Glowacz made no observation upon this, but when he heard of the conduct of Cztan and Wilk, he began to gnash his teeth so loudly, that it sounded like the creaking caused by the opening and closing of a door, then he began to rub his strong hands upon his thighs as though they were itching. Finally, he uttered with difficulty only one word:
“Villains!”
But at that moment, a voice was heard in the entrance-hall, the door suddenly opened and Jagienka rushed into the house, and with her was Jasko, her oldest brother, who was fourteen years old and looked as like her, as though they were twins.
She had heard from some peasants at Zgorzelice, that they had seen the Bohemian Hlawa, at the head of some people, journeying to Bogdaniec, and like Macko, she also was terrified, and when they informed her that Zbyszko was not among them she was almost sure that some misfortune had happened. She therefore lost no time and hastened to Bogdaniec to ascertain the truth.
“What has happened?… For God’s sake tell me,” she shouted, when yet upon the threshold.
“What should happen?” replied Macko. “Zbyszko is alive and well.”
The Bohemian hastened toward the young lady, knelt upon one knee and kissed the hem of her dress, but she paid no attention to it; only when she heard the reply of the old knight she turned her head from the fireplace to the darker side of the room, and only after a while, as if having forgotten that it was necessary to salute the Bohemian, she said:
“The name of Jesus Christ be praised!”
“Forever and ever,” replied Macko.
Then she observed the kneeling Bohemian at her feet and bent toward him.
“From my soul I am glad to see you, Hlawa, but why did you leave your master behind?”
“He sent me away, most gracious lady.”
“What were his orders?”
“He ordered me to go to Bogdaniec.”
“To Bogdaniec?… What else?”
“He sent me to get counsel…. He also sends his compliments and good wishes.”
“To Bogdaniec? Very well, then. But where is he himself?”
“He left for Malborg, and is now among the Knights of the Cross.”
Jagienka’s face again assumed an expression of alarm.
“Why, is he tired of life?”
“He is in quest, gracious lady, of that which he will not be able to find.”
“I believe he will not find it,” interrupted Macko. “Just as one cannot drive a nail without a hammer, so are man’s wishes without the will of God.”
“What are you talking about?” cried Jagienka. But Macko replied with another query.
“Did he say to you that Zbyszko went for Jurandowna? It seems to me that he did.”
Jagienka at first did not reply, and only after awhile, catching her breath, she replied:
“Ay! He said! But what hindered him telling?”
“Well, then, now I can talk freely.”
And he began to tell to her all that he had heard from the Bohemian. He wondered at himself why his words came haltingly and with difficulty, but being a clever man, he tried to avoid any expression that might irritate Jagienka, and he dwelt strongly upon what he himself believed, that Zbyszko was never the husband of Danusia in reality and that she was already lost to him forever.
The Bohemian confirmed Macko’s words now and then, sometimes by nodding his head in approval, sometimes repeating “By God, true, as I live,” or: “It is so, not otherwise!” The young lady listened, with eyelashes lowered till they touched her cheeks; she asked no more questions, and was so quiet that her silence alarmed Macko.
“Now, what do you say to that?” he enquired when he had ended.
But she did not reply, only two tears glistened between her eyelids and rolled down her cheeks.
After a while she approached Macko, and kissing his hand, said:
“The Lord be praised.”
“Forever and ever,” replied Macko. “Are you so much needed at home? Better stay with us.”
But she refused to remain, giving as a reason that she had not given out the provisions for supper. But Macko, although he knew that there was the old lady, Sieciechowa, at Zgorzelice, who could easily fulfil Jagienka’s duties, did not persuade her to remain, for he knew that sorrow does not like the light on human tears, and that a man is like a fish, when it feels the penetrating harpoon in its body it sinks to the depths.
Then he only regarded her as a girl, so he led her and the Bohemian into the courtyard.
But the Bohemian brought the horse from the stable, harnessed him, and departed with the young lady.
But Macko returned to the house, shook his head, and murmured:
“What a fool that Zbyszko is?… Why, her presence seems to have filled the whole house with perfume.”
The old man lamented to himself. “Had Zbyszko taken her immediately after he returned, by this time there might have been joy and delight! But what of it now? If they should speak of him her eyes would immediately be filled with tears of longing, and the fellow is roaming about the world and may break the head of some of the knights at Malborg, provided they do not break his; and now the house is empty, only the arms on the wall glitter. There is some benefit in husbandry. Running about is nothing, Spychow and Bogdaniec are nothing. Very soon none will remain to whom they might be left.”
Here Macko became angry.
“Wait, you tramp,” he exclaimed, “I will not go with you, you may do as you like!”
But at that very moment he was seized with an exceeding yearning after Zbyszko.
“Bah! shall I not go,” he thought. “Shall I remain at home? God forbid!… I wish to see that rascal once more. It must be so. He will again fight one of those dog-brothers — and take spoil. Others grow old before they receive the belt of knighthood, but he already has received the belt from the prince…. And rightly so. There are many valorous youths among the nobility; but not another like him.”
