“All belongs to you, my children; but I tell you one thing you yourselves know, that you can’t manage the prince here. I tell you this, — whoever wants to slay lords, let him not stay here till Hmelnitski has tried his hand on the prince, but let him be off to Hmelnitski, and right away, to-morrow, for the prince is on the road already. If Pan Gdeshinski brings him to Demiánovka, the prince won’t leave one of you alive; he will kill the last man of you. Make your way to Hmelnitski. The more of you there, the easier for Hmelnitski to succeed. Oh, but he has heavy work before him! The hetmans in front of him, the armies of the king without number, and then the prince more powerful than the hetmans. Hurry on, children, to help Hmelnitski and the Zaporojians; for they, poor men, won’t hold out unless you help, and they are fighting against the lords for your freedom and property. Hurry! You will save yourselves from the prince and you will help Hmelnitski.”
“He speaks the truth!” cried voices in the crowd.
“He speaks well!”
“A wise grandfather!”
“Did you see the prince on the road?”
“See him I didn’t, but I heard in Brovarki that he had left Lubni, that he is burning and slaying; and where he finds even one pike before him, he leaves only the sky and the earth behind.”
“Lord, have mercy on us!”
“And where are we to look for Hmelnitski?”
“I came here, children, to tell you where to look for Hmelnitski. Go, my children, to Zólotonosha, then to Trakhtimiroff, and there Hmelnitski will be waiting for you. There people are collecting from all the villages, houses, and cottages; the Tartars will come there too. Go! Unless you do, the prince will not leave you to walk over the earth.”
“And you will go with us, father?”
“Walk I will not, for the ground pulls down my old legs. But get ready a telega, and I will ride with you. Before we come to Zólotonosha I will go on ahead to see if there are Polish soldiers. If there are, we will pass by and go straight to Trakhtimiroff. That is a Cossack country. But now give me something to eat and drink, for I am hungry, and this lad here is hungry too. We will start off in the morning, and along the road I will sing to you of Pan Pototski and Prince Yeremi. Oh, they are terrible lions! There will be great bloodshed in the Ukraine. The sky is awfully red, and the moon just as if swimming in blood. Beg, children, for the mercy of God, for no one will walk long in God’s world. I have heard also that vampires rise out of their graves and howl.”
A vague terror seized the crowd of peasants; they began to look around involuntarily, make the sign of the cross and whisper among themselves. At last one cried out, —
“To Zólotonosha!”
“To Zólotonosha!” repeated all, as if there in particular were refuge and safety.
“To Trakhtimiroff!”
“Death to the Poles and lords!”
All at once a young Cossack stepped forward, shook his pike, and cried: “Fathers, if we go to Zólotonosha to-morrow, we, will go to the manager’s house to-night.”
“To the manager’s house!” cried a number of voices at once.
“Burn it up! take the goods!”
But the minstrel, who held his head drooping on his breast, raised it and said, —
“Oh, children, do not go to the manager’s house, and do not burn it, or you will suffer. The prince may be close by, he is going along with his army; he will see the fire, he will come, and there will be trouble. Better give me something to eat and show me a place to rest. And do you keep your peace!”
“He tells the truth!” said a number of voices.
“He tells the truth, and, Maksim, you are a fool!”
“Come, father, to my house for bread and salt and a cup of mead, and rest on the hay till daylight,” said an old peasant, turning to the minstrel.
Zagloba rose, and pulled the sleeve of Helena’s svitka. She was asleep.
“The boy is tired to death; he fell asleep under the very sound of the hammers,” said Zagloba. But in his soul he thought: “Oh, sweet innocence, thou art able to sleep amidst pikes and knives! It is clear that angels of heaven are guarding thee, and me in thy company.”
