Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  “That is nothing, your highness. Whoso has a clean conscience fears no man.”

  “I thought that all the Radzivills at least would be on my side, but see what Prince Michael writes from Nyesvyej.”

  Here the hetman gave Kmita the letter of Kazimir Michael. Pan Andrei cast his eyes over the letter.

  “If I knew not the intentions of your highness I should think him right, and the most virtuous man in the world. God give him everything good! He speaks what he thinks.”

  “Set out now!” said the prince, with a certain impatience.

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  Kmita, however, did not start that day, nor the following, for threatening news began to arrive at Kyedani from every side. Toward evening a courier rushed in with tidings that Mirski’s squadron and Stankyevich’s also were marching to the hetman’s residence, prepared to demand with armed hand their colonels; that there was terrible agitation among them, and that the officers had sent deputations to all the squadrons posted near Kyedani, and farther on to Podlyasye and Zabludovo, with news of the hetman’s treason, and with a summons to unite in defence of the country. From this it was easy to see that multitudes of nobles would fly to the insurgent squadrons and form an important force, which it would be difficult to resist in unfortified Kyedani, especially since not every regiment which Radzivill had at hand could be relied on with certainty.

  This changed all the calculations and plans of the hetman; but instead of weakening, it seemed to rouse his courage still more. He determined to move at the head of his faithful Scottish regiments, cavalry and artillery, against the insurgents, and stamp out the fire at its birth. He knew that the soldiers without colonels were simply an unorganized throng, that would scatter from terror at the mere name of the hetman. He determined also not to spare blood, and to terrify with examples the whole army, all the nobles, nay, all Lithuania, so that it should not dare even to tremble beneath his iron hand. Everything that he had planned must be accomplished, and accomplished with his own forces.

  That very day a number of foreign officers went to Prussia to make new enlistments, and Kyedani was swarming with armed men. The Scottish regiments, the foreign cavalry, the dragoons of Myeleshko and Kharlamp, with the “fire people” of Pan Korf, were preparing for the campaign. The prince’s haiduks, his servants, and the citizens of Kyedani were obliged to increase the military forces; and it was determined to hasten the transfer of the prisoners to Birji, where it would be safer to keep them than in exposed Kyedani. The prince hoped with reason that to transport the colonels to a remote fortress, in which, according to treaty, there must be a Swedish garrison already, would destroy in the minds of the rebellious soldiers all hope of rescuing them, and deprive the rebellion itself of every basis. Pan Zagloba, the Skshetuskis, and Volodyovski were to share the lot of the others.

  It was already evening when an officer with lantern in hand entered the cellar in which they were, and said, —

  “Prepare, gentlemen, to follow me.”

  “Whither?” asked Zagloba, with a voice of alarm.

  “That will be seen. Hurry, hurry!”

  “We come.”

  They went out. In the corridor Scottish soldiers armed with muskets surrounded them. Zagloba grew more and more alarmed.

  “Still they would not lead us to death without a priest, without confession,” whispered he in the ear of Volodyovski. Then he turned to the officer; “What is your rank, I pray?”

  “What is my rank to you?”

  “I have many relatives in Lithuania, and it is pleasant to know with whom one has to do.”

  “No time for inquiries, but he is a fool who is ashamed of his name. I am Roh Kovalski, if you wish to know.”

  “That is an honorable stock! The men are good soldiers, the women are virtuous. My grandmother was a Kovalski, but she made an orphan of me before I came to the world. Are you from the Vyerush, or the Korab Kovalskis?”

  “Do you want to examine me as a witness, in the night?”

  “Oh, I do this because you are surely a relative of mine, for we have the same build. You have large bones and shoulders, just like mine, and I got my form from my grandmother.”

  “Well, we can talk about that on the road. We shall have time!”

  “On the road?” said Zagloba; and a great weight fell from his breast. He breathed like a bellows, and gained courage at once.

  “Pan Michael,” whispered he, “did I not say that they would not cut our heads off?”

