“Then you saw Hmelnitski himself, and spoke with him?”
“Did I see Hmelnitski? Just as I see you. More than that; he sent me as a spy into Podolia to distribute his manifestoes among the peasants on the road. He gave me a baton as a safeguard against the Tartars, so that from Korsún I went everywhere in safety. Peasants or men from below met me. I put the staff under their noses, and said, ‘Smell this, children, and go to the devil!’ Then I ordered them everywhere to give me plenty to eat and drink, and they did; and wagons, too, for which I was glad; and I was always looking after my poor princess, lest she might give out after such great fatigues and terror. I tell you, gentlemen, that before we arrived at Bar she had recovered to such a degree that there were few people in Bar who didn’t gaze at her. There are many pretty girls in that place, for the nobles have assembled there from distant regions, but in comparison with her they are as owls to a jay. The people admire her, and you would if you could see her.”
“It must be they couldn’t help it,” said little Pan Volodyovski.
“But why did you go to Bar?” asked Migurski.
“Because I said to myself, I will not stop till I come to a safe place. I had no confidence in small castles, thinking that the rebellion might reach them. But if it should go to Bar, it would break its teeth there. Pan Andrei Pototski has built up strong walls, and cares as much for Hmelnitski as I do for an empty glass. Do you think that I did badly in going so far from the conflagration? If I had not, that Bogun would surely have pursued; and if he had caught up, I tell you he would have made tidbits of me for the dogs. You don’t know him, but I do. May the devil fly away with him! I shall have no peace till they hang the man. God grant him that happy end — amen! And surely there is no one with whom he has such an account as with me. Brrr! When I think of it a chill passes over me; so that now I am forced to use stimulants, though by nature I am opposed to drink.”
“What do you say?” interrupted Podbipienta. “Why, my dear brother, you take up liquid like a well-sweep.”
“Don’t look into the well, my dear man, for you will see nothing wise at the bottom. But a truce to this! Travelling then with the baton and manifestoes of Hmelnitski, I met no great hindrances. When I came to Vinnitsa, I found there the troops of Pan Aksak, now present in this camp; but I had not put off my minstrel skin yet, for I feared the peasantry. But I got rid of the manifestoes. There is a saddler there called Suhak, a Zaporojian spy, who was sending intelligence to Hmelnitski. Through this fellow I sent off the manifestoes; but I wrote such sentences on the backs of them that Hmelnitski will surely order the saddler to be flayed when he reads them. But right under the very walls of Bar such a thing happened to me that I came very near being lost at the shore of refuge.”
“How was that? How?”
“I met some drunken soldiers, wild fellows, who heard how I called the princess, ‘Your Ladyship,’ for I was not so careful then, being near our own people. And they began: ‘What sort of minstrel is that? What sort of a lad is it whom he calls “Your Ladyship”?’ Then they looked at the princess, and saw she was as beautiful as a picture. ‘Bring her nearer to us,’ said they. I pushed her behind me into the corner, and to the sabre—”
“That is a wonder,” said Volodyovski,— “that you, dressed as a minstrel, had a sabre at your side.”
“That I had a sabre? And who told you that I had a sabre? I had not; but I grabbed a soldier’s sabre that lay on the table, — for it was in a public house at Shipintsi, I stretched out two of my assailants in the twinkle of an eye. The others rushed on me. I cried, ‘Stop, you dogs, for I am a noble!’ Next moment they called out, ‘Stop! stop! Scouts are coming!’ It appeared that they were not scouts, but Pani Slavoshevska with an escort, whom her son was conducting, with fifty horsemen, — young fellows. These stopped my enemies. I went to the lady with my story, and roused her feelings so that she opened the floodgates of her eyes. She took the princess into her carriage, and we entered Bar. But do you think this is the end? No!”
Suddenly Sleshinski interrupted the narrative. “But, look! is that the dawn? What is it?”
“Oh, it cannot be the dawn,” said Skshetuski. “Too early.”
“It is toward Konstantinoff.”
“Yes. Don’t you see it is brighter?”
