The Knights of the Cross/Volume 1/Chapter 5

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

CHAPTER V.

Princess Anna did not wonder overmuch at the arrival of Yurand, for, it happened often that in the midst of continual pursuits, attacks, and battles with neighboring German knights, he was overcome by a sudden longing to see Danusia. He appeared then unexpectedly either in Warsaw, Tsehanov, or wherever the court of Prince Yanush was living. At sight of the child dreadful grief burst forth in him always; for in the course of years Danusia had grown so much like her mother that when he saw her it seemed to him that he was looking at his dead one, such as he had known her on a time with Princess Anna in Warsaw. More than once people thought that from such grief his heart would break,—that heart given only to vengeance. The princess implored him often to leave his bloody Spyhov and remain at the court near Danusia. Prince Yanush, esteeming Yurand's bravery and value, and wishing also to avoid those vexations to which the continual happenings at the boundary exposed him, offered his favorite the dignity of swordbearer. Always in vain. It was just the sight of Danusia that opened the old wounds in Yurand. After some days he lost desire for food, conversation, and sleep. His heart began evidently to be indignant and to bleed; at last he vanished from the court and returned to the swamps of Spyhov, to drown his grief and anger in bloodshed.

"Woe to the Germans!" said the people then. "They are no sheep, except for Yurand; to the Germans Yurand is a wolf." In fact, after a certain time it was reported that foreign volunteers were seized while passing along the boundary road to the Knights of the Cross; then news came of burnt castles, of captured servants, or of life and death combats, in which the terrible Yurand was always victorious.

With the predatory disposition of the Mazovians and the German knights who by the authority of the Order rented lands and castles in the adjoining Mazovia, even in time of profound peace between the princes of Mazovia and the Order the uproar of battle never ceased on the boundary. Even while cutting fuel in the forest, or during harvest, citizens went out with spears or crossbows. People lived in uncertainty of the morrow, in continual military preparation, in hardness of heart. No one was satisfied with simple defence, but returned robbery for robbery, fire for fire, attack for attack. And it happened that when Germans were stealing along silently through forest boundaries to surprise some castle, carry off people, or drive away herds, Mazovians at the same time were intent on a similar action. More than once they met and fought to the death, but frequently only the leaders were challenged to a mortal struggle, after which the victor took the retinue of his vanquished opponent. So that when complaints against Yurand were brought to the court in Warsaw, the prince answered with complaints of attacks made by German knights elsewhere. In this way when both sides demanded redress neither side had the wish or the power to give it; all robberies, burnings, attacks went entirely unpunished.

In his swampy Spyhov, which was overgrown with reeds, Yurand, burning with an unappeasable desire of vengeance, became so oppressive to his neighbors beyond the border that at last the fear of him became greater than their stubbornness. The fields adjoining Spyhov lay fallow, the forests were filled with wild hops and hazelnuts, the meadows with weeds. More than one German knight accustomed to fist law in his fatherland tried to settle near Spyhov, but each, after a certain time chose to flee from land, flocks, and servants, rather than live at the side of an implacable enemy. Frequently also knights combined to make a common attack upon Spyhov, but each of these found an end in defeat. They tried various methods. Once they brought in, to challenge Yurand to trampled earth, a knight from the Mien, famed for strength and sternness, a man who in all struggles had won victory. But when they stood within barriers the heart in the German knight fell as if by magic at sight of the terrible Mazovian, and he turned his horse to flee. Yurand, unarmored, shot after the man and pierced him through the back, thus depriving him of the light of day and of honor. Thenceforth the greater alarm seized his neighbors, and if any German, even from afar, saw the smoke of Spyhov he made the sign of the cross on himself and began a prayer to his patron in heaven, for the belief became established that Yurand had sold his soul to unclean powers for the sake of vengeance.

Besides, terrible things were related of Spyhov. It was said that through sticky swamps in the midst of deep quagmires overgrown with duck plant and water snake-weed, a road led to it which was so narrow that two horsemen could not ride abreast there; that on both sides of this road were lying German bones; that in the night-time the heads of drowned people walked along on spider legs, groaning, howling, and dragging down to the depths passers-by with their horses.

It was repeated that at the castle itself stood a picket fence adorned with human skulls. In all this the only truth was that in barred cellars, dug under the house in Spyhov, groaned always some prisoners, or some tens of them, and that the name of Yurand was more terrible than the inventions about skeletons, and ghosts of drowned people.

Zbyshko, when he learned of Yurand's coming, hastened straightway to meet him, but as he was going to Danusia's father there was in his heart a certain fear. He had chosen Danusia as the lady of his thoughts and made a vow to her; no one could forbid that, but later the princess had caused the betrothal. What would Yurand say of that act? Would he consent, or would he not? What would happen were he, as Danusia's father, to shout and say that he would never permit such a thing? These questions pierced Zbyshko's soul with dread, since he cared more for Danusia than for all else on earth. This thought alone gave him solace, that Yurand would consider his attack on Lichtenstein a service, not a drawback, for he had made it to take revenge for Danusia's mother, and had thereby lacked little of losing his own head.

Meanwhile he fell to inquiring of the courtier who had come to Amyley's for him.

"And whither are you taking me? To the castle?"

"To the castle. Yurand has stopped with the court of the princess."

"Tell me, what kind of man is he?—that I may know how to talk with him."

"What shall I tell you? He is a man entirely different from others. They say that once he was gladsome, till the blood boiled in his liver."

"Is he wise?"

"He is cunning, for he plunders others, and does not give himself up. Hei! he has one eye,—the Germans shot out the other with a crossbow,—but with that one he looks right through you. No man can insist on his own with him. But the princess, our lady, he loves, for he took her damsel as wife, and now his daughter is reared with us."

