The Knights of the Cross/Volume 2/Chapter 58

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

CHAPTER LVIII.

After the burial of Danusia Zbysnko was not confined to his bed, but he lived in torpor. For a few days at first he was not in such an evil condition: he walked about, he conversed with his dead bride, he visited Yurand and sat near him. He told the priest of Matsko's captivity, and they decided to send Tolima to Prussia and Malborg, to learn where the old knight was and ransom him, paying at the same time for Zbyshko the sum agreed on with Arnold von Baden and his brother. In the cellars of Spyhov there was no lack of silver, which Yurand in his time had received from his lands or had captured, so Father Kaleb supposed that the Knights if they received the money would liberate the old man without trouble, and would not require the young knight to appear in person.

"Go to Plotsk," said the priest to Tolima at starting, "and take from the prince there a letter of safe conduct. Otherwise the first comtur on the way will rob and imprison thee."

"Oh! I know them myself," said Tolima. "They are able to rob even those who have letters."

And he went his way. But Father Kaleb was sorry, soon after, that he had not sent Zbyshko. He had feared, it is true, that in the first moments of suffering the young man would not be able to conduct himself in the way needed, or that he might burst out against the Knights of the Cross and expose himself to peril; he knew also that it would be difficult for him to leave immediately the tomb of the beloved with his recent loss and fresh sorrow, and just after such a terrible and painful journey as that which he had made from Gotteswerder to Spyhov. But later he was sorry that he had taken all this into consideration, for Zbyshko had grown duller day by day. He had lived till Danusia's death in dreadful effort, he had used all his strength desperately: he had ridden to the ends of the earth, he had fought, he had saved his wife, he had passed through wild forests; and on a sudden all was ended as if some one had cut it off with a sword-stroke, and naught was left but the knowledge that what he had done had been done in vain, that his toils had been useless,—that in truth they had passed, but with them a part of his life had gone; hope had gone, good had gone, loving had perished, and nothing was left to him. Every man lives in the morrow, every man plans somewhat and lays aside one or another thing for use in the future, but for Zbyshko to-morrow had become valueless; as to the future, he had the same kind of feeling that Yagenka had had, while riding out of Spyhov, when she said, "My happiness is behind, not before me." But, besides, in his soul that feeling of helplessness, emptiness, misfortune, and evil fate had risen on the ground of great pain and of ever-increasing grief for Danusia. That grief penetrated him, mastered him, and at the same time was ever stiffening in him. So at last there was no place in Zbyshko's heart for another feeling. Hence he thought of it only; he nursed it in himself and lived with it solely, insensible to everything else, shut up in himself, sunk, as it were, in a half dream, oblivious of all that was happening around him. All the powers of his soul and his body, his former activity and valor, dropped into quiescence. In his look and movements there appeared a kind of senile heaviness. Whole days and nights he sat, either in the vault with Danusia's coffin, or before the house, warming himself in sunlight during the hours after midday. At times he so forgot himself that he did not answer questions. Father Kaleb, who loved him, began to fear that pain might consume the man as rust consumes iron, and with sadness he thought that perhaps it would have been better to send him away, even to the Knights of the Cross, with a ransom.

"It is necessary," said he to the sexton, with whom in the absence of other men he spoke of his own troubles, "that some adventure should pull him, as a storm pulls a tree, otherwise he may perish utterly." And the sexton answered wisely by giving the comparison, that when a man is choking with a bone it is best to give him a good thump behind the shoulders.

No adventure came, but a few weeks later Pan de Lorche appeared unexpectedly. The sight of him roused Zbyshko, for it reminded him of the expedition among the Jmud men and the rescue of Danusia. De Lorche did not hesitate in the least to rouse these painful memories. On the contrary, when he learned of Zbyshko's loss he went at once to pray with him above Danusia's coffin, and spoke of her unceasingly. Being himself half a minstrel, he composed a hymn for her which he sang with a lute, at night, near the grating of the vault, so tenderly and with such sadness that Zbyshko, though he did not understand the words, was seized by great weeping which lasted till the daylight following.

