Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  Then she would fold her hands as if in great dread, and say in a sweet voice: “Oh, cruel knight, better kill me at once than do that!”

  “Impossible, I must take you!” answered the stern knight.

  “Strike!” said she, closing her eyes and stretching her neck to him.

  Then the ants began to travel along the back of the little knight. “That girl goes to the head like wine!” thought he; “but I cannot drink this wine, for it is another’s.” The honest Pan Michael then shook himself and urged his horse forward. When he plunged into the grass like a sea-mew into water, the ants fell from him; he turned all his attention to the journey. Was it safe, were they going well, or was any adventure approaching them from any side? He straightened himself in the stirrups, raised his yellow mustaches over the waving grass, looked, sniffed, listened like a Tartar when he is prowling in the wild fields through the grass of the steppe.

  Zagloba too was in the best of spirits. “It is easier for us to escape now,” said he, “than when on the Kagamlik we had to sneak off on foot like dogs, with our tongues hanging out. My tongue at that time was so dried up in my mouth that I could have planed a tree with it, but now, thanks be to God, I have something to sleep on in the evening, and something to wet my throat with from time to time.”

  “Do you remember how you carried me over the water?”

  “God grant us to wait! you’ll have something to carry in your arms; I’ll bet Skshetuski’s head on that.”

  “Ho! ho!” laughed Jendzian.

  “Desist, I beg you,” whispered the princess, blushing and dropping her eyes.

  Thus they conversed over the steppe, to shorten the time. Finally, beyond Barek and Yeltushkoff they entered a country recently gnawed by the teeth of war. There bands of armed ruffians raged; there also, not long before, Lantskoronski burned and slew, for it was only a few days since he had withdrawn to Zbaraj. Our travellers learned also from the people of the town that Hmelnitski and the Khan had set out with all their forces against the Poles, or rather against the commanders whose forces were in mutiny and refused to serve except under the command of Prince Yeremi. In this connection it was generally prophesied that destruction or the end of either the Poles or the Cossacks would surely come, for Father Hmelnitski and Yeremi were to meet. The whole country was as if on fire. All were rushing to arms and marching to the north to join Hmelnitski. From the lower Dniester, Burlai was advancing with his entire force; and along the road every regiment was in motion from garrisons, quarters, and pastures, for the order had come to all. They marched then in hundreds, in squadrons, in thousands; and at their flank rolled on like a river the mob, armed with flails, forks, knives, and pikes. Horseboys and herdsmen left their herds, settlers their lands, bee-keepers their bees, wild fishermen their reeds by the Dnieper, hunters the woods. Hamlets, villages, and towns were deserted. In three provinces there remained at home but old women and children, for even the young women had gone with the men against the Poles. Simultaneously from the east approached with his entire main army Hmelnitski, like an ominous storm, crushing by the way with his mighty hand castles, great and small, and killing all who were left from the previous defeats.

  Having passed Bar, full of gloomy reminiscences for the princess, our travellers took the high-road leading through Latichi and Ploskiri to Tarnopol, and farther to Lvoff. Now, they met more frequently, at one time regular tabors of wagons, at another detachments of Cossack infantry and cavalry; now parties of peasants; now countless herds of cattle surrounded with clouds of dust, and driven on as food for the Cossack and the Tartar armies. The road became dangerous, for they were asked continually what they wanted, whence they came, and where they were going. Zagloba showed the Cossack companies Burlai’s baton, and said, —

  “We are sent from Burlai; we are taking Bogun’s wife.”

  At sight of the baton of the terrible colonel, the Cossacks generally opened the way the more readily, since every one understood that if Bogun was alive he must be near the forces of the commanders in the neighborhood of Zbaraj or Konstantinoff. But it was far more difficult for the travellers to pass the mob with its wild parties of herdsmen, ignorant, drunk, and having almost no idea of the ensigns given by colonels for a safe conduct. Had it not been for Helena, these half-savage people would have taken Zagloba, Volodyovski, and Jendzian for their own, — in fact they did so even as it was; but Helena attracted universal attention by her sex and unusual beauty, hence the dangers had to be overcome with the greatest care.

