“Do you know whether many of ours have fallen?” asked Podbipienta.
“Oh, not many; more of the assailants always fall. You are not so experienced in this as I am, for you have not been through so many wars. We old soldiers have no need to count bodies; we can estimate the number from the battle itself.”
“I shall learn from you, gentlemen,” said Pan Longin, with amiability.
“Yes, if you have wit enough; but I haven’t much hope of that.”
“Oh, give us peace!” said Skshetuski. “This is not Podbipienta’s first war. God grant the foremost knights to act as he did yesterday.”
“I did what I could,” said the Lithuanian, “not what I wanted.”
“Still your action was not bad,” said Zagloba, patronizingly; “and that others surpassed you [here he began to curl his mustaches] is not your fault.”
The Lithuanian listened with downcast eyes and sighed, thinking of his ancestor Stoveiko and the three heads.
At that moment the tent door opened and Pan Michael entered quickly, glad as a goldfinch on a bright morning.
“Well, we are here,” said Zagloba; “give him some beer.”
The little knight pressed the hands of his three comrades, and said: “You should see how many balls are lying on the square; it passes imagination! You can’t pass without hitting one.”
“I saw that too,” said Zagloba, “for when I rose I walked a little through the camp. All the hens in the province of Lvoff won’t lay so many eggs in two years. Oh, I only wish they were eggs! Then we should have them fried; and you must know, gentlemen, that I consider a plate of fried eggs the greatest delicacy. I am a born soldier, and so are you. I eat willingly what is good, if there is only enough of it. On this account too I am more eager for battle than the pampered youngsters of to-day who can’t eat anything unusual without getting the gripes.”
“But you scored a success yesterday with Burlai,” said Volodyovski. “To cut down Burlai in that fashion! As I live I did not expect that of you, and he was a warrior famous throughout the Ukraine and Turkey.”
“Pretty good work, wasn’t it?” asked Zagloba, with satisfaction. “It’s not my first, it’s not my first, Pan Michael. I see we were all looking for poppyseed in the bottom of the bushel; but we have found four, and such another four you could not find in the whole Commonwealth. If I should go with you, gentlemen, and with our prince at the head, we could reach even Stamboul! Just think! Skshetuski killed Burdabut, and yesterday Tugai Bey.”
“Tugai Bey is not killed,” interrupted the colonel. “I felt that the sabre was turning in my hand; then they separated us.”
“All one; don’t interrupt me, Pan Yan! Pan Michael cut up Bogun at Warsaw, as we have said—”
“It is better not to mention that,” interrupted the Lithuanian.
“What is said is said,” answered Zagloba, “though I should prefer not to mention it. But I go further: Here is Pan Podbipienta from Myshekishki, who finished Pulyan, and I Burlai. I will not hide from you, however, that I would give all these for Burlai alone; and this perhaps because I had terrible work with him. He was a devil, not a Cossack. If I had sons like him legitimately born, I should leave them a splendid name. I am only curious to know what his Majesty the King and the Diet will say when they reward us, — who live more on brimstone and saltpetre than anything else.”
“There was a knight greater than all of us,” said Pan Longin; “and no one knows his name or mentions it.”
“I should like to know who he was, — one of the ancients?” asked Zagloba, offended.
“No; he was that man, brother, who at Tshtsiana brought the king Gustavus Adolphus to the ground with his horse, and took him prisoner.”
“I heard it was at Putsek,” interrupted Volodyovski.
“But the king tore away from him, and escaped,” said Skshetuski.
“He did,” said Zagloba, closing his eyes. “I know something about that matter, for I was then under Konyetspolski, father of the standard-bearer. Modesty did not permit that knight to mention his own name, therefore no one knows it; and believe me, Gustavus Adolphus was a great warrior, — almost equal to Burlai; but in the hand-to-hand conflict with Burlai I had heavier work. It is I who tell you this.”
“That means that you overthrew Gustavus Adolphus?” said Volodyovski.
