“Oh, that very Zygfried, with whom you marched to war,” he said. “Does he serve Christ? Have you never heard how he communicates with evil spirits, how he whispers to them, smiles and gnashes his teeth at them?”
“It is true!” murmured Arnold.
But Zbyszko, whose heart was filled with new waves of grief and anger, suddenly exclaimed:
“And you, who speak of knightly honor? Shame upon you, because you help a hangman, a devilish man. Shame upon you, because you quietly looked upon the torture of a defenceless woman, and a knight’s daughter. Maybe you also outraged her. Shame upon you!”
Arnold closed his eyes, and making the sign of the cross, said:
“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost…. How is that?… That fettered girl in whose head dwell twenty-seven devils? I?…”
“Oh, horrible! horrible!” interrupted Zbyszko, groaning.
And, grasping the handle of his misericordia he again looked savagely toward the dark corner where Zygfried lay on his back.
Macko placed his hand quietly upon Zbyszko’s arm, which he pressed with his whole strength, so as to bring him back to his senses; whilst he himself, turning toward Arnold, said:
“That woman is the daughter of Jurand of Spychow, and wife of this young knight. Do you understand now, why we followed you up, and why we have captured you?”
“For God’s sake!” said Arnold. “Whence? How? she is insane….”
“Because the Knights of the Cross kidnapped that innocent lamb and subjected her to torture.”
When Zbyszko heard these words: “Innocent lamb,” he put his fist to his mouth, gnashed his teeth, and was not able to restrain his tears.
Arnold sat absorbed in thought; but the Bohemian told him in a few words of Danveld’s treachery, the kidnapping of Danusia, the torture of Jurand, and the duel with Rotgier. Silence reigned when he concluded. It was only disturbed by the rustling of the trees of the forest and the crackling of the brands in the fireplace.
In that manner they sat for a while. Finally Arnold lifted up his head and said:
“I swear to you not only upon my knightly honor, but also upon the crucifix, that I have not seen that woman, that I did not know who she was, and that I have not taken the least part in her tortures and never laid my hand upon her.”
“Then swear also that you will go with us willingly and that you will make no attempt to escape, then I will order your bonds to be entirely unloosed,” said Macko.
“Let it be as you say. I swear! Whither are you going to take me?”
“To Mazovia, to Jurand of Spychow.”
Then Macko himself cut the rope from Arnold’s feet, and ordered meat and turnips to be brought. After a while Zbyszko went out and sat upon the threshold of the hut to rest, where he no longer found the servant, for the hostler boys had carried her off and put her among the horses. Zbyszko lay down upon the fur which Hlawa brought. He resolved to keep awake and wait until daybreak; peradventure then some happy change might take place in Danusia!
But the Bohemian returned to the fireplace where he wished to converse with the old knight of Bogdaniec about a certain affair and take off the burden which pressed so heavily upon his heart. He found him also absorbed in troubled thought, and not noticing the snoring of Arnold who, after having consumed an immense quantity of baked turnips and meat, was much fatigued and slept the sleep of a stone. “And why do you not take a rest?” inquired the Bohemian.
“Sleep has fled from my eyelids,” replied Macko. “May God grant a good morning.”
Then he looked at the stars and said:
“The Wagoner is already visible in the sky, and I am continually thinking about how all these things shall be arranged. And I shall not go to sleep either because the young lady of Zgorzelice occupies my mind.”
“Ah! that is true. More trouble. But she, at least, is at Spychow.”
“But we brought her to Spychow from Zgorzelice, not knowing why.”
“It was at her own request,” replied Macko, impatiently, because he knew in his heart that he was wrong and he hated to talk about it.
“Yes! But what now?”
“Ha! Well? I shall carry her back to her home; then let God’s will be done!”
But after a moment he added:
“Yes! God’s will be done, that at least Danuska be restored to health, one might then know what to do. But as it is now, the deuce knows! What will it be if she neither recovers nor dies? The Devil knows.”
But the Bohemian was thinking all the time of Jagienka.
“Your honor should understand that when I left Spychow and bade her good-bye, she told me this: ‘If anything should happen, come and inform me before Zbyszko and Macko arrive. And as they will be obliged to send information by somebody, let them send it by you, then you will take me to Zgorzelice.’”
“Hey!” replied Macko. “Surely, it would be improper for her to stay at Spychow when Danusia arrives. Surely she ought now to be taken back to Zgorzelice. I pity the little orphan, I sincerely regret it. But God’s will must be done. But now how shall I arrange the matter? Let me see. Did you say that she commanded you to come ahead of us with the news, and then take her to Zgorzelice?”
“She did. I repeated to you her words exactly.”
“Now, you may move ahead of us. Old Jurand must also be informed that his daughter has been found, but it must be done carefully so that the sudden joy may not kill him. As I love God, I declare that it is the most practical thing to do.”
“Return! Tell them that we have rescued Danusia, and that we shall bring her home without delay. Then take that other poor girl to Zgorzelice!”
Then the old knight sighed, because he was really sorry for Jagienka, whom he had fostered.