“As I live, a fire!”
At these words the faces of all became serious. They forgot the narrative and sprang to their feet.
“Fire! Fire!” repeated several voices.
“That is Krívonos who has come from Polónnoe.”
“Krívonos with all his forces.”
“The advance guard must have set fire to the town or the neighboring villages.”
Meanwhile the trumpets sounded the alarm in low notes. Just then old Zatsvilikhovski appeared suddenly among the knights. “Gentlemen,” said he, “scouts have come with news. The enemy is in sight! We move at once. To your posts! to your posts!”
The officers hurried with all speed to their regiments. The attendants put out the fires, and in a few moments darkness reigned in the camp. But in the distance from the direction of Konstantinoff the heavens reddened each moment more intensely and over a broader space. In this gleam the stars grew paler and paler. Again the trumpets sounded low. “To horse!” was heard through the mouthpiece. Indistinct masses of men and horses began to move. Amid the silence were heard the tramp of horses, the measured step of infantry, and finally the dull thump of Vurtsel’s cannon; from moment to moment the clatter of muskets or the voices of command were heard. There was something threatening and ominous in that night march, in those voices, murmurs, clatter of steel, the gleam of armor and swords. The regiments descended to the Konstantinoff road, and moved over it toward the conflagration like a great dragon or serpent making its way through the darkness. But the luxuriant July night was drawing to a close. In Rosolovtsi the cocks began to crow, answering one another through the whole town. Five miles of road divided Rosolovtsi from Konstantinoff, so that before the army on its slow march had passed half the interval dawn rose behind the brightness of the conflagration, pale as if frightened, and filled the air more and more with light, winning from the darkness forests, woods, groves, the whole line of the highway and the troops marching upon it. It was possible to distinguish clearly the people, the horses, and the close ranks of infantry. The cool morning breeze rose and quivered among the flags above the heads of the knights.
Vershul’s Tartars marched in front, behind them Ponyatovski’s Cossacks, then the dragoons, Vurtsel’s artillery, the infantry and hussars last. Zagloba rode near Skshetuski; but he was somewhat uneasy in the saddle, and it was apparent that alarm was seizing him, in view of the approaching battle.
“Listen a moment!” said he to Skshetuski, in a low whisper as if he feared some one might overhear him.
“What do you say?”
“Will the hussars strike first?”
“You say that you are an old soldier, and you don’t know that hussars are reserved to decide the battle at the moment when the enemy is straining his utmost power?”
“I know that, I know that, but I wanted to be sure.”
A moment of silence ensued. Then Zagloba lowered his voice still more, and inquired further: “Is this Krívonos with all his forces?”
“Yes.”
“How many men is he leading?”
“Sixty thousand, counting the mob.”
“Oh, the devil take him!” said Zagloba.
Pan Yan smiled under his mustache.
“Don’t think that I am afraid,” whispered Zagloba. “But I have short breath, and don’t like a crowd, for it is hot, and as soon as it is hot I can do nothing. I like to take care of myself in single combat. Not the head, but the hands win in this place. Here I am a fool in comparison with Podbipienta. I have on my stomach here those two hundred ducats which the prince gave me; but believe me I would rather have my stomach somewhere else. Tfu! tfu! I don’t like these great battles. May the plague bruis
e!”
“Nothing will happen to you. Take courage!”
“Courage? That is all I am afraid of. I fear that bravery will overcome prudence in me. I am too excitable. Besides, I have had a bad omen: when we sat by the fire two stars fell. Who knows, maybe one of them is mine.”
“For your good deeds God will reward you and keep you in health.”
“Well, if only he doesn’t reward me too soon.”
“Why didn’t you stay in the camp?”
“I thought it would be safer with the army.”
“It is. You will see that there is no great trouble. We are accustomed to this fighting, and custom is second nature. But here is the Sluch and Vishovati Stav already.”
In fact the waters of Vishovati Stav, divided from the Sluch by a long dam, glittered in the distance. The army halted at once along the whole line.
“Is this the place so soon?” asked Zagloba.
