Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  “Hops? What hops? Who is making anything of hops? If hops are on the road, there will be beer then. We don’t care for hops,” said Zagloba, looking at the same time with fierce, haughty eyes at those around.

  “Hmel is coming; but Krívonos didn’t wait, therefore he lost—”

  “Yes, he played and lost.”

  “Six thousand Cossacks are already in Makhnovka. Two thousand Bogun is leading.”

  “Who? who?” asked Zagloba instantly, in a changed voice.

  “Bogun.”

  “Impossible!”

  “That is the confession of Pulyan.”

  “Ah, here is a cake for you, grandmother!” cried Zagloba, piteously. “Can they get here soon?”

  “In three days. But on the way to battle they will not hurry too much, so as not to tire their horses.”

  “But I will hurry!” muttered Zagloba. “Oh, angels of God, save me from that ruffian! I would gladly give my captured banner if that water-burner would only break his neck on the way to this place. I hope too that we shall not wait here long. We have shown Krívonos what we can do, and now it is time to rest. I hate that Bogun so much that I cannot call to mind his devilish name without abomination. I did make a choice! I couldn’t stay in Bar? Bad luck brought me here.”

  “Don’t worry yourself,” whispered Skshetuski, “for it is a shame! Between you and me nothing threatens you here.”

  “Nothing threatens me? You don’t know him! Why, he might creep up to us now among the fires here.” Zagloba looked around disquieted. “And he is as enraged at you as at me.”

  “God grant me to meet him!” said Pan Yan.

  “If that is a favor, then I have no wish to receive it. In my character of Christian I forgive him all his offences willingly, but on condition that he be hanged two days before. I am not alarmed, but you have no idea what surpassing disgust seizes me. I like to know with whom I have to deal, — if with a noble, then a noble; if with a peasant, then a peasant, — but he is a sort of incarnate devil, with whom you don’t know what course to take. I ventured many a thing with him; but such eyes as he made when I bound his head, I cannot describe to you, — to the hour of my death I shall remember them. I don’t wish to rouse the devil while he sleeps. Once is enough for a trick. I will say to you also that you are ungrateful, have no thought of that unhappy woman.”

  “How so?”

  “Because,” said Zagloba, drawing the knight away from the fire, “you stay here and gratify your military caprice and fancy by fighting day after day, while she is drowning herself in tears, waiting in vain for an answer. Another man with real love in his heart and pity for her grief wouldn’t do this, but would have sent me off long ago.”

  “Do you think then of returning to Bar?”

  “Even to-day, for I have pity on her.”

  Pan Yan raised his eyes yearningly to the stars and said, —

  “Do not speak to me of insincerity, for God is my witness that I never raise a bit of bread to my mouth or take a moment of sleep without thinking of her first, and nothing can be stronger in my heart than the thought of her. I have not sent you with an answer hitherto because I wished to go myself to be with her at once. And there are no wings in the world and no speed which I would not use could they serve me in going to her.”

  “Then why don’t you fly?”

  “Because I cannot before battle. I am a soldier and a noble, therefore I must think of honor.”

  “But to-day we are after the battle; therefore we can start, even this minute.”

  Pan Yan sighed.

  “To-morrow we attack Krívonos.”

  “I don’t understand your ways. You beat young Krívonos; old Krívonos came, and you beat old Krívonos. Now what’s-his-name (not to mention him in an evil hour), Bogun, will come, you will beat him. Hmelnitski will come. Oh, what the devil! And as it will go on this way it would be better for you to enter into partnership with Podbipienta at once, then there would be a fool with continence plus his mightiness Skshetuski, total two fools and one continence. Let’s have peace, for, as God lives, I will be the first to persuade the princess to put horns on you; and at Bar lives Andrei Pototski, and when he looks at her fire flashes out of his eyes. Tfu! if this should be said by some young fellow who had not seen a battle and wanted to make a reputation, then I could understand; but not you, who have drunk blood like a wolf, and at Makhnovka, I am told, killed a kind of infernal dragon of a man-eater. I swear, by that moon in heaven, that you are up to something here, or that you have got such a taste of blood that you like it better than your bride.”