Weaned by sorrow, by weeping and watching, he fell into a deep sleep; and when he woke it was clear that pain had flowed away with his tears, for he was brighter than on preceding days, and seemed more active. He was greatly pleased with Pan de Lorche, and thanked him for coming; afterward he inquired how he had learned of his misfortune. De Lorche answered, through Father Kaleb, that he had received the first tidings of Danusia's death in Lubav, from old Tolima, whom he had seen there in the prison of the comtur, but that he would have come to Spyhov in every case to yield himself to Zbyshko.

News of Tolima's imprisonment made a great impression on the priest and on Zbyshko; they understood that the ransom was lost, for there was nothing more difficult on earth than to snatch from the Knights of the Cross money once seized by them. In view of this it was necessary to go with ransom a second time.

"Woe!" cried Zbyshko. "Now my poor uncle is waiting there and thinking that I have forgotten him. I must go with all speed to my uncle."

Then he turned to De Lorche,—

"Dost know how it has come out? Dost know that he is in the hands of the Knights of the Order?"

"I know, for I saw him in Malborg, and that is why I have come hither."

Father Kaleb fell now to complaining,—

"We have acted badly, but no one had a head. I expected more wisdom from Tolima. Why did he not go to Plotsk, instead of rushing in without a letter among those robbers?"

At this De Lorche shrugged his shoulders,—

"What are letters to them? Or are the wrongs few which the Prince of Plotsk, as well as your prince, has suffered? On the boundary attacks and battles never cease, for your men, too, are unforgiving. Every comtur then, what! every voit, does as he pleases, and in robbery one merely outstrips another."

"All the more should Tolima have gone to Plotsk."

"He wanted to do so, but they seized him near the boundary on this side in the night-time. They would have killed him if he had not said that he was taking money to Lubav for the comtur. In this way he saved himself, but now the comtur will produce witnesses to show that Tolima made that declaration."

"But Uncle Matsko, is he well? Are they threatening his life there?" inquired Zbyshko.

"He is well," answered De Lorche. "Hatred against 'King' Vitold, and against those who helped the Jmud men, is great, and surely they would have slain the old knight were it not that they do not wish to lose the ransom. The brothers von Baden defended him for the same cause, and finally the Chapter are concerned about my head; were they to sacrifice that, they would rouse the knighthood of Guelders, Burgundy, and Flanders. Ye know that I am kin to the Count of Guelders."

"But why are they concerned about thy head?" interrupted Zbyshko, in wonder.

"Because I was captured by thee. I said the following in Malborg: If ye take the life of the old knight of Bogdanets, his nephew will take my head."

"I will not take it! so help me God!"

"I know that thou wilt not, but they are afraid that thou wilt, and Matsko will be safe therefore. They answered me that thou wert in captivity also, for the Von Baden s let thee go on thy word of a knight, therefore that I had no need to go to thee. But I answered, that thou wert free when I was captured.—And I have come to thee! While I am in thy hands, they will do nothing to thee or Matsko. Do thou pay the Von Badens thy ransom, and for me demand twice or thrice as much. They must pay. I do not say this because I think that I am of more value than thou art, but to punish their greed, which is despicable. Once I had quite a different opinion, but now they and life among them have disgusted me completely. I will go to the Holy Land to seek adventures there, for I will not serve among the Knights of the Cross any longer."

"Oh, stay with us, lord," said Father Kaleb. "And I think that thou wilt, for it does not seem to me that they will ransom thee."

"If they will not pay, I will pay myself. I am here with a considerable escort. I have laden wagons, and that which is in them will suffice."

Father Kaleb repeated these words to Zbyshko. Matsko surely would not have been indifferent to them; but Zbyshko was a young man and thought little of property.

"On my honor," said he, "it will not be as thou sayst. Thou hast been to me both friend and brother; for thee I will take no ransom."

Then they embraced each other, feeling that a new bond had been secured between them. De Lorche smiled, and said,—

"Let it be so. Only let not the Germans know of this, for they will tremble about Matsko. And they must pay, for they will fear that if they do not I shall declare at Western courts and among the knighthood that they are glad to see foreign guests, and as it were invite them and are pleased at their arrival; but when a guest falls into captivity they forget him. And the Order needs men greatly at this moment, for Vitold is to them a terror, and still more are the Poles and King Yagello."

"Then let it be in this way," said Zbyshko. "Thou wilt stay here or wherever thou wishest in Mazovia, and I will go to Malborg for my uncle, and will feign tremendous animosity against thee."

