Meanwhile the horses came from Perespa, and Zamoyski presented the knight with a steed beautiful beyond admiration; the steed he received with thankfulness, thinking in his soul that he would ride farther on him than Zamoyski expected. He thought also of his Tartars, who must now be in the forest, and wild laughter seized him. At times again he was indignant in soul, and promised to give the master of Zamost a lesson.
Finally the hour of dinner came, which passed in great gloom. Anusia had red eyes; the officers were in deep silence. Pan Zamoyski alone was cheerful, and gave orders to fill the goblets; Kmita emptied his, one after another. But when the hour of parting came, not many persons took leave of the travellers, for Zamoyski had sent the officers to their service. Anusia fell at the feet of the princess, and for a long time could not be removed from her; the princess herself had evident disquiet in her face. Perhaps she reproached herself in secret for permitting the departure of a faithful servant at a period when mishap might come easily. But the loud weeping of Michael, who held his fists to his eyes, crying like a school-boy, confirmed the proud lady in her conviction that it was needful to stifle the further growth of this boyish affection. Besides, she was quieted by the hope that in the family of Sapyeha the young lady would find protection, safety, and also the great fortune which was to settle her fate for the rest of her life.
“I commit her to your virtue, bravery, and honor,” said the princess once more to Kmita; “and remember that you have sworn to me to conduct her to Pan Sapyeha without fail.”
“I will take her as I would a glass, and in need will wind oakum around her, because I have given my word; death alone will prevent me from keeping it,” answered the knight.
He gave his arm to Anusia, but she was angry and did not look at him; he had treated her rather slightingly, therefore she gave him her hand very haughtily, turning her face and head in another direction.
She was sorry to depart, and fear seized her; but it was too late then to draw back.
The moment came; they took their seats, — she in the carriage with her old servant, Panna Suvalski, he on his horse, — and they started. Twelve German horsemen surrounded the carriage and the wagon with Anusia’s effects. When at last the doors in the Warsaw gate squeaked and the rattle of wheels was heard on the drop-bridge, Anusia burst into loud weeping.
Kmita bent toward the carriage. “Fear not, my lady, I will not eat you!”
“Clown!” thought Anusia.
They rode some time along the houses outside the walls, straight toward Old Zamost; then they entered fields and a pine-wood, which in those days stretched along a hilly country to the Bug on one side; on the other it extended, interrupted by villages, to Zavihost.
Night had fallen, but very calm and clear; the road was marked by a silver line; only the rolling of the carriage and the tramp of the horses broke the silence.
“My Tartars must be lurking here like wolves in a thicket,” thought Kmita.
Then he bent his ear.
“What is that?” asked he of the officer who was leading the escort.
“A tramp! Some horseman is galloping after us!” answered the officer.
He had barely finished speaking when a Cossack hurried up on a foaming horse, crying, —
“Pan Babinich! Pan Babinich! A letter from Pan Zamoyski.”
The retinue halted. The Cossack gave the letter to Kmita.
Kmita broke the seal, and by the light of a lantern read as follows: —
“Gracious and dearest Pan Babinich! Soon after the departure of Panna Borzobogati tidings came to us that the Swedes not only have not left Lublin, but that they intend to attack my Zamost. In view of this, further journeying and peregrination become inconvenient. Considering therefore the dangers to which a fair head might be exposed, we wish to have Panna Borzobogati in Zamost. Those same knights will bring her back; but you, who must be in haste to continue your journey, we do not wish to trouble uselessly. Announcing which will of ours to your grace, we beg you to give orders to the horseman according to our wishes.”
“Still he is honest enough not to attack my life; he only wishes to make a fool of me,” thought Kmita. “But we shall soon see if there is a trap here or not.”
Now Anusia put her head out of the window. “What is the matter?” asked she.
“Nothing! Pan Zamoyski commends you once more to my bravery. Nothing more.”
Here he turned to the driver, —
“Forward!”
