“God will send salvation.”
“May he send a ray of it before my death, that I die not in despair! — this in return for all my sufferings. I will thank him for the cross which I carry during life, — thank him because the mob cry for my head, because they call me a traitor at the Diets, because my property is plundered, and for the disgrace in which I live, — for all the bitter reward which I have received from both sides.”
When he had finished speaking, the voevoda extended his dry hands toward heaven; and two great tears, perhaps the very last in his life, flowed out of his eyes.
Pan Yan could restrain himself no longer, but falling on his knees before the voevoda, seized his hand, and said in a voice broken by great emotion, —
“I am a soldier, and move on another path; but I give honor to merit and suffering.” And the noble and knight from the regiment of Yeremi pressed to his lips the hand of that Russian who some months before he with others had called a traitor.
Kisel placed both hands on Skshetuski’s head. “My son,” said he in a low voice, “may God comfort, guide, and bless you, as I bless you.”
The vicious circle of negotiations began from that very day. Hmelnitski came rather late to the voevoda’s dinner, and in the worst temper. He declared immediately that what he had said yesterday about suspension of arms, a commission at Whitsuntide, and the liberation of prisoners he said while drunk, and that he now saw an intention to deceive him. Kisel calmed him again, pacified him, gave reasons; but these speeches were, according to the words of the chamberlain of Lvoff, “surdo tyranno fabula dicta.” The hetman began then with such rudeness that the commissioners were sorry not to have the Hmelnitski of yesterday. He struck Pan Pozovski with his baton, only because he had appeared before him out of season, in spite of the fact that Pozovski was nearly dead already from serious illness.
Neither courtesy and good-will nor the persuasions of the voevoda were of use. When he had become somewhat excited by gorailka and the choice mead of Gushchi, he fell into better humor, but then he would not on any account let himself speak of public affairs, saying, “If we are to drink, let us drink, — to-morrow business and discussion, — if not, I’ll be off with myself.” About three o’clock in the morning he insisted on going to the sleeping-room of the voevoda, which the latter opposed under various pretexts; for he had shut in Skshetuski there on purpose, fearing that at the meeting of this stubborn soldier with Hmelnitski something disagreeable might happen which would be the destruction of the colonel. But Hmelnitski insisted and went, followed by Kisel. What was the astonishment of the voevoda when the hetman, seeing the knight, nodded to him, and cried, —
“Skshetuski, why were you not drinking with us?” And he stretched out his hand to him in a friendly manner.
“Because I am sick,” replied the colonel, bowing.
“You went away yesterday. The pleasure was nothing to me without you.”
“Such was the order he had,” put in Kisel.
“Don’t tell me that, Voevoda. I know him, and I know that he did not want to see you giving me honor. Oh, he is a bird! But what would not be forgiven another is forgiven him, for I like him, and he is my dear friend.”
Kisel opened wide his eyes in astonishment. The hetman turned to Pan Yan. “Do you know why I like you?”
Skshetuski shook his head.
“You think it is because you cut the lariat at Omelnik when I was a man of small note and they hunted me like a wild beast. No, it is not that. I gave you a ring then with dust from the grave of Christ. Horned soul! you did not show me that ring when you were in my hands; but I set you at liberty anyhow, and we were even. That’s not why I like you now. You rendered me another service, for which you are my dear friend, and for which I owe you thanks.”
Pan Yan looked with astonishment at Hmelnitski.
“See how he wonders!” said the hetman, as if speaking to some fourth person. “Well, I will bring to your mind what they told me in Chigirin when I came there from Bazaluk with Tugai Bey. I inquired everywhere for my enemy, Chaplinski, whom I did not find; but they told me what you did to him after our first meeting, — that you grabbed him by the hair and trousers, beat the door open with him, drew blood from him as from a dog.”
“I did in fact do that,” said Skshetuski.
“You did splendidly, you acted well. But I’ll reach him yet, or treaties and commissions are in vain, — I’ll reach him yet, and play with him in my own fashion; but you gave him pepper.”
The hetman now turned to Kisel, and began to tell how it was: “He caught him by the hair and trousers, lifted him like a fox, opened the door with him, and hurled him into the street.” Here he laughed till the echo resounded in the side-room and reached the drawing-room. “Voevoda, give orders to bring mead, for I must drink to the health of this knight, my friend.”
Kisel opened the door, and called to the attendant, who immediately brought three goblets of the mead of Gushchi.
Hmelnitski touched goblets with the voevoda and Pan Yan, and drank so that his head was warmed, his face smiled, great pleasure entered his heart, and turning to the colonel he said: “Ask of me what you like.”
A flush came on the pale face of Skshetuski; a moment of silence followed.
“Don’t fear!” said Hmelnitski; “a word is not smoke. Ask for what you like, provided you ask for nothing belonging to Kisel.”
The hetman even drunk was always himself.
“If I may use the affection which you have for me, then I ask justice from you. One of your colonels has done me an injury.”
“Off with his head!” said Hmelnitski, with an outburst.
“It is not a question of that; only order him to fight a duel with me.”