"Do so, by Saint George!" answered De Lorche. "But first listen to what I tell thee. In Malborg they say that the King of Poland is to visit Plotsk and meet the Grand Master there or in some place upon the boundary. Knights of the Order desire this meeting greatly, for they wish to note whether the king will help Vitold, should he declare war against them openly for the Jmud land.

"Ah! they are as cunning as serpents, but in Vitold they have found their master. The Order is afraid of him, for never does it know what he is planning, or what he may work out. 'He gave Jmud to us,' say they in the Chapter, 'but by this land he holds a sword above our heads, as it were, continually. Let him utter one word,' say they, 'and rebellion is ready.' In fact, that is the case. I must go to Vitold's court when I can. Maybe it will happen me to fight in the lists there, and besides, I have heard that women of that region are of angelic beauty sometimes."

"Thou hast spoken of the coming of the Polish king to Plotsk?" said Father Kaleb.

"I have. Let Zbyshko attach himself to the royal escort. The Grand Master wishes to win Yagello and will refuse him nothing. Ye know that when the need comes no men can be more humble than the Knights of the Cross are. Let Zbyshko be of the king's retinue, and let him claim his own; let him complain as loudly as is possible against the evil doings of the Order. The Germans will listen differently in presence of the king, and in presence of Cracow knights, who are famous everywhere, and whose decisions are widely current in the world of knighthood."

"Excellent advice! by the Cross of the Lord, it is excellent!" exclaimed Father Kaleb.

"It is!" confirmed De Lorche. "And opportunity will not be lacking. I heard in Malborg that there will be feasts and tournaments, for foreign knights will surely wish to meet the knights of Poland. As God is true! Juan of Aragon is coming; he is the greatest knight of all in Christendom. Do ye not know that from Aragon he sent his gauntlet to your Zavisha, so that it should not be said in foreign courts that there is on earth another man who is his equal?"

The arrival of De Lorche, the sight of him, and conversation with the man so roused Zbyshko from that painful torpor in which he had been buried, that he listened to the news with curiosity. Of Juan of Aragon he knew, for it was the duty of every knight in that age to know and recollect the names of all who were most renowned as champions; the fame of the nobles of Aragon, especially of Juan, had passed through every Christian land. No knight had ever equalled him inside barriers; the Moors fled at the very sight of his armor; and the opinion was universal that he was the greatest knight in Christendom.

At this news, therefore, the warlike, knightly soul of Zbyshko responded, and he asked very eagerly,—

"Did he challenge Zavisha Charny?"

"It is about a year since the gauntlet came and Zavisha sent his own to Aragon."

"Then will Juan come surely?"

"It is not known whether he will come, but there are reports that he will. The Knights of the Order have sent him an invitation long ago."

"God grant us to see such things."

"God grant!" said De Lorche. "And though Zavisha should be killed, as may happen easily, it is great glory for him that such a man as Juan of Aragon challenged him; nay, honor for thy whole people."

"We shall see!" answered Zbyshko. "I only say, 'God grant us to see such things.'"

"And I add my voice."

But their wish was not to be accomplished then; for the old chroniclers relate that the duel of Zavisha with the renowned Juan of Aragon took place only some years later in Perpignan, where in presence of the Emperor Sigismund, Pope Benedict XIII., the King of Aragon, and many princes and cardinals, Zavisha Charny of Garbov hurled down from his horse with the first touch of his lance his opponent, and won a famous victory. Meanwhile both Zbyshko and De Lorche comforted their hearts, for they thought that even if Juan of Aragon could not appear at that time, they would see famous deeds of knighthood, for champions were not lacking in Poland who were little inferior to Zavisha, and among the guests of the Order it was possible at all times to find the foremost men in wielding weapons from France, England, Burgundy, and Italy,—men ready to struggle for the mastery with every comer.

"Hear me," said Zbyshko to Pan de Lorche. "It is irksome to me without my Uncle Matsko, I am in a hurry now to ransom him, so I will start for Plotsk to-morrow. But why shouldst thou stay here? If thou art my captive, come with me, and thou wilt see Yagello and the Polish court."

"I desired to ask this of thee," said De Lorche, "for I have long wished to see the Polish knights, and besides I have heard that the ladies of the royal court are more like angels than dwellers in this earthly vale."

"A little while ago thou didst say something like this of Vitold's court," remarked Zbyshko.