Fire in the Steppe

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  At last the time came when the Sultan gave command to march. Azya's men were to move in the vanguard, and after them the whole legion of Dobrudja and Belgrod Tartars. That was arranged between the Sultan, the vizir, and the kaimakan. But in the beginning all went to the Balkans together. The march was comfortable, for by reason of the heat which was setting in, they marched only in the night, six hours from one resting-place to the other. Tar-barrels were burning along their road, and the massala djirali lighted the way for the Sultan with colored lights. The swarms of people flowed on like a river, through boundless plains; filled the depressions of valleys like locusts, covered the mountains. After the armed men went the tabors, in them the harems; after the tabors herds without number.

  But in the swamps at the foot of the Balkans the gilded and purple chariot of the kasseka was mired so that twelve buffaloes were unable to draw it from the mud. "That is an evil omen, lord, for thee and for the whole army," said the chief mufti to the Sultan. "An evil omen," repeated the half-mad dervishes in the camp. The Sultan was alarmed, and decided to send all women out of the camp with the marvellous kasseka.

  The command was announced to the armies. Those of the soldiers who had no place to which they might send captives, and from love did not wish to sell them to strangers, preferred to kill them. Merchants of the caravanserai bought others by the thousand, to sell them afterward in the markets of Stambul and all the places of nearer Asia. A great fair, as it were, lasted for three days. Azya offered Zosia for sale without hesitation; an old Stambul merchant, a rich person, bought her for his son.

  He was a kindly man, for at Zosia's entreaties and tears he bought her mother from Halim; it is true that he got her for a trifle. The next day both wandered on toward Stambul, in a line with other women. In Stambul Zosia's lot was improved, without ceasing to be shameful. Her new owner loved her, and after a few months he raised her to the dignity of wife. Her mother did not part from her.

  Many people, among them many women, even after a long time of captivity, returned to their country. There was also some person, who by all means, through Armenians, Greek merchants, and servants of envoys from the Commonwealth, sought Zosia too, but without result. Then these searches were interrupted on a sudden; and Zosia never saw her native land, nor the faces of those who were dear to her. She lived till her death in a harem.

  CHAPTER XLVIII.

  Even before the Turks marched from Adrianople, a great movement had begun in all the stanitsas on the Dniester. To Hreptyoff, the stanitsa nearest to Kamenyets, couriers of the hetman were hastening continually, bringing various orders; these the little knight executed himself, or if they did not relate to him, he forwarded them through trusty people. In consequence of these orders the garrison of Hreptyoff was reduced notably. Pan Motovidlo went with his Cossacks to Uman to aid Hanenko, who, with a handful of Cossacks faithful to the Commonwealth, struggled as best he could with Doroshenko and the Crimean horde which had joined him. Pan Mushalski, the incomparable bowman, Pan Snitko of the escutcheon Hidden Moon, Pan Nyenashinyets, and Pan Hromyka, led a squadron and Linkhauz's dragoons to Batog of unhappy memory, where was stationed Pan Lujetski, who, aided by Hanenko, was to watch Doroshenko's movements; Pan Bogush received an order to remain in Mohiloff till he could see chambuls with the naked eye. The instructions of the hetman were seeking eagerly the famous Pan Rushchyts, whom Volodyovski alone surpassed as a partisan; but Pan Rushchyts had gone to the steppes at the head of a few tens of men, and vanished as if in water. They heard of him only later, when wonderful tidings were spread, that around Doroshenko's tabor and the companies of the horde an evil spirit, as it were, was hovering, which carried away daily single warriors and smaller companies. It was suspected that this must be Pan Rushchyts, for no other except the little knight could attack in that manner. In fact, it was Pan Rushchyts.

  As decided before. Pan Michael had to go to Kamenyets; the hetman needed him there, for he knew him to be a soldier whose coming would comfort the hearts, while it roused the courage, of the inhabitants and the garrison. The hetman was convinced that Kamenyets would not hold out; with him the question was simply that it should hold out as long as possible,—that is, till the Commonwealth could assemble some forces for defence. In this conviction he sent to evident death, as it were, his favorite soldier, the most renowned cavalier of the Commonwealth.