He roused her, and they went on toward the village, which lay at some distance. The night was calm and quiet; the echo of the striking hammers followed them. The old peasant went ahead to show the way in the darkness; and Zagloba, pretending to say his prayers, muttered in a monotone, —
“O God, have mercy on us, sinners — Do you see, Princess — O Holy Most Pure — what would have happened to us without this peasant disguise? — As it is on earth, so in heaven — We shall get something to eat, and to-morrow ride to Zólotonosha instead of going on foot — Amen, amen, amen! — Bogun may come upon our tracks, for our tracks will not deceive him; but it will be late, for we shall cross the Dnieper at Próhorovka — Amen! — May black death choke them, may the hangman light their way! Do you hear, Princess, how they are howling at the forge? — Amen! — Terrible times have come on us, but I am a fool if I don’t rescue you even if we have to flee to Warsaw itself.”
“What are you muttering there, brother?” asked the peasant.
“Oh, nothing! I am praying for your health. Amen, amen!”
“Here is my cottage.”
“Glory be to God!”
“For the ages of ages!”
“I beg you to eat my bread and salt.”
“God will reward you.”
A little later the minstrel had strengthened himself powerfully with mutton and a good portion of mead. Next morning early, he moved on with his attendant lad, in a comfortable telega, toward Zólotonosha, escorted by a number of mounted peasants armed with pikes and scythes.
They went through Kovraiets, Chernobái, and Krapivna. The wayfarers saw that everything was seething; the peasants were arming at all points, the forges were working from morning till night, and only the terrible name and power of Prince Yeremi still restrained the bloody outburst. West of the Dnieper the tempest was let loose in all its fury. News of the defeat at Korsún had spread over all Russia with the speed of lightning, and every living soul was rushing forth.
CHAPTER XXI.
Next morning after the flight of Zagloba, the Cossacks found Bogun half suffocated in the coat in which Zagloba had wrapped him; but since his wounds were not serious he returned soon to consciousness. Remembering everything that had happened, he fell into a rage, roared like a wild beast, stained his hands with blood from his own wounded head, and struck at the men with his dagger, so that the Cossacks dared not come near him. At last, being unable to support himself in the saddle, he ordered them to bind a Jew cradle between two horses, and sitting in it, he hurried on as if insane in the direction of Lubni, supposing that the fugitives had gone thither. Resting on the Jew bed on down, and in his own blood, he raced over the steppe like a vampire hurrying back to its grave before daybreak; and after him speeded his trusty Cossacks, with the thought in mind that they were hurrying to evident death. They flew on in this way to Vassílyevka, where there was a garrison of one hundred Hungarian infantry belonging to Prince Yeremi. The furious leader, as if life had become loathsome to him, fell upon these without hesitation, rushing first into the fire himself, and after a struggle of some hours’ duration cut the men to pieces, with the exception of a few whom he spared to gain from them a confession through torture. Learning that no noble with a maiden had escaped by that road, and not knowing himself what to do, he tore away his bandages from excess of pain.
To go farther was impossible; for everywhere toward Lubni were stationed the forces of the prince, whom the villagers that had run away during the battle at Vassílyevka must have already informed of the attack. The faithful Cossacks therefore bore away their ataman weakened from rage, and took him back to Rozlogi. On their return they found not a trace of the buildings; for the peasants of the neighborhood had plundered and burned them, together with Prince Vassily, thinking that in case the Kurtsevichi or Prince Yeremi should wish to inflict punishment,
the blame could be cast easily on Bogun and his Cossacks. They had burned every out-house, cut down the cherry-orchard, and killed all the servants. The peasants had taken unsparing vengeance for the harsh rule and oppression which they had endured from the Kurtsevichi.
Just beyond Rozlogi, Pleshnyevski, who was carrying tidings of the defeat at Jóltiya Vodi from Chigirin, fell into the hands of Bogun. When asked where and for what purpose he was going, he hesitated and failed to give clear answers; he fell under suspicion, and when burned with fire, told of the victory of Hmelnitski, and also of Zagloba, whom he had met the day before. The leader rejoiced, and drew a long breath. After he had hanged Pleshnyevski, he hurried on, feeling certain that Zagloba would not escape him. The herdsmen gave some new indications, but beyond the ford all traces disappeared. The ataman did not meet the minstrel whom Zagloba had stripped of his clothing, for he had gone lower down along the Kagamlik, and besides was so frightened that he had hidden like a fox in the reeds.