“The prince will put the army in line,” said Skshetuski.
“I don’t like a throng; I tell you, I don’t like a throng.”
“Hussars on the right wing!” was the command which came from the prince to Pan Yan.
It was broad daylight. The fire had grown pale in the light of the rising sun, whose golden rays were reflected on the points of the lances, and it appeared as though above the hussars a thousand lights were gleaming. After its lines were arranged, the army concealed itself no longer, and began to sing in one voice, “Hail, O ye gates of salvation!” The mighty song resounded over the dewy grass, struck the pine grove, and sent back by the echo, rose to the sky. Then the shore on the other side of the dam grew black with crowds of Cossacks. As far as the eye could reach regiment followed regiment, — mounted Zaporojians armed with long lances, infantry with muskets, and waves of peasants armed with scythes, flails, and forks. Behind them was to be seen, as if in fog, an immense camp or movable town. The creaking of thousands of wagons and the neighing of horses reached the ears of the prince’s soldiers. But the Cossacks marched without their usual tumult, without howling, and halted on the other side of the dam. The two opposing forces looked at each other for some time in silence.
Zagloba, keeping all the time close to Skshetuski, looked on that sea of people and muttered, —
“Lord, why hast thou created so many ruffians? Hmelnitski must be there with his mob and their vermin. Isn’t that an outbreak, tell me? They will cover us with their caps. Ah! in the old time it was so pleasant in the Ukraine! They are rolling on, rolling on! God grant that the devils may roll you in hell, and all that is coming on us! May the glanders devour you!”
“Don’t swear. To-day is Sunday.”
“True, it is Sunday. Better think of God. ‘Pater noster, qui es in cœlis’ — No respect to be looked for from these scoundrels— ‘Sanctificetur nomen tuum’ — What is going to be done on that dam?— ‘Adveniat regnum tuum’ — The breath is already stopped in my body— ‘Fiat voluntas tua’ — God choke you, you Hamans! But look! what is that?”
A division formed of a few hundred men separated from the dark mass and pushed forward without order toward the dam.
“That is a skirmishing-party,” said Skshetuski. “Our men will go out to them directly.”
“Has the battle begun, then, already?”
“As God is in heaven!”
“May the devil take them!” Here the ill-humor of Zagloba was beyond measure. “And you are looking at it as a theatre in carnival time!” cried he, in disgust at Skshetuski; “just as if your own skin were not in peril.”
“I told you that we are used to it.”
“And you will go to the skirmish too, of course?”
“It is not very becoming for knights of picked regiments to fight duels with such enemies. No one does that who stands on dignity; but in these times no one thinks of dignity.”
“Our men are marching already!” cried Zagloba, seeing the red line of Volodyovski’s dragoons moving at a trot toward the dam.
They were followed by a number of volunteers from each regiment. Among others went the red Vershul, Kushel, Ponyatovski, the two Karvichi, and Pan Longin Podbipienta from the hussars. The distance between the two divisions began to diminish rapidly.
“You will see something,” said Skshetuski to Zagloba, “Look especially at Volodyovski and Podbipienta. They are splendid fighters. Do you see them?”
“Yes.”
“Well, look at them! You will have something to enjoy.”
CHAPTER XXXI.
When the warriors drew near each other, they reined in their horses and opened in mutual abuse.
“Come on! come on! We will feed the dogs with your carrion right away!” cried the prince’s soldiers.
“Your carrion is not fit even for dogs!” answered the Cossacks.
“You will rot here on the dam, you infamous robbers!”
“For whom it is fated, that one will rot; but the fish will pick your bones soon.”
“To the dung-heaps with your forks, you trash! Dung-forks are fitter for you than sabres.”
“If we are trash, our sons will be nobles, for they will be born of your girls.”
Some Cossack, evidently from the Trans-Dnieper, pushed forward, and placing his palms around his mouth, cried with a loud voice: “The prince has two nieces; tell him to send them to Krívonos.”
It grew dim in Volodyovski’s eyes when he heard this blasphemy, and he spurred his horse on to the Zaporojian.