  Skshetuski looked involuntarily at the moon, which was sailing in the high starry heavens like a ship above the camp.

  “You are mistaken,” said he, after a while. “I do not want blood, nor am I working for reputation, but it would not be proper to leave my comrades in a difficult struggle in which the whole regiment must engage, nemine excepto. In this is involved knightly honor, a sacred thing. As to the war it will undoubtedly drag on, for the rabble has grown too great; but if Hmelnitski comes to the aid of Krívonos, there will be an intermission. To-morrow Krívonos will either fight or he will not. If he does, with God’s aid he will receive dire punishment, and we must go to a quiet place to draw breath. During these two months we neither sleep nor eat, we only fight and fight; day and night we have nothing over our heads, exposed to all the attacks of the elements. The prince is a great leader, but prudent. He does not rush on Hmelnitski with a few thousand men against legions. I know also that he will go to Zbaraj, recruit there, get new soldiers, — nobles from the whole Commonwealth will hurry to him, — and then we shall move to a general campaign. To-morrow will be the last day of work, and after to-morrow I shall be able to accompany you to Bar with a clean heart. And I will add, to pacify you, that Bogun can in no wise come here to-morrow and take part in the battle; and even if he should I hope that his peasant star will pale, not only before that of the prince, but before my own.”

  “He is an incarnate Beelzebub. I have told you that I dislike a throng; but he is worse than a throng, though I repeat it is not so much from fear as from an unconquerable aversion I have for the man. But no more of this. Tomorrow comes the tanning of the peasants’ backs, and then to Bar. Oh, those beautiful eyes will laugh at the sight of you, and that face will blush! I tell you, even I feel lonely without her, for I love her as a father. And no wonder. I have no legitimate children; my fortune is far away, for it is in Turkey, where my scoundrelly agents steal it all; and I live as an orphan in the world, and in my old age I shall have to go and live with Podbipienta at Myshekishki.”

  “Oh, no; don’t let your head ache over that! You have done something for us; we cannot be too thankful to you.”

  Further conversation was interrupted by some officer who passing along inquired: “Who stands there?”

  “Vershul!” exclaimed Skshetuski, recognizing him by his voice. “Are you from the scouting-party?”

  “Yes; and now from the prince.”

  “What news?”

  “Battle to-morrow. The enemy are widening the embankment, building bridges over the Stira and Sluch, and on the morrow wish to come to us without fail.”

  “What did the prince say to that?”

  “The prince said: ‘All right!’”

  “Nothing more?”

  “Nothing. He gave no order to hinder them, and axes are chopping; they will work till morning.”

  “Did you get informants?”

  “I captured seven. All confessed that they have heard of Hmelnitski, — that he is coming, but probably far away yet. What a night!”

  “Yes, you can see as in the day. And how do you feel after the fall?”

  “My bones are sore. I am going to thank our Hercules and then sleep, for I am tired. If I could doze a couple of hours — good-night!”

  “Good-night!”

  “Go you to sleep also,” said Skshetuski to Zagloba; “for it is late, and there will be w
ork to-morrow.”

  “And the next day a journey,” said Zagloba.

  They turned, said their prayers, and then lay down near the fire.

  Soon the fires began to go out one after another. Silence embraced the camp; but the moon cast on the men silver rays, with which it illumined every little while new groups of sleepers. The silence was broken only by the universal, mighty snoring, and the call of the sentinels watching the camp.

  But sleep did not close the heavy lids of the soldiers long. Scarcely had the first dawn whitened the shadows of night when the trumpets in every corner of the camp thundered the reveille.

  An hour later the prince, to the great astonishment of the knights, drew back along the whole line.

  CHAPTER XXXII.

  But it was the retreat of a lion needing room for a spring.

