Skshetuski drew a deep breath, then threw himself on the neck of Jendzian. “You shall be a friend to me, a brother, not a servant. When was Pani Vitovska to come here?”
“The week after I left, but it is now ten days. You lay eight days without consciousness.”
“Let us go, let us go!” exclaimed Skshetuski, “for joy is tearing me to pieces.”
But before he had finished speaking the tramp of horses was heard outside, and the window was suddenly darkened by horses and men.
Skshetuski saw through the glass, first the old priest Tsetsishovski, and then the emaciated faces of Zagloba, Volodyovski, Kushel, and other acquaintances among the red dragoons of the prince. A shout of joy was given forth, and in a moment a crowd of knights with the priest at the head of them burst into the room.
“Peace concluded at Zborovo, the siege raised!” cried the priest.
But Skshetuski inferred this immediately by the look of his companions of Zbaraj; and at once he was in the embraces of Zagloba and Volodyovski, who disputed for him with each other.
“They told us that you were alive,” cried Zagloba, “but the joy is the greater that we see you so soon in health. We have come here for you, purposely. Yan, you don’t know with what glory you have covered yourself, and what reward awaits you.”
“The king has rewarded you,” said the priest, “but the King of Kings has provided something better.”
“I know already,” said Skshetuski. “May God reward you! Jendzian has told all.”
“And joy did not kill you? So much the better! Vivat Skshetuski! vivat the princess!” shouted Zagloba. “Well, Yan, we didn’t whisper a word to you about her, for we didn’t know that she was alive. But Jendzian is a cunning rogue; he escaped with her, vulpes astuta! The prince is waiting for you both. Oh, we went for her to Yagorlik. I killed the hellish monster that was guarding her. Those twelve boys got out of your sight, but now you’ll see them, and more. I’ll have grandchildren, gentlemen! Jendzian, tell us if you met great obstacles. Imagine to yourself that I with Pan Michael checked the whole horde. I rushed first on the Tartar regiment. They were trembling before us; nothing could help them. Pan Michael stood up well too. Where is my daughter? Let me see my daughter.”
“God give you happiness, Yan!” said the little knight, taking Skshetuski again by the shoulders.
“God reward you for all you have done for me! Words fail me. My life and blood would not suffice to repay,” answered Skshetuski.
“Enough of this!” cried Zagloba. “Peace is concluded, — a fool’s peace, gentlemen, but the position was difficult. It is well that we have left that pestilent Zbaraj. There will be peace now, gentlemen. It is by our labors, especially mine; for if Burlai had been living the negotiations would have come to nothing. We’ll go to the wedding. After that, Yan, keep your eyes open. But you cannot guess what a wedding present the prince has for you! I’ll tell you some other time; but where the hangman is my daughter? Let me have my daughter. Bogun won’t get her this time; first he’ll have to break the rope that binds him. Where is my dearest daughter?”
“I was just getting into the saddle to meet Pani Vitovska,” said Skshetuski. “Let us go, for I am losing my senses.”
“Come on, gentlemen! Let us go with him, not to lose time. Come on!”
“The lady of Sandomir cannot be far distant,” said the priest.
“To horse!” added Pan Michael.
But Skshetuski was already outside the door, and sprang on his horse as lightly as if he had not just risen from a bed of sickness. Jendzian kept close to his side, for he preferred not to be alone with the priest. Volodyovski and Zagloba joined them, and they rode as fast as their horses could gallop in advance of all. The whole party of nobles and red dragoons flew along by the Toporoff road like poppy leaves borne by the wind.
“Come on!” cried Zagloba, beating his horse with his heels.
And so they flew on about ten furlongs, till at the turn of the highway they saw before them a line of wagons and carriages surrounded by a number of attendants. Seeing armed men in front of them, some of these hurried with all speed to inquire who they were.
“Ours, from the king’s army!” cried Zagloba. “And who is coming there?”
