farther than fifty rods distant; at the head of it on strong Pomeranian horses rode two knights, both in full armor, each in a white mantle with a black cross, and in a helmet with lofty peacock-plumes.

"Knights of the Cross, by the dear God!" said Zbyshko.

And involuntarily he inclined in the saddle, and placed his lance half-way down to the horse's ears; seeing which, the Cheh spat on his palm so that the axe might not slip from it.

Zbyshko's attendants, men of experience, knowing the custom of war, stood ready also, not for battle, it is true, for in knightly conflicts servants took no part, but to measure out a space for the struggle on horseback, or to trample the snowy earth for a combat on foot.

Being a noble, the Cheh was to take part; but he too hoped that Zbyshko would speak before he struck, and in his soul he was wonderfully astonished even that the young lord lowered his lance before challenging.

But Zbyshko recollected himself in season. He recalled that mad act of his near Cracow when he wished without foresight to do battle with Lichtenstein, and remembered all the misfortunes which had come of it; so he raised his lance, which he gave to the Cheh, and without drawing his sword moved on horseback toward the Knights of the Cross. When he had ridden up he saw that besides them there was still a third knight, also with plumes upon his helmet, and a fourth, long haired, without armor; to him this last man seemed a Mazovian. When he saw them he said to himself,—

"I vowed in prison to my lady, not three plumes, but as many as she has fingers on her hands; but three, if they are not envoys, might be found at once." He thought, however, that they must surely be envoys to the Prince of Mazovia; so he called aloud,—

"Praised be Jesus Christ."

"For the ages of ages," answered the long-haired, unarmored horseman.

"God give you fortune!"

"And to you, lord."

"Glory to Saint George!"

"He is our patron. Lord, be greeted on the road."

Here they bowed to each other; and then Zbyshko announced his name, his escutcheon, his watchword, and the place whence he was going to the court of Mazovia. The long-haired knight declared that he was Yendrek of Kropivnitse, and that he was conducting guests of the prince, Brother Gottfried, and Brother Rotgier, with Foulk de Lorche of Lorraine, who, while visiting the Knights of the Cross, wished to see with his own eyes the Prince of Mazovia, and especially the princess, daughter of the famous "Kynstut."^[1]

While their names were in course of mention, the foreign knights, sitting erect on their horses, bent their heads covered with iron helmets, and bowed repeatedly; for they thought, judging from Zbyshko's brilliant armor, that the prince had sent out some distinguished person, perhaps a son or relative, to meet them.

"The comtur," continued Yendrek, "or, as you would say in our language, the starosta, of Yansbork is stopping as a guest with the prince, to whom he mentioned these three knights. 'They have a lively desire to come,' said he. 'but do not dare, especially the Knight of Lorraine, because, journeying from afar, he thinks that immediately beyond the boundary of the Order dwell Saracens, with whom war never ceases.' The prince, as a hospitable lord, sent me at once to the boundary to conduct them in safety among the castles."

"Could they not have passed without your aid?"

"Our people are terribly enraged at the Knights of the Cross, and not so much for their attacks, since we look in at them also, as for their great treachery. If a Knight of the Cross embrace thee to thy face and kiss thee, he is ready to plunge a knife into thy back at that very moment,—a custom quite swinish and hateful to us Mazovians. Yes! that is it! Every one will receive a German under his roof and do no harm to his guest, but on the road he is glad to attack him. And there are some who do nothing else through revenge, or for the glory which may God grant to every one."

"Who is the most famous among you?"

"There is one, and it would be better for a German to look at death than see him; they call him Yurand of Spyhov."

The young knight's heart quivered when he heard this name; he determined at once to draw Yendrek by the tongue.

"I know," said he; "I have heard of him; he is the man whose daughter Danusia was Princess Anna's damsel till she was married."

As he said this he looked carefully at the eyes of the Mazovian, stopping the breath in his breast almost; but the other answered with great astonishment: "Who told you that? She is a damsel. True it happens that damsels marry, but Yuraud's daughter is not married. Six days ago, when I rode away from Tsehanov, I saw her with the princess. How could she marry in Advent?"

Zbyshko, while hearing this, used all his strength of will to avoid seizing the Mazovian by the neck and shouting, "God reward thee for the news!" but he restrained himself, and said,—

"I heard that Yurand gave her to some one."

"The princess, not Yurand, wanted to give her in marriage, but she could not go against Yurand's will. She wanted to give her to a knight in Cracow, who made a vow to the girl, and who is loved by her."

"Is he?" cried Zbyshko.

At this Yendrek looked at him quickly, smiled, and said,—

"Do you know, somehow you are terribly curious about that girl?"

"I am curious about acquaintances to whom I am going."

Little of Zbyshko's face could be seen under the helmet,—barely his eyes, his nose, and a small part of his cheeks,—but his nose and his cheeks were so red that the crafty Mazovian, who was given to jesting, said,—

"It is sure that your face has grown as red from cold as an Easter egg."

