The nobles murmured against this distrust entertained by townspeople; but Pan Andrei, knowing the Radzivill intrigues with the elector, had to gnaw his tongue to refrain from telling what was known to him. He was held back by the thought that it was dangerous in Electoral Prussia to speak openly against the elector; and secondly, because it did not beseem a small gray-coated noble who was going to a fair with horses, to enter into the intricate subject of politics, over which the ablest statesmen were racking their brains to no purpose.
He sold a pair of horses, bought new ones, and journeyed farther, along the Prussian boundary, but by the road leading from Leng to Shchuchyn, situated in the very corner of the province of Mazovia, between Prussia on the one side and the province of Podlyasye on the other. To Shchuchyn Pan Andrei had no wish to go, for he learned that in that town were the quarters of the confederate squadron commanded by Volodyovski.
Volodyovski must have passed over almost the same road on which Kmita was travelling, and stopped before the very boundary of Podlyasye, either for a short rest or for temporary quarters, in Shchuchyn, where it must have been easier to find food for men and horses than in greatly plundered Podlyasye.
Kmita did not wish to meet the famous colonel, for he judged that having no proofs, except words, he would not be able to persuade Volodyovski of his conversion and sincerity. He gave command, therefore, to turn to the west toward Vansosh, ten miles from Shchuchyn. As to the letter he determined to send it to Pan Michael at the first opportunity.
But before arriving at Vansosh, they stopped at a wayside inn called “The Mandrake,” and disposed themselves for a night’s rest, which promised to be comfortable, for there was no one at the inn save the host, a Prussian.
But barely had Kmita with the three Kyemliches and Soroka sat down to supper when the rattling of wheels and the tramp of horses were heard. As the sun had not gone down yet, Kmita went out in front of the inn to see who was coming, for he was curious to know if it was some Swedish party; but instead of Swedes he saw a carriage, and following it two pack-wagons, surrounded by armed men.
At the first glance it was easy to see that some personage was coming. The carriage was drawn by four good Prussian horses, with large bones and rather short backs; a jockey sat on one of the front horses, holding two beautiful dogs in a leash; on the seat was a driver, and at his side a haiduk dressed in Hungarian fashion; in the carriage was the lord himself, in a cloak lined with wolfskin and fastened with numerous gilded buttons.
In the rear followed two wagons, well filled, and at each of them four servants armed with sabres and guns.
The lord, though a personage, was still quite young, a little beyond twenty. He had a plump, red face, and in his whole person there was evidence that he did not stint himself in eating.
When the carriage stopped, the haiduk sprang to give his hand to help down the lord; but the lord, seeing Kmita standing on the threshold, beckoned with his glove, and called, —
“Come this way, my good friend!”
Kmita instead of going to him withdrew to the interior, for anger seized him at once. He had not become accustomed yet to the gray coat, or to being beckoned at with a glove. He went back therefore, sat at the table, and began to eat. The unknown lord came in after him. When he had entered he half closed his eyes, for it was dark in the room, since there was merely a small fire burning in the chimney.
“But why did no one come out as I was driving up?” asked the unknown lord.
“The host has gone to another room,” answered Kmita, “and we are travellers, like your grace.”
“Thank you for the confidence. And what manner of travellers?”
“Oh, a noble travelling with horses.”
“And your company are nobles too?”
“Poor men, but nobles.”
“With the forehead, then, with the forehead. Whither is God guiding you?”
“From fair to fair, to sell horses.”
“If you stay here all night, I’ll see, perhaps I’ll pick out something. Meanwhile will you permit me to join you at the table?”
The unknown lord asked, it is true, if they would let him sit with them, but in such a tone as if he were perfectly sure that they would; and he was not mistaken. The young horse-dealer said, —
“We beg your grace very kindly, though we have nothing to offer but sausage and peas.”
“There are better dainties in my bags,” answered the lordling, not without a certain pride; “but I have a soldier’s palate, and sausage with peas, if well cooked, I prefer to everything.” When he had said this, — and he spoke very slowly, though he looked quickly and sharply, — he took his seat on the bench on which Kmita pushed aside to give convenient room.
“Oh, I beg, I beg, do not incommode yourself. On the road rank is not regarded; and though you were to punch me with your elbow, the crown would not fall from my head.”
Kmita, who was pushing a plate of peas to the unknown, and who, as has been said, was not used to such treatment, would certainly have broken the plate on the head of the puffed up young man if there had not been something in that pride of his which amused Pan Andrei; therefore not only did he restrain his internal impulse at once, but laughed and said, —
“Such times are the present, your grace, that crowns fall from the loftiest heads; for example, our king Yan Kazimir, who by right should wear two crowns, has none, unless it be one of thorns.”
The unknown looked quickly at Kmita, then sighed and said, “Times are such now that it is better not to speak of this unless with confidants.” Then after a moment he added: “But you have brought that out well. You must have served with polished people, for your speech shows more training than your rank.”
“Rubbing against people, I have heard this and that, but I have never been a servant.”