“Have I boasted of it, Pan Michael? Then let it remain unremembered. I have something to boast of to-day; no need of bringing up old times! This horrid beer rattles terribly in the stomach, and the more cheese there is in it the worse it rattles. I prefer wine, though God be praised for what we have! Soon perhaps we shall not have even the beer. The priest Jabkovski tells me that we are likely to have short rations; and he is all the more troubled, for he has a belly as big as a barn. He is a rare Bernardine, with whom I have fallen desperately in love. There is more of the soldier than the monk in him. If he should hit a man on the snout, then you might order his coffin on the spot.”
“But,” said Volodyovski, “I have not told you how handsomely the priest Yaskolski acted last night. He fixed himself in that corner of the tower at the right side of the castle, and looked at the fight. You must know that he is a wonderfully good shot. Said he to Jabkovski: ‘I won’t shoot Cossacks, for they are Christians after all, though their deeds are disgusting to the Lord; but Tartars,’ said he, ‘I cannot stand;’ and so he peppered away at the Tartars, and he spoiled about a score and a half of them during the battle.”
“I wish all priests were like him,” sighed Zagloba; “but our Mukhovetski only raises his hands to heaven and weeps because so much Christian blood is flowing.”
“But give us peace,” said Skshetuski, earnestly. “Mukhovetski is a holy man, and you have the best proof of it in this, that though he is not the senior of these two, they bow down before his worthiness.”
“Not only do I not deny his holiness,” retorted Zagloba, “but I suppose he would be able to convert the Khan himself. Oh, gentlemen, his Majesty the Khan must be so mad that the lice on him are standing on their heads from fright. If we have negotiations with the Khan, I will go with the commissioners. The Khan and I are old acquaintances. Once he took a great fancy to me. Perhaps he will remember me now.”
“They will surely choose Yanitski to negotiate,” said Skshetuski, “for he speaks Tartar as well as Polish.”
“And so do I. The murzas and I are as well acquainted as white-faced horses. They wanted to give me their daughters when I was in the Crimea so as to have beautiful grandchildren, as I was young in those days, and had made no pacta conventa with my innocence like Podbipienta. I played many a prank.”
“Ah, it is disgusting to hear him!” said Pan Longing dropping his eyes.
“And you repeat the same thing like a trained starling. It is clear that the Botvinians are not well acquainted with human speech yet.”
Further conversation was interrupted by a noise beyond the tent. The knights went out therefore to see what was going on. A multitude of soldiers were on the ramparts looking at the place round about, which during the night had changed considerably and was still changing before their eyes. The Cossacks had not been idle since the last assault; they had made a breastwork and placed cannon in it, longer and carrying farther than any in the Polish camp; they had begun traverses, zigzags, and approaches. From a distance these embankments looked like thousands of gigantic mole-hills; the whole slope of the field was covered with them; the freshly dug earth lay black everywhere in the grass, and every place was swarming with men at work. The red caps of the Cossacks were glittering on the front ramparts.
The prince stood on the works with Sobieski and Pshiyemski. A little below, Firlei was surveying the Cossack works through a field-glass, and said to Ostrorog, —
“The enemy are beginning a regular siege. I see we must abandon defence in the trenches and go to the castle.”
Prince Yeremi heard these words, and said, bending from above to the castellan: “God keep u
s from that, for we should be going of our own choice into a trap. Here is the place for us to live or die.”
“That’s my opinion too, even if I had to kill a Burlai every day,” put in Zagloba. “I protest in the name of the whole army against the opinion of the castellan of Belsk.”
“This matter does not pertain to you!” said the prince.
“Quiet!” whispered Volodyovski, jerking him by the sleeve.
“We will exterminate them in those hiding-places like so many moles,” said Zagloba, “and I beg your serene Highness to let me go out with the first sally. They know me already, and they will know me better.”
“With a sally!” said the prince, and wrinkled his brow. “Wait a minute! The nights are dark in the beginning now.” Here he turned to Sobieski, Pshiyemski, and the commanders, and said: “I ask you, gentlemen, to come to counsel.”
He left the intrenchment, and all the officers followed him.
“For the love of God, what are you doing?” asked Volodyovski, “What does this mean? Why, you don’t know service and discipline, that you interfere in the conversation of your superiors. The prince is a mild-mannered man, but in time of war there is no joking with him.”
