Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  “And he can stretch a crossbow without a crank!” exclaimed Jagienka.

  The abbot turned toward her:

  “Ah! Are you here?”

  She blushed so much that her neck and ears became red, and answered:

  “I saw him do it.”

  “Look out then, that he does not shoot you, because you will be obliged to nurse yourself for a long time.”

  At this the rybalts, the pilgrim and the seminarists broke out with great laughter, which confused Jagienka still more; the abbot took pity on her, and having raised his arm, he showed her his enormous sleeve, and said:

  “Hide here, my dear girl!”

  Meanwhile Zych assisted Macko to the bench and ordered some wine for him. Jagienka went to get it. The abbot turned to Zbyszko and began to talk thus:

  “Enough of joking! I compared you to a girl, not to humiliate you, but to praise your beauty, of which many girls would be proud. But I know that you are a man! I have heard about your deeds at Wilno, about the Fryzes, and about Krakow. Zych has told me all about it, understand!”

  Here he began to look intently into Zbyszko’s eyes, and after a while he said:

  “If you have promised three peacocks’ tufts, then search for them! It is praiseworthy and pleasing to God to persecute the foes of our nation. But, if you have promised something else, I will release you from the vow.”

  “Hej!” said Zbyszko; “when a man promises something in his soul to the Lord Jesus, who has the power to release him?”

  Macko looked with fear at the abbot; but evidently he was in an excellent humor, because instead of becoming angry, he threatened Zbyszko with his finger and said:

  “How clever you are! But you must be careful that you do not meet the same fate that the German, Beyhard, did.”

  “What happened to him?” asked Zych.

  “They burned him on a pile.”

  “What for?”

  “Because he used to say that a layman could understand God’s secrets as well as the clergy.”

  “They punished him severely!”

  “But righteously!” shouted the abbot, “because he had blasphemed against the Holy Ghost. What do you think? Is a layman able to interpret any of God’s secrets?”

  “He cannot by any means!” exclaimed the wandering seminarists, together.

  “Keep quiet, you shpilmen!” said the abbot; “you are not ecclesiastics, although your heads are shaved.”

  “We are not ‘shpilmen,’ but courtiers of Your Grace,” answered one of them, looking toward a large bucket from which the smell of hops and malt was filling the air.

  “Look! He is talking from a barrel!” exclaimed the abbot. “Hej, you shaggy one! Why do you look at the bucket? You will not find any Latin at the bottom of that.”

  “I am not looking for Latin, but for beer; but I cannot find any.”

  The abbot turned toward Zbyszko, who was looking with astonishment at such courtiers as these, and said:

  “They are clerici scholares; but every one of them prefers to throw his books aside, and taking his lute, wander through the world. I shelter and nourish them; what else can I do? They are good for nothing, but they know how to sing and they are familiar with God’s service; therefore I have some benefit out of them in my church, and in case of need, they will defend me, because some of them are fierce fellows! This pilgrim says that he was in the Holy Land; but I have asked him in vain about some of the seas and countries; he does not know even the name of the Greek emperor nor in what city he lives.”

  “I did know,” said the pilgrim, in a hoarse voice; “but the fever I caught at the Danube, shook everything out of me.”

  “What surprises me most is, that they wear swords, being wandering seminarists,” said Zbyszko.

  “They are allowed to wear them,” said the abbot, “because they have not received orders yet; and there is no occasion for anyone to wonder because I wear a sword even though I am an abbot. A year ago I challenged Wilk of Brzozowa to fight for the forests which you passed; but he did not appear.”

  “How could he fight with one of the clergy?” interrupted Zych.

  At this the abbot became angry, struck the table with his fist, and exclaimed:

  “When I wear armor, then I am not a priest, but a nobleman! He did not come because he preferred to have his servants attack me in Tulcza. That is why I wear a sword: Omnes leges, omniaque iura vim vi repellere cunctisque sese defensare permittunt! That is why I gave them their swords.”