The officer leading the horsemen reined in his horse. “Stop!” cried he to the driver. Then to Kmita, “Why move on?”
“But why halt longer in the forest?” asked Kmita, with the face of a stupid rogue.
“For you have received some order.”
“And what is that to you? I have received, and that is why I command to move on.”
“Stop!” repeated the officer.
“Move on!” repeated Kmita.
“What is this?” inquired Anusia again.
“We will not go a step farther till I see the order!” said the officer, with decision.
“You will not see the order, for it is not sent to you.”
“Since you will not obey it, I will carry it out. You move on to Krasnystav, and have a care lest we give you something for the road, but we will go home with the lady.”
Kmita only wished the officer to acknowledge that he knew the contents of the order; this proved with perfect certainty that the whole affair was a trick arranged in advance.
“Move on with God!” repeated the officer now, with a threat.
At that moment the horsemen began one after another to take out their sabres.
“Oh, such sons! not to Zamost did you wish to take the maiden, but aside somewhere, so that Pan Zamoyski might give free reign to his wishes; but you have met with a more cunning man!” When Babinich had said this, he fired upward from a pistol.
At this sound there was such an uproar in the forest, as if the shot had roused whole legions of wolves sleeping near by. The howl was heard in front, behind, from the sides. At once the tramp of horses sounded with the cracking of limbs breaking under their hoofs, and on the road were seen black groups of horsemen, who approached with unearthly howling.
“Jesus! Mary! Joseph!” cried the terrified women in the carriage.
Now the Tartars rushed up like a cloud; but Kmita restrained them with a triple cry, and turning to the astonished officer, began to boast, —
“Know whom you have met! Pan Zamoyski wished to make a fool of me, a blind instrument. To you he intrusted the functions of a pander, which you undertook, Sir Officer for the favor of a master. How down to Zamoyski from Babinich, and tell him that the maiden will go safely to Pan Sapyeha.”
The officer looked around with frightened glance, and saw the wild faces gazing with terrible eagerness on him and his men. It was evident that they were waiting only for a word to hurl themselves on the twelve horsemen and tear them in pieces.
“Your grace, you will do what you wish, for we cannot manage superior power,” said he, with trembling voice “but Pan Zamoyski is able to avenge himself.”
Kmita laughed. “Let him avenge himself on you; for had it not come out that you knew the contents of the order and had you not opposed the advance, I should not have been sure of the trick, and should have given you the maiden straightway. Tell the starosta to appoint a keener pander than you.”
The calm tone with which Kmita said this assured the officer somewhat, at least on this point, — that death did not threaten either him or his troopers; therefore he breathed easily, and said, —
“And must we return with nothing to Zamost?”
“You will return with my letter, which will be written on the skin of each one of you.”
“Your grace—”
“Take them!” cried Kmita; and he seized the officer himself by the shoulder.
An uproar and struggle began around the carriage. The shouts of the Tartars deadened the cries for assi
stance and the screams of terror coming from the breasts of the women.
But the struggle did not last long, for a few minutes later the horsemen were lying on the road tied, one at the side of the other.
Kmita gave command to flog them with bullock-skin whips, but not beyond measure, so that they might retain strength to walk back to Zamost. The common soldiers received one hundred, and the officer a hundred and fifty lashes, in spite of the prayers and entreaties of Anusia, who not knowing what was passing around her, and thinking that she had fallen into terrible hands, began to implore with joined palms and tearful eyes for her life.
“Spare my life, knight! In what am I guilty before you? Spare me, spare me!”
“Be quiet, young lady!” roared Kmita.
“In what have I offended?”
“Maybe you are in the plot yourself?”
“In what plot? O God, be merciful to me, a sinner!”
“Then you did not know that Pan Zamoyski only permitted your departure apparently, so as to separate you from the princess and carry you off on the road, to make an attempt on your honor in some empty castle?”
“O Jesus of Nazareth!” screamed Anusia.