  At one time Zagloba showed the baton, at another Volodyovski his teeth, and more than one corpse fell behind them. A number of times the unapproachable steeds of Burlai alone saved them from too grievous adventure, and the journey so favorable at the beginning grew more difficult each day. Helena, although brave by nature, began to fail in health from continual alarm and sleeplessness, and looked in truth like a captive dragged against her will into the tent of an enemy. Zagloba exerted himself savagely, and was continually inventing new stratagems which the little knight put into practice at once; both of them consoled the princess as best they could.

  “We have only to pass the swarm which is now in front,” said Volodyovski, “and reach Zbaraj, before Hmelnitski with the Tartars fills the region about.”

  They learned on the road that the commanders had concentrated at Zbaraj, and intended to defend themselves there. They went to that place, expecting justly that Prince Yeremi would come to the commanders with his division, since a part of his forces (and that a considerable one) had its permanent post at Zbaraj. The swarms grew thinner on the road, for the country occupied by the squadrons of the Crown began only fifty miles beyond. The Cossack parties did not dare therefore to push on farther; they preferred to wait, at a safe distance, the arrival of Burlai from one and Hmelnitski from the other side.

  “Only fifty miles now! only fifty miles!” repeated Zagloba, rubbing his hands. “If we could but reach the first Polish squadrons, we might go to Zbaraj in safety.”

  But Volodyovski determined to supply himself with fresh horses at Ploskiri, for those which he had bought at Barek were already useless, and it was necessary to spare Burlai’s steeds for a black hour. This precaution became imperative, since news came that Hmelnitski was already at Konstantinoff, and the Khan with all his hordes was moving from Pilavtsi.

  “Jendzian and I will remain here with the princess near the town, for it is better not to show ourselves on the market-place,” said the little knight to Zagloba, when they came to a deserted house about two furlongs from the town, “and you go and inquire if there are horses for sale or exchange. It is evening now, but we will travel all night.”

  “I’ll return soon,” said Zagloba.

  He went to the town. Volodyovski told Jendzian to let out the saddle-girths a little, so that the horses might rest; then he conducted Helena into the house, begging her to strengthen herself with some wine and with sleep.

  “I should like to pass those fifty miles before daybreak to-morrow,” said he; “then we shall all rest.”

  But he had scarcely brought the wine-skin and food when there was a clatter in front of the house. The little knight looked out through the window.

  “Zagloba has already returned,” said he; “it is evident that he has found no horses.”

  The door opened that moment, and Zagloba appeared in it, pale, blue, sweating, puffing. “To horse!” he cried.

  Volodyovski was too experienced a soldier to lose time on inquiries. He didn’t lose it even in saving the skin of wine, — which Zagloba carried off nevertheless, — but he seized the princess with all haste, took her out, put her on the saddle, gave a last look to see if the girths were drawn, and cried, “Forward!”

  The hoofs clattered, and soon horses and riders had vanished in the darkness like a party in a dream. They flew on a long time without rest, till at last nearly five miles of road separated them from Ploskiri. Before the rising of the moon darkness became so dense that every pu
rsuit was impossible. Volodyovski drew near Zagloba, and asked, —

  “What was the matter?”

  “Wait, Pan Michael, wait! I am terribly blown. I came near losing the use of my legs. Uf!”

  “But what was the matter?”

  “The devil in his own person, — the devil or a dragon! If you cut one head off him, another will grow.”

  “But speak plainly!”

  “I saw Bogun on the market-square.”

  “Are you mad?”

  “I saw him on the square, as I live, and with him five or six men, for I nearly lost the use of my legs. They held torches for him, and I thought, ‘Some devil is standing in our road.’ I lost all hope of a successful end to our undertaking. Can this imp of hell be immortal, or what? Don’t speak of him to Helena. Oh, for God’s sake, you slew him; Jendzian gave him up! That wasn’t enough; he is alive now, free, and stands in the way. Oh, my God, my God! I tell you, Pan Michael, that I would rather see a ghost in a graveyard than him. And what devilish luck that I am the first to meet him everywhere! It’s luck to cram down a dog’s throat. Are there no other people in the world? Let others meet him. No! always I, and I.”