A day and a night more passed; and since the pursuit toward Vassílyevka occupied two days precisely, Zagloba had much time on his side. What was to be done then? In this difficult juncture the essaul came to Bogun with advice and assistance. He was an old wolf of the steppe, accustomed from youth to track Tartars through the Wilderness.
“Father,” said he, “they fled to Chigirin, — and they have done wisely, for they have gained time, — but when they heard of Hmelnitski and Jóltiya Vodi from Pleshnyevski, they changed their road. You have seen yourself, father, that they left the high-road and rushed to one side.”
“To the steppe?”
“In the steppe I could find them, father; but they went toward the Dnieper, to go to the hetmans; therefore they went either through Cherkas or Zólotonosha and Próhorovka; and if they went even to Pereyasláv, though I don’t believe that, still we shall find them. We should go, one to Cherkasi, another to Zólotonosha, along the wagon-road; and quickly, for as soon as they cross the Dnieper, they will hasten to the hetmans, or Hmelnitski’s Tartars will pick them up.”
“You hurry to Zólotonosha, and I will go to Cherkasi,” said Bogun.
“All right, father.”
“And keep a sharp lookout, for he is a cunning fox.”
“Ai, father! I am cunning too.”
Having settled the plan of pursuit in this way, the leader and the essaul turned immediately, — one to Cherkasi; the other higher up, to Zólotonosha. In the evening of the same day the old essaul Anton reached Demiánovka.
The village was deserted; only the women were left, for all the men had gone beyond the river to Hmelnitski. Seeing armed men and not knowing who they were, the women had hidden in the thatch and in the barns. The Cossacks had to search long; but at last they found an old woman, who feared nothing, not even the Tartars.
“And where are the men, mother?” asked Anton.
“Do I know?” answered she, showing her yellow teeth.
“We are Cossacks, mother, don’t be afraid; we are not from the Poles.”
“The Poles? May the evil one—”
“You are glad to see us, I suppose?”
“You?” The old woman hesitated a moment. “The plague take you!”
Anton was at a loss what to do, when suddenly the door of one of the cottages squeaked, and a young, fair-looking woman came out.
“Ai! good men, I heard that you were not Poles.”
“True, we are not.”
“Are you from Hmelnitski?”
“Yes.”
“Not from the Poles?”
“By no means.”
“And why do you ask for the men?”
“I ask if they have gone already.”
“They have gone.”
“Glory be to God! And tell us now, did a noble go by here, — a cursed Pole with a young woman?”
“A noble? A Pole? I didn’t see them.”
“Was no one here?”
“There was a ‘grandfather.’ He persuaded the men to go to Hmelnitski through Zólotonosha, for he said that Prince Yeremi was coming here.”
“Where?”
“Here. And from here would go to Zólotonosha, so the old man said.”
“And the old man persuaded the men to rise?”
“He did.”
“And he was alone?”
“No, With a dumb boy.”
“How did he look?”
“Who?”
“The old man.”
“Oh, ai! old, very old. He played on a lyre, and complained of the lords. But I did not see him.”
“And he persuaded the men to rise?” asked Anton.
“He did.”
“Well, good-by, young woman.”
“God be with you!”
Anton stopped in deep thought. If the old man was Zagloba disguised, why did he persuade the peasants to go to Hmelnitski, and where did he get the disguise? Where did he leave the horses, for he fled on horseback? But, above all, why did he incite peasants to rebellion and warn them of the coming of the prince? A noble would not have warned them, and first of all he would have taken refuge under the protection of the prince. And if the prince is really going to Zólotonosha, in which there is nothing strange, then he will pay for Vassílyevka without fail. Here Anton shuddered; for that moment he saw a new picket in the gate, exactly like an empaling stake.
“No! That old man was only a minstrel and nothing more. There is no reason to go to Zólotonosha unless they fled that way.”
But Zagloba had disappeared. What was to be done further? Wait? — but the prince might come up. Go to Próhorovka and cross the Dnieper? — that would be to fall into the hands of the hetmans.
