Zbyszko immediately asked him for news of Jurand of Spychow, but he replied that he had not arrived, but was expected because he promised to come, and that if he were very ill he would send word. Nevertheless several horsemen were sent out to meet him, for even the oldest men did not remember such a blizzard.
“Then he may soon be here.”
“I believe he will soon be here. The princess ordered dishes for them near the common table.”
But Zbyszko, although he was somewhat anxious about Jurand, was nevertheless glad in his heart, and said to himself: “Though I do not know what to do, yet one thing is certain, my wife is coming, my woman, my most beloved Danuska.” When he repeated those words to himself, he could hardly believe his own happiness. Why, he reflected, it may be that she has already confessed all to her father, she may have moved him to pity and begged him to give her up at once. “In truth, what else could he do? Jurand is a clever fellow, he knows, that although he keeps her from me, I shall nevertheless take her away, for my right is stronger.”
Whilst he was dressing himself he conversed with Mrokota, inquiring after the prince’s health and specially that of the princess, whom he loved like his mother since that time when he sojourned in Krakow. He was glad to learn that everybody in the castle was well and cheerful, although the princess greatly yearned after her beloved songstress. Jagienka now played the lute for her and the princess loved her much, but not as much as the songstress.
“Which Jagienka?” inquired Zbyszko with astonishment.
“Jagienka of Wielgolasu, the granddaughter of the old lord of Wielgolasu. She is a fine girl. The Lotarynczyk fell in love with her.”
“Then is Sir de Lorche here?”
“Where then should he be? He has been here since he arrived from the Forest Court, for it is well to be here. Our prince never lacks guests.”
“I shall be glad to see him, he is a knight with whom none can find fault.”
“And he also loves you. But let us go, their Highnesses will soon be at the table.”
They went into the dining hall where big fires burned in the two fireplaces and they were taken care of by the servants.
The room was already filled with guests and courtiers. The prince entered first accompanied by the Voyevode and several life guards. Zbyszko knelt and kissed his hands.
The prince pressed Zbyszko’s head, then he took him aside and said:
“I know it all already, I was displeased at first, because it was done without my permission, but there was no time, for I was then in Warsaw where I intended to spend the holidays. It is a well-known fact that, if a woman desires anything, opposition is useless, and you gain nothing by it. The princess wishes you well like a mother, and I always desire to please rather than to oppose her wishes, in order to spare her trouble and tears.”
Zbyszko bowed again to the prince’s knees.
“God grant that I may requite your princely love.”
“Praise His name that you are already well. Tell the princess how I received you with good wishes, so that she may be pleased. As I fear God, her joy is my joy! I shall also say a good word in your behalf to Jurand, and I think that he will consent, for he too loves the princess.”
“Even if he refused to give her to me, my right stands first.”
“Your right stands first and must be acknowledged, but a blessing might fail you. Nobody can forcibly wrest her from you, but without a father’s blessing God’s is also lacking.”
Zbyszko felt uneasy on hearing these words, for he had never before thought about it; but at that moment the princess entered, accompanied by Jagienka of Wielgolasu and other court ladies; he hastened to bow before her, but she greeted him even more graciously than the prince had done, and at once began to tell him of the expectation of Jurand’s arrival. “Here are the covers ready for him, and people have been dispatched to guide them through the snowdrifts. We shall not wait any longer for them with the Christmas Eve supper, for the prince does not approve of it, but they will be here before supper is over.”
“As far as Jurand is concerned,” continued the princess, “he will be here in God’s good time. But I shall tell him all to-day or to-morrow after the shepherd service (pasterce), and the prince also promised to say a word in your behalf. Jurand is obstinate but not with those whom he loves, nor those to whom he owes obedience.”
Then she began to instruct Zbyszko how he should act with his father-in-law, and that God forbid he should anger him or rouse his obstinacy. It was apparently good advice, but an experienced eye looking at Zbyszko and then at her could discern in her words and looks a certain alarm. It may be because the lord of Spychow was not an accommodating man, and it may also be that the princess was somewhat uneasy at his non-appearance. The storm increased in strength, and all declared that if any one were caught in the open country he would not survive. The princess, however, concluded that Danuska had confessed to her father her marriage to Zbyszko, and he being offended, was resolved not to proceed to Ciechanow. The princess however, did not desire to reveal her thoughts to Zbyszko; there was not even time to do so, for the servants brought in the viands and placed them on the table. Nevertheless Zbyszko endeavored to follow her up and make further inquiries.
“And if they arrive, what will happen then, beloved lady? Mrokota told me that there are special quarters set apart for Jurand; there will be hay enough for bedding for the chilled horses. How then will it be?”
The princess laughed and tapped him lightly on the face with her glove and said: “Be quiet, do you see him?”
And she went toward the prince and was assisted to a chair. One of the attendants placed before the prince a flat dish with thin slices of cake, and wafers, which he was to distribute among the guests, courtiers and servants. Another attendant held before the prince a beautiful boy, the son of the castellan of Sokhochova. On the other side of the table stood Father Wyszoniek who was to pronounce a benediction upon the fragrant supper.