“Whence are you by birth, I beg to ask?”
“From a village in the province of Trotsk.”
“Birth in a village is no drawback, if you are only noble; that’s the main thing. What is to be heard in Lithuania?”
“The old story, — no lack of traitors.”
“Traitors, do you say? What kind of traitors?”
“Those who have deserted the king and the Commonwealth.”
“How is the prince voevoda of Vilna?”
“Sick, it is said; his breath fails him.”
“God give him health, he is a worthy lord!”
“For the Swedes he is, since he opened the gates to them.”
“I see that you are not a partisan of his.”
Kmita noticed that the stranger, while asking him questions as it were good-naturedly, was observing him.
“What do I care!” said he; “let others think of him. My fear is that the Swedes may take my horses in requisition.”
“You should have sold them on the spot, then. In Podlyasye are stationed, very likely, the squadrons which rebelled against the hetman, and surely they have not too many horses.”
“I do not know that, for I have not been among them, though some man in passing gave me a letter to one of their colonels, to be delivered when possible.”
“How could that passing man give you a letter when you are not going to Podlyasye?”
“Because in Shchuchyn one confederate squadron is stationed, therefore the man said to me, ‘Either give it yourself or find an opportunity in passing Shchuchyn.’”
“That comes out well, for I am going to Shchuchyn.”
“Your grace is fleeing also before the Swedes?”
The unknown, instead of an answer, looked at Kmita and asked phlegmatically, “Why do you say also, since you not only are not fleeing from the Swedes, but are going among them and will sell them horses, if they do not take your beasts by force?”
At this Kmita shrugged his shoulders. “I said also, because in Leng I saw many nobles who escaped before the Swedes; and as to me, if all were to serve them as much as I wish to serve them, I think they would not warm the places here l
ong.”
“Are you not afraid to say this?”
“I am not afraid, for I am not a coward, and in the second place your grace is going to Shchuchyn, and there every one says aloud what he thinks. God grant a quick passage from talking to action.”
“I see that you are a man of wit beyond your station,” repeated the unknown. “But if you love not the Swedes, why leave these squadrons, which have mutinied against the hetman? Have they mutinied because their wages were kept back, or from caprice? No! but because they would not serve the hetman and the Swedes. It would have been better for those soldiers, poor fellows, to remain under the hetman, but they preferred to give themselves the name of rebels, to expose themselves to hunger, hardships, and many destructive things, rather than act against the king. That it will come to war between them and the Swedes is certain, and it would have come already were it not that the Swedes have not advanced to that corner as yet. Wait, they will come, they will meet here, and then you will see!”
“I think, too, that war will begin here very soon,” said Kmita.
“Well, if you have such an opinion, and a sincere hatred for the Swedes, — which looks out of your eyes, for you speak truth, I am a judge of that, — then why not join these worthy soldiers? Is it not time, do they not need hands and sabres? Not a few honorable men are serving among them, who prefer their own king to a foreign one, and soon there will be more of these. You come from places in which men know not the Swedes as yet, but those who have made their acquaintance are shedding hot tears. In Great Poland, though it surrendered to them of its own will, they thumbscrew nobles, plunder, make requisitions, seize everything they can. At present in this province their manner is no better. General Stenbok gave forth a manifesto that each man remain quietly at home, and his property would be respected. But what good was in that! The General has his will, and the smallest commandants have theirs, so that no man is sure of to-morrow, nor of what property he holds. Every man wishes to get good of what he has, to use it in peace, wants it to bring him pleasure. But now the first best adventurer will come and say, ‘Give.’ If you do not give, he will find reason to strip you of your property, or without reason will have your head cut off. Many shed bitter tears, when they think of their former king. All are oppressed and look to those confederates unceasingly, to see if some rescue for the country and the people will not come from them.”
“Your grace, as I see, has no better wish for the Swedes than I have,” said Kmita.
The unknown looked around as it were with a certain alarm, but soon calmed himself and spoke on, —
“I would that pestilence crushed them, and I hide that not from you, for it seems to me that you are honest; and though you were not honest, you would not bind me and take me to the Swedes, for I should not yield, having armed men, and a sabre at my side.”
“Your grace may be sure that I will not harm you; your courage is to my heart. And it pleases me that your grace did not hesitate to leave property behind, in which the enemy will not fail to punish you. Such good-will to the country is highly deserving of praise.”
Kmita began unwittingly to speak in a patronizing tone, as a superior to a subordinate, without thinking that such words might seem strange in the mouth of a small horse-dealing noble; but apparently the young lord did not pay attention to that, for he merely winked cunningly and said, —
“But am I a fool? With me the first rule is that my own shall not leave me, for what the Lord God has given must be respected. I stayed at home quietly with my produce and grain, and when I had sold in Prussia all my crops, cattle, and utensils, I thought to myself: ‘It is time for the road. Let them take vengeance on me now, let them take whatever pleases their taste.’”
“Your grace has left the hind and the buildings for good?”