  Meanwhile they had reached the courtyard. Night had fallen completely. In places red torches were burning or lanterns gleaming, throwing an uncertain light on groups of soldiers, horse and foot, of various arms. The whole court was crowded with troops. Clearly they were ready to march, for a great movement was manifest on all sides. Here and there in the darkness gleamed lances and gun-barrels; horses’ hoofs clattered on the pavement; single horsemen hurried between the squadrons, — undoubtedly officers giving commands.

  Kovalski stopped the convoy and the prisoners before an enormous wagon drawn by four horses, and having a box made as it were of ladders.

  “Take your places, gentlemen,” said he.

  “Some one is sitting there already,” said Zagloba, clambering up. “But our packs?”

  “They are under the straw,” said Kovalski; “hurry, hurry!”

  “But who are sitting here?” asked Zagloba, looking at dark figures stretched on the straw.

  “Mirski, Stankyevich, Oskyerko,” answered voices.

  “Volodyovski, Yan and Stanislav Skshetuski, and Zagloba,” answered our knights.

  “With the forehead, with the forehead!”

  “With the forehead! We are travelling in honorable company. And whither are they taking us, do you know, gentlemen?”

  “You are going to Birji,” said Kovalski.

  When he said this, he gave the command. A convoy of fifty dragoons surrounded the wagon and moved on. The prisoners began to converse in a low voice.

  “They will give us to the Swedes,” said Mirski; “I expected that.”

  “I would rather sit among enemies than traitors,” answered Stankyevich.

  “And I would rather have a bullet in my forehead,” said Volodyovski, “than sit with folded arms during such an unfortunate war.”

  “Do not blaspheme, Michael,” answered Zagloba, “for from the wagon, should a convenient moment come, you may give a plunge, and from Birji also; but it is hard to escape with a bullet in the forehead. I foresaw that that traitor would not dare to put bullets in our heads.”

  “Is there a thing which Radzivill does not dare to do?” asked Mirski. “It is clear that you have come from afar and know him not. On whomsoever he has sworn vengeance, that man is as good as in the grave; and I remember no instance of his forgiving any one the slightest offence.”

  “But still he did not dare to raise hands on me!” answered Zagloba. “Who knows if you have not to thank me for your lives?”

  “And how?”

  “Because the Khan loves me wonderfully, for I discovered a conspiracy against his life when I was a captive in the Crimea. And our gracious king, Yan Kazimir, loves me too. Radzivill, the son of a such a one, did not wish to break with two such potentates; for they might reach him, even in Lithuania.”

  “Ah! what are you saying? He hates the king as the devil does holy water, and would be still more envenomed against you did he know you to be a confidant of the king,” observed Stankyevich.

  “I think this,” said Oskyerko. “To avoid odium the hetman would not stain himself with our blood, but I could swear that this officer is bearing an order to the Swedes in Birji to shoot us on the spot.”

  “Oi!” exclaimed Zagloba.

  They were silent for a moment; meanwhile the wagon had rolled into the square of Kyedani. The town was sleeping, there were no lights in the windows, only the dogs before the houses snapped angrily at the passing party.

  “Well,” said Zagloba, “we have gained t
ime anyhow, and perhaps a chance will serve us, and some stratagem may come to my head.” Here he turned to the old colonels: “Gentlemen, you know me little, but ask my comrades about the hot places in which I have been, and from which I have always escaped. Tell me, what kind of officer is this who commands the convoy? Could he be persuaded not to adhere to a traitor, but take the side of his country and join us?”

  “That is Roh Kovalski of the Korab Kovalskis,” answered Oskyerko.

  “I know him. You might as well persuade his horse as him; for as God is bountiful I know not which is more stupid.”

  “But why did they make him officer?”

  “He carried the banner with Myeleshko’s dragoons; for this no wit is needed. But he was made officer because his fist pleased the prince; for he breaks horseshoes, wrestles with tame bears, and the man has not yet been discovered whom he cannot bring to the earth.”

