Through the rifts between the clouds the sun shone every few moments, — bright, refreshed, and as it were wet from bathing in that endless abyss.
Then bright-green blades of grass began to rise through the softened ground; the slender twigs of trees put forth buds abundantly, and the sun gave heat with growing power. In the sky flocks of birds appeared, hence rows of cranes, wild geese, and storks; then the wind began to bring crowds of swallows; the frogs croaked in a great chorus in the warmed water; the small birds were singing madly; and through pine-woods and forests and steppes and ravines went one great outcry, as if all Nature were shouting with delight and enthusiasm, —
“Spring! U-há! Spring!”
But for those hapless regions spring brought mourning, not rejoicing; death, not life. In a few days after the departure of the Ketlings the little knight received the following intelligence from Pan Myslishevski, —
“On the plain of Kuchunkaury the conflux of troops increases daily. The Sultan has sent considerable sums to the Crimea. The Khan is going with fifty thousand of the horde to assist Doroshenko. As soon as the floods dry, the multitude will advance by the Black Trail and the trail of Kuchman. God pity the Commonwealth!”
Volodyovski sent Pyentka, his attendant, to the hetman at once with these tidings. But he himself did not hasten from Hreptyoff. First, as a soldier, he could not leave that stanitsa without command of the hetman; second, he had spent too many years at “tricks” with the Tartars not to know that chambuls would not move so early. The waters had not fallen yet; grass had not grown sufficiently; and the Cossacks were still in winter quarters. The little knight expected the Turks in summer at the earliest; for though they were assembling already at Adrianople, such a gigantic tabor, such throngs of troops, of camp servants, such burdens, so many horses, camels, and buffaloes, advanced very slowly. The Tartar cavalry might be looked for earlier, — at the end of April or the beginning of May. It is true that before the main body, which counted tens of thousands of warriors, there fell always on the country detached chambuls and more or less numerous bands, as single drops of rain come before the great downpour; but the little knight did not fear these. Even picked Tartar horsemen could not withstand the cavalry of the Commonwealth in the open field; and what could bands do which at the mere report that troops were coming scattered like dust before a whirlwind?
In every event there was time enough; and even if there were not, Pan Michael would not have been greatly averse to rubbing against some chambuls in a way which for them would be equally painful and memorable.
He was a soldier, blood and bone, — a soldier by profession; hence the approach of a war roused in him thirst for the blood of his enemy, and brought to him calmness as well. Pan Zagloba was less calm, though inured beyond most men to great dangers in the course of his long life. In sudden emergencies he found courage; he had developed it besides by long though often involuntary practice, and had gained in his time famous victories; still, the first news of coming war always affected him deeply. But now when the little knight explained his own view, Zagloba gained more consolation, and even began to challenge the whole Orient, and to threaten it.
“When Christian nations war with one another,” said he, “the Lord Jesus Himself is sad, and all the saints scratch their heads, for when the Master is anxious the household is anxious; but whoso beats the Turk gives Heaven the greatest delight. I have it from a certain spiritual personage that the saints simply grow sick at sight of those dog brothers; and thus heavenly food and drink does not go to their profit, and even their eternal happiness is marred.”
“That must be really so,” answered the little knight. “But the Turkish power is immense, and our troops might be put on the palm of your hand.”
“Still, they will not conquer the whole Commonwealth. Had Carolus Gustavus little power? In those times there were wars with the Northerners and the Cossacks and Rakotsi and the Elector; but where are they to-day? Besides, we took fire and sword to their hearths.”
“That is true. Personally I should not fear this war, because, as I said, I must do something notable to pay the Lord Jesus and the Most Holy Lady for their mercy to Basia; only God grant me opportunity! But the question for me is this country, which with Kamenyets may fall into Pagan hands easily, even for a time. Imagine what a desecration of God’s churches there would be, and what oppression of Christian people!”
“But don’t talk to me of the Cossacks! The ruffians! They raised their hands against the mother; let that meet them which they wished for. The most important thing is that Kamenyets should hold out. What do you think, Michael, will it hold out?”
“I think that the starosta of Podolia has not supplied it sufficiently, and also that the inhabitants, secure in their position, have not done what behooved them. Ketling said that the regiments of Bishop Trebitski came in very scant numbers. But as God lives, we held out at Zbaraj behind a mere wretched trench, against great power; we ought to hold out this time as well, for that Kamenyets is an eagle’s nest.”
“An eagle’s nest truly; but it is unknown if an eagle is in it, such as was Prince Yeremi, or merely a crow. Do you know the starosta of Podolia?”
“He is a rich man and a good soldier, but rather careless.”
“I know him; I know him! More than once have I reproached him with that; the Pototskis wished at one time that I should go abroad with him for his education, so that he might learn fine manners from me. But I said: ‘I will not go because of his carelessness, for never has he two straps to his boot; he was presented at court in my boots, and morocco is dear.’ Later, in the time of Mary a Ludovika, he wore the French costume; but his stockings were always down, and he showed his bare calves. He will never reach as high as Prince Yeremi’s girdle.”