  “But did he see you?”

  “If he had seen me, Pan Michael, you wouldn’t be looking at me now. That alone was wanting.”

  “It would be important to know whether he is chasing after us, or is going to Valadinka to Horpyna with the intention of seizing us on the road.”

  “It seems to me that he is going to Valadinka.”

  “It must be so. Then we shall go on in one direction and he in the opposite; now there are five miles and more between us, and soon there will be twenty-five. Before he hears about us on the road, and returns, we shall be not only in Zbaraj, but in Jolkvi.”

  “Your speech, Pan Michael, thank God! is like a plaster to me. But tell me how it can be that he is free, when Jendzian gave him into the hands of the commandant of Vlodava?”

  “Oh, he simply ran away!”

  “The head of a commandant like that should be struck off. Jendzian! Jendzian!”

  “What do you wish, my master?” asked the youth, reining in his horse.

  “To whom did you deliver Bogun?”

  “To Pan Rogovski.”

  “And who is this Pan Rogovski?”

  “He is a great knight, a colonel of an armored regiment of the king.”

  “There it is for you!” said Volodyovski, snapping his fingers. “Don’t you remember what Pan Longin told about Skshetuski’s enmity with Rogovski? He is a relative of Pan Lashch, on account of whose disgrace he has a hatred for Skshetuski.”

  “I understand, I understand!” shouted Zagloba. “He is the one who must have let Bogun out through spite. But that is a capital offence, and smells of death. I’ll be the first to report it.”

  “If God lets me meet him,” muttered Volodyovski, “we shall be sure not to go to a tribunal.”

  Jendzian did not know yet what the trouble was, for after his answer he pushed forward again to the princess.

  They were riding slowly. The moon had risen; the mists, which since evening had settled upon the land, fell away, and the night became clear. Volodyovski was sunk in meditation. Zagloba was digesting for some time yet the remnants of his astonishment; at last he said, —

  “Bogun would have given it to Jendzian now if he had caught him.”

  “Tell him the news; let him be afraid too, and I’ll go immediately to the princess,” answered the little knight.

  “Here, Jendzian!”

  “Well, what is it?” asked the youth, reining in his horse again.

  Zagloba came up with him. He was silent for a while, waiting for Volodyovski and the princess to ride far enough away. At last he asked: “Do you know what has happened?”

  “No.”

  “Pan Rogovski set Bogun at liberty. I saw him in Ploskiri.”

  “In Ploskiri? To-day?” asked Jendzian.

  “Yes. Why don’t you drop from the saddle?”

  The rays of the moon fell straight on the round face of the youth, and Zagloba saw on it not terror, but, to his utmost astonishment, that expression of stern, almost brutal stubbornness which Jendzian had when he killed Horpyna.

  “Well, are you not afraid of Bogun?”

  “My master,” answered the youth, “if Pan Rogovski has let him go, then I must seek revenge on him again myself for the wrong done me and the insult. I do not forgive him, for I took an oath; and if we were not conducting the lady, I should turn back on the road at once. Let what belongs to me be mine.”

  “I am glad not to have offended this young fellow.”

  They spurred their horses, and soon came up with the princess and Volodyovski. In an hour they turned through the Medvédovka and entered a forest extending from the very bank of the river in two black walls along the road.

  “I know the neighborhood well,” said Zagloba. “There will soon be an end to this forest; after it is about a mile and a quarter of level land, and then another forest still larger extending to Matchin. God grant us to find Polish squadrons there!”

  “It is high time that rescue came,” muttered Volodyovski.

  They rode awhile in silence over a road clearly lighted by the rays of the moon.

  “Two wolves have run across,” said Helena, suddenly.

  “Yes,” said Volodyovski, “and here is a third.”

  The gray shadow shot across a little more than a hundred rods in front of the horses.

  “There is a fourth,” said the princess.