At this moment, a man covered with snow entered and cried: “Most Gracious Prince!”
“What is it?” said the prince. “Is there no reverence; they have interrupted him in his religious ceremonies.”
“Some travelers are snowbound on the road to Radzanow, we need people to help us to dig them out.”
On hearing this all were seized with fear — the prince was alarmed, and turning toward the castellan of Sokhochova, he commanded:
“Horses and spades! Hasten!”
Then he said to the man who brought the news: “Are there many under the snow?”
“I could not tell, it blew terribly; there are a considerable number of horses and wagons.”
“Do you not know who they are?”
“People say that they belong to Jurand of Spychow.”
CHAPTER II.
When Zbyszko heard the ill tidings, he did not even ask the prince’s permission, but hastened to the stable and ordered his horse to be saddled. The Bohemian, being a noble-born armor-bearer, met Zbyszko in the hall before he returned to the house, and brought him a warm fur coat, yet he did not attempt to detain his young master, for he possessed strong natural sense; he knew that detention would be of no avail, and only loss of time, he therefore mounted the second horse and seized some torches from the guard at the gate, and started at once together with the prince’s men who were under the management of the old castellan. Impenetrable darkness enveloped them beyond the gate, but the storm seemed to them to have moderated; were it not for the man who notified them of the accident, they would have lost their way at once; but he had a trained dog with him which being acquainted with the road, enabled him to proceed safely and quickly. In the open field the storm again increased and began to cut their faces. It may be because they galloped. The road was filled with snow, so much so that in some places they were obliged to slacken their speed, for the horses sank up to their bellies in snow. The prince’s people lighted their torches and fire-pots and moved on amid smoke and flames; the wind
blew with such force as though it endeavored to tear the flames from the torches and carry them over the field and forest. It was a long journey. They passed the settlement near Ciechanow, then they passed Niedzborz, then they turned toward Radzanow.
The storm began really to subside beyond Niedzborz; the gusts of wind were less frequent and no longer carried immense snowclouds. The sky cleared. Some snow yet drifted from the hills, but it soon ceased. The stars appeared here and there between the broken clouds. The horses began to snort, the horsemen breathed freely. The stars came out by degrees and it began to freeze. In a short time the storm subsided entirely.
Sir de Lorche who rode beside Zbyszko began to comfort him, saying, that Jurand undoubtedly in moments of peril thought of his daughter’s safety above everything, and although all those buried in the snow should be found dead, she undoubtedly would be discovered alive, probably sleeping in her fur robes. But Zbyszko understood him not, in fact he had no time to listen to him. When, after a little while, the guide who was riding in front of them turned from the road, the young knight moved in front and inquired:
“Why do we deviate from the road?”
“Because they are not covered up on the road, but yonder! Do you observe that clump of alders?”
And he pointed with his hand to the darkening in the distant thicket which could be seen plainly on the white snow-covered expanse, when the clouds unveiled the moon’s disk and the night became clear.
“They have apparently wandered from the road; they turned aside and moved in a small circle along the river; in the wind and drifting snow, it is quite easy to go astray. They moved on and on as long as the horses did not give out.”
“How did you find them?”
“The dog led us.”
“Are there any huts near here?”
“Yes, but they are on the other side of the river. Close here is Wkra.”
“Whip up the horses,” commanded Zbyszko.
But the command was easier than the execution of the order. The piled up snow upon the meadow was not yet frozen firm, and the horses sank knee-deep in the drifts; they were therefore obliged to move slowly. Suddenly they heard the barking of a dog; directly in front of them there was the deformed thick stump of a willow-tree upon which glistened in the light of the moon a crown of leafless twigs.
“They are farther off,” said the guide, “they are near the alder clump, but it seems that here also there might be something.”
“There is much drift under the willow-tree. Bring a light.”
Several attendants dismounted and lit up the place with their torches. One of them soon exclaimed:
“There is a man under the snow, his head is visible. Here!”
“There is also a horse,” said another.
“Dig them out!”
They began to remove the snow with their spades and throw it aside.
In a moment they observed a human being under the tree, his head upon his chest, and his cap pulled down over his face. One hand held the reins of the horse that lay beside him with its nostrils buried in the snow. It was obvious that the man must have left the company, probably with the object of reaching a human habitation as quickly as possible in order to secure help, and when the horse fell he had then taken refuge under the lee of the willow-tree.
“Light!” shouted Zbyszko.
The attendant brought the torch near the face of the frozen man, but his features could not be distinguished. Only when a second attendant lifted the head from the chest, they all exclaimed with one accord:
“It is the lord of Spychow!”
Zbyszko ordered two of his men to carry him to the nearest hut and try to resuscitate him, but himself lost no time but hastened with the rest of the attendants and the guide to rescue the rest of the retinue. On the way it crossed Zbyszko’s mind that perhaps he might find his wife Danuska dead, and he urged on his horse who waded up to his breast in snow, to his last breath.