And there was so much truth and sincerity in that cry that Kmita said more mildly, —
“How is that? Then you were not in the plot? That may be!”
Anusia covered her face with her hands, but she could say nothing; she merely repeated, time after time, —
“Jesus, Mary! Jesus, Mary!”
“Calm yourself,” said Kmita, still more mildly. “You will go in safety to Pan Sapyeha, for Pan Zamoyski did not know with whom he had to deal. See, those men whom they are flogging were to carry you off. I give them their lives, so that they may tell Pan Zamoyski how smoothly it went with them.”
“Then have you defended me from shame?”
“I have, though I did not know whether you would be glad.”
Anusia, instead of making answer or contradiction, seized Pan Andrei’s hand and pressed it to her pale lips; and sparks went from his feet to his head.
“Give peace, for God’s sake!” cried he. “Sit in the carriage, for you will wet your feet — and be not afraid! You would not be better cared for with your mother.”
“I will go now with you even to the end of the world.”
“Do not say such things.”
“God will reward you for defending honor.”
“It is the first time that I have had the opportunity,” said Kmita. And then he muttered in an undertone to himself: “So far I have defended her as much as a cat sheds tears.”
Meanwhile the Tartars had ceased to beat the horsemen and Pan Andrei gave command to drive them naked and bloody along the road toward Zamost. They went, weeping bitterly. Their horses, weapons, and clothing Kmita gave his Tartars; and then moved on quickly, for it was unsafe to loiter.
On the road the young knight could not restrain himself from looking into the carriage to gaze at the flashing eyes and wonderful face of the maiden. He asked each time if she did not need something, if the carriage was convenient, or the quick travelling did not tire her too much.
She answered, with thankfulness, that it was pleasant to her as it had never been. She had recovered from her terror completely. Her heart rose in gratitude to her defender, and she thought: “He is not so rude and surly as I held at first.”
“Ai, Olenka, what do I suffer for you!” said Kmita to himself; “do you not feed me with ingratitude? Had this been in old times, u-ha!”
Then he remembered his comrades and the various deeds of violence which he had committed in company with them; then he began to drive away temptation, began to repeat for their unhappy souls, “Eternal rest.”
When they had reached Krasnystav, Kmita considered it better not to wait for news from Zamost, and went on farther. But at parting he wrote and sent to Zamoyski the following letter: —
Serene Great Mighty Lord Starosta, and to me very Gracious Favorer and Benefactor! Whomsoever God has made great in the world, to him He deals out wit in more bountiful measure. I knew at once that you, Serene Great Mighty Lord, only wished to put me on trial, when you sent the order to give up Panna Borzobogati. I knew this all the better when the horsemen betrayed that they knew the substance of the order, though I did not show them the letter, and though you wrote to me that the idea came to you only after my departure. As on the one hand I admire all the more your penetration, so on the other, to put the careful guardian more completely at rest, I promise anew that nothing will suffice to lead me away from fulfilling the function imposed on me. But since those soldiers, evidently misunderstanding your intention, turned out to be great ruffians, and even threatened my life, I think that I should have hit upon your thought if I had commanded to hang them. Because I did not do so, I beg your forgiveness; still I gave orders to flog them properly with bullock-skin whips, which punishment, if your Great Mighty Lordship considers it too small, you can increase according to your will. With this, hoping that I have earned the increased confidence and gratitude of your Serene Great Mighty Lordship, I subscribe myself the faithful and well-wishing servant of your Serene Great Mighty Lordship.
Babinich.
The dragoons, when they had dragged themselves to Zamost late at night, did not dare to appear before the eyes of their master; therefore he learned of the whole matter from this letter which the Krasnystav Cossack brought next day.
After he had read Kmita’s letter, Zamoyski shut himself up in his rooms for three days, admitting no attendant save the chamber servants, who brought him his food. They heard, also, how he swore in French, which he did only when he was in the greatest fury.