  He sent the most renowned warrior to death, and he did not grieve for him. The hetman thought always, what he said later on at Vienna, that Pani Wojnina[29] might give birth to people, but that Wojna (war) only killed them. He was ready himself to die; he thought that to die was the most direct duty of a soldier, and that when a soldier could render famous service by dying, death was to him a great reward and favor. The hetman knew also that the little knight was of one conviction with himself.

  Besides, he had no time to think of sparing single soldiers when destruction was advancing on churches, towns, the country, the whole Commonwealth; when, with forces unheard of, the Orient was rising against Europe to conquer all Christendom, which, shielded by the breast of the Commonwealth, had no thought of helping that Commonwealth. The only question possible for the hetman was that Kamenyets should cover the Commonwealth, and then the Commonwealth the remainder of Christendom.

  This might have happened had the Commonwealth been strong, had disorder not exhausted it. But the hetman had not troops enough even for reconnoissances, not to mention war. If he hurried some tens of soldiers to one place, there was an opening made in another, through which an invading wave might pour in without obstacle. The detachments of sentries posted by the Sultan at night in his camp outnumbered the squadrons of the hetman. The invasion moved from two directions,—from the Dnieper and the Danube. Because Doroshenko, with the whole horde of the Crimea, was nearer, and had inundated the country already, burning and slaying, the chief squadrons had gone against him; on the other hand, people were lacking for simple reconnoissances. While in such dire straits the hetman wrote the following few words to Pan Michael,—

  "I did think to send you to Rashkoff near the enemy, but grew afraid, because the horde, crossing by seven fords from the Moldavian bank, will occupy the country, and you could not reach Kamenyets, where there is absolute need of you. Only yesterday I remembered Novoveski, who is a trained soldier and daring, and because a man in despair is ready for everything, I think that he will serve me effectively. Send him whatever light cavalry you can spare; let him go as far as possible, show himself everywhere, and give out reports of our great forces, when before the eyes of the enemy; let him appear here and there suddenly, and not let himself be captured. It is known how they will come; but if he sees anything new, he is to inform you at once, and you will hurry off without delay an informant to me, and to Kamenyets. Let Novoveski move quickly, and be you ready to go to Kamenyets, but wait where you are till news comes from Novoveski in Moldavia."

  Since Pan Adam was living at Mohiloff for the time, and, as report ran, was to come to Hreptyoff in any case, the little knight merely sent word to him to hasten, because a commission from the hetman was waiting for him.

  Pan Adam came three days later. His acquaintances hardly knew him, and thought that Pan Byaloglovski had good reason to call him a skeleton. He was no longer that splendid fellow, high-spirited, joyous, who on a time used to rush at the enemy with outbursts of laughter, like the neighing of a horse, and gave blows with just such a sweep as is given by the arm of a windmill. He had grown lean, sallow, dark, but in that leanness he seemed a still greater giant. While looking at people, he blinked as if not recognizing his nearest acquaintances; it was needful also to repeat the same thing two or three times to him, for he seemed not to understand at first. Apparently grief was flowing in his veins instead of blood; evidently he strove not to think of certain things, preferring to forget them, so as not to run mad.

  It is true that in those regions there was not a man, not a family, not an officer of the army, who had not suffered evil from Pagan
hands, who was not bewailing some acquaintance, friend, near and dear one; but on Pan Adam there had burst simply a whole cloud of misfortunes. In one day he had lost father and sister, and besides, his betrothed, whom he loved with all the power of his exuberant spirit. He would rather that his sister and that dearly beloved girl had both died; he would rather they had perished from the knife or in flames. But their fate was such that in comparison with the thought of them the greatest torment was nothing for Pan Adam. He strove not to think of their fate, for he felt that thinking of it bordered on insanity; he strove, but he failed.

  In truth, his calmness was only apparent. There was no resignation whatever in his soul, and at the first glance it was evident to any man that under the torpor there was something ominous and terrible, and, should it break forth, that giant would do something awful, just as a wild element would. That was as if written on his forehead explicitly, so that even his friends approached him with a certain timidity; in talking with him, they avoided reference to the past.