The young man was still more confused and answered, "Sure."

They moved on, and rode some time in silence; only the horses snorted, throwing out columns of steam from their nostrils, and the foreign knights began to jabber among themselves. After a while, however. Yendrek asked,—

"What is your name, for I did not hear well?"

"Zbyshko of Bogdanets."

"Oh, indeed! he who made the vow to Yurand's daughter had the same name."

"Do you think that I shall contradict? " answered Zbyshko, quickly and with pride.

"No, for there is no reason. Dear God, then you are that Zbyshko whose head the girl covered with a veil! After the return from Cracow the damsels talked of no one but you, and, while listening, tears flowed down the cheeks of more than one of them. So this is you! Hei! there will be joy at the court, for the princess also is fond of you."

"God bless her, and bless you for the good news for when people told me that she was married I suffered."

"What, marry! A girl like that is a dainty bit, for all of Spyhov stands behind her; but though there are many shapely fellows at the court, no one has looked into her eyes, for each respects her deed and your vow. Neither would the princess permit such conduct. Hei! there will be joy. It is true that sometimes the damsels jested with her; one would say, 'Your knight will not come,' then she would stamp with her feet and cry, 'He will! he will!' Though more than once, when some one told her that you had taken another, it came to tears."

These words touched Zbyshko, but anger at peoples' talk seized him straightway; so he said,—

"I will challenge any one who barked such things of me!"

"Women said them," answered Yendrek, beginning to laugh. "Will you challenge women? What can you do with a sword against a distaff?"

Zbyshko, glad that God had sent him so kind and cheerful a companion, fell to inquiring about Danusia, then about the habits of the Mazovian court, and again about Danusia; then about Prince Yanush and the princess, and again about Danusia. But at last, remembering his vows, he told Yendrek what he had heard on the way about war, how people were preparing, how they were waiting day by day for it, and at last he inquired if they had the same thoughts in Mazovia.

Yendrek did not think war so near. People said that it must be near, but he had heard the prince say to Pan Mikolai once that the knights had drawn in their horns, and, since they feared the power of King Yagello, were he to insist, they would withdraw from the lands of Dobryn which they had seized, or at least they would put off the war till they were well prepared.

"Moreover," said he, "the prince went to Malborg, where, during the absence of the Master, the Grand Marshal entertained him and had tournaments for him, and at present comturs are visiting the prince, and now fresh guests are on the way to him."

Here he stopped and added after a while,—

"People say that the knights are visiting us, and Prince Ziemovit in Plotsk. They would like, of course, that in case of war our princes should help them and not the King of Poland; and if they are unable to bring the princes to act thus to induce them to remain aside quietly— But this will not happen."

"God grant that it will not! How could you stay at home? Your princes are connected with the Polish kingdom. They would not sit quietly, I think."

"They would not."

Zbyshko looked again at the foreign knights and at their peacock-plumes.

"Then are these going for that purpose?" asked he.

"The brothers of the Order, perhaps, for that purpose. Who knows?"

"And that third man?"

"The third is going because he is curious."

"He must be some considerable person."

"Yes! three wagons follow him with rich utensils, and he has nine attendants. God grant to close with such a man! It brings water to one's mouth."

"But can you not do it?"

"How! The prince commanded me to guard him. A hair will not fall from his head till he reaches Tsehanov."

"But if I should challenge them? They might like to do battle with me."

"You would have to do battle with me first, for while I live nothing of that sort will happen."

When Zbyshko heard this he looked in a friendly manner at the young noble, and said,—

"You understand what knightly honor is. I will not fight with you, for I am your friend; but in Tsehanov I shall find a cause against the Germans, God grant."

"In Tsehanov do what may please you. It will not pass there without tournaments; then it may go to the sharp edge, should the prince and the comturs give permission."

"I have a board on which is a challenge to every man who will not admit that Panna Danusia, the daughter of Yurand, is the most beautiful and virtuous maiden on earth. But, do you know, people everywhere shrugged their shoulders, and laughed—"

"Yes, for that is a foreign custom, and, to tell the truth, stupid, which people among us do not know unless somewhere on the borders. So this man of Lorraine too attacked a noble on the road, commanding him to glorify some lady of his above others. But nobody understood him, and I would not let them do battle."

"How is that? He commanded to glorify his lady? Fear God! It must be that he has no shame in his eyes."

Here he glanced at the foreign knight, as if he wished to be sure how a man looked who had no shame in his eyes; but in his soul he had to confess that Foulk de Lorche did not seem at all like a common rascal. On the contrary, from beneath his raised visor gazed mild eyes; his face was youthful, but full of a certain pensiveness. Zbyshko saw with astonishment, also, that the knight's neck was thrice surrounded by a rope of hair which passed along his armor to one ankle, and ended by being wound around it three times.