“Another thing, the shopkeepers of Kamenyets fear a siege greatly; for trade is stopped in time of it. They would rather belong even to the Turks, if they could only keep their shops open.”
“The scoundrels!” said Zagloba.
And he and the little knight were sorely concerned, over the coming fate of Kamenyets; it was a personal question concerning Basia, who in case of surrender would have to share the fate of all the inhabitants.
After a while Zagloba struck his forehead: “For God’s sake!” cried he, “why are we disturbed? Why should we go to that mangy Kamenyets, and shut ourselves up there? Isn’t it better for you to stay with the hetman, and act in the field against the enemy? And in such an event Basia would not go with you to the squadron, and would have to go somewhere besides Kamenyets, — somewhere far off, even to Pan Yan’s house. Michael, God looks into my heart and sees what a desire I have to go against the Pagans; but I will do this for you and Basia, — I will take her away.”
“I thank you,” said the little knight. “The whole case is this: if I had not to be in Kamenyets, Basia would not insist; but what’s to be done when the hetman’s command comes?”
“What’s to be done when the command comes? May the hangman tear all the commands! What’s to be done? Wait! I am beginning to think quickly. Here it is: we must anticipate the command.”
“How is that?”
“Write on the spot to Pan Sobieski, as if reporting news to him, and at the end say that in the face of the coming war you wish, because of the love which you bear him, to be near his person and act in the field. By God’s wounds, this is a splendid thought! For, first of all, it is impossible that they will shut up such a partisan as you behind a wall, instead of using him in the field; and secondly, for such a letter the hetman will love you still more, and will wish to have you near him. He too will need trusty soldiers. Only listen: if Kamenyets holds out, the glory will fall to the starosta of Podolia; but what you accomplish in the field will go to the praise of the hetman. Never fear! the hetman will not yield you to the starosta. He would rather give some one else; but he will not give either you or me. Write the letter; remind him of yourself. Ha! my wit is still worth something, too good to l
et hens pick it up on the dust-heap! Michael, let us drink something on the occasion — or what! write the letter first.”
Volodyovski rejoiced greatly indeed; he embraced Zagloba, and thinking a while said, —
“And I shall not tempt hereby the Lord God, nor the country, nor the hetman; for surely I shall accomplish much in the field. I thank you from my heart! I think too that the hetman will wish to have me at hand, especially after the letter. But not to abandon Kamenyets, do you know what I’ll do? I’ll fit up a handful of soldiers at my own cost, and send them to Kamenyets. I’ll write at once to the hetman of this.”
“Still better! But, Michael, where will you find the men?”
“I have about forty robbers in the cellars, and I’ll take those. As often as I gave command to hang some one, Basia tormented me to spare his life; more than once she advised me to make soldiers of those robbers. I was unwilling, for an example was needed; but now war is on our shoulders, and everything is possible. Those are terrible fellows, who have smelt powder. I will proclaim, too, that whoso from the ravines or the thickets elects to join the regiment, will receive forgiveness for past robberies. There will be about a hundred men; Basia too will be glad. You have taken a great weight from my heart.”
That same day the little knight despatched a new messenger to the hetman, and proclaimed life and pardon to the robbers if they would join the infantry. They joined gladly, and promised to bring in others. Basia’s delight was unbounded. Tailors were brought from Ushytsa, from Kamenyets, and from whence ever possible, to make uniforms. The former robbers were mustered on the square of Hreptyoff. Pan Michael was rejoiced in heart at the thought that he would act himself in the field against the enemy, would not expose his wife to the danger of a siege, and besides would render Kamenyets and the country noteworthy service.
This work had been going on a number of weeks when one evening the messenger returned with a letter from Pan Sobieski.
The hetman wrote as follows: —
Beloved and Very Dear Volodyovski, — Because you send all news so diligently I cherish gratitude to you, and the country owes you thanks. War is certain. I have news also from elsewhere that there is a tremendous force in Kuchunkaury; counting the horde, there will be three hundred thousand. The horde may march any moment. The Sultan values nothing so much as Kamenyets. The Tartar traitors will show the Turks every road, and inform them about Kamenyets. I hope that God will give that serpent, Tugai Bey’s son, into your hands, or into Novoveski’s, over whose wrong I grieve sincerely. As to this, that you be near me, God knows how glad I should be, but it is impossible. The starosta of Podolia has shown me, it is true, various kindnesses since the election; I wish, therefore, to send him the best soldiers, for the rock of Kamenyets is to me as my own eyesight. There will be many there who have seen war once or twice in their lives, and are like a man who on a time has eaten some peculiar food which he remembers all his life afterward; a man, however, who has used it as his daily bread, and might serve with experienced counsel, will be lacking, or if there shall be such he will be without sufficient weight. Therefore I will send you. Ketling, though a good soldier, is less known; the inhabitants will have their eyes turned to you, and though the command will remain with another, I think that men will obey you with readiness. That service in Kamenyets may be dangerous, but with us it is a habit to be drenched in that rain from which others hide. There is reward enough for us in glory, and a grateful remembrance; but the main thing is the country, to the salvation of which I need not excite you.
This letter, read in the assembly of officers, made a great impression; for all wished to serve in the field rather than in a fortress. Volodyovski bent his head.