It was growing rather narrow for the old wolf of the Wilderness in the broad steppes. He felt also that being a wolf he had come upon a fox in Pan Zagloba. Then he struck his forehead. But why did that “grandfather” take the people to Zólotonosha, beyond which is Próhorovka, and beyond that and the Dnieper the hetmans and the whole camp of the king? Anton determined that come what might, he would go to Próhorovka.
“When I am at the river, if I hear that the forces of the hetmans are on the other side, then I will not cross, I will go along the bank and join Bogun opposite Cherkasi. Besides, I shall get news of Hmelnitski along the road.”
Anton already knew, from the story of Pleshnyevski, that Hmelnitski had occupied Chigirin; that he had sent Krívonos against the hetmans, and was to follow him at once with Tugai Bey. Anton was an experienced soldier, and knowing the situation of the country well, was sure that the battle must have been fought already. In such an event it was necessary to know what was to be done. If Hmelnitski had been beaten, the forces of the hetmans would spread over the whole country along the Dnieper in pursuit; in that case there would be no sense in looking for Zagloba. But if Hmelnitski had won, — which in truth Anton did not greatly believe, — it was easier to beat the son of the hetman than the hetman, a van detachment than the whole army.
“Oh,” thought the old Cossack, “our ataman would do better to think of his own skin than of a young girl! Near Chigirin he might have crossed the Dnieper, and from there slipped off to the Saitch in time. Here between Prince Yeremi and the hetmans it will be difficult for him to make his way.”
With these thoughts he moved on quickly with the Cossacks in the direction of the Sula, which he had to cross just beyond Demiánovka, wishing to go to Próhorovka. They went to Mogilna, situated at the river itself. Here fortune served Anton; for Mogilna, like Demiánovka, was deserted. He found, however, scows ready, and ferrymen who took over peasants fleeing to the Dnieper.
The Trans-Dnieper did not dare to rise under the hand of the prince; but to make up for this the peasants left all the hamlets, settlements, and villages, to join Hmelnitski and rally to his banners. The news of the victory of the Zaporojians at Jóltiya Vodi flew like a bird through the whole Trans-Dnieper. The wild inhabitants could not remain in quiet, though there especially they had experienced hardly any opp
ression; for, as has been said, the prince, merciless to rebels, was a real father to peaceful settlers. His overseers on this account feared to commit injustice on people intrusted to them. But that people, changed not long before from robbers into agriculturists, were weary of the harshness of regulations and order. They fled therefore to where the hope of wild freedom gleamed. In many villages even the women fled to Hmelnitski. In Chabanovets and Vysoki the whole population turned out, burning the houses behind them so as to have no place for return. In those villages in which a few people still remained, they were forced to arms.
Anton began to inquire at once of the ferrymen for news beyond the Dnieper. There were reports, but contradictory, confused, unintelligible. It was said that Hmelnitski was fighting with the hetmans; some said that he was beaten, others that he was victorious. A peasant fleeing toward Demiánovka said that the hetmans were taken captive. The ferrymen suspected that he was a noble in disguise, but were afraid to detain him because they had heard that the forces of the prince were at hand. A certain fear increased the number of the prince’s armies everywhere, and made of them omnipresent divisions; for there was not a single village in the whole Trans-Dnieper in which it was not said that the prince was “right here, close by.” Anton saw that they considered his party everywhere as belonging to Prince Yeremi.
But soon he set the ferrymen at rest, and began to inquire about the Demiánovka peasants.
“Oh yes; they passed. We took them to the other side,” said a ferryman.
“And there was a minstrel with them?”
“Yes, there was.”
“And a dumb boy with the old man, — a lad?”
“Yes; there was.”
“What did the minstrel look like?”
“He was not old, heavy, had eyes like a fish, and on one of them a cataract.”
“Oh, that is he!” muttered Anton, and inquired further: “And the boy?”
“Oh, father ataman,” said the ferryman, “an angel, out and out! We have never seen such a boy.”
In the mean while they were coming to the shore.
“Ah, we will bring her to the ataman!” muttered Anton to himself. Then he turned to the Cossacks: “To horse!”
Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz Page 32