  “Has he such strength?”

  “That he has such strength is true; but were his superior to order him to batter down a wall with his head he would fall to battering it without a moment’s delay. He is ordered to take us to Birji, and he will take us, even if the earth had to sink.”

  “‘Pon my word,” said Zagloba, who listened to this conversation with great attention, “he is a resolute fellow.”

  “Yes, but with him resolution consists in stupidity alone. When he has time, and is not eating, he is sleeping. It is an astonishing thing, which you will not believe; but once he slept forty-eight hours in the barracks, and yawned when they dragged him from the plank bed.”

  “This officer pleases me greatly,” said Zagloba, “for I always like to know with whom I have to do.”

  When he had said this he turned to Kovalski. “But come this way, please!” cried he, in a patronizing tone.

  “What is it?” asked Kovalski, turning his horse.

  “Have you gorailka?”

  “I have.”

  “Give it!”

  “How give it?”

  “You know, gracious Kovalski, if it were not permitted you would have had an order not to give it; but since you have not an order, give it.”

  “Ah,” said Kovalski, astonished, “as I live! but that is like forcing.”

  “Forcing or not forcing, it is permitted you; and it is proper to assist a blood relative and an older man, who, if he had married your mother, might have been your father as easily as wink.”

  “What relative are you of mine?”

  “I am, for there are two stocks of Kovalskis, — they who use the seal of Vyerush and have a goat painted on their shield, with upraised hind leg; and they who have on their shield the ship in which their ancestor Kovalski sailed from England across the sea to Poland; and these are my relatives, through my grandmother, and this is why I, too, have the ship on my shield.”

  “As God lives! you are my relative.”

  “Are you a Korab (ship)?”

  “A Korab.”

  “My own blood, as God is dear to me!” cried Zagloba. “It is lucky that we have met, for in very truth I have come here to Lithuania to see the Kovalskis; and though I am in bonds while you are on horseback and in freedom I would gladly embrace you, for what is one’s own is one’s own.”

  “How can I help you? They commanded me to take you to Birji; I will take you. Blood is blood, but service is service.”

  “Call me Uncle,” said Zagloba.

  “Here is gorailka for you, Uncle,” said Kovalski; “I can do that much.”

  Zagloba took the flask gladly, and drank to his liking. Soon a pleasant warmth spread through his members. It began to grow clear in his brain, and his mind became bright.

  “Come down from the horse,” said he to Kovalski, “and sit here a short time in the wagon; let us talk, for I should like to have you say something about our family. I respect service, but this too is permitted.”

  Kovalski did not answer for a while.

  “This was not forbidden,” said he, at last.

  Soon after he was sitting at the side of Zagloba, and stretched himself gladly on the straw with which the wagon was filled.

  Zagloba embraced him heartily.

  “How is the health of thy old father? — God help me, — I’ve forgotten his name.”

  “Roh, also.”

  “That’s right, that’s right. Roh begat Roh, — that is according to command. You must call your son Roh as well, so that every hoopoo may have his topknot. But are you married?”

  “Of course! I am Kovalski, and here is Pani Kovalski; I don’t want any other.”

  So saying, the young officer raised to the eyes of Zagloba the hilt of a heavy dragoon sabre, and repeated, “I don’t want any other.”

  “Proper!” said Zagloba. “Roh, son of Roh, you are greatly pleasing to me. A soldier is best accommodated when he has no wife save such a one, and I will say more, — she will be a widow before you will be a widower. The only pity is that you cannot have young Rohs by her, for I see that you are a keen cavalier, and it would be a sin were such a stock to die out.”

  “Oh, no fear of that!” said Kovalski; “there are six brothers of us.”

  “And all Kohs?”

  “Does Uncle know that if not the first, then the second, has to be Roh? — for Roh is our special patron.”

  “Let us drink again.”

  “Very well.”