  The sight of Basia in Hreptyoff opened closed wounds in him, for while kissing her hands in greeting, he began to groan like an aurochs that is mortally wounded, his eyes became bloodshot, and the veins in his neck swelled to the size of cords. When Basia, in tears and affectionate as a mother, pressed his head with her hands, he fell at her feet, and could not rise for a long time. But when he heard what kind of office the hetman had given him, he became greatly enlivened; a gleam of ominous joy flashed up in his face, and he said,—

  "I will do that, I will do more!"

  "And if you meet that mad dog, give him a skinning!" put in Zagloba.

  Pan Adam did not answer at once; he only looked at Zagloba; sudden bewilderment shone in his eyes; he rose and began to go toward the old noble, as if he wished to rush at him.

  "Do you believe," said he, "that I have never done evil to that man, and that I have always been kind to him?"

  "I believe, I believe!" said Zagloba, pushing behind the little knight hurriedly. "I would go myself with you, but the gout bites my feet."

  "Novoveski," asked the little knight, "when do you wish to start?"

  "To-night."

  "I will give you a hundred dragoons. I will remain here myself with another hundred and the infantry. Go to the square!"

  They went out to give orders. Zydor Lusnia was waiting at the threshold, straightened out like a string. News of the expedition had spread already through the square; the sergeant therefore, in his own name and the name of his company, began to beg the little colonel to let him go with Pan Adam.

  "How is this? Do you want to leave me?" asked the astonished Volodyovski.

  "Pan Commandant, we made a vow against that son of a such a one; and perhaps he may come into our hands."

  "True! Pan Zagloba has told me of that," answered the little knight.

  Lusnia turned to Novoveski,—

  "Pan Commandant!"

  "What is your wish?"

  "If we get him, may I take care of him?"

  Such a tierce, beastly venom was depicted on the face of the Mazovian that Novoveski inclined at once to Volodyovski, and said entreatingly,—

  "Your grace, let me have this man!"

  Pan Michael did not think of refusing; and that same evening, about dusk, a hundred horsemen, with Novoveski at their head, set out on the journey.

  They marched by the usual road through Mohiloff and Yampol. In Yampol they met the former garrison of Rashkoff, from which two hundred men joined Novoveski by order of the hetman; the rest, under command of Pan Byaloglovski, were to go to Mohiloff, where Pan Bogush was stationed. Pan Adam marched to Rashkoff.

  The environs of Rashkoff were a thorough waste; the town itself had been turned into a pile of ashes, which the winds had blown to the four sides of the world; its scant number of inhabitants had fled before the expected storm. It was already the beginning of May, and the Dobrudja horde might show itself at any time; therefore it was unsafe to remain in those regions. In fact, the hordes were with the Turks, on the plain of Kuchunkaury; but men around Rashkoff had no knowledge of that, therefore every one of the former inhabitants, who had escaped the last slaughter, carried off his head in good season whithersoever seemed best to him.

  Along the road Lusnia was framing plans and stratagems, which in his opinion Pan Adam should adopt if he wished to outwit the enemy in fact and successfully. He detailed these ideas to the soldiers with graciousness.

  "You know nothing of this matter, horse-skulls," said he; "but I am old, I know. We will go to Rashkoff; we will hide there and wait. The horde will come to the crossing; small parties will cross first, as is their custom, because the chambul stops and waits till they tell if 'tis safe; then we will slip out and drive them before us to Kamenyets."

  "But in this way we may not get that dog brother," remarked one of the men in the ranks.

  "Shut your mouth!" said Lusnia. "Who will go in the vanguard if not the Lithuanian Tartars?"

  In fact, the previsions of the sergeant seemed to be coming true. "When he reached Rashkoff Pan Adam gave the soldiers rest. All felt certain that they would go next to the caves, of which there were many in the neighborhood, and hide there till the first parties of the enemy appeared. But the second day of their stay the commandant brought the squadron to its feet, and led it beyond Rashkoff.