“The lady of Sandomir,” was the answer. Such emotion seized Skshetuski that not knowing what he did, he slipped from the horse and stood tottering at the roadside. He removed his cap, his temples were covered with drops of perspiration, and he trembled in every limb in presence of his happiness. Pan Michael sprang also from the saddle, and caught his enfeebled friend by the shoulder.
Behind them all the others formed with uncovered heads at the side of the highway. Meanwhile the line of wagons and carriages had come up and begun to pass by. In company with Pani Vitovska were travelling a number of other ladies, who looked with astonishment, not understanding what this military procession at the roadside could mean.
At last, in the centre of the retinue, appeared a carriage richer than the rest. The eyes of the knights beheld through its open windows the dignified countenance of the gray-haired lady, and at her side the sweet and beautiful face of the princess.
“Daughter!” roared Zagloba, rushing straight to the carriage, “daughter! Skshetuski is with us, my daughter!”
They began to cry, “Stop! stop!” along the line. Hurry and confusion followed; then Kushel and Volodyovski conducted or rather drew Skshetuski to the carriage; he had weakened altogether, and became heavier every moment in their hands. His head hung upon his breast; he could walk no farther, and fell on his knees at the steps of the carriage.
But a moment later the strong and beautiful arms of the princess held his weakened and emaciated head.
Zagloba, seeing the astonishment of the lady of Sandomir, cried: “This is Skshetuski, the hero of Zbaraj. He worked through the enemy; he saved the army, the prince, the whole Commonwealth. May God bless them, and long may they live!”
“Long may they live! Vivant! vivant!” cried the nobles.
“Long may they live! Long may they live!” repeated the Vishnyevetski dragoons, till the thunder of their voices was heard over the fields of Toporoff.
“To Tarnopol, to the prince, to the wedding!” cried Zagloba. “Well, daughter, your sorrows are over, and for Bogun the executioner and the sword.”
The priest Tsetsishovski had his eyes raised to heaven, and his lips repeated the wonderful words: “They sowed in tears, and reaped in joy.”
Skshetuski was seated in the carriage at the side of the princess, and the retinue moved on. The day was wonderfully bright; the oak-groves and the fields were floating in sunlight. Low down on the fallow land, and higher above them, and still higher in the blue air drifted here and there silver threads of spider-web, which in the later autumn cover the fields in those parts as if with snow. And there was great stillness all around; but the horses snorted distinctly in the retinue.
“Pan Michael,” said Zagloba, knocking his stirrup against that of Volodyovski, “something has caught me by the throat, and holds me as in that hour when Pan Longin — eternal rest to him! — went out from Zbaraj. But when I think that these two have found each other at last, it is as light in my heart as if I had drunk a quart at a draught. If the accident of marriage does not strike you, in old age we’ll nurse their children. Every one is born for something special, Pan Michael, and both of us it seems are better for war than wedlock.”
The little knight made no answer, but began to move his mustaches more vigorously than usual.
They were going to Toporoff and thence to Tarnopol, where they were to join Prince Yeremi, and thence with his troops to the wedding at Lvoff. On the way Zagloba told the lady of Sandomir what had happened recently. She learned therefore that the king, after a murderous, indecisive battle, had concluded a treaty with the Khan, not over favorable, but securing peace to the Commonwealth, for some time at least. Hmelnitski in virtue of the treaty remained hetman, and had the right to select for
himself forty thousand registered Cossacks, for which concession he swore loyalty and obedience to the king and the estates.
“It is an undoubted fact,” said Zagloba, “that it will come to war again with Hmelnitski; but if only the baton does not pass by our prince, all will go differently.”
“Tell Skshetuski the most important thing,” said Volodyovski, urging his horse nearer.
“True,” answered Zagloba, “I wanted to begin with that, but I couldn’t catch my breath till now. You know nothing, Yan, of what has happened since you came out, — that Bogun is a captive of the prince.”
Skshetuski and the princess were astonished at this unexpected news to such a degree that they could not speak a word. Helena merely raised her hands, a moment of silence followed; then she asked: “How? In what manner?”