  Hearing the Latin, Zych, Macko and Zbyszko became silent and bent their heads before the abbot’s wisdom, because they did not understand a word of it; as for the abbot, he looked very angry for a while, and then he said:

  “Who knows but what he will attack me even here?”

  “Owa! Let him come!” exclaimed the wandering seminarists, seizing the hilts of their swords.

  “I would like to have him attack me! I am longing for a fight.”

  “He will not do that,” said Zych. “It is more likely that he will come to bow to you. He gave up the forests, and now he is anxious about his son. You know! But he can wait a long time!”

  Meanwhile the abbot became quieted and said:

  “I saw young Wilk drinking with Cztan of Rogow in an inn in Krzesnia. They did not recognize us at once, because it was dark; they were talking about Jagienka.”

  Here he turned to Zbyszko:

  “And about you, too.”

  “What do they want from me?”

  “They do not want anything from you; but they do not like it that there is a third young man near Zgorzelice. Cztan said to Wilk: ‘After I tan his skin, he will not be so smooth.’ And Wilk said: ‘Perhaps he will be afraid of us; if not, I will break his bones!’ Then they assured each other that you would be afraid of them.”

  Hearing this Macko looked at Zych, and Zych looked at him; their faces expressed great cunning and joy. Neither of them was sure whether the abbot had really heard such a conversation, or whether he was only saying this to excite Zbyszko; but they both knew, and Macko especially, that there was no better way to incite Zbyszko to try to win Jagienka.

  The abbot added deliberately:

  “It is true, they are fierce fellows!”

  Zbyszko did not show any excitement; but he asked in a strange tone that did not sound like his voice:

  “To-morrow is Sunday?”

  “Yes, Sunday.”

  “You will go to church?”

  “Yes!”

  “Where? to Krzesnia?”

  “That is the nearest!”

  “Well, all right then!”

  CHAPTER IX.

  Zybszko, having joined Zych and Jagienka, who were accompanying the abbot and his retinue to Krzesnia, rode with them, because he wanted to show the abbot that he was afraid neither of Wilk of Brzozowa, nor of Cztan of Rogow. He was again surprised at Jagienka’s beauty. He had often seen her in Zgorzelice and Bogdaniec, dressed beautifully; but never had she looked as she did now when going to church. Her cloak was made of red broadcloth, lined with ermine; she wore red gloves, and on her head was a little hood embroidered with gold, from beneath which two braids fell down on her shoulders. She was not sitting on the horse astride, but on a high saddle which had an arm and a little bench for her feet, which scarcely showed from beneath her long skirt. Zych permitted the girl to dress in a sheepskin overcoat and high-legged boots when at home, but required that for church she should be dressed not like the daughter of a poor wlodyczka, but like the panna of a mighty nobleman. Two boys, dressed like pages, conducted her horse. Four servants were riding behind with the abbot’s seminarists, who were armed with swords and carried their lutes. Zbyszko admired all the retinue, but especially Jagienka, who looked like a picture. The abbot, who was dressed in a red cloak, having enormous sleeves, resembled a traveling prince. The most modest dress was worn by Zych, who requiring magnificent display for the others, for himself cared only for singing and joy.

  Zych, Z
byszko, Jagienka and the abbot rode together. At first the abbot ordered his shpilmen to sing some church songs; afterward, when he was tired of their songs, he began to talk with Zbyszko, who smiled at his enormous sword, which was as large as a two-handed German sword.

  “I see,” said he gravely, “that you wonder at my sword; the synod permits a clergyman to wear a sword during a journey, and I am traveling. When the holy father forbade the ecclesiastics to wear swords and red dresses, most assuredly he meant the men of low birth, because God intended that noblemen should wear arms; and he who would dare to take this right from a nobleman, would oppose His eternal will.”

  “I saw the Mazovian Prince Henryk, when he fought in the lists,” said Zbyszko.