  The prince purposely allowed Krívonos to cross so as to inflict on him the greater defeat. In the very beginning of the battle he had the cavalry turned and urged on as if in flight, seeing which the men of the lower country and the mob broke their ranks to overtake and surround him. Then Yeremi turned suddenly, and with his whole cavalry struck them at once so terribly that they were unable to resist. The prince’s troops pursued them five miles to the crossing, then over the bridges, the embankment, and two miles and a half to the camp, cutting and killing them without mercy. The hero of the day was the sixteen-year-old Pan Aksak, who gave the first blow and produced the first disorder. Only with such an army, old and trained, could the prince use such stratagems, and feign flight which in any other ranks might become real. This being the case, the second day ended still more disastrously for Krívonos than the first. All his field-pieces were taken, and a number of flags, — among them several royal flags captured by the Cossacks at Korsún. If the infantry of Koritski and Osinski with the cannon of Vurtsel could have followed the cavalry, the camp would have been taken at a blow. But before they came up it was night, and the enemy had already retreated a considerable distance, so that it was impossible to reach them. But Zatsvilikhovski captured half the camp, and with it enormous supplies of arms and provisions. The crowd seized Krívonos twice, wishing to give him up to the prince; and the promise of an immediate return to Hmelnitski barely sufficed to save him. He fled therefore with the remaining half of his tabor, with a decimated army, beaten and in despair, and did not halt till he reached Makhnovka, where when Hmelnitski came up, in the moment of his first anger, he ordered him to be chained by the neck to a cannon.

  But when his first anger had passed the Zaporojian hetman remembered that the unfortunate Krívonos had covered Volynia with blood, captured Polónnoe, and sent thousands of nobles to the other world, left their bodies without burial, and had been victorious everywhere till he met Yeremi. For these services the Zaporojian hetman took pity on him, and not only ordered him to be freed immediately from the cannon, but restored him to command, and sent him to Podolia to new conquests and slaughters.

  The prince now announced to his army the rest so much desired. In the last battle it had suffered considerable losses, especially at the storming of the tabor by the cavalry, behind which the Cossacks defended themselves with equal stubbornness and adroitness. Five hundred soldiers were killed; Colonel Mokrski, severely wounded, died soon after; Pan Kushel, Ponyatovski, and young Aksak were shot, but not dangerously; and Zagloba, becoming accustomed to the throng, took his place manfully with the others, struck twice with a flail, he fell on his back, and being unable to move, lay as dead in Skshetuski’s wagon.

  Fate hindered the plan of going to Bar; for they could not start immediately, especially since the prince had sent Pan Yan, at the head of a number of troops, as far as Zaslav, to exterminate the bands of peasants assembled there. The knight went without mentioning Bar to the prince, and during five days burned and slaughtered till he cleared the neighborhood.

  At last, even the soldiers became wearied beyond measure by the uninterrupted fighting, distant expeditions, ambuscades, and watching; he decided therefore to return to the prince, who, as he was informed, had gone to Tarnopol.

  On the eve of his return he stopped at Sukhojintsi, on the Khomor. He disposed his soldiers in the village, took his lodgings for the night in a peasant’s cottage, and because he was greatly wearied from labor and want of rest, fell asleep at once, and slept like a stone all night.

  About morning, when half asleep, half awake, he began to doze and dream. Wonderful images were in movement before his eyes. It seemed to him that he was in Lubni, that he had never left the place, that he was sleeping in his room in the armory, and that Jendzian, as was his wont in the morning, was bustling around with clothes and preparing for his master’s rising. Gradually, however, consciousness began to scatter the phantoms. He remembered that he was in Sukhojintsi, not in Lubni. Still the form of his servant did not dissolve in mist, and Pan Yan saw him continually sitting under the window, occupied in oiling armor-straps, which had shrunk considerably from the heat. But he still thought that it was a vision of sleep, and closed his eyes again. After a while he opened them. Jendzian was sitting under the window.

  “Jendzian,” called Skshetuski, “is that you, or is it your ghost?”

  The young fellow, frightened by the sudden call, dropped the breastplate on the floor with a clatter, spread his arms, and said: “Oh, for God’s sake! why do you scream, my master, that I am like a ghost? I am alive and well!”

  “And you have come back?”

  “But have you sent me off?”

  “Come here to me; let me embrace you.”