“What do you think now, Michael?” asked Zagloba.
He raised his face, already collected, and answered with a voice as calm as if he had met no disappointment in his hopes, —
“I will go to Kamenyets. What have I to think?”
And it might have seemed that nothing else had ever been in his head.
After a while his mustaches quivered, and he said, —
“Hei! dear comrades, we will go to Kamenyets, but we will not yield it.”
“Unless we fall there,” said the officers. “One death to a man.”
Zagloba was silent for some time; casting his eyes on those present, and seeing that all were waiting for what he would say, he puffed all at once, and said, —
“I will go with you. Devil take it!”
CHAPTER XLVI.
When the earth had grown dry, and grass was flourishing, the Khan moved in person, with fifty thousand of the Crimean and Astrachan hordes, to help Doroshenko and the insurgents. The Khan himself, and his relatives, the petty sultans, and all the more important murzas and beys, wore kaftans as gifts from the Padishah, and went against the Commonwealth, not as they went usually, for booty and captives, but for a holy war with “fate,” and the “destruction” of Lehistan (Poland) and Christianity.
Another and still greater storm was gathering at Adrianople, and against this deluge only the rock of Kamenyets was standing erect; for the rest of the Commonwealth lay like an open steppe, or like a sick man, powerless not only to defend himself, but even to rise to his feet. The previous Swedish, Prussian, Moscow, Cossack, and Hungarian wars, though victorious finally, had exhausted the Commonwealth. The army confederations and the insurrections of Lyubomirski of infamous memory had exhausted it, and now it was weakened to the last degree by court quarrels, the incapacity of the king, the feuds of magistrates, the blindness of a frivolous nobility, and the danger of civil war. In vain did the great Sobieski forewarn them of ruin, — no one would believe in war. They neglected means of defence; the treasury had no money, the hetman no troops. To a power against which alliances of all the Christian nations were hardly able to stand, the hetman could oppose barely a few thousand men.
Meanwhile in the Orient, where everything was done at the will of the Padishah, and nations were as a sword in the hand of one man, it was different altogether. From the moment that the great standard of the Prophet was unfurled, and the horse-tail standard planted on the gate of the seraglio and the tower of the seraskierat, and the ulema began to proclaim a holy war, half Asia and all Northern Africa had moved. The Padishah himself had taken his place in spring on the plain of Kuchunkaury, and was assembling forces greater than any seen for a long time on earth. A hundred thousand spahis and janissaries, the pick of the Turkish army, were stationed near his sacred person; and then troops began to gather from all the remotest countries and possessions. Those who inhabited Europe came earliest. The legions of the mounted beys of Bosnia came with colors like the dawn, and fury like lightning; the wild warriors of Albania came, fighting on foot with daggers; bands of Mohammedanized Serbs came; people came who lived on the banks of the Danube, and farther to the south beyond the Balkans, as far as the mountains of Greece. Each pasha led a whole army, which alone would have sufficed to overrun the defenceless Commonwealth. Moldavians and Wallachians came; the Dobrudja and Belgrod Tartars came in force; some thousands of Lithuanian Tartars and Cheremis came, led by the terrible Azya, son of Tugai Bey, and these last were to be guides through the unfortunate country, which was well known to them.
After these the general militia from Asia began to flow in. The pashas of Sivas, Brussa, Aleppo, Damascus, and Bagdad, besides regular troops, led armed throngs, beginning with men from the cedar-covered mountains of Asia Minor, and ending with the swarthy dwellers on the Euphrates and the Tigris. Arabians too rose at the summons of the Caliph; their burnooses covered as with snow the plains of Kuchunkaury; among them were also nomads from the sandy deserts, and inhabitants of cities from Medina to Mecca. The tributary power of Egypt did not remain at its domestic hearths. Those who dwelt in populous Cairo, those who in the evening gazed on the flaming twilight of the pyramids, who wandered through Theban ruins, who dwelt in those murky regions whence the sacred Nile issues forth, men whom the sun had burned to t
he color of soot, — all these planted their arms on the field of Adrianople, praying now to give victory to Islam, and destruction to that land which alone had shielded for ages the rest of the world against the adherents of the Prophet.
There were legions of armed men; hundreds of thousands of horses were neighing on the field; hundreds of thousands of buffaloes, of sheep and of camels, fed near the herds of horses. It might be thought that at God’s command an angel had turned people out of Asia, as once he had turned Adam out of paradise, and commanded them to go to countries in which the sun was paler and the plains were covered in winter with snow. They went then with their herds, an innumerable swarm of white, dark, and black warriors. How many languages were heard there, how many different costumes glittered in the sun of spring! Nations wondered at nations; the customs of some were foreign to others, their arms unknown, their methods of warfare different, and faith alone joined those travelling generations; only when the muezzins called to prayer did those many-tongued hosts turn their faces to the East, calling on Allah with one voice.
There were more servants at the court of the Sultan than troops in the Commonwealth. After the army and the armed bands of volunteers marched throngs of shop-keepers, selling goods of all kinds; their wagons, together with those of the troops, flowed on like a river.
Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz Page 286