  “We do not censure him, because he fought,” answered the abbot, raising his finger, “but because he married and married unhappily; fornicarium and bibulam had taken mulierem, whom Bachum since she was young adorabat, and besides that she was adultera, from whom no one could expect any good.” He stopped his horse and began to expound with still greater gravity:

  “Whoever wishes to marry, or to choose uxorem must ascertain if she is pious, moral, a good housekeeper and cleanly. This is recommended not only by the fathers of the church, but also by a certain pagan sage, called Seneca. And how can you know whether you have chosen well, if you do not know the nest from which you take your life companion? Because another sage has said: Pomus nam cadit absque arbore. As is the ox, so is the skin; as is the mother, so is the girl. Prom which you, a sinner, must draw this moral, — that you must look for your wife not far away, but near; because if you get a bad one, you will cry as did the philosopher, when his quarrelsome wife poured aquam sordidam on his head.”

  “In saecula saeculorum, amen!” exclaimed in unison the wandering seminarists, who when responding to the abbot, did not always answer properly.

  They were all listening very attentively to the abbot’s words, admiring his eloquence and his knowledge of the Scriptures; he apparently did not speak directly to Zbyszko; but on the contrary, he turned more toward Zych and Jagienka, as if he wished to edify them. But evidently Jagienka understood what he was trying to do, because from beneath her long eyelashes, she looked at Zbyszko, who frowned and dropped his head as if he were seriously thinking about what the abbot had said.

  After this the retinue moved on silently; but when they came near Krzesnia, the abbot touched his girdle and then turned it so that he could seize the hilt of his sword more easily, and said:

  “I am sure that old Wilk of Brzozowa will come with a good retinue.”

  “Perhaps,” replied Zych, “but I heard that he was not well.”

  “One of my seminarists heard that he intends to attack us in front of the inn after the service is over.”

  “He will not do that without a challenge, and especially after holy mass.”

  “May God, bring him to reason. I do not seek a quarrel with anybody and I bear my wrongs patiently.”

  Here he looked at the shpilmen, and said:

  “Do not draw your swords, and remember that you are spiritual servants; but if they attack us first, then strike them!”

  Zbyszko, while riding beside Jagienka, said to her:

  “I am sure that in Krzesnia we will meet young Wilk and Cztan. Show me them from afar, so that I may know them.”

  “Very well, Zbyszku,” answered Jagienka.

  “Do they not meet you before the service and after the service? What do they do then?”

  “They serve me.”

  “They will not serve you now, understand?” And she answered again, almost with humility:

  “Very well, Zbyszku.”

  Further conversation was interrupted by the sound of the wooden knockers, there being no bells in Krzesnia. After a few moments they arrived at the church. From the crowd in front, waiting for mass, young Wilk and Cztan of Rogow came forward immediately; but Zbyszko jumped from his horse, and before they could reach her, seized Jagienka and lifted her down from her horse; then he took her by the hand, and looking at them threateningly, conducted her to the church.

  In the vestibule of the church, they were again disappointed. Both rushed to the font of holy water, plunged their hands in, and then stretched them toward the girl. But Zbyszko did the same, and she touched his fingers; then having made the sign of the cross, she entered the church with him. Then not only young Wilk, but Cztan of Rogow also, notwithstanding his stupidity, understood that this had been done purposely, and both were very angry. Wilk rushed out of the vestibule and ran like a madman, not knowing where he was going. Cztan rushed after him, although not knowing why.

  They stopped at the corner of the inclosure where there were some large stones ready for the foundation of the tower which was to be built in Krzesnia. Then, Wilk wishing to assuage the wrath which raged in his breast, seized one of these stones, and began to shake it; Cztan seeing him do this, seized it also, and both began to roll it toward the church gate.

  The people looked at them with amazement, thinking that they had made some vow, and that in this way they wished to contribute to the building of the tower. This effort gave them relief and they came to their senses; then they stood, pale from their exertion, puffing and looking at each other.

  Cztan of Rogow was the first to break the silence.

  “What now?” asked he.

  “What?” answered Wilk.

  “Shall we attack him immediately?”

  “How can we do that in the church?”

  “Not in the church, but after mass.”