After a while he asked again:
“I know that you are a valiant and powerful man, but see that you keep her out of harm’s way or accident. Things of that character are often met with on the road.”
“I shall do my best, even if I lose my head! I shall take with me a few good men, whom the lord of Spychow will not grudge, and I shall bring her safely even to the end of the world.”
“Well, do not have too much confidence in yourself. Bear also in mind that even there, at Zgorzelice, it will be necessary to watch Wilk of Brzozowa and Cztan of Rogow. But, I confess, in speaking of Wilk and Cztan, I am out of order; for, it was necessary to watch them when there was nothing else to think of. But now, things have changed and there is no more hope, and that which is going to happen must happen.”
“Nevertheless, I shall protect the young lady from those knights, seeing Danusia is very weak and consumptive. What if she should die?”
“As God is dear to me you are right. The emaciated lady is scarcely alive. If she should die?”
“We must leave that with God. But we must now think only of the young lady of Zgorzelice.”
“By rights, I ought to convey her myself to her fatherland. But it is a difficult task. I cannot now leave Zbyszko for many potent reasons. You saw how he gnashed his teeth, how he strove to get at the old comthur to kill him, and my wrangling with him. Should that girl die on the road, even I should be unable to restrain him. And if I shall not be able to prevent him, nobody else could, and everlasting shame would fall upon him and upon our clan, which God forbid. Amen!”
Then the Bohemian replied:
“Bah! There is, I am sure, a simple means. Give me the hangman and I will keep him and bring him to Jurand at Spychow and shake him out of the sack.”
“How clever you are! May God grant you health,” exclaimed Macko, joyfully. “It is a very simple thing, quite simple. Should you succeed in bringing him to Spychow alive then do with him as you please.”
“Then let me also have that Szczytno bitch, and if she is not troublesome on the road, I will bring her too to Spychow, if she is, then I shall hang her on a tree.”
“The removal of the pair, whose presence causes much fear to Danusia, may
contribute to her speedy recovery. But if you take the female servant with you, who is going to nurse Danusia?”
“You may find some old woman in the wilderness, or one of the fugitive peasant women; take hold of the first one you meet, for any one will be better than this. Meanwhile, you must take care of lady Zbyszko.”
“You speak to-day somewhat more prudently than usually. Seeing that Zbyszko is constantly with her, he will also succeed in filling the double position, that of father and mother, for her. Very well, then. When do you intend to start?”
“I shall not wait for the dawn; now I must lie down for a while, it is scarcely midnight yet.”
“The Wagoner is already in the sky, but the chickens had not yet made their appearance.”
“Thank God that we have taken some counsel together, for I was very much troubled.”
Then the Bohemian stretched himself near the expiring fire, covered himself over with the long furred robe and in a moment he fell asleep. However, the sky had not yet paled and it was still deep, dark night when he awoke, crept from under the skin, looked at the stars, and stretching his somewhat benumbed limbs, he awoke Macko.
“It is time for me to move,” he said.
“Whither?” asked the semi-conscious Macko, rubbing his eyes with his fists.
“To Spychow.”
“True, I quite forgot. Who is there snoring so loud as to awake the dead?”
“The knight Arnold. Let me throw a few branches upon the embers, then I will go to the men.”
Then he left, and hastily returned in a little while, and from a distance he called in a low voice:
“Sir, there is news, bad news!”
“What has happened?” Macko exclaimed, jumping to his feet.
“The servant has escaped. The men took her among the horses. May thunder strike them, and when they fell asleep, she sneaked like a serpent from among them and escaped. Come, sir!”
Macko, in alarm, moved quickly with the Bohemian toward the horses, where they found only one man, the others had scattered in pursuit of the fugitive. But, considering the darkness of the night and the thickets of the forest, the search was a foolish undertaking, and after a while they returned with hanging heads. Macko began to belabor them quietly with his fists. Then he returned to the fireplace, for there was nothing to be done.
Zbyszko, who was watching in the hut and did not sleep, came in, hearing the movements, to ascertain the reason. Macko told him all about his consultation with the Bohemian, then he also informed him of the woman’s escape.
“It is not a great misfortune,” he said. “Because she will either die of starvation, or fall into the hands of the peasants who will flay her; that is, if she succeeds first in escaping the wolves. It is only to be regretted that she escaped the punishment at Spychow.”
Zbyszko also regretted her escaping punishment at Spychow; otherwise he received the news quietly. He did not oppose the departure of the Bohemian with Zygfried, because he was indifferent to anything which did not directly concern Danusia. He began to talk about her at once.
“I shall take her in front of me on horseback to-morrow, then we shall proceed.”
“How is it there? Is she asleep?” inquired Macko.
“At times she moans, but I do not know whether she does it in sleep or whilst she is awake, but I don’t want to disturb her, lest I frighten her.”
Further conversation was interrupted by the Bohemian, who observing Zbyszko, exclaimed:
“O! your honor, also here! It is now time for me to start. The horses are ready and the old devil is fastened to the saddle. It will soon begin to dawn because now the nights are short. Good-bye, your grace!”
“God be with you, and health!”