“Yes, for I hired the starostaship of Vansosh from the voevoda of Mazovia, and just now the term has expired. I have not paid the last rent, and I will not, for I hear the voevoda of Mazovia is an adherent of the Swedes. Let the rent be lost to him for that, and it will add to my ready money.”
“‘Pon my word,” said Kmita, smiling, “I see that your grace is not only a brave cavalier, but an adroit one.”
“Of course,” replied the unknown. “Adroitness is the main thing! But I was not speaking of that. Why is it that, feeling the wrongs of our country and of our gracious king, you do not go to those honorable soldiers in Podlyasye and join their banner? You would serve both God and yourself; luck might come, for to more than one has it happened to come out of war a great man, from being a small noble. It is evident that you are bold and resolute, and since your birth is no hindrance, you might advance quickly to some fortune, if God favors you with booty. If you do not squander that which here and there will fall into your hands, the purse will grow heavy. I do not know whether you have land or not, but you may have it; with a purse it is not hard to rent an estate, and from renting an estate to owning one, with the help of the Lord, is not far. And so, beginning as an attendant, you may die an officer, or in some dignity in the country, in case you are not lazy in labor; for whoso rises early, to him God gives treasure.”
Kmita gnawed his mustache, for laughter seized him; then his face quivered, and he squirmed, for from time to time pain came from the healing wound. The unknown continued, —
“As to receiving you there, they will receive you, for they need men; besides, you have pleased me, and I take you under my protection, with which you may be certain of promotion.”
Here the young man raised his plump face with pride, and began to smooth his mustaches; at last he said, —
“Will you be my attendant, carry my sabre, and manage my men?”
Kmita did not restrain himself, but burst out in sincere, joyous laughter, so that all his teeth gleamed.
“Why laugh?” asked the unknown, frowning.
“From delight at the service.”
But the youthful personage was offended in earnest, and said, —
“He was a fool who taught you such manners, and be careful with whom you are speaking, lest you exceed measure in familiarity.”
“Forgive me, your grace,” answered Kmita, joyously, “for really I do not know before whom I am standing.”
The young lord put his hands on his hips: “I am Pan Jendzian of Vansosh,” said he, with importance.
Kmita had opened his mouth to tell his assumed name, when Biloüs came hurriedly into the room.
“Pan Com—”
Here the soldier, stopped by the threatening look of Kmita, was confused, stammered, and finally coughed out with effort, —
“I beg to tell you some people are coming.”
“Where from?”
“From Shchuchyn.”
Kmita was embarrassed, but hiding his confusion quickly, he answered, “Be on your guard. Are there many?”
“About ten men on horseback.”
“Have the pistols ready. Go!”
When the soldier had gone out, Kmita turned to Pan Jendzian of Vansosh and asked, —
“Are they not Swedes?”
“Since you are going to them,” answered Pan Jendzian, who for some time had looked with astonishment on the young noble, “you must meet them sooner or later.”
“I should prefer the Swedes to robbers, of whom there are many everywhere. Whoso goes with horses must go armed and keep on the watch, for horses are very tempting.”
“If it is true that Pan Volodyovski is in Shchuchyn,” said Pan Jendzian, “this is surely a party of his. Before they take up their quarters there they wish to know if the country is safe, for with Swedes at the border it would be difficult to remain in quiet.”
When he heard this, Pan Andrei walked around in the room and sat down in its darkest corner, where the sides of the chimney cast a deep shadow on the corner of the table; but meanwhile the sound of the tramp and snorting of horses came in from outside, and after a time a number of men entered the room.
Walking in advance, a gigantic
fellow struck with wooden foot the loose planks in the floor of the room. Kmita looked at him, and the heart died within his bosom. It was Yuzva Butrym, called Footless.
“But where is the host?” inquired he, halting in the middle of the room.
“I am here!” answered the innkeeper, “at your service.”
“Oats for the horses!”
“I have no oats, except what these men are using.” Saying this, he pointed at Jendzian and the horse-dealer’s men.
“Whose men are you?” asked Jendzian.
“And who are you yourself?”
“The starosta of Vansosh.”
His own people usually called Jendzian starosta, as he was the tenant of a starostaship, and he thus named himself on the most important occasions.
Yuzva Butrym was confused, seeing with what a high personage he had to do; therefore he removed his cap, and said, —
“With the forehead, great mighty lord. It was not possible to recognize dignity in the dark.”
“Whose men are these?” repeated Jendzian, placing his hands on his hips.
“The Lauda men from the former Billevich squadron, and now of Pan Volodyovski’s.”
“For God’s sake! Then Pan Volodyovski is in the town of Shchuchyn?”
“In his own person, and with other colonels who have come from Jmud.”
“Praise be to God, praise be to God!” repeated the delighted starosta. “And what colonels are with Pan Volodyovski?”
“Pan Mirski was,” answered Butrym, “till apoplexy struck him on the road; but Pan Oskyerko is there, and Pan Kovalski, and the two Skshetuskis.”
“What Skshetuskis?” cried Jendzian. “Is not one of them Skshetuski from Bujets?”
Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz Page 147