"What kind of rope is he wearing?" inquired Zbyshko.

"I could not learn accurately myself, for they do not understand our language, except Brother Rotgier, who is able to say a couple of words, but not very well. I think, however, that that young knight has made a vow not to remove the rope till he has performed some great knightly deed. In the day he wears it over his armor, in the night on his bare body."

"Sanderus!" called Zbyshko, suddenly.

"At your service!" answered the German, approaching.

"Ask that knight who is the most virtuous and most wonderful maiden in the world."

"Who is the most wonderful and most virtuous maiden in the world?" asked Sanderus.

"Ulrica de Elner!" answered De Lorche. And raising his eyes he sighed repeatedly.

Indignation stopped the breath in Zbyshko's breast when he heard blasphemy like that; great anger seized him and he reined in his stallion on the spot; but before he was able to speak Yendrek interposed his own horse between him and the foreigner, and said,—

"You will not quarrel here!"

Zbyshko turned again to the dealer in relics, and commanded,—

"Tell him from me that he loves an owl."

"My lord declares, noble knight, that you love an owl," repeated Sanderus, as an echo.

At this De Lorche dropped his reins, and with his right hand began to straighten and then to draw off his iron glove; next he threw it in the snow before Zbyshko, who beckoned to his Cheh to raise it with the point of his lance.

Hereupon Yendrek turned to Zbyshko with a face now threatening, and said,—

"You will not meet, I say, while my guard lasts. I will not permit you or him."

"But I did not challenge him, he challenged me."

"Yes, but for the owl. This is enough for me, but if any one opposes—hei! I know how to twist a girdle."

"I do not wish to do battle with you."

"But you will have to meet me, for I have sworn to defend this man."

"How will it be?" asked the stubborn Zbyshko.

"It is not far to Tsehanov."

"But what will the German think?"

"Let your man tell him that there cannot be a meeting here, and that first there must be permission from the prince for you, and from the comturs for him."

"But if they will not give permission?"

"Then manage as you like. Enough has been said."

Zbyshko, seeing that there was no way out, and understanding that Yendrek could not permit a battle, called Sanderus again to explain to the Knight of Lorraine that they would give battle only when in the place for it. De Lorche, on hearing the German's words, nodded in sign that he understood, and then extending his hand held Zbyshko's palm for a moment, and pressed it three times firmly, which, according to knightly custom, signified that they would do battle with each other wherever and whenever they could find opportunity. They moved then in apparent concord toward Tsehanov Castle, whose broad-topped towers were now visible on the background of the ruddy sky.

They entered during daylight; but before they had announced themselves at the castle gate and the bridge had been lowered, deep night had come.

They were received and entertained by Zbyshko's acquaintance, Pan Mikolai, who commanded the garrison made up of a handful of knights and three hundred unerring Kurpie bowmen.

Immediately after entering Zbyshko learned to his great vexation that the court was not present. The prince, wishing to entertain the comturs of Schytno and Yansbork, had arranged a great hunt in the Kurpie wilderness, to which the princess also and the ladies of her court had gone so as to lend greater brilliancy to the spectacle. Of ladies whom he knew Zbyshko found only Pani Ofka, the widow of Kryh of Yarzambek, who was housekeeper in the castle. She was very glad to see him, for from the time of their return from Cracow she had told every one who was willing or unwilling to listen, of his love for Dauusia and his adventure with Lichtenstein. These narrations had won for her high esteem among the younger courtiers, and the damsels; hence she was grateful to Zbyshko, and tried now to console the young man in the sadness with which the absence of Danusia filled him.

"Thou wilt not know her," said she. "The maiden's years advance, the seams of her robe are splitting at the neck, for everything in her is growing. She is not a chit as before, and she loves thee differently now from what she did the first time. Let any one cry 'Zbyshko!' in her ear, it is as if some one pricked her with an awl. Such is the lot of us women, against which no help avails. Since it is at God's command— But thy uncle, thou say'st, is well? Why did he not come?—That is our fate. It is dreary for a woman alone in the world. It is a mercy from God that the girl has not broken her legs, for she climbs the tower daily and looks down the road. Every woman of us needs friendship—"

"I will only feed my horses, and go to her, even if I go in the night," answered Zbyshko.

"Do so, but take a guide from the castle, or thou wilt go astray in the wilderness."

Indeed at the supper, which Mikolai made ready for the guests, Zbyshko declared that he would follow the prince straightway, and begged for a guide. The road-weary brothers of the Order pushed up, after the feast, to the immense fireplaces in which whole logs of pine wood were burning, and decided to go only on the morrow, after they had rested. But De Lorche, when he had inquired what the question was, declared his wish to go with Zbyshko, saying that otherwise they might be late for the hunt, which he wished to see absolutely.

Then he approached Zbyshko, and extending his hand to him pressed his palm thrice again.

1. Keistut.