“The finger of God is there,” answered Zagloba,— “nothing else but the finger of God. The negotiations were concluded, and we were just marching out of that pestilent Zbaraj. The prince hurried with the cavalry to the left wing to watch lest the horde should attack the army, for frequently they do not observe treaties; when suddenly a leader with three hundred horse rushed upon the cavalry of the prince.”
“Only Bogun could do such a thing,” said Skshetuski.
“It was he too. But it is not for Cossacks to fall upon soldiers of Zbaraj. Pan Michael surrounded and cut them to pieces; and Bogun, wounded by him a second time, went into captivity. He has no luck with Pan Michael, and he must be convinced of it now, since that was the third time he tried him; but he was only looking for death.”
“It appeared,” added Volodyovski, “that Bogun wished to reach Zbaraj from Valadinka; but the road was a long one. He failed; and when he learned that peace was concluded, his mind was confused from rage, and he cared for nothing.”
“Who draws the sword will perish by the sword, for such is the fickleness of fortune,” said Zagloba. “He is a mad Cossack, and the madder since he is desperate. A terrible uproar arose on his account between us and ruffiandom. We thought that it would come to war again, for the prince cried first of all that they had broken the treaty. Hmelnitski wanted to save Bogun; but the Khan was enraged at him, for, said he, ‘he has exposed my word and my oath to contempt.’ The Khan threatened Hmelnitski with war, and sent a messenger to the king with notice that Bogun was a private robber, and with a request that the prince would not hesitate, but treat Bogun as a bandit. It is probable too that it was important for the Khan to get the captives away in quiet. Of these the Tartars have taken so many that it will be possible to buy a man in Stamboul for two hob-nails.”
“What did the prince do with Bogun?” inquired Skshetuski, unquietly.
“The prince was about to give orders to shave a stake for him at once, but he changed his mind and said: ‘I’ll give him to Skshetuski; let him do what he likes with him.’ Now the Cossack is in Tarnopol under ground; the barber is taking care of his head. My God, how many times the soul tried to go out of that man! Never have dogs torn the skin of any wolf as we have his. Pan Michael alone bit him three times. But he is a solid piece; though, to tell the truth, an unhappy man. But let the hangman light him! I have no longer any ill-feeling against him, except that he threatened me terribly and without cause; for I drank with him, associated with him as with an equal, till he raised his hand against you, my daughter. I might have finished him at Rozlogi. But I know of old that there is no thankfulness in the world, and there are few who give good for good. Let him—” Here Zagloba began to nod his head. “And what will you do with him, Yan?” asked he. “The soldiers say you will make an outrider of him, for he is a showy fellow; but I cannot believe you would do that.”
“Surely I shall not. He is a soldier of eminent daring, and because he is unhappy is another reason that I should not disgrace him with any servile function.”
“May God forgive him everything!” said the princess.
“Amen!” answered Zagloba. “He prays to Death, as to a mother, to take him, and he surely would have found it if he had not been late at Zbaraj.”
All grew silent, meditating on the marvellous changes of fortune, till in the distance appeared Grabovo, where they stopped for their first refreshments. They found there a crowd of soldiers returning from Zborovo; Vitovski, the castellan of Sandomir, who was going with his regiment to meet his wife, and Marek Sobieski, with Pshiyemski and many nobles of the general militia who were returning home by that road. The castle at Grabovo had been burned, as well as all the other buildings; but as the day was wonderful, — warm and calm, — without seeking shelter for their heads, all disposed themselves in the oak-grove under the open sky. Large supplies of food and drink were brought, and the servants immediately set about preparing the evening meal. Pan Vitovski had tents pitched in the oak grove for the ladies and the dignitaries, — a real camp, as it were. The knights collected before the tents, wishing to see the princess and Pan Yan. Others spoke of the past war; those who had not been at Zbaraj asked the soldiers of the prince for the details of the siege; and it was noisy and joyous, especially since God had given so beautiful a day.
