The Knights of the Cross/Volume 1/Chapter 22
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CHAPTER XXII. After abundant snow, followed severe frosts, with bright, dry weather. In the daytime the frosts sparkled in the rays of the sun, ice bound the rivers and stiffened the swamps. Clear nights came, during which frost increased so much that trees in the forest burst with explosions; birds approached houses; the roads became dangerous because of wolves, which collected in great numbers and attacked, not only single people, but even villages. Men, however, rejoiced in their smoky cottages at their firesides, predicting a fruitful season after the frosty winter, and awaited the near holidays joyfully. The princess, with her court and Father Vyshonek, had left the hunting-lodge and gone to Tsehanov. Zbyshko, notably stronger, but not strong enough yet to travel on horseback, had remained with his men, Sanderus and the Cheh, with the servants of the place, over whom a steady woman exercised the authority of housekeeper. But the soul in the knight was rushing to his young wife. The idea that now Danusia was his, and that no human power could take her away, was to him an immense solace, indeed, but, on the other hand, that very same idea intensified his yearning. For whole days he had sighed for the moment in which he could leave the lodge, and he was meditating what to do then, whither to go and how to win over Yurand. He had moments of oppressive alarm, it is true, but, on the whole, the future seemed to him delightful. To love Danusia and split helmets with peacock-plumes on them was to be his life employment. Many a time the desire seized him to talk about this with the Cheh, whom he had taken now into his affection, but he remembered that Hlava, devoted with whole soul to Yagenka, would not be glad to talk about Danusia; bound moreover by a secret, he could not tell him all that had happened. His health improved daily. A week before Christmas he mounted a horse for the first time, and, though he felt that he could not work yet in armor, he was comforted. He did not think that the need would come suddenly of putting on a breast-plate and a helmet, but he hoped in the worst event to have strength enough soon to do that were it needed. In his room he tried to use his sword for pastime, and his success was not bad; the axe proved too heavy, still he thought that by using both hands he could wield it effectively. At last, two days before Christmas eve, he gave command to make the sleighs ready and saddle the horses, informing the Cheh at the same time that they would go to Tsehanov. The trusty attendant was concerned somewhat, especially as there was a splitting frost, but Zbyshko said to him,— "Not thy head commands here. There is nothing for us to do in this hunting-lodge, and even should I fall ill, there will be no lack of nursing in Tsehanov. Moreover, I shall not go on horseback, but on runners, up to my neck in hay, and under furs; only at the edge of Tsehanov itself shall I be on horseback." Thus was it managed. The Cheh had learned already to know his young master, and understood that it would be ill for him to oppose, and still worse not to carry out a command quickly; so they started one hour later. At the moment of parting Zbyshko, seeing Sanderus enter a sleigh with his caskets, said to him,— "But thou, why fasten to me like some burr to a sheep's fleece? Hast thou not said that thou wert going to Prussia?" "I said that I wished to go to Prussia, but how could I go there alone in such snow? The wolves would devour me before the first stars came out, and here I have nothing to work at. For me it is more agreeable to edify people in a town by my piety, offer sacred wares, and save men from Satan's snares, as I swore in Rome to the father of all Christendom that I would do. Besides, I have conceived a wonderful affection for your Grace, and will not leave you till I set out for Rome, since it may happen me to render you a service." "He is always ready, lord, to eat and drink for your sake," said Hlava, "and is most delighted to render such service. But if a great cloud of wolves fall on us in Prasnysh forest, we will throw him out to them at parting, for never will he be better fitted for another thing." "But look to it that a sinful word does not freeze to your lips," retorted Sanderus; "for such icicles could be thawed only in hell." "Oh, pshaw!" answered Hlava, reaching with his gloved hand to his mustaches, which had hardly begun to be frosty. "I shall see first to heating some beer for the journey, but I shall not give thee any." "The commandment is to give drink to the thirsty. A new sin on your side!" "Then I will give thee a measure of water, but for the moment, this is what I have ready—" Thus speaking, he gathered as much snow as he could take in his gloved hands, and threw it at Sauderus' beard, who dodged, and