“Of course!” said Pan Nyenashinyets. “I know Krychinski personally, and all know him now from his evil fame.”
“We were at school together—” began Pan Zagloba; but he stopped suddenly, remembering that in such an event Krychinski must be ninety years old, and at that age men were not usually fighting.
“Speaking briefly,” continued the little knight, “Krychinski is a Polish Tartar. He was a colonel of one of our Tartar squadrons; then he betrayed his country and went over to the Dobrudja horde, where he has, as I hear, great significance, for there they hope evidently that he will bring over the rest of the Tartars to the Pagan side. With such a man Mellehovich has entered into relations, the best proof of which is this letter, the tenor of which is as follows.” Here the little knight unfolded the letter, struck the top of it with his hand, and began to read: —
Brother Greatly Beloved of my Soul, — Your messenger came to us and delivered —
“He writes Polish?” interrupted Zagloba.
“Krychinski, like all our Tartars, knows only Russian and Polish,” said the little knight; “and Mellehovich also will surely not gnaw in Tartar. Listen, gentlemen, without interruption.”
— and delivered your letter. May God bring about that all will be well, and that you will accomplish what you desire! We take counsel here often with Moravski, Aleksandrovich, Tarasovski, and Groholski, and write to other brothers, taking their advice too, touching the means through which that which you desire may come to pass most quickly. News came to us of how you suffered loss of health; therefore I send a man to see you with his eyes and bring us consolation. Maintain the secret carefully, for God forbid that it should be known prematurely! May God make your race as numerous as stars in the sky!
Krychinski.
Volodyovski finished, and began to cast his eyes around on those present; and since they kept unbroken silence, evidently weighing the gist of the letter with care, he said: “Tarasovski, Moravski, Groholski, and Aleksandrovich are all former Tartar captains, and traitors.”
“So are Poturzynski, Tvorovski, and Adurovich,” added Pan Snitko. “Gentlemen, what do you say of this letter?”
“Open treason! there is nothing here upon which to deliberate,” said Pan Mushalski. “He is simply conspiring with Mellehovich to take our Tartars over to their side.”
“For God’s sake! what a danger to our command!” cried a number of voices. “Our Tartars too would give their souls for Mellehovich; and if he orders them, they will attack us in the night.”
“The blackest treason under the sun!” cried Pan Deyma.
“And the hetman himself made that Mellehovich a captain!” said Pan Mushalski.
“Pan Snitko,” said Zagloba, “what did I say when I looked at Mellehovich? Did I not tell you that a renegade and a traitor were looking with the eyes of that man? Ha! it was enough for me to glance at him. He might deceive all others, but not me. Repeat my words. Pan Snitko, but do not change them. Did I not say that he was a traitor?”
Pan Snitko thrust his feet back under the bench and bent his head forward, “In truth, the penetration of your grace is to be wondered at; but what is true, is true. I do not remember that your grace called him a traitor. Your grace said only that he looked out of his eyes like a wolf.”
“Ha! then you maintain that a dog is a traitor, and a wolf is not a traitor; that a wolf does not bite the hand which fondles him and gives him to eat? Then a dog is a traitor? Perhaps you will defend Mellehovich yet, and make traitors of all the rest of us?”
Confused in this manner, Pan Snitko opened his eyes and mouth widely, and was so astonished that he could not utter a word for some time.
Meanwhile Pan Mushalski, who formed opinions quickly, said at once, “First of all, we should thank the Lord God for discovering such infamous intrigues, and then send six dragoons with Mellehovich to put a bullet in his head.”
“And appoint another captain,” added Nyenashinyets. “The reason is so evident that there can be no mistake.”
To which Pan Michael added: “First, it is necessary to examine Mellehovich, and then to inform the hetman of these intrigues, for as Pan Bogush from Zyembitse told me, the Lithuanian Tartars are very dear to the marshal of the kingdom.”
“But, your grace,” said Pan Motovidlo, “a general inquiry will be a favor to Mellehovich, since he has never before been an officer.”
“I know my authority,” said Volodyovski, “and you need not remind me of it.”
Then the others began to exclaim, “Let such a son stand before our eyes, that traitor, that betrayer!”