“Off with his head!” cried the hetman. “Who is he?”
“Bogun.”
Hmelnitski began to blink; then he struck his forehead with his palm. “Bogun? Bogun is killed. The king wrote me that he was slain in a duel.”
Pan Yan was astonished. Zagloba had told the truth.
“What did Bogun do to you?” asked Hmelnitski.
A still deeper flush came on the colonel’s face. He feared to mention the princess before the half-drunk hetman, lest he might hear some unpardonable word.
Kisel rescued him. “It is an important affair,” said he, “of which Bjozovski the castellan has told me. Bogun carried off the betrothed of this cavalier and secreted her, it is unknown where.”
“But have you looked for her?” asked Hmelnitski.
“I have looked for her on the Dniester, for he secreted her there, but did not find her. I heard, however, that he intended to take her to Kieff, where he wished to come himself to marry her. Give me, O Hetman, the right to go to Kieff and search for her there. I ask for nothing more.”
“You are my friend; you battered Chaplinski. I’ll give you not only the right to go and seek her wherever you like, but I will issue an order that whoever has her in keeping shall deliver her to you; and I’ll give you a baton as a pass, and a letter to the metropolitan to look for her among the nuns. My word is not smoke!”
He opened the door and called to Vygovski to come and write an order and a letter. Chernota was obliged, though it was after three o’clock, to go for the seal. Daidyalo brought the baton, and Donyéts received the order to conduct Skshetuski with two hundred horse to Kieff, and farther to the first Polish outposts.
Next day Skshetuski left Pereyasláv.
CHAPTER LII.
If Zagloba was bored at Zbaraj, no less bored was Volodyovski, who was longing especially for war and its adventures. They went out, it is true, from time to time with the squadron in pursuit of plundering parties who were burning and slaying on the Zbruch; but that was a small war, principally work for scouts, difficult because of the cold winter and frosts, yielding much toil and little glory. For these reasons Pan Michael urged Zagloba every day to go to the assistance of Skshetuski, from whom they had had no tidings for a long time.
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“He must have fallen into some fatal trap and may have lost his life,” said Volodyovski. “We must surely go, even if we have to perish with him.”
Zagloba did not offer much opposition, for he thought they had stayed too long in Zbaraj, and wondered why mushrooms were not growing on them already. But he delayed, hoping that news might come from Skshetuski any moment.
“He is brave and prudent,” answered he to the importunities of Volodyovski. “We will wait a couple of days yet; perhaps a letter will come and render our whole expedition useless.”
Volodyovski recognized the justice of the argument and armed himself with patience, though time dragged on more and more slowly. At the end of December frost had stopped even robbery, and there was peace in the neighborhood. The only entertainment was in public news, which came thick and fast to the gray walls of Zbaraj.
They spoke about the coronation and the Diet, and about the question whether Prince Yeremi would receive the baton which belonged to him before all other warriors. They were terribly excited against those who affirmed that in view of the turn in favor of a treaty with Hmelnitski, Kisel alone could gain advancement. Volodyovski had several duels on this point, and Zagloba several drinking-bouts; and there was danger of the latter’s becoming a confirmed drunkard, for not only did he keep company with officers and nobles, but he was not ashamed to go even among townspeople to christenings and weddings, praising especially their mead, for which Zbaraj was famous.
Volodyovski reproved him for this, saying that familiarity with people of low degree was not befitting a noble, since regard for a whole order would be diminished thereby; but Zagloba answered that the laws were to blame for that, because they permit townspeople to grow up in luxury and to come to wealth, which should be the portion of nobles alone; he prophesied that no good could come of such great privileges for insignificant people. It was difficult indeed to blame him in a period of gloomy winter days amidst uncertainty, weariness, and waiting.
Gradually Vishnyevetski’s regiments began to assemble in greater and greater numbers at Zbaraj, from which fact war in the spring was prophesied. Meanwhile people became more lively. Among others came the hussar squadron of Pan Yan, with Podbipienta. He brought tidings of the disfavor in which the prince was at court, and of the death of Pan Yanush Tishkyevich, the voevoda of Kieff, whom, according to general report, Kisel was to succeed, and finally of the serious illness with which Pan Lashch was stricken down in Cracow. As to war, Podbipienta heard from the prince himself that only by force of events and necessity would it come, for the commissioners had gone with instructions to make every concession possible to the Cossacks. This account of Podbipienta’s was received by the prince’s knights with rage; and Zagloba proposed to make a protest and form a confederation, for he said he did not wish his labor at Konstantinoff to go for nothing.
All February passed with these tidings and uncertainties, and the middle of March was approaching; but from Skshetuski there was no word. Volodyovski began to insist all the more on their expedition.
“We have to seek now not for the princess,” said he, “but for Pan Yan.”