said,— "You have nothing to show in Tsehanov, for there is a tame bear in that place which shovels snow." Thus they abused and chaffed each other mutually. Zbyshko did not prevent Sanderus from going with him, for this strange man amused him, and seemed also to be attached to his person. They left the hunting-lodge on a bright morning in a frost so great that it was necessary to blanket the horses. The entire country was covered with deep snow. The tops of the houses were barely indicated under it; in places the smoke seemed to come straight up from white drifts and go to the sky arrow-like, rosy from the morning sunlight, and spread at the top in the form of a bush, like plumes on a knight's helmet. Zbyshko rode in a sleigh, first to spare his strength, and second because of the great cold, against which he could defend himself more easily in an equipage filled with hay and fur. He commanded the Cheh to sit with him and to have the crossbows at hand for defence against wolves: meanwhile he chatted with him pleasantly. "In Prasnysh," said he, "we shall only feed our horses, warm ourselves, and move on then immediately." "To Tsehanov?" "First to Tsehanov, to salute the prince and princess and go to church." "And then?" Zbyshko smiled and answered,— "Then who knows that we may not go to Bogdanets?" The Cheh looked at him with astonishment. The idea flashed into his head that the young man might have given up Yurand's daughter, and it seemed to him the more likely since she had left the princess, and the report had come to his ears in the hunting-lodge that the lord of Spyhov was opposed to Zbyshko. Hence the honest fellow was rejoiced, though he loved Yagenka; still he looked at her as a star in the sky, and would have been delighted to purchase for her happiness, even with his own blood. He loved Zbyshko, too, and desired from his whole soul to serve both to the death. "Then your Grace will live at home," said he, with delight. "How am I to live at home, when I have challenged those Knights of the Cross, and still earlier Lichtenstein? De Lorche said that very likely the Grand Master would invite the king to Torun. I may attach myself to the royal retinue, and I think that Zavisha of Garbov or Povala of Tachev will obtain from our lord permission for me to meet those monks of the Order. Surely they will fight in company with their attendants; so thou wilt have to fight also." "I would do so even if I had to become a monk," answered Hlava. Zbyshko looked at him with satisfaction. "Well, it will not be pleasant for the man who comes under thy metal. The Lord Jesus has given thee tremendous strength, but thou wouldst do badly wert thou to plume thyself over-much on it, for modesty is the ornament of a genuine attendant." The Cheh nodded in sign that he would not boast of his strength, but also that he would not spare it on the Germans. Zbyshko smiled, not at the attendant, but at his own thoughts. "The old man will be glad when we return," said Hlava after a moment, "and there will be gladness at Zyh's house." Zbyshko saw Yagenka as clearly as if she had been at his side in the sleigh. It happened always that when he chanced to think of Yagenka he saw her with wonderful definiteness. "No!" said he to himself, "she will not be glad, for if I go to Bogdanets, it will be with Danusia and let her take another." Then Vilk and young Stan flashed before his eyes, and the thought was bitter to him that the girl might go into the hands of one of those two. "Better far the first man she meets," thought he; "they are beer guzzlers and dice throwers, while the girl is honest." He thought also that in every case it would be disagreeable for his uncle to learn what had happened, but he comforted himself with this, that Matsko's first thought had always been turned to wealth and descent, so as to raise the distinction of his family. Yagenka, it is true, was nearer, for she was at the boundary of their land, but as a recompense Yurand was a greater heir than Zyh; hence it was easy to foresee that Matsko would not be angry very long over such a connection, all the more since he knew of his nephew's love, and knew how much that nephew was under obligations to Danusia. He would scold, and then be glad and love Danusia as if she were his own child. And suddenly Zbyshko's heart moved with affection and yearning for that uncle, who was a firm man, and who, moreover, loved him as the sight of his eyes. In battles that uncle had guarded him more than his own life; he had taken booty for him; he had worked to gain property for him. There were two lone men of them in the world. They had no relatives even, unless distant ones, like the Abbot of Tulcha; hence, when it came to parting, neither knew what to do without the other, especially the old man, who had no desires for himself any longer. "Hei! he will be glad; he will be glad!" thought Zbyshko, "and I could