  “He is with Zych and the abbot. And have you forgotten that Zych said that if there were a fight, he would refuse to let either of us visit at Zgorzelice. But for that, I would have broken your ribs long ago.”

  “Or I, yours!” answered Cztan, clinching his powerful fists.

  And their eyes began to sparkle threateningly; but soon they both realized that now, more than ever, they needed to have a good understanding. They often fought together; but after each fight, they always became reconciled, because although they were divided by their love for Jagienka, they could not live without each other. Now they had a common foe and they understood that the enemy was a dangerous one.

  After a while Cztan asked:

  “What shall we do? Shall we send him a challenge?”

  Wilk, although he was wiser, did not know what to do. Fortunately the knockers resounded to notify the people that mass would begin. When he heard them he said:

  “What shall we do? Go to church now and after that, we will do whatever pleases God.”

  Cztan of Rogow was pleased with this answer.

  “Perhaps the Lord Jesus will send us an inspiration,” said he.

  “And will bless us,” added Wilk.

  “According to justice.”

  They went to church, and having listened devoutly to the mass, they grew more hopeful. They did not lose their temper after mass, when Jagienka again accepted holy water from Zbyszko. In the church-yard they bowed to Zych, to Jagienka and even to the abbot, although he was an enemy of Wilk of Brzozowa. They scowled at Zbyszko, but did not attempt to touch him, although their hearts were throbbing with grief, anger and jealousy; never before had Jagienka seemed to them to be as beautiful as she was then. When the brilliant retinue moved on and when from afar they heard the merry song of the ambulant seminarists, Cztan began to wipe the perspiration from his hairy cheeks and to snort like a horse; as for Wilk, he said, gnashing his teeth:

  “To the inn! To the inn! Woe to me!” Afterward remembering what had relieved them before, they again seized the stone and rolled it back to its former place.

  Zbyszko rode beside Jagienka, listening to the abbot’s shpilmen singing merry songs; but when they had traveled five or six furlongs, he suddenly reined in his horse, and said:

  “Oh! I intended to pay for a mass to be said for uncle’s health and I forgot it; I must return.”

  “Do not go back!” exclaimed Jagienka; “we will
send from Zgorzelice.”

  “No, I will return, and you must not wait for me. With God!”

  “With God,” said the abbot. “Go!” And his face brightened; when Zbyszko disappeared, he touched Zych with his elbow and said:

  “Do you understand?”

  “What?”

  “He will surely fight in Krzesnia with Wilk and Cztan; but I wished for it and I am glad.”

  “They are dreadful boys! If they wound him, then what of it?”

  “What of it? If he fight for Jagienka, then how can he afterward think about that other girl, Jurandowna? From this time, Jagienka will be his lady, not the other girl; and I wish it because he is my relative and I like him.”

  “Bah! What about his vow?”

  “I will give him absolution in the twinkling of an eye! Have you not heard that I promised to absolve him?”

  “Your head is wise about everything,” answered Zych.

  The abbot was pleased with this praise; then he approached nearer Jagienka and asked:

  “Why are you so sad?”

  She leaned on the saddle, seized the abbot’s hand and lifted it to her mouth:

  “Godfather, could you not send your shpilmen to Krzesnia?”

  “What for? They will get drunk in the inn — that’s all.”

  “But they may prevent a quarrel.”

  The abbot looked into her eyes and then said sharply:

  “Let them even kill him.”

  “Then they must kill me also!” exclaimed Jagienka.

  The bitterness which had accumulated in her bosom since that conversation about Danusia with Zbyszko, mingled with grief, now gushed forth in a stream of tears. Seeing this, the abbot encircled her with his arm, almost covering her with his enormous sleeve, and began to talk:

  “Do not be afraid, my dear little girl. They may quarrel, but the other boys are noblemen; they will attack him only in a chivalrous manner; they will call him up on the field, and then he can manage for himself, even if he be obliged to fight with both of them at once. As for Jurandowna, about whom you have heard, I will tell you this: there is no wood growing for a bed for the other girl.”