Skshetuski, on the right wing with his hussars, recognized him from a distance, and cried to Zagloba: “Volodyovski is rushing on! Volodyovski! Look there! there!”
“I see!” said Zagloba. “He has already reached him. They are fighting! One, two! I see perfectly. It is all over. He is a swordsman, plague take him!”
At the second blow the Cossack fell to the ground as if struck by lightning, and fell with his head to his comrades, as an evil omen to them.
Then a second sprang forward, in a scarlet kontush stripped from some noble. He fell upon Volodyovski a little from the flank, but his horse stumbled at the very moment of the blow. Volodyovski turned, and then could be seen the master; for he only moved his hand, making a light, soft motion, — invisible, so to speak, — but still the sabre of the Zaporojian sprang up, flew into the air. Volodyovski seized him by the shoulder, and pulled him with his horse toward the Polish side.
“Save me, brothers!” cried the prisoner.
He offered no resistance, knowing that in case he did he would be thrust through that moment. He even struck his horse with his heels to urge him on; and so Volodyovski led him as a wolf leads a kid.
In view of this, a couple of tens of warriors rushed out from both sides of the river, for no more could find place on the dam. They fought in single combat, man with man, horse with horse, sabre with sabre; and it was a wonderful sight, that series of duels, on which both armies looked with the greatest interest, drawing auguries from them of the future success. The morning sun shone upon the combatants, and the air was so transparent that even the faces might be seen from both sides. Any one looking from a distance would have thought that it was a tournament or games. But at one moment a riderless horse would spring from the tumult; at another, a body would tumble from the dam into the clear mirror of the water, which splashed up in golden sparks and then moved forward in a circling wavelet farther and farther from shore.
The courage of the soldiers in both armies grew as they beheld the bravery of their own men and their eagerness for the fight. Each sent good wishes to its own. Suddenly Skshetuski clasped his hands and cried, —
“Vershul is lost; he fell with his horse. Look! he was sitting on the white one.”
But Vershul was not lost, though he had indeed fallen with his horse; for they had both been thrown by Pulyan, a former Cossack of Prince Yeremi, then next in command to Krívonos. He was a famous skirmisher, and had never left off that game. He was so strong that he could easily break two horseshoes at once. He had the reputati
on of being invincible in single combat. When he had thrown Vershul he attacked a gallant officer, Koroshlyakhtsits, and cut him terribly, — almost to the saddle. Others drew back in fear. Seeing this, Pan Longin turned his Livonian mare against him.
“You are lost!” cried Pulyan, when he saw the foolhardy man.
“It can’t be helped,” answered Podbipienta, raising his sabre for the blow.
He had not, however, his Zervikaptur, that being reserved for ends too important to permit its use in desultory combat. He had left it in the hands of his faithful armor-bearer in the ranks, and had merely a light blade of blue steel engraved with gold. Pulyan endured its first blow, though he saw in a moment that he had to do with no common enemy, for his sword quivered to the palm of his hand. He endured the second and the third blow; then, either he recognized the greater skill of his opponent in fencing, or perhaps he wished to exhibit his tremendous strength in view of both armies, or, pushed to the edge of the dam, he feared to be thrown into the water by Pan Longings enormous beast. It is enough that after he had received the last blow he brought the horses side by side, and seized the Lithuanian by the waist in his powerful arms.
They grasped each other like two bears when they are fighting for a female. They wound themselves around each other like two pines which, having grown from a single stump, intertwine till they form but one tree. All held breath and gazed in silence on the struggle of the combatants, each one of whom was considered the strongest among his own. You would have said that both had become one body, for they remained a long time motionless. But their faces grew red; and only from the veins which swelled on their foreheads, and from their backs bent like bows, could you suspect under that terrible quiet the superhuman tension of the arms which crushed them.
At length both began to quiver; but by degrees the face of Pan Longin grew redder and redder and the face of the Cossack bluer and bluer. Still a moment passed. The disquiet of the spectators increased.
Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz Page 44