Zagloba, telling for the thousandth time how he had killed Burlai, took the lead among the nobles; Jendzian, among the servants who were preparing the meal. But the adroit young fellow seized the fitting moment, and drawing Skshetuski a little aside, bent obediently to his feet. “My master,” said he, “I should like to beg a favor.”
“It would be difficult for me to refuse you anything,” answered Skshetuski, “since through you everything that is best has come to pass.”
“I thought at once,” said the youth, “that you were preparing some reward for me.”
“Tell me what you want.”
Jendzian’s ruddy face grew dark, and from his eyes shot hatred and stubbornness. “One favor I ask, — nothing more do I want. Give me Bogun, my master.”
“Bogun!” said Skshetuski, with astonishment. “What do you want to do with him?”
“Oh, my master, I’ll think of that. I’ll see that my own is not lost, and that he shall pay me with interest for having put me to shame in Chigirin. I know surely that you will have him put out of the way. Let me pay him first.”
Skshetuski’s brows contracted. “Impossible!” said he, with decision.
“Oh, for God’s sake! I’d rather die,” cried Jendzian, piteously. “To think that I have lived for disgrace to fasten to me.”
“Ask what you like, I’ll refuse you nothing; but this cannot be. Ask your grandfather if it is not more sinful to keep such a promise than to abandon it. Do not touch God’s punishing hand with your own, lest you suffer. Be ashamed, Jendzian! This man as it is prays to God for death; and besides he is wounded and in bonds. What do you want to be to him, — an executioner? Do you want to put shame on a man in bonds, to kill a wounded man? Are you a Tartar or a Cossack man-slayer? While I live I will not permit this, and do not mention it to me!”
In the voice of Pan Yan there was so much power and will that the youth lost every hope at once; therefore he added with a tearful voice: “When he is well he could manage two like me, and when he is sick it is not becoming to take vengeance. When shall I pay him for what I have suffered?”
“Leave vengeance to God,” said Pan Yan.
The youth opened his mouth. He wished to say something more, inquire about something; but Pan Yan turned away and went to the tents, before which a large assembly had collected. In the centre sat Pani Vitovska, at her side the princess, around them the knights. In front of them stood Zagloba, cap in hand. He was telling those who had been only at Zborovo of the siege of Zbaraj. All listened to him with breathless attention; their faces moved with emotion, and those who had not taken part in the siege regretted that they had not been there. Pan Yan sat near the princess, and taking her hand, pressed it to his lips: then they leaned one against the other and sat quietly. The sun was already leaving the sky, and evening was gradually coming. Skshetuski was lost in attention, as if hearing
something new for himself. Zagloba wiped his brows, and his voice sounded louder and louder. Fresh memory or imagination brought before the eyes of the knights those bloody deeds. They saw therefore the ramparts as if surrounded by a sea, and the raging assaults; they heard the tumult and the howling, the roar of cannon and musketry; they saw the prince, in silver armor, standing on the ramparts, amidst the hail of bullets; then suffering, famine; those red nights in which death circled like a great ill-omened bird over the intrenchments; the departure of Podbipienta, of Skshetuski. All listened, sometimes raising their eyes to heaven or grasping their swords, and Zagloba finished thus: —
“It is now one tomb, one mighty mound; and if beneath it are not now lying the glory of the Commonwealth, the flower of its knighthood, the prince voevoda, I, and all of us, whom the Cossacks themselves call the lions of Zbaraj, it is owing to him!” And he pointed to Skshetuski.
“True as life!” cried Marek Sobieski and Pan Pshiyemski.
“Glory to him, — honor, thanks!” strong voices began to cry. “Vivat Skshetuski! vivat the young couple! Long life to the hero!” was cried louder and louder.
Enthusiasm seized all present. Some ran for the goblets; others threw their caps in the air. The soldiers began to rattle their sabres, and soon was heard one general shout: “Glory! glory! Long life!”
Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz Page 92