“Oh, that is nothing, Pan Michael! Konyetspolski, the father, was a fierce lion, and he depended greatly on my counsels; and may the wolves eat me up to-day, if it was not for that reason that he defeated Gustavus Adolphus twice. I know how to talk with magnates. Didn’t you see now how the prince was astonished when I advised him to make a sally? If God gives a victory, whose service will it be, — whose? Will it be yours?”
At that moment Zatsvilikhovski came up. “What’s this? They are rooting and rooting, like so many pigs!” said he, pointing to the field.
“I wish they were pigs,” said Zagloba. “Pork sausage would be cheap, but their carrion is not fit for dogs. Today the soldiers had to dig a well in Firlei’s quarters, for the water in the eastern pond was spoiled from the bodies. Toward morning the bile burst in the dog-brothers, and they all floated. Now next Friday we cannot use fish, because the fish have eaten their flesh.”
“True,” said Zatsvilikhovski; “I am an old soldier, but I have not seen so many bodies, unless at Khotím, at the assault of the janissaries on our camp.”
“You will see more of them yet, I tell you.”
“I think that this evening, or before evening, they will move to the storm again.”
“But I say they will leave us in peace till to-morrow.”
Scarcely had Zagloba finished speaking, when long white puffs of smoke blossomed out on the breastwork, and balls flew over the intrenchment.
“There!” exclaimed Zatsvilikhovski.
“Oh, they know nothing of military art!” said Zagloba.
Old Zatsvilikhovski was right. Hmelnitski had began a regular siege. He had closed all roads and escapes, had taken away the pasture, made approaches and breastworks, had dug zigzags near the camp, but had not abandoned assaults. He had resolved to give no rest to the besieged; to harass, to frighten, to keep them in continual sleeplessness, and press upon them till their arms should fall from their stiffened hands. In the evening, therefore, he struck upon the quarters of Vishnyevetski, with no better result than the day before, especially since the Cossacks did not advance with such alacrity. Next day firing did not cease for an instant. The zigzags were already so near that musketry fire reached the ramparts; the earthworks smoked like little volcanoes from morning till evening. It was not a general battle, but a continual fusillade. The besieged rushed out sometimes from the ramparts; then sabres, flails, scythes, and lances met in the conflict. But scarcely had a few Cossacks fallen in the ranks, when the gaps were immediately filled with new men. The soldiers had no rest for even a moment during the whole day; and when the desired sunset came, a new general assault was begun. A sally was not to be thought of.
On the night of the 16th of July two valiant colonels — Gladki and Nebaba — struck upon the quarters of the prince, and suffered a terrible defeat. Three thousand of the best Cossacks lay on the field; the rest, pursued by Sobieski, escaped to the tabor, throwing down their arms and powder-horns. An equally unfortunate result met Fedorenko, who, taking advantage of the thick fog, barely failed to capture the town at daybreak. Pan Korf repulsed him at the head of the Germans; then Sobieski and Konyetspolski cut the fugitives almost to pieces.
But this was nothing in comparison with the awful attack of July 19. On the previous night the Cossacks had raised in front of Vishnyevetski’s quarters a lofty embankment, from which guns of large calibre vomited an uninterrupted fire. When the day had closed, and the first stars were in the sky, tens of thousands of men rushed to the attack. At the same time appeared some scores of terrible machines, like towers, which rolled slowly to the intrenchment. At their sides rose bridges, like monstrous wings, which were to be thrown over the ditches; and their tops were smoking, blazing, and roaring with discharges of small cannon, guns, and muskets. These towers moved on among the swarm of heads like giant commanders, — now reddening in the fire of guns, now disappearing in smoke and darkness.
The soldiers pointed them out to one another from a distance, whispering: “Those are the ‘travelling towers.’ We are the men that Hmelnitski is going to grind with those windmills.”
“See how they roll, with a noise like thunder!”
“At them from the cannon! At them from the cannon!” cried some.
In fact the prince’s gunners sent ball after ball, bomb after bomb, at those terrible machines; but since they were visible only when the discharges lighted the darkness, the balls missed them most of the time.