  “No, that is a deer. Look, — two, three!”

  “What the devil!” cried Zagloba. “Deer chasing wolves! The world, I see, is overturned.”

  “Let us go a little faster,” cried Volodyovski, with a voice of alarm. “Jendzian, come this way and go ahead with the lady!”

  They shot on; but Zagloba bent forward as they rode to Volodyovski’s ear, and inquired: “Pan Michael, what tidings?”

  “Evil!” answered the little knight. “You have seen wild beasts rushing from their lairs and escaping in the night.”

  “But what does that mean?”

  “It means that they are frightened.”

  “Who frightens them?”

  “Troops, Cossack or Tartar, are coming toward us from the right hand.”

  “But it may be our squadrons?”

  “Impossible, for the beasts are fleeing from the east, from Pilavtsi. Doubtless, then, the Tartars are marching in a wide body.”

  “Let us flee, Pan Michael, in God’s name!”

  “There is no help. Oh, if the princess were not here, we could go quite near them; but with her the passage will be very difficult if they set eyes on us.”

  “Have the fear of God, Pan Michael. Shall we turn to the woods and run after the wolves, or what?”

  “Impossible; for though the enemy would not reach us at once, they would deluge the country in front of us, and then how should we escape?”

  “May brimstone thunderbolts shake them! This alone was wanting to us. Oh, Pan Michael, are you not mistaken? You know wolves follow an army; they do not run before it.”

  “Those at the flanks follow the army and gather in from every side, but those in front get frightened. Look! on the right, between the trees, there is a fire.”

  “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews!”

  “Silence! Is there much more of this forest?”

  “We shall be at the end in a moment.”

  “And then a field?”

  “Yes, O Jesus!”

  “No noise! Beyond the field there is another forest?”

  “Extending to Matchin.”

  “We shall be all right if they don’t overtake us in this field. If we reach the second forest in safety, we are at home. Let us go together then. Luckily the princess and Jendzian are on Burlai’s horses.”

  They put spurs to the horses, and joined the princess and Jendzian.

  “What fire is that on the right?” asked
the princess.

  “There is no use in hiding it from you; that may be Tartars.”

  “Jesus, Mary!”

  “Have no fear. My neck for it, we shall escape them, and our squadrons are in Matchin.”

  “For God’s sake, let us be off!” said Jendzian.

  They were silent, and sped on like ghosts. The trees began to grow thinner; they were reaching the end of the forest, and the fire was somewhat dimmer too. Suddenly Helena turned to Volodyovski.

  “Swear to me, gentlemen,” said she, “that I shall not go alive into their hands.”

  “You will not,” said Volodyovski, “while I am alive.”

  They had barely passed the end and come into an open field about a mile in width, and on the other side of it another line of forest stood dark. That bald space of earth open on every side was all silvered over from the rays of the moon. All things were as visible on it as in the daytime.

  “This is the worst piece of road,” whispered Volodyovski to Zagloba; “for if they are in Chorni Ostroff, they will pass between these forests.”

  Zagloba gave no answer; he only pressed the horse with his heels.

  They had run to the middle of the field, the opposite forest was growing nearer each moment and more distinct, when suddenly the little knight stretched out his hand to the east. “Look!” said he to Zagloba; “do you see?”

  “Some kind of branches and thicket in the distance.”

  “Those branches are moving. Now on, on, push on! for they see us beyond a doubt.”

  The wind whistled past the ears of the fleeing; the forest of salvation drew nearer each instant.

  All at once out of that dark mass approaching from the right side of the field flew on as it were the roar of sea waves, and the next moment one great shout rent the air.

  “They see us!” bellowed Zagloba. “Dogs, ruffians, devils, wolves, scoundrels!”

  The forest was so near that the fugitives almost felt its cold, austere breath; but also the cloud of Tartars became each moment more clearly outlined, and from the dark body of it long arms began to push out like the horns of some gigantic monster, and approached the fugitives with inconceivable rapidity. The trained ear of Volodyotski already distinguished clearly: “Allah! Allah!”