By degrees, however, the storm was allayed. On the fourth day and fifth Zamoyski was still very silent; he was ruminating over something and pulling at his mustache; in a week, when he was very pleasant and had drunk a little at table, he began to twirl his mustache, not to pull it, and said to Princess Griselda, —
“Lady Sister, you know that there is no lack of penetration in me; a couple of days ago I tested of purpose that noble who took Anusia, and I can assure you that he will take her faithfully to Pan Sapyeha.”
About a month later, as it seems, Pan Sobiepan turned his heart in another direction; and besides he became altogether convinced that what had happened, happened with his will and knowledge.
CHAPTER XXII.
The province of Lyubelsk and the greater part of Podlyasye were almost completely in the hands of Poles, that is, of the confederates and Sapyeha’s men. Since the King of Sweden remained in Prussia, where he was treating with the elector, the Swedes, not feeling very powerful in presence of the general uprising, which increased every day, dared not come out of the towns and castles, and still less to cross to the eastern side of the Vistula, where the Polish forces were greatest. In those two provinces, therefore, the Poles were laboring to form a considerable and well-ordered army, able to meet the regular soldiers of Sweden. In the provincial towns they were training infantry, and since the peasants in general had risen, there was no lack of volunteers; it was only necessary to organize in bodies and regular commands those chaotic masses of men frequently dangerous to their own country.
The district captains betook themselves to this labor. Besides, the king had issued a number of commissions to old and tried soldiers; troops were enrolled in all provinces, and since there was no lack of military people in those regions, squadrons of perfect cavalry were formed. Some went west of the Vistula, others to Charnyetski, still others to Sapyeha. Such multitudes had taken arms that Yan Kazimir’s forces were already more numerous than those of the Swedes.
A country over whose weakness all Europe had recently wondered, gave now an example of power unsuspected, not only by its enemies, but by its own king, and even by those whose faithful hearts, a few months before, had been rent by pain and despair. Money was found, as well as enthusiasm and bravery; the most despairing souls were convinced that there is no position, n
o fall, no weakness from which there may not be a deliverance, and that when children are born consolation cannot die.
Kmita went on without hindrance, gathering on his road unquiet spirits, who joined the chambul with readiness, hoping to find most blood and plunder in company with the Tartars. These he changed easily into good and prompt soldiers, for he had the gift to make his subordinates fear and obey. He was greeted joyously on the road, and that by reason of the Tartars; for the sight of them convinced men that the Khan was indeed coming with succor to the Commonwealth. It was declaimed openly that forty thousand chosen Tartar cavalry were marching to strengthen Sapyeha. Wonders were told of the “modesty” of these allies, — how they committed no violence or murder on the road. They were shown as an example to the soldiers of the country.
Pan Sapyeha was quartered temporarily at Byala. His forces were composed of about ten thousand regular troops, cavalry and infantry. They were the remnants of the Lithuanian armies, increased by new men. The cavalry, especially some of the squadrons, surpassed in valor and training the Swedish horsemen; but the infantry were badly trained, and lacked firearms, powder, and cannon. Sapyeha had thought to find these in Tykotsin; but the Swedes, by blowing themselves up with the powder, destroyed at the same time all the cannons of the castle.
Besides these forces there were in the neighborhood of Byala twelve thousand general militia from all Lithuania, Mazovia, and Podlyasye; but from few of these did the voevoda promise himself service, especially since having an immense number of wagons they hindered movement and turned the army into a clumsy, unwieldy multitude.
Kmita thought of one thing in entering Byala. There were under Sapyeha so many nobles from Lithuania and so many of Radzivill’s officers, his former acquaintances, that he feared they would recognize him and cut him to pieces before he could cry, “Jesus! Mary!”
His name was detested in Sapyeha’s camp and in all Lithuania; for men still preserved in vivid remembrance the fact that while serving Prince Yanush, he had cut down those squadrons which, opposing the hetman, had declared for the country.
Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz Page 195