only wish Yurand to receive me as he will." And he tried to imagine what Yurand would say and do when he learned of the marriage. In this thought there was some dread, but not over-much, especially since the latch had fallen. It was not fitting that Yurand should challenge him to battle, for were he to oppose too much, Zbyshko might answer: "Consent while I beg you, for your right to Danusia is human, while mine is a divine one; she is not yours now, but mine." He had heard in his time from a cleric wise in Scriptures that a woman must leave father and mother and follow her husband; hence he felt that on his side was greater authority. Moreover, he hoped that between him and Yurand it would not come to stubborn disagreement and anger, for he considered that the prayers of Danusia would effect much, and also much, if not more, the mediation of the prince, of whom Yurand was a subject, and the princess, whom Yurand loved as the foster-mother of his daughter. People advised them to pass the night in Prasnysh, and warned them against wolves, which, because of the cold, had gathered in such packs that they fell upon wayfarers even in large parties. But Zbyshko would not consider this; for it happened that in the inn he met a number of Mazovian knights, with their escorts, who were going to the prince at Tsehanov, and a number of armed merchants from Tsehanov itself, who were bringing laden sleighs from Prussia. In such large companies there was no danger; hence they set out for an all-night journey, though toward evening a sudden wind rose which brought clouds, and a fog set in. They travelled on, keeping closely together, but so slowly that Zbyshko began to think that they would not reach Tsehanov even on Christmas eve. In some places it was necessary to clear the drifts, for horses could not wade through them. Fortunately, the forest road was definite. Still it was dusk in the world when they saw Tsehanov. It may be even that they would have gone around the place in the snow-storm and the whistling of the wind without knowing that they were right there, had it not been for fires which were burning on the height where the new castle was standing. No one knew certainly whether those fires had been lighted on that eve of the Divine Birth to serve guests, or because of some ancient custom, but neither did any one of those accompanying Zbyshko care at that moment, for all wished to find a refuge at the earliest. The tempest increased every instant. The cutting and freezing wind swept along immense clouds of snow. It broke trees, roared, went mad, tore away entire drifts, carried them into the air, twisted them, shot them apart, covered horses and wagons with them, cut the faces of travellers with them as if with sharpened sand, stopped with them the breath and speech of people. The sound of bells fastened to sleigh tongues was not heard in the least, but in the howling and the whistling of the whirlwind sounded complaining voices, as if voices of wolves, as if distant neighing of horses, and sometimes as if the cries of people filled with fear and calling for assistance. Exhausted horses, leaning each with its side against the other, advanced more and more slowly. "Hei! this is a snow tempest, indeed it is!" said the Cheh, with a panting voice. "It is lucky enough that we are near the town, and that those fires are burning, otherwise it would go hard with us." "It is death to be out now," said Zbyshko; "but I do not see even the blaze there." "Because there is such a mist that the light of the fire cannot pass through it. Besides that, the fire and the wood may have been blown away." On other sleighs merchants and knights were also saying that whoever was caught by the storm at a distance from human dwellings would hear no church bell on the morrow. But Zbyshko was disquieted all on a sudden, and said,— "May God not grant that Yurand be out on the road somewhere!" The Cheh, though occupied altogether with looking toward the fires, turned his head on hearing Zbyshko's words, and asked,— "Then was the master of Spyhov to come?" "He was." "With the young lady?" "But really the fire is hidden," remarked Zbyshko. The flame had died out, in fact, but on the road right there near the sleighs appeared a number of horsemen. "Why ride onto us?" cried the watchful Cheh, grasping his crossbow. "Who are ye?" "People of the prince, sent to help wayfarers." "Jesus Christ be praised!" "For the ages of ages." "Conduct us to the town!" called out Zbyshko. "Has none of you dropped behind?" "None." "Whence come ye?" "From Prasnysh." "And saw ye no other travellers on the way?" "We did not. But perhaps there are others on other roads." "Men are looking for them on all the roads. Come with us. Ye have lost the road! Turn to the right!" They turned their horses. For some time nothing was heard save the roar of the tempest. "Are there many guests in the old