The loud calls roused Zagloba, who had been dozing somewhat; this happened to him now continually. He recalled quickly the subject of the conversation and said: “No, Pan Snitko; the moon is hidden in your escutcheon, but your wit is hidden still better, for no one could find it with a candle. To say that a dog, a faithful dog, is a traitor, and a wolf is not a traitor! Permit me, you have used up your wit altogether.”
Pan Snitko raised his eyes to heaven to show how he was suffering innocently, but he did not wish to offend the old man by contradiction; besides, Volodyovski commanded him to go for Mellehovich; he went out, therefore, in haste, glad to escape in that way. He returned soon, conducting the young Tartar, who evidently knew nothing yet of the seizure of Krychinski’s messenger. His dark and handsome face had become very pale, but he was in health and did not even bind his head with a kerchief; he merely covered it with a Crimean cap of red velvet. The eyes of all were as intent on him as on a rainbow; he inclined to the little knight rather profoundly, and then to the company rather haughtily.
“Mellehovich!” said Volodyovski, fixing on the Tartar his quick glance, “do you know Colonel Krychinski?”
A sudden and threatening shadow flew over the face of Mellehovich. “I know him!”
“Read,” said the little knight, giving him the letter found on the messenger.
Mellehovich began to read; but before he had finished, calmness returned to his face. “I await your order,” said he, returning the letter.
“How long have you been plotting treason, and what confederates have you?”
“Am I accused, then, of treason?”
“Answer; do not inquire,” said the little knight, threateningly.
“Then I will give this answer: I have plotted no treason; I have no confederates; or if I have, gentlemen, they are men whom you will not judge.”
Hearing this, the officers gritted their teeth, and straightway a number of threatening voices called, “More submissively, dog’s son, more submissively! You are standing before your betters!”
Thereupon Mellehovich surveyed them with a glance in which cold hatred was glittering. “I am aware of what I owe to the commandant, as my chief,” said he, bowing a second time to Volodyovski. “I know that I am held inferior by you, gentlemen, and I do not seek your society. Your grace” (here he turned to the little knight) “has asked me of confederates; I have two in my work: one is Pan Bogush, under-stolnik of Novgrod, and the other is the grand hetman of the kingdom.”
When they heard these words, all were astonished greatly, and for a time there was silence; at last Pan Michael inquired, “In what way?”
“In this way,” answered Mellehovich; “Krychinski, Moravski, Tvorovski, Aleksandrovich, and all the others went to the horde and have done much harm to the country; but they did not find fortune in their new service. Perhaps too their consciences are moved; it is enough that the title of traitor is bitter to them. The hetman is well aware of this, and has commissioned Pan Bogush, and also Pan Myslishevski, to bring them back to the banner of the Commonwealth. Pan Bogush has employed me in this mission, and commanded me to come to an agreement with Krychinski. I have at my quarters letters from Pan Bogush which your grace will believe more quickly than my words.”
“Go with Pan Snitko for those letters and bring them at once.”
Mellehovich went out.
“Gracious gentlemen,�
�� said the little knight, quickly, “we have offended this soldier greatly through over-hasty judgment; for if he has those letters, he tells the truth, and I begin to think that he has them. Then he is not only a cavalier famous through military exploits, but a man sensitive to the good of the country, and reward, not unjust judgments, should meet him for that. As God lives! this must be corrected at once.”
The others were sunk in silence, not knowing what to say; but Zagloba closed his eyes, feigning sleep this time.
Meanwhile Mellehovich returned and gave the little knight Bogush’s letter. Volodyovski read as follows: —
“I hear from all sides that there is no one more fitted than you for such a service, and this by reason of the wonderful love which those men bear to you. The hetman is ready to forgive them, and promises forgiveness from the Commonwealth. Communicate with Krychinski as frequently as possible through reliable people, and promise him a reward. Guard the secret carefully, for if not, as God lives, you would destroy them all. You may divulge the affair to Pan Volodyovski, for your chief can aid you greatly. Do not spare toil and effort, seeing that the end crowns the work, and be certain that our mother will reward your good-will with love equal to it.”
“Behold my reward!” muttered the young Tartar, gloomily.
“By the dear God! why did you not mention a word of this to any one?” cried Pan Michael.
“I wished to tell all to your grace, but I had no opportunity, for I was ill after that accident. Before their graces” (here Mellehovich turned to the officers) “I had a secret which I was prohibited from telling; this prohibition your grace will certainly enjoin on them now, so as not to ruin those other men.”