  Zagloba raised the bottle; he did not drink all, however, but gave it to the officer and said, “To the bottom, to the bottom! It is a pity that I cannot see you,” continued he. “The night is so dark that you might hit a man in the face, you would not know your own fingers by sight. But hear me, Roh, where was that army going from Kyedani when we drove out?”

  “Against the insurgents.”

  “The Most High God knows who is insurgent, — you or they.”

  “I an insurgent? How could that be? I do what my hetman commands.”

  “But the hetman does not do what the king commands, for surely the king did not command him to join the Swedes. Would you not rather slay the Swedes than give me, your relative, into their hands?”

  “I might; but for every command there is obedience.”

  “And Pani Kovalski would rather slay Swedes; I know her. Speaking between us, the hetman has rebelled against the king and the country. Don’t say this to any one, but it is so; and those who serve him are rebels too.”

  “It is not proper for me to hear this. The hetman has his superior, and I have mine; what is his own belongs to the hetman, and God would punish me if I were to oppose him. That is an unheard of thing.”

  “You speak honestly; but think, Roh, if you were to happen into the hands of those insurgents, I should be free, and it would be no fault of yours, for nec Hercules contra plures! — I do not know where those squadrons are, but you must know, and you see we might turn toward them a little.”

  “How is that?”

  “As if we went by chance to them? It would not be your fault if they rescued us. You would not have me on your conscience, — and to have a relative on a man’s conscience, believe me, is a terrible burden.”

  “Oh Uncle, what are you saying! As God lives, I will leave the wagon and sit on my horse. It is not I who will have uncle on my conscience, but the hetman. While I live, nothing will come of this talk.”

  “Nothing is nothing!” said Zagloba; “I prefer that you speak sincerely, though I was your uncle before Radzivill was your hetman. And do you know, Roh, what an uncle is?”

  “An uncle is an uncle.”

  “You have calculated very adroitly; but when a man has no father, the Scriptures say that he must obey his uncle. The power of an uncle is as that of a father, which it is a sin to resist. For consider even this, that whoever marries may easily become a father; but in your uncle flows the same blood as in your mother. I am not in truth the brother of your mother, but my grandmother must have been your grandmother’s aunt. Know then that the authority of several generations rests in me; for like everythi
ng else in the world we are mortal, therefore authority passes from one of us to another, and neither the hetman nor the king can ignore it, nor force any one to oppose it. It is sacred! Has the full hetman or even the grand hetman the right to command not merely a noble or an officer, but any kind of camp-follower, to rise up against his father, his mother, his grandfather, or his blind old grandmother? Answer me that, Roh. Has he the right?”

  “What?” asked Kovalski, with a sleepy voice.

  “Against his blind old grandmother!” repeated Zagloba. “Who in that case would be willing to marry and beget children, or wait for grandchildren? Answer me that, Roh.”

  “I am Kovalski, and this is Pani Kovalski,” said the still sleepier officer.

  “If it is your wish, let it be so,” answered Zagloba. “Better indeed that you have no children, there will be fewer fools to storm around in the world. Is it not true, Roh?”

  Zagloba held down his ear, but heard nothing, — no answer now.

  “Roh! Roh!” called he, in a low voice.

  Kovalski was sleeping like a dead man.

  “Are you sleeping?” muttered Zagloba. “Wait a bit — I will take this iron pot off your head, for it is of no use to you. This cloak is too tight at the throat; it might cause apoplexy. What sort of relative were I, did I not save you?”

  Here Zagloba’s hands began to move lightly about the head and neck of Kovalski. In the wagon all were in a deep sleep; the soldiers too nodded in the saddles; some in front were singing in a low voice, while looking out the road carefully, — for the night, though not rainy, was exceedingly dark.

  After a time, however, the soldier leading Kovalski’s horse behind the wagon saw in the darkness the cloak and bright helmet of his officer. Kovalski, without stopping the wagon, slipped out and nodded to give him the horse. In a moment he mounted.