castle?" asked Zbyshko, after a while. The nearest horseman, who had not heard distinctly, bent toward him and asked,— "What did you say?" "I asked if there were many guests with the prince and princess." "As usual, a good number of them!" "But the lord of Spyhov, is he there?" "He is not, but they expect him. People have gone out to meet him also." "With torches?" "How go with torches in this wind?" They were unable to converse longer, for the noise of the snow-tempest increased. "A real devil's wedding!" said the Cheh. Zbyshko commanded him to be silent, and not mention foul names. "Dost thou know," said he, "that on such holidays hellish power grows benumbed and devils hide themselves in holes? Fishermen found one of those devils once in a pond near Sandomir the day before Christmas eve. He had a pike in his snout, but when the sound of church bells reached him, he lost strength right away, and they beat him with sticks until evening. This storm is a stiff one, but it is by permission of the Lord Jesus, who wishes the morrow to be filled all the more with rejoicing." "True enough! If we were only at the castle; but had it not been for these men, we might have ridden till midnight, for we had got off the road," answered Hlava. He said this, for the fire had gone down. They had now really entered the town. Drifts of still deeper snow were lying on the streets there; so great were these drifts that in many places they almost hid the windows. For this reason people passing outside the town could not see lights. But the storm seemed less violent. On the streets none were celebrating the Christmas festival; citizens were sitting already at supper. Before some houses boys, with a crib and a goat, were singing in spite of the snow-storm. On the square were men wrapped in pea-straw, and acting as bears, but in general the place was empty. The merchants who accompanied Zbyshko, and other nobles on the road, remained in the town. Zbyshko and the nobles went to the old castle, in which the prince dwelt, and which had, even at that time, glass windows, which, in spite of the storm, shone brightly in front of the wayfarers when they drew near. The drawbridge on the moat had been let down, for the old time of Lithuanian attacks had passed, and the Knights of the Cross, foreseeing war with the King of Poland, sought the friendship of the Prince of Mazovia. One of the prince's men blew a horn, and the gate was open directly. There were between ten and twenty bowmen there, but on the walls not a living soul, for the prince had given leave to go down. Old Mrokota, who had arrived two days earlier, met the guests, greeted them in the prince's name, and conducted them to rooms in which they could array themselves properly for the table. Zbyshko fell at once to asking him about Yurand of Spyhov, and he answered that Yurand was not there, but that they expected him, since he had promised to come, and if his health had grown worse he would have informed them. Still they had sent out a number of horsemen to meet him, because the oldest men could not remember such a storm. "Then perhaps he will be here soon." "Surely before long. The princess has commanded to set plates for them on her table." Zbyshko, though he had always feared Yurand, rejoiced in heart, and said to himself: "Though I know not what he has done, he cannot undo this, that it is my wife who will come, my dearest Danusia!" And when he repeated that to himself, he was hardly able to believe his own happiness. Then he thought that perhaps she had told Yurand all; that perhaps she had won him over, and persuaded him to give her at once. "In truth, what better has he to do? Yurand is a wise man, and knows that though he might forbid me, though he might refuse her to me, I would take her in every case, for my right is the strongest." While dressing, Zbyshko talked with Mrokota; asked him about the health of the prince, and especially the princess, whom from the time of his visit in Cracow he had loved as a mother. He was glad also when he learned that all in the castle were well and gladsome, though the princess grieved much at the absence of her dear little singer. "Now Yagenka, whom the princess likes well, plays on the lute to her, but not in any way as the other." "What Yagenka?" asked Zbyshko, with wonder. "Yagenka of Velgolas, the granddaughter of an old man from Velgolas,—a nice girl, with whom that man from Lorraine has fallen in love." "Then is Pan de Lorche here?" "Where should he be? He came from the hunting-lodge, and he remains here because it is pleasant for him. There is never a lack of guests in our prince's castle." "I shall look on the Knight of Lorraine with pleasure; he is a man whom no one can reproach in any way." "He, too, esteems you. But let us go; for the prince and princess will take their places at table directly." They went out. In two chimneys of the dining hall great