“The proofs of your virtue are so evident that a blind man could not deny them,” said the little knight. “Continue the affair with Krychinski. You will have no hindrance in this, but aid, in proof of which I give you my hand as to an honorable cavalier. Come to sup with me this evening.”
Mellehovich pressed the hand extended to him, and inclined for the third time. From the corners of the room other officers moved toward him, saying, “We did not know you; but whoso loves virtue will not withdraw his hand from you to-day.”
But the young Tartar straightened himself suddenly, pushed his head back like a bird of prey ready to strike, and said, “I am standing before my betters.” Then he went out of the room.
It was noisy after his exit. “It is not to be wondered at,” said the officers among themselves; “his heart is indignant yet at the injustice, but that will pass. We must treat him differently. He has real knightly mettle in him. The hetman knew what he was doing. Miracles are happening; well, well!”
Pan Snitko was triumphing in silence; at last he could not restrain himself and said, “Permit me, your grace, but that wolf was not a traitor.”
“Not a traitor?” retorted Zagloba. “He was a traitor, but a virtuous one, for he betrayed not us, but the horde. Do not lose hope, Pan Snitko; I will pray to-day for your wit, and perhaps the Holy Ghost will have mercy.”
Basia was greatly comforted when Zagloba related the whole affair to her, for she had good-will and compassion for Mellehovich. “Michael and I must go,” said she, “on the first dangerous expedition with him, for in this way we shall show our confidence most thoroughly.”
But the little knight began to stroke Basia’s rosy face and said, “O suffering fly, I know you! With you it is not a question of Mellehovich, but you would like to buzz off to the steppe and engage in a battle. Nothing will come of that!”
“Mulier insidiosa est (woman is insidious)!” said Zagloba, with gravity.
At this time Mellehovich was sitting in his own room with the Tartar messenger and speaking in a whisper. The two sat so near each other that they were almost forehead to forehead. A taper of mutton-tallow was burning on the table, casting yellow light on the face of Mellehovich, which, in spite of its beauty, was simply terrible; there were depicted on it hatred, cruelty, and a savage delight.
“Halim, listen!” whispered Mellehovich.
“Effendi,” answered the messenger.
“Tell Krychinski that he is wise, for in the letter there was nothing that could harm me; tell him that he is wise. Let him never write more clearly. They will trust me now still more, all of them, the hetman himself, Bogush, Myslishevski, the command here, — all! Do you hear? May the plague stifle them!”
“I hear, Effendi.”
“But I must be in Rashkoff first, and then I will return to this place.”
“Effendi, young Novoveski will recognize you.”
“He will not. He saw me at Kalnik, at Bratslav, and did not know me. He will look at me, wrinkle his brows, but will not recognize me. He was fifteen years old when I ran away from the house. Eight times has winter covered the steppes since that hour. I have changed. The old man would know me, but the young one will not know me. I will notify you from Rashkoff. Let Krychinski be ready, and hold himself in the neighborhood. You must have an understanding with the perkulabs. In Yampol, also, is our squadron. I will persuade Bogush to get an order from the hetman for me, that it will be easier for me to act on Krychinski from that place. But I must return hither, — I must! I do not know what will happen, how I shall manage. Fire burns me; in the night sleep flies from me. Had it not been for her, I should have died.”
Mellehovich’s lips began to quiver; and bending still again to the messenger, he whispered, as if in a fever, “Halim, blessed be her hands, blessed her head, blessed the earth on which she walks! Do you hear, Halim? Tell them there that through her I am well.”
CHAPTER XXVI.
Father Kaminski had been a soldier in his youthful years and a cavalier of great courage; he was now stationed at Ushytsa and was reorganizing a parish. But as the church was in ruins, and parishioners were lacking, this pastor without a flock visited Hreptyoff, and remained there whole weeks, edifying the knights with pious instruction. He listened with attention to the narrative of Pan Mushalski, and spoke to the assembly a few evenings later as follows: —
“I have always loved to hear narratives in which sad adventures find a happy ending, for from them it is evident that whomever God’s hand guides, it can free from the toils of the pursuer and lead even from the Crimea to a peaceful roof. Therefore let each one of you fix this in his mind: For the Lord there is nothing impossible, and let no one of you even in direst necessity lose trust in God’s mercy. This is the truth!