  "Are we going to Yagorlik, or what?" asked the sergeant in his mind.

  Meanwhile they approached the river just beyond Rashkoff, and a few "Our Fathers" later they halted at the so-called "Bloody Ford." Pan Adam, without saying a word, urged his horse into the water and began to cross to the opposite bank. The soldiers looked at one another with astonishment.

  "How is this,—are we going to the Turks?" asked one of another. But these were not "gracious gentlemen" of the general militia, ready to summon a meeting and protest, they were simple soldiers inured to the iron discipline of stanitsas; hence the men of the first rank urged their horses into the water after the commandant, and then those in the second and third did the same. There was not the least hesitation. They were astonished that, with three hundred horse, they were marching against the Turkish power, which the whole world could not conquer; but they went. Soon the water was plashing around the horses' sides; the men ceased to wonder then, and were thinking simply of this, that the sacks of food for themselves and the horses should not get wet. Only on the other bank did they begin to look at one another again.

  "For God's sake, we are in Moldavia already!" said they, in quiet whispers.

  And one or another looked behind, beyond the Dniester, which glittered in the setting sun like a red and golden ribbon. The river cliffs, full of caves, were bathed also in the bright gleams. They rose like a wall, which at that moment divided that handful of men from their country. For many of them it was indeed the last parting.

  The thought went through Lusnia's head that maybe the commandant had gone mad; but it was the commandant's affair to command, his to obey.

  Meanwhile the horses, issuing from the water, began to snort terribly in the ranks. "Good health! good health!" was heard from the soldiers. They considered the snorting of good omen, and a certain consolation entered their hearts.

  "Move on!" commanded Pan Adam.

  The ranks moved, and they went toward the setting sun and toward those thousands, to that swarm of people, to those nations gathered at Kuchunkaury.

  CHAPTER XLIX.

  Pan Adam's passage of the Dniester, and his march with three hundred sabres against the power of the Sultan, which numbered hundreds of thousands of warriors, were deeds which a man unacquainted with war might consider pure madness; but they were only bold, daring deeds of war, having chances of success.

  To begin with, raiders of those days went frequently against chambuls a hundred times superior in numbers; they stood before the eyes of the enemy, and then vanished, cutting down pursuers savagely. Just as a wolf entices dogs after him at times, to turn at the right moment and kill the dog pus
hing forward most daringly, so did they. In the twinkle of an eye the beast became the hunter, started, hid, waited, but though pursued, hunted too, attacked unexpectedly, and bit to death. That was the so-called "method with Tartars," in which each side vied with the other in stratagems, tricks, and ambushes. The most famous man in this method was Pan Michael, next to him Pan Rushchyts, then Pan Pivo, then Pan Motovidlo; but Novoveski, practising from boyhood in the steppes, belonged to those who were mentioned among the most famous, hence it was very likely that when he stood before the horde he would not let himself be taken.

  The expedition had chances of success too, for the reason that beyond the Dniester there were wild regions in which it was easy to hide. Only here and there, along the rivers, did settlements show themselves, and in general the country was little inhabited; nearer the Dniester it was rocky and hilly; farther on there were steppes, or the land was covered with forests, in which numerous herds of beasts wandered, from buffaloes, run wild, to deer and wild boars. Since the Sultan wished before the expedition "to feel his power and calculate his forces," the hordes dwelling on the lower Dniester, those of Belgrod, and still farther those of Dobrudja, marched at command of the Padishah to the south of the Balkans, and after them followed the Karalash of Moldavia, so that the country had become still more deserted, and it was possible to travel whole weeks without being seen by any person.

  Pan Adam knew Tartar customs too well not to know that when the chambuls had once passed the boundary of the Commonwealth they would move more warily, keeping diligent watch on all sides; but there in their own country they would go in broad columns without any precaution. And they did so, in fact; there seemed to the Tartars a greater chance to meet death than to meet in the heart of Bessarabia, on the very Tartar boundary, the troops of that Commonwealth which had not men enough to defend its own borders.