fires were burning, which were cared for by youths, and there was a multitude of guests and courtiers. The prince entered first in the company of a voevoda and a number of attendants. Zbyshko bent down to his knees, and then kissed his hand. In return, the prince pressed his head, and, going a little aside with him, said,— "I know of everything. I was angry at first that you did that without my permission, but in truth there was no time, for I was then in Warsaw, where I intended to pass the holidays. Finally, it is known that if a woman undertakes a thing, better not oppose her; for thou wilt effect nothing. The princess wishes as well to you as if she were your mother, and I prefer always to please rather than oppose her; for I wish to spare her tears and sadness." Zbyshko bent a second time to the knees of the prince. "God grant me to serve your princely Grace sufficiently." "Praise to His name that thou art well. Tell the princess how kindly I have received thee. She will be gladdened. As God lives, her pleasure is my pleasure! And to Yurand I will say a good word in thy favor, and I think that he will give his permission; for he too loves the princess." "Even should he be unwilling to give it, my right is the first." "Thy right is the first, and he must agree; but he may withhold his blessing. No man can wrest that by force from him; and without a parent's blessing there is no blessing from God." Zbyshko grew sad when he heard these words; for up to that time he had not thought of this. At that moment, however, the princess came in with Yagenka of Velgolas and other damsels; so he sprang forward to pay homage to the lady. She greeted him still more graciously than had the prince, and began at once to tell him of the expected arrival of Yurand. "Here are plates set for them, and men are sent to bring them out of the storm. It is not according to decorum to delay the Christmas eve supper, for 'the lord' does not like that; but they will come surely before the end of supper." "As to Yurand," said the princess, "it will be as God inspires. Either I shall tell him everything to-day or to-morrow after mass, and the prince has promised to add his word also. Yurand is self-willed, but not toward those whom he loves, and to whom he is under obligation." Then she told Zbyshko how he was to bear himself toward his father-in-law, not to offend him—God forbid that!—and not to lead him to stubbornness. In general, she was of good hope; but a person knowing the world better and looking at it more quickly than Zbyshko, would have noted a certain alarm in her speech. Perhaps it was there because the lord of Spyhov was in general not an easy man, and perhaps, too, the princess began to be alarmed somewhat because they were so long in appearing. The storm was becoming more cruel out of doors, and all said that the man found in the open field by it might remain there. Another supposition also occurred to the princess, namely, that Danusia had confessed to her father that she had been married to Zbyshko, and Yurand, being offended, had resolved not to come to Tsehanov at all. She did not wish, however, to confide these thoughts to Zbyshko, and there was not even time for it, since the young men in waiting had begun to bring in the food and place it on the table. But Zbyshko hastened to fall at her feet again, and ask,— "But if they come, gracious lady, how will it be? Pan Mrokota has told me that there is a separate division for Yurand, where there will be hay beds for the attendants. But how will it be?" The princess laughed, and striking him lightly on the face with her gloves, said,— "Be quiet! Wait till you see him!" And she went to the prince, for whom the armor-bearers had already arrayed his chair, so that he might take his seat. Before doing that, however, one of them gave him a flat dish filled with thin strips of cake and bits of meat to be divided by the prince among guests, courtiers, and servants. Another similar one was held for the princess by a beautiful youth, the son of the Castellan of Sohachev. At the opposite side of the table stood Father Vyshonek, who was to bless the supper set out upon sweetly smelling hay. In the door at this moment appeared a man covered with snow, who called aloud,— "Gracious lord!" "What?" asked the prince, not glad that the ceremony was interrupted. "On the Radzanov road are travellers covered up in the snow. We must send more people to dig them out." All were frightened when they heard this. The prince was alarmed, and turning to the Castellan, cried,— "Horsemen with shovels, quickly!" Then he turned to the man who had brought the news. "Are many snowed in?" "We could not discover. There is a terrible darkness in the air. There are sleighs and horses, a considerable escort." "Do ye not know whose they are?" "People say that it is the heir of Spyhov."
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