“It was praiseworthy in Pan Mushalski to love a common man with brotherly affection. The Saviour Himself gave us an example when He, though of royal blood, loved common people and made many of them apostles and helped them to promotion, so that now they have seats in the heavenly senate.
“But personal love is one thing, and general love — that of one nation to another — is something different. The love which is general, our Lord, the Redeemer, observed no less earnestly than the other. And where do we find this love? When, O man, you look through the world, there is such hatred in hearts everywhere, as if people were obeying the commands of the Devil and not of the Lord.”
“It will be hard, your grace,” said Zagloba, “to persuade us to love Turks, Tartars, or other barbarians whom the Lord God Himself must despise thoroughly.”
“I am not persuading you to that, but I maintain this: that children of the same mother should have love for one another; but what do we see? From the days of Hmelnitski, or for thirty years, no part of these regions is dried from blood.”
“But whose fault is it?”
“Whoso will confess his fault first, him will God pardon.”
“Your grace is wearing the robes of a priest to-day; but in youth you slew rebels, as we have heard, not at all worse than others.”
“I slew them, for it was my duty as a soldier to do so; that was not my sin, but this, that I hated them as a pestilence. I had private reasons which I will not mention, for those are old times and the wounds are healed now. I repent that I acted beyond my du
ty. I had under my command one hundred men from the squadron of Pan Nyevodovski; and going often independently with my men, I burned, slaughtered, and hanged. You, gentlemen, know what times those were. The Tartars, called in by Hmelnitski, burned and slew; we burned and slew; the Cossacks left only land and water behind them in all places, committing atrocities worse than ours and the Tartars. There is nothing more terrible than civil war! What times those were no man will ever describe; enough that we and they fought more like mad dogs than men.
“Once news was sent to our command that ruffians had besieged Pan Rushitski in his fortalice. I was sent with my troops to the rescue. I came too late; the place was level with the ground. But I fell upon the drunken peasants and cut them down notably; only a part hid in the grain. I gave command to take these alive, to hang them for an example. But where? It was easier to plan than to execute; in the whole village there was not one tree remaining; even the pear-trees standing on the boundaries between fields were cut down. I had no time to make gibbets; a forest too, as that was a steppe-land, was nowhere in view. What could I do? I took my prisoners and marched on. ‘I shall find a forked oak somewhere,’ thought I. I went a mile, two miles, — steppe and steppe; you might roll a ball over it. At last we found traces of a village; that was toward evening. I gazed around; here and there a pile of coals, and besides gray ashes, nothing more. On a small hillside there was a cross, a firm oak one, evidently not long made, for the wood was not dark yet and glittered in the twilight as if it were afire. Christ was on it, cut out of tin plate and painted in such a way that only when you came from one side and saw the thinness of the plate could you know that not a real statue was hanging there; but in front the face was as if living, somewhat pale from pain; on the head a crown of thorns; the eyes were turned upward with wonderful sadness and pity. When I saw that cross, the thought flashed into my mind, ‘There is a tree for you; there is no other,’ but straightway I was afraid. In the name of the Father and the Son! I will not hang them on the cross. But I thought that I should comfort the eyes of Christ if I gave command in His presence to kill those who had spilled so much innocent blood, and I spoke thus: ‘O dear Lord, let it seem to Thee that these men are those Jews who nailed Thee to the cross, for these are not better than those.’ Then I commanded my men to drag the prisoners one by one to the mound under the cross. There were among them old men, gray-haired peasants, and youths. The first whom they brought said, ‘By the Passion of the Lord, by that Christ, have mercy on me!’ And I said in answer, ‘Off with his head!’ A dragoon slashed and cut off his head. They brought another; the same thing happened: ‘By that Merciful Christ, have pity on me!’ And I said again, ‘Off with his head!’ the same with the third, the fourth, the fifth; there were fourteen of them, and each implored me by Christ. Twilight was ended when we finished. I gave command to place them in a circle around the foot of the cross. Fool! I thought to delight the Only Son with this spectacle. They quivered awhile yet, — one with his hands, another with his feet, again one floundered like a fish pulled out of water, but that was short; strength soon left their bodies, and they lay quiet in a circle.
Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz Page 265