His tender feelings entirely subdued him. First he began to look at the arms, swords and axes which had become blackened by the smoke, as though considering which to take with him, and which to leave behind; then he left the house; first, because he could not stay there; secondly, to give orders to prepare the carriage and give the horses double provender.
In the courtyard where it was already beginning to grow dark, he remembered Jagienka, who only a moment ago sat here on horseback, and he again became uneasy.
“I must go,” he said to himself, “but who is going to protect the girl against Cztan and Wilk. May thunder strike them.”
But Jagienka was on the road with her little brother, Jasko, crossing the woods leading to Zgorzelice, and the Bohemian accompanied them in silence, with love and grief in his heart. A moment since he saw her tears, now he looked at her dark form, scarcely visible in the darkness of the forest, and he guessed her sorrow and pain. It also seemed to him that at any moment Wilk or Cztan’s rapacious hands might dart from the dark thicket and grasp her, and at that thought, he was carried away by wild anger and longed for a fight. At times the desire for fight was so intense that he wanted to grasp his axe or sword and cut down a pine tree on the road. He felt that a good fight would comfort him. Lastly he would be glad, even if he could let the horse go at a gallop. But he could not do it, they rode silently in front of him, and at a very slow gait, foot by foot, and little Jasko, who was of a talkative disposition, after several attempts to engage his sister in conversation, seeing that she was unwilling to speak, desisted, and also sank into deep silence.
But when they were approaching Zgorzelice, the sorrow in the Bohemian’s heart turned to anger against Cztan and Wilk: “I would not spare even my blood in your behalf,” he said to himself, “provided it comforted you. But what can I, unfortunate, do? What can I tell you? Unless I tell you that he ordered me to kneel before you. And, God grant that that might be of some comfort to you.”
Thinking thus, he urged his horse close to Jagienka’s.
�
�Gracious lady….”
“Are you riding with us?” enquired Jagienka, as though awaking from sleep. “What do you say?”
“I forgot to tell you what my master commanded me to say to you. When I was about to depart from Spychow, he called me and said ‘I bow at the feet of the young lady of Zgorzelice, for whether in good or bad fortune, I shall never forget her; and for what she did for my uncle and myself, may God recompense her, and keep her in good health.’”
“May God also recompense him for his good words,” replied Jagienka.
Then she added, in such a wonderful tone, that it caused the Bohemian’s heart to melt:
“And you, Hlawa.”
The conversation ceased for a while. But the armor-bearer was glad for himself and for her words. For he said to himself: “At least it shall not be said that she has been fed with ingratitude.” He also began to rack his brains for something more of the same nature to tell her; and after a moment he said:
“Lady.”
“What?”
“This … as it were … I want to say, as the old pan of Bogdaniec also said: ‘That the lady there is lost forever, and that he will never find her, even if the grand master himself assist him.’”
“Then she is his wife….”
The Bohemian nodded his head.
“Yes, she is his wife.”
Jagienka made no reply to this, but at home, after supper, when Jasko and the younger brother were put to bed, she ordered a pitcher of mead. Then she turned to the Bohemian and asked:
“Perhaps you want to retire. I wish to continue our conversation.”
The Bohemian, although tired, was ready to chatter even till morning. So they began to talk, and he again related in general terms all that had happened to Zbyszko, Jurand, Danusia and himself.
CHAPTER II.
Macko prepared for his journey, and Jagienka did not show herself at Bogdaniec for two days after her consultation with the Bohemian. It was only on the third day that the old knight met her on his way to church. She was riding with her brother Jasiek to church at Krzesnia, and with her was a considerable number of armed servants in order to protect her from Cztan and Wilk, because she was not sure whether Cztan and Wilk were still sick or were planning to harm her.
“Any way, I intended to call upon our own people at Bogdaniec,” she said, greeting Macko, “because I have to consult you about a very important affair, but since you are here we can talk about it now.”
Then she advanced in front of the retinue, obviously to prevent the servants overhearing their conversation. When Macko was near her she inquired:
“Are you surely going?”
“If God will, not later than to-morrow.”
“Are you going to Malborg?”
“To Malborg, or any other place, according to circumstances.”
“Now then listen to me. I have thought a long time about what I ought to do. I want to ask your advice, too. You well know that as long as papa was alive, and the abbot was powerful, it was quite different. Cztan and Wilk also thought that I should choose one of them, so they kept their temper. But now I stand alone without a protector; then either I shall remain at Zgorzelice in a fortress, like a prisoner, or they will do us some harm without fail. Is it not so?”
“Yes,” said Macko, “I thought of it myself.”
“And what did you devise?”
“I devised nothing, but I must tell you one thing, that we are in Poland and the law of this country punishes severely those who are guilty of acts of violence.”
“Very well, but the transgressors have no difficulty in crossing the frontier. Indeed, I know that Szlonsk is also in Poland, yet there the princes themselves quarrel and attack each other. If it were not so, my beloved father would still be alive. There are already Germans there and the times are stormy; they are mischievous, so that if any one of them wishes to conceal himself, he does. It would be easy for me to avoid Cztan and Wilk, but it concerns my little brother. If I should be absent there would be peace, but if I remained in Zgorzelice, God only knows what ill luck might happen. There would be outrages and fights; and Jasiek is already fourteen years old, and nobody, not even myself, can detain him. Upon the last occasion when you came to our assistance he flew to the front, and when Cztan used his club upon the crowd he nearly hit him on the head. ‘O,’ Jasko said to the servants, ‘those two I will prosecute to the very end.’ I tell you that there will not be a single peaceful day and some evil might befall the youngster.”