Fortunately it was not distant, a few furlongs at most. In the darkness voices were heard exclaiming: “Byway.” They were those who had been left with the snow-covered people.
Zbyszko rushed in and jumped from his horse and shouted:
“To the spades!”
Two sleighs were dug out before they reached those in the rear. The horses and the people in the sleighs were frozen to death, and past all hope of reviving. The place where the other teams were could be recognized by the heaps of snow, though not all the sleighs were entirely covered with snow; in front of some of the sleighs were the horses up to their bellies, in the posture of their last effort to run. In front of one team there stood a man up to his belt in snow, holding a lance and motionless as a post; in front of the others were dead attendants holding the horses by their muzzles. Death had apparently overtaken them at the moment when they attempted to extricate the horses from the drifts. One team, at the very end of the train, was not at all in the drift. The driver sat in front bent, his hands protecting his ears, but in the rear lay two people, who, owing to the continuous, long snow-fall, were completely covered. On their breasts, to escape the drift, they lay closely side by side, and the snow covered them like a blanket. They seemed to be sleeping peacefully. But others perished, struggling hard with the snow-drift to the last moment, their benumbed position demonstrated the fact. A few sleighs were upset, others had their poles broken. The spades now and then uncovered horses’ backs, bent like bows, and jaws biting the snow. People were within and beside the sleighs. But there was no woman in any of the sleighs. At times even Zbyszko labored with the spade till his brow was covered with perspiration, and at others he looked with palpitating heart into the eyes of the corpses, perchance to discover the face of his beloved. But all in vain. The faces which the torchlight revealed were those of whiskered soldiers of Spychow. Neither Danusia nor any other woman was there.
“What does it mean?” the young knight asked himself with astonishment.
He hailed those working at a distance and inquired whether they had come across anything else, but they too only found the corpses of men. At last the work was finished. The servants hitched their own horses to the sleighs, placed the corpses in them and drove to Niedzborz, to make an attempt there in the warm mansion, to restore some of the dead to life. Zbyszko, the Bohemian and two attendants remained. It crossed his mind that the sleigh containing Danusia might have separated from the train, or that Jurand’s sleigh, as might be supposed, was drawn by his best horses and had been ordered to drive in front; and it might also be that Jurand had left her somewhere in one of the huts along the road. Zbyszko did not know what to do. In any case he desired to examine closely the drifts and grove, and then return and search along the road.
But nothing was found in the drifts. In the grove he only saw several glistening wolves’ eyes, but nowhere discovered any traces of people or horses. The meadow between the woods and road now sparkled in the shiny light of the moon, and upon its white mournful cover he really espied dark spots, but those were only wolves that quickly vanished at the approach of people.
“Your grace!” finally said the Bohemian. “Our search is in vain, for the young lady of Spychow was not in the train.”
“To the road!” replied Zbyszko.
“We shall not find her there either. I looked well in the sleighs for any baskets containing ladies’ finery, but I discovered none. The young lady remained in Spychow.”
This supposition struck Zbyszko as correct, he therefore said:
“God grant it to be as you say!”
But the Bohemian penetrated further into his thoughts, and proceeded with his reasoning.
“If she were in one of the sleighs the old gentleman would not have separated from her, or when he left the train he would have taken her with him on horseback, and we should have found her with him.”
“Come, let us go there once more,” said Zbyszko, in a restless voice. It struck him that the Bohemian might be right, perhaps they had not searched enough where the old
man was discovered, perhaps Jurand had taken Danusia with him on horseback, and when the horse fell, she had left her father in search of assistance, in that case she might be somewhere under the snow in the neighborhood.
But Glowacz as though divining his thoughts, said:
“In such a case ladies’ apparel would have been found in the sleighs, because she would not have left for the court with only her traveling dress.”
In spite of these reasonable suppositions they returned to the willow-tree, but neither there nor for a furlong around did they discover anything. The prince’s people had already taken Jurand to Niedzborz, and the whole neighborhood was a complete desolation. The Bohemian observed further, that the dog that ran ahead of the guide and found Jurand would also have discovered the young lady. Then Zbyszko breathed freely, for he was almost sure that Danusia had remained at home. He was even able to explain why she did so. Danusia had confessed all to her father, and he was not satisfied with the marriage, and so purposely left her at home, and went by himself to see the prince and bring an action, and ask for his intercession with the bishop. At this thought Zbyszko could not help feeling a certain sense of relief, and even gladness, when he comprehended that by reason of Jurand’s death all hindrances had vanished. “Jurand was unwilling, but the Lord Jesus wants it,” said the young knight to himself, “and God’s will is always the strongest.” Now, he had only to go to Spychow and fetch Danuska as his own and then complete the nuptials. It is even easier to marry her on the frontier than there in the distant Bogdaniec. “God’s will! God’s will!” he repeated in his soul. But suddenly he felt ashamed of this premature joy and turned to the Bohemian and said:
Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz Page 518