Meanwhile the dense mass of Cossacks drew nearer and nearer, like a black wave flowing in the night from the distant expanse of the sea.
“Uf!” said Zagloba, in the cavalry near Skshetuski, “I am hot as never before in my life. The night is so sultry that there is not a dry thread on me. The devils invented those machines. God grant the ground to open under them, for those ruffians are like a bone in my throat, — amen! We can neither eat nor sleep. Dogs are in a better condition of life than we. Uf! how hot!”
It was really oppressive and sultry; besides, the air was saturated with exhalations from bodies decaying for several days over the whole field. The sky was covered with a black and low veil of clouds. A storm or tempest was hanging over Zbaraj. Sweat covered the bodies of soldiers under arms, and their breasts were panting from exertion. At that moment drums began to grumble in the darkness.
“They will attack immediately,” said Skshetuski. “Do you hear the drum?”
“Yes. I wish the devils would drum them! It is pure desperation!”
“Cut! cut!” roared the crowds, rushing to the ramparts.
The battle raged along the whole length of the rampart. They struck at the same time on Vishnyevetski, Lantskoronski, Firlei, and Ostrorog, so that one could not give aid to the other. The Cossacks, excited with gorailka, went still more ragingly than during the previous assaults, but they met a still more valiant resistance. The heroic spirit of their leader gave life to the soldiers. The terrible quarter infantry, formed of Mazovians, fought with the Cossacks, so that they became thoroughly intermingled with them. They fought with gun-stocks, fists, and teeth. Under the blows of the stubborn Mazovians several hundred of the splendid Zaporojian infantry fell. The battle grew more and more desperate along the whole line. The musket-barrels burned the hands of the soldiers; breath failed them; the voices of the commanders died in their throats from shouting. Sobieski and Skshetuski fell with their cavalry upon the Cossack flank, trampling whole regiments.
Hour followed hour, but the assault relaxed not; for Hmelnitski filled the great gaps of the Cossack ranks, in the twinkle of an eye, with new men. The Tartars increased the uproar, at the same time sending clouds of arrows on the defending soldiers; men from behind drove the mob to the assault with clubs and rawhide whips. Rage contended with rage, breast struck breast, man closed with man i
n the grip of death. They struggled, as the raging waves of the sea struggle with an island cliff.
Suddenly the earth trembled; the whole heavens were in blue flames, as if God could no longer witness the horrors of men. An awful crash silenced the shouts of combatants and the roar of cannon. The artillery of heaven then began its more awful discharges. Thunders rolled on every side, from the east to the west. It seemed as though the sky had burst, together with the cloud, and was rolling on to the heads of the combatants. At moments the whole world seemed like one flame; at moments all were blind in the darkness, and again ruddy zigzags of lightning rent the black veil. A whirlwind struck once and again, tore away thousands of caps, streamers, and flags, and swept them in the twinkle of an eye over the battle-field. Thunders began to roll, one after another; then followed a chaos of peals, flashes, whirlwind, fire, and darkness; the heavens were as mad as the men.
The unheard-of tempest raged over the town, the castle, the trenches, and the tabor. The battle was stopped. At last the flood-gates of heaven were open, and not streams, but rivers of rain poured down upon the earth. The deluge hid the light; nothing could be seen a step in advance. Bodies were swimming in the ditch. The Cossack regiments, abandoning the assault, fled one after the other to the tabor; going at random, they stumbled against one another, and thinking that the enemy was pursuing, scattered in the darkness; guns and ammunition wagons followed them, sticking and getting overturned on the way. Water washed down the Cossack earthworks, roared in the ditches and zigzags, filled the covered places, though provided with ditches, and ran roaring over the plain as if pursuing the Cossacks.
The rain increased every moment. The infantry in the trenches left the ramparts, seeking shelter under the tents. But for the cavalry of Sobieski and Skshetuski there came no order to withdraw; they stood one by the other as if in a lake, and shook the water from their shoulders. The tempest began gradually to slacken. After midnight the rain stopped entirely. Through the rents in the clouds here and there the stars glittered. Still an hour passed, and the water had fallen a little. Then before Skshetuski’s squadron appeared the prince himself unexpectedly.
Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz Page 82