“Faith. Cztan and Wilk are dog-brothers,” said Macko, “although they would not dare lift up their hands against children. Bah! only a Knight of the Cross would do that.”
“They will not lift up their hands against children, but in case of tumult, or, God forbid, in an incendiary fire, there will be no lack of accidents. Why talk! I love the brother of old Sieciechowa as my own parents, and protection for them from the dear old woman is not wanting, yet, without me … would they be safer without me?”
“May be,” replied Macko.
Then he looked slyly at the girl.
“Then, what do you want?”
And she replied in a low tone:
“Take me with you.”
Then Macko, although he easily understood the drift of the conversation, was much surprised. He checked his horse, and exclaimed:
“Fear God, Jagienka.”
But she dropped her head and replied bashfully and sadly:
“You may think so, but as far as myself is concerned, I would rather speak out than be silent. Hlawa and yourself said that Zbyszko will never find Danusia, and the Bohemian’s hope of finding her is even less. God is my witness that I do not wish her evil in the least. Let the mother of God watch over that poor girl and keep her. Zbyszko loved her more than myself. Well, I cannot help it. Such is my lot. But observe this, so long as Zbyszko does not find her, or as you believe, he will never find her, then, then …”
“What then?” asked Macko, seeing that the girl was getting more and more confused and stammering.
“Then I do not wish to be Madame Cztan, nor Madame Wilk, nor madame anybody.”
Macko breathed freely.
“I thought that you had already forgiven him.”
But she, still in a sad tone, replied: “Ah!…”
“Then what are your wishes? How can we take you among the Knights of the Cross?”
“Not exactly among the Knights of the Cross, I should like to be now with the abbot who is confined in the hospital at Sieradz. He has not a single friendly soul with him. The servants care more for the pitcher than they do for him. Moreover, he is my godfather and benefactor. If he were well I would have sought his protection all the same because the people fear him.”
“I shall not dispute that,” said Macko, who as a matter of fact, would be glad that Jagienka should not go with him, for he well knew the Knights of the Cross, and he was thoroughly convinced that Danuska would never come out alive from their hands. “But only this I tell you, that to travel with a girl is very troublesome.”
“May be with others, but not with me. Nothing has occurred to me so far, but I am accustomed to go about with the bow and can endure hardship in the chase. When it is necessary, it is necessary. Don’t be afraid. I shall take Jasiek’s clothing and a net for my hair and I shall go. Jasiek, although younger than I am, with the exception of his hair looks exactly like myself, so much so that when we disguised ourselves last carnival our departed father could not tell one from the other. Observe, neither the abbot nor anybody else recognized me.”
“Neither Zbyszko?”
“If I shall see him….”
Macko thought for a moment, then suddenly smiled and said:
“But Wilk of Brzozowa and Cztan of Rogow would be furious.”
“Let them! It might be worse if they came after us.”
“Well! Fear not. I am an old man, but let them beware of my fist. All the Gradys are of the same mettle!… However, they have already test
ed Zbyszko….”
Meanwhile they arrived at Krzesnia. Old Wilk of Brzozowa, who also happened to be at church, from time to time cast gloomy glances at Macko, but he did not mind it, and with a light heart he returned with Jagienka immediately after mass…. Then they took leave of each other and parted. When Macko was by himself at Bogdaniec, less happy thoughts passed through his mind. He understood that neither the people at Zgorzelice nor the relatives of Jagienka would really object to her departure. “But as to the girl’s admirers,” he said to himself, “that is quite another affair, but against the orphans and their property they would not dare to lift up their hand, because they would cover themselves with excessive infamy. Everybody would be against them as one is against a wolf. But Bogdaniec is left to God’s favor!… The quarries will be filled up, the flocks will be seized, the peasants will be enticed away!… If God permit me to return, then I will fight them. I shall send out bans, and fight them not with the fist but with the law!… Only let me return, and if I do?… They will combine against me, because I have spoiled their love affair, and if she goes with me they will yet be more rancorous.”
He was much grieved about his estate at Bogdaniec which he had improved. Now he felt sure that on his return he would find it desolate and in ruins.
“Now then, it is necessary to take counsel,” he thought.
Accordingly, after dinner, he ordered his horse to be saddled and left directly for Brzozowa.
It was already dark when he arrived. Old Wilk was sitting in the front room drinking mead from a pitcher. Young Wilk, who was wounded by Cztan, was lying on a skin-covered bench, and was also drinking mead. Macko entered unexpectedly and remained standing upon the threshold with a stern look on his face; tall, bony, armed only with a big sabre at his side. They recognized him at once, because his face was lit up by the bright flame of the fireplace, and at the first moment, both the father and son jumped up, lightning-like, and running toward the wall seized the first arms that were at hand.
Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz Page 532