  The faithful youth fell upon the floor, and caught Skshetuski by the knees. Skshetuski kissed him on the forehead with joy, and repeated: “You are alive, you are alive!”

  “Oh, my master, I cannot speak from joy that I see you again in health! You shouted so that I let the breastplate fall. The straps have shrunk up, — it is clear that you have had no one. Praise be to thee, O God! Oh, my dear master!”

  “When did you come back?”

  “Last night.”

  “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

  “Why should I wake you up? I came early to take your clothes.”

  “Where did you come from?”

  “From Gushchi.”

  “What were you doing there? What has happened to you? Tell me.”

  “Well, you see the Cossacks came to Gushchi, which belongs to the voevoda of Bratslav, to plunder and burn, and I was there earlier, for I went there with Father Patroni Lasko, who took me to Hmelnitski from Gushchi; for the voevoda sent him to Hmelnitski with letters. I went back with him, therefore, and at that time the Cossacks were burning Gushchi; and they killed Father Patroni for his love to us, and no doubt they would have killed the voevoda too, if he had been there, though he belongs to their church and is their great benefactor—”

  “But speak clearly and don’t confuse things, for I cannot understand. You have been with the Cossacks, then, and spent some time with Hmelnitski. Is that true?”

  “Yes, with the Cossacks; for when they took me in Chigirin they thought I was one of their men. Now put on your clothes, my master! Dress — Oh, Lord bless me, everything you have is worn out, so there is nothing to lay hands on. But don’t be angry with me because I did not deliver in Rozlogi the letter which you wrote in Kudák. That rascal, Bogun, took it from me, and had it not been for that fat noble I should have lost my life.”

  “I know, I know. It is not your fault. That fat noble is in the camp. He has told me everything just as it was. He has also stolen from Bogun the lady, who is in good health and living at Bar.”

  “Praise be to God for that! I knew too that Bogun didn’t get her. Then of course the wedding is not far away?”

  “It is not. From here we shall go by orders to Tarnopol, and from there to Bar.”

  “Thanks be to God on high! He will surely hang himself, that Bogun; but a witch has already foretold him that he will never get her of whom he is thinking, and that a Pole will have her. Th
at Pole is surely you.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “I heard it. I must tell you everything in order, and do you dress, my master, for they are cooking breakfast for you. When I was going in the boat from Kudák we were a long time sailing, for it was against the current, and besides the boat got injured, and we had to repair it. We were going on then, going on, my master, going on—”

  “Go on! go on!” interrupted Skshetuski, impatiently.

  “And we came to Chigirin; and what happened to me there you know already.”

  “I do.”

  “I was lying there in the stable without a sight of God’s world. And then Hmelnitski came immediately after the departure of Bogun, with a tremendous Zaporojian force. And as the Grand Hetman had previously punished a great many Chigirin people for their love to the Zaporojians, many of them were killed and wounded. Therefore the Cossacks thought that I was from Chigirin. They didn’t kill me, but gave me necessary provisions and care, and didn’t let the Tartars take me, though they let them do everything else. When I came to myself I began to think what I was to do. Those rascals by this time had gone to Korsún and defeated the hetmans. Oh, my master, what my eyes saw is not to be described. They concealed nothing from me, knew no shame, because they took me for one of themselves. I was thinking whether to flee or not, but I saw it would be safer to remain until a better opportunity should offer itself. When they began to bring in from the battlefield at Korsún cloths, silver, plate, precious stones, oh, my master, my heart nearly burst, and my eyes almost came out of my head. Such robbers! — they sold six silver spoons for a thaler, and later for a quart of vudka; a golden button or brooch or a hat cockade you might buy with a pint. Then I thought to myself: ‘Why should I sit idle? Let me make something. With God’s help I will return some time to the Jendzians at Podlesia, where my parents are living. I will give this to them, for they have a lawsuit with the Yavorskis, which has been going on now for fifty years, and they have nothing to continue it with.’ I bought then so much stuff of every kind that it took two horses to carry it. This was the consolation of my sorrows, for I was terribly grieved on your account.”