But Hlawa pulled Macko aside again and said:
“I wish also to ask you kindly, that in case anything should happen…. You know, sir … some misfortune or another … you would dispatch a courier posthaste to Spychow. If we have left Spychow, let him overtake us.”
“Well,” said Macko, “I have also forgotten to tell you to take Jagienka to Plock. Do you understand? Go there to the bishop, and tell him who she is, that she is the goddaughter of the abbot, for whom there is a will in the bishop’s possession; then ask his guardianship for her, as that is also mentioned in the abbot’s will.”
“But if the bishop orders us to remain in Plock?”
“Then obey him in everything and follow his counsel.”
“It shall be so, sir! Good-bye!”
“Good-bye!”
CHAPTER II.
Sir Arnold was informed in the morning of the flight of the servant of the Order; he chuckled at the news, on the other hand he held the same opinion as Macko, viz, that she might fall a prey to the wolves, or be slain by the Lithuanians. The latter was not at all improbable, since the inhabitants of that locality who were descendants of the Lithuanians abhorred the Order and all those who came in contact with it. Some of the male population had joined Skirwoillo, others had risen in arms and slaughtered the Germans here and there; they, their families and their cattle hid themselves in the inaccessible fastnesses of the forest. They searched the following day for the servant, but without success, because Macko and Zbyszko were occupied with more important matters; hence the lack of indispensable ardor in the searchers.
They were obliged to push on toward Mazowsze; they wished to start at once, at the rising of the sun, but they were unable to do so because Danuska was in a profound sleep, and Zbyszko would not permit her to be disturbed.
He listened to her moanings during the night-time and thought that she was not asleep. He, therefore, promised himself good results. Twice he stealthily went into the hut; twice he saw by the light falling through crevices of the logs her closed eyes, open mouth and glowing face, as little children are wont to have when asleep. His tears melted his heart at that sight, and he said to her:
“May God grant you health my most beloved little flower.” Then he continued: “Your troubles are ended, your tears are ended. May the most merciful Lord Jesus grant that your happiness may be as inexhaustible as the flowing river.”
Then, lifting up his simple and upright heart heavenward, he asked himself: “With what can I thank Thee? What shall I render to Thee for Thy favors? Shall I offer to the Church some of my wealth, grain, herds, wax, or something of the same nature acceptable to God?” He was even about to vow and name accurately his offerings, but he wished to wait and see the result when Danusia awoke, whether she had recovered her senses so that there might be reason for thanksgiving.
Although Macko knew well that there would be perfect safety when once in the domains of Prince Janusz, nevertheless he was also of the opinion that it was better not to disturb Danusia’s rest. He therefore kept his horses and servants in readiness but waited.
Nevertheless when it was past noon and Danusia continued to sleep, they were somewhat alarmed. Zbyszko, who was incessantly watching, looking through the crevices and door, entered suddenly for the third time into the hut and sat down upon the block where the servant had dressed Danusia yesterday.
He sat and gazed at her, but she had her eyes closed. But after the lapse of a short time, not more than it takes to say one “Pater” and “Ave Maria,” her lips began to twitch a little, and she whispered as though she saw through her closed eyelids:
“Zbyszko….”
In an instant be threw himself upon his knees in front of her, grasped her emaciated hands, which he kissed in ecstasy. Then he addressed her in a broken voice:
“Thank God! Danuska! You recognize me.”
His voice awoke her completely. Then she sat up in the bed and with open eyes she repeated:
“Zbyszko!”
Then she began to blink and look around her in amazement.
“You are no more in captivity,” said Zbyszko. “I have rescued you from their hands and I am taking you to Spychow.”
But she withdrew her hands from Zbyszko’s and said:
&
nbsp; “All this came to pass because there was no permission from dear papa. Where is the princess?”
“Awake, then, dear little berry! The princess is far away and we have rescued you from the Germans.”
Then she appeared not to notice his words but seemed to try to recollect something.
“They have also taken away my little lute and have broken it against the wall. Hey!”
“O God!” exclaimed Zbyszko.
He then observed that she was absent-minded and her eyes were glassy and her cheeks were glowing, and it struck him that she must be very ill, and the mention of his name twice was due to feverish hallucinations.
This caused his heart to tremble within him with despair and a cold sweat covered his brow.
“Danuska!” he said. “Do you see and understand me?”
But she replied in a low voice:
“Drink! Water!”
“Gracious Lord!”
And he rushed out, and at the door encountered Macko, who was coming to ascertain her condition. Zbyszko could only tell him hurriedly, “Water;” and then hastened to the stream which ran among neighboring bushes.
He returned after a moment with a full pitcher of water and handed it to Danusia who drank it with much avidity. Macko entered the hut before Zbyszko and seeing the patient he became gloomy.
“She is feverish?” he said.
“Yes!” groaned Zbyszko.
“Does she understand what you say?”
“No.”
The old knight furrowed his brow, then he began to rub his neck and nape with his hands.
“What is to be done?”
“I do not know.”
“There is only one thing to be done,” said Macko.
But Danusia, who finished drinking, interrupted him at that moment; she fixed her dilated pupils on him, and said:
Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz Page 547