Zbyshko drew a breath of relief.

"Then you say that he does not oppose the will of the princess?"

"I know what you would like to learn, and what I have heard I will tell. The princess spoke with him about your betrothal, for it would not be well to conceal it, but it is unknown what he answered."

Thus conversing they reached the gate. The captain of the royal bowmen, the same who had conducted Zbyshko to death, nodded to him now in a friendly manner; so, passing the guards, they found themselves in the court, and then entered on the right to the part occupied by the princess. The courtier, meeting a page before the door inquired,—

"Where is Yurand of Spyhov?"

"In the Winding Room with his daughter."

"It is over there," said the courtier, indicating the door.

Zbyshko made the sign of the cross on himself, and, raising a curtain in the opened door, entered with beating heart. But he did not see Yurand and Danusia, for the room was not merely "winding," but dark. Only after a while did he see the bright head of the maiden; she was sitting on her father's knees; they did not hear when he entered, so he halted at the curtain, coughed and said at last,—

"May He be praised!"

"For the ages of ages!" answered Yurand, rising.

At that moment Danusia sprang to the young knight, and seizing him by the hand, exclaimed,—

"Zbyshko! Papa has come!"

Zbyshko kissed her hand, and with her approached Yurand.

"I have come to bow down to you," said Zbyshko. "Do you know who I am?"

Then he inclined slightly and made a motion with his hands as if wishing to seize Yurand's feet. But Yurand took his hand, turned him toward the light and examined him silently.

Zbyshko had recovered somewhat, so he raised his eyes full of curiosity to Yurand, and saw before him a man of immense stature, with blond hair and light moustaches, a face pitted with small-pox, and having only one eye, which was of an iron color. It seemed to Zbyshko as if that eye would bore him through and through; hence confusion again seized him. Not knowing at last what to say, but wishing desperately to break the vexatious silence with some speech, he asked,—

"Are you Yurand of Spyhov, the father of Danusia?"

But the other indicated to him an oaken seat, on which he himself sat, and without uttering a word he looked at him longer.

Zbyshko was impatient at last.

"You know," said he, "that it is awkward for me to sit here as if under judgment."

Only then did Yurand say: "Hadst thou the wish to fight with Lichtenstein?"

"I had." answered Zbyshko.

In the eye of the lord of Spyhov flashed a kind of wonderful light, and his terrible countenance brightened somewhat. After a while he looked at Danusia and inquired again,—

"And was it for her?"

"For whom should it be? Uncle must have told you how I vowed to her to strip peacock-plumes from German heads! Not three of them, but as many as there are fingers on both her hands. Therefore I will help you to take revenge; it is for Danusia's mother."

"Woe to them!" said Yurand.

Again silence followed.

Zbyshko noticed that by showing his hatred against the Germans he was touching Yurand's heart.

"I will not forgive them my own wrongs," said he; "for they came near cutting my head off." Here he turned to Danusia and added, " She saved me."

"I know," replied Yurand.

"And you are not angry because of that?"

"Since thou hast promised her, serve her; for such is knightly custom."

Zbyshko hesitated somewhat, but after a while he began again with evident alarm,—

"Think of this: she covered my head with a veil; the whole knighthood heard her say, 'He is mine;' the Franciscan, also, who was at my side with the cross, heard her. And certain it is that I shall belong to no other till death; so may God help me!"

Then he knelt again, and wishing to show that he knew knightly customs, he kissed with great respect the shoes of Danusia, who was sitting on the arm of the seat; then he turned to Yurand and asked,—

"Have you ever seen another like her?"

Yurand placed his terrible man-killing hands on his own head suddenly, and closing his eyes, said in a deep voice:

"I have, but the Germans killed her."

"Then listen," said Zbyshko, with enthusiasm; "one wrong has met both of us, and one vengeance belongs to us. They, the dog brothers, slew with crossbows a multitude of my relatives from Bogdanets when their horses sank in a quagmire. You will find no one better than me for your labor. It is nothing new to me! Ask uncle. The lance or the axe, the long or the short sword, are all one to me! My uncle has told you of those Frisians? I will slaughter Germans like sheep for you; and as to the maiden, I swear on my knees to fight for her, as God lives, with the very elder of hell; and I will not yield her either for land or for flocks, or for any gear; and though a castle with glass windows were offered me without her, I would reject the castle and wander off to the edge of the world for her."

Yurand sat some time with his head on his hands; but at last he recovered as if from sleep, and said with pity and sadness,—

"Thou hast pleased me, boy; but I will not give her to thee, for she is not fated to thee, poor fellow."

When he heard this, Zbyshko grew dumb and looked at Yurand with round eyes, unable to utter a word. But Danusia hastened to aid him. Zbyshko was very dear to her, and it was pleasant for her to pass, not for a "chit," but a "grown-up young lady." The betrothal pleased her, and the sweet things which the young knight brought in daily; so now, when she understood that they wished to take all this away from her, she dropped as quickly as possible from the arm of the seat, and hiding her face on her father's knee, began to repeat,—

"Tatulo, tatulo (papa dear), I will cry!"

Evidently he loved her above everything, for he placed his hand on her head mildly. His face expressed neither hatred nor anger, only sadness.

Meanwile Zbyshko recovered and asked: "How is that? Then you wish to oppose the will of God?"

"If it be the will of God, you will get her; but I cannot incline my own will. I would be glad to incline it, but that is not possible."

He raised Danusia then, and taking her on his arm, he turned toward the door; when Zbyshko wished to bar the way, he halted for a moment and said,—

"I shall not be angry with thee about knightly service, but ask me not for more; I cannot say another word to thee."

And he passed out.