It was soon shown that Zagloba was right in delaying the expedition from day to day, for at the end of March the Cossack Zakhar came with a letter from Kieff addressed to Volodyovski. Pan Michael summoned Zagloba at once, and when they had closeted themselves with the messenger in a room apart, he broke the seal and read the following: —
I discovered no trace on the Dniester as far as Yagorlik. Supposing that she must be hidden in Kieff, I joined the commissioners, with whom I went to Pereyasláv. Obtaining there the hoped for consent from Hmelnitski, I arrived at Kieff, and am making a search for her everywhere, in which the metropolitan assists me. Many of our people are hidden in private houses and in monasteries, but fearing the mob, they do not declare themselves; therefore search is difficult. God not only guided and protected me, but inspired Hmelnitski with an affection for me; wherefore I hope that He will assist me and have mercy on me for the future. I beg the priest Mukhovetski for a solemn Mass, at which you will pray for my intention.
Skshetuski.
“Praise be to God the Eternal!” cried Volodyovski.
“There is a postscript yet,” said Zagloba.
“True!” answered the little knight; and he read further: —
“The bearer of this letter, the essaul of the Mirgorod kuren, had me in his honest care when I was at the Saitch and in captivity, and now he has aided me in Kieff and has undertaken to deliver this letter with risk to his life. Have him in your care, Michael, so that nothing may be wanting to him.”
“‘You are an honest Cossack; there is at least one such!” said Zagloba, giving his hand to Zakhar.
The old man pressed it with dignity.
“You may be sure of reward,” interjected the little knight.
“He is a falcon,” said the Cossack; “I like him. I did not come here for money.”
“I see you are not lacking in a spirit which no noble would be ashamed of,” said Zagloba. “They are not all beasts among you, — not all beasts. But no more of this! Then Pan Skshetuski is in Kieff?”
“He is.”
“And in safety, for I hear that the mob is revelling?”
“He stops with Colonel Donyéts. They will do nothing to him, for our father Hmelnitski ordered Donyéts to guard him at the peril of his life as the eye in his head.”
“Real wonders take place! How did Hmelnitski get such a liking for Pan Yan?”
“Oh, he has liked him a long time!”
“Did Pan Skshetuski tell you what he was looking for in Kieff?”
“Why shouldn’t he tell me when he knows that I am his friend? I searched with him and searched by myself; so he had to tell me what he was looking for.”
“But so far you haven’t found her?”
“We have not. Whatever Poles are there yet are hiding, one does not know of the other, so that it is not easy to find any one. You heard that the mob kill people, but I have seen it; they kill not only Poles, but those who hide them, even monks and nuns. In the monastery of Nikolai the Good there were twelve Polish women with the nuns; they suffocated them in the cells together with the nuns. Every couple of days a shout is raised on the street, and people are hunted and dragged to the Dnieper. Oh, how many have been drowned already!”
“Perhaps they have killed the princess too?”
“Perhaps they have.”
“No,” interrupted Volodyovski; “if Bogun took her there, he must have made it safe for her.”
“Where is it safer than in a monastery? But for all that they kill people there.”
“Uf!” said Zagloba. “So you think, Zakhar, that she might have perished?”
“I don’t know.”
“It is evident that Skshetuski is in good heart,” said Zagloba. “God has visited him, but he comforts him. And is it long since you left Kieff, Zakhar?”
“Oh, long! I left Kieff when the commissioners were passing there on their return. Many Poles wished to escape with them, and did escape, the unfortunates! As each one was able, over the snow, over pathless tracts, through forests, they hurried to Belogrodki; but the Cossacks pursued and beat them. Many fled, many were killed, and some Pan Kisel ransomed with what money he had.”
“Oh, the dog-souls! And so you came out with the commissioners?”
“With the commissioners to Gushchi, and from there to Ostrog; farther I came alone.”
“Then you are an old acquaintance of Pan Skshetuski?”
“I made his acquaintance in the Saitch, nursed him when he was wounded, and then I learned to like him as if he were my own child. I am old, and have nobody to love.”
Zagloba called to the servant, gave orders to bring in mead and meat, and they sat down to supper. Zakhar ate heartily, for he was road-weary and hungry; then he sank his gray mustaches eagerly in the dark liquid, drank, smacked his lips, and said: “Splendid mead!”
“Bet
ter than the blood which you folks drink,” said Zagloba. “But I think that you are an honest man, and loving Pan Skshetuski, will not go any more to the rebellion, but remain with us. It will be good for you here.”
Zakhar raised his head. “I delivered the letter, now I’ll go back. I am a Cossack. It is for me to be a brother with the Cossacks, not with the Poles.”
“And will you beat us?”
“I will. I am a Cossack of the Saitch. We elected Hmelnitski hetman, and now the king has sent him the baton and the banner.”
“There it is for you, Pan Michael! Have not I advised a protest? And from what kuren are you?”
“From the Mirgorod; but it is no longer in existence.”
“What has happened to it?”
“The hussars of Pan Charnetski at Jóltiya Vodi cut it to pieces. I am under Donyéts now, with those who survived. Pan Charnetski is a real soldier; he is with us in captivity, and the commissioners have interceded for him.”
“We have your prisoners too.”
“That must be so. In Kieff they say that our best hero is a captive with the Poles, though some say he is dead.”
“Who is that?”
“Oh, the famous ataman, Bogun.”
Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz Page 70