Pan Michael: An Historical Novel of Poland, the Ukraine, and Turkey

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  CHAPTER LV.

  After that sortie the night was passed in desultory firing; at daylightit was announced that a number of Turks were standing near the castle,waiting till men were sent out to negotiate. Happen what might, it wasneedful to know what they wanted; therefore Pan Makovetski and PanMyslishevski were appointed at the council to go out to the Pagans.

  A little later Pan Kazimir Humyetski joined them, and they went forth.There were three Turks,--Muhtar Bey, Salomi, the pasha of Rushchuk, andthe third Kozra, an interpreter. The meeting took place under the opensky outside the gate of the castle. The Turks, at sight of the envoys,began to bow, putting their finger-tips to their hearts, mouths, andforeheads; the Poles greeted them politely, asking why they had come.To this Salomi answered,--

  "Dear men! a great wrong has been done to our lord, over which all wholove justice must weep; and for which He who was before the ages willpunish you, if you do not correct it straightway. Behold, you sent outof your own will Yuritsa, who beat with the forehead to our vizir andbegged him for a cessation of arms. When we, trusting in your virtue,went out of the trenches, you began to fire at us from cannon, andrushing out from behind walls, covered the road with corpses as far asthe tents of the Padishah; which proceeding cannot remain withoutpunishment, unless you surrender at once the castles and the town, andshow great regret and repentance."

  To this Makovetski gave answer,--

  "Yuritsa is a dog, who exceeded his instructions, for he ordered hisattendant to hang out a white flag, for which he will be judged. Thebishop on his own behalf inquired privately if an armistice might bearranged; but you did not cease to fire in time of sending thoseletters. I myself am a witness of that, for broken stones wounded me inthe mouth; wherefore you have not the right to ask us to cease firing.If you come now with an armistice ready, it is well; if not, tell yourlord, dear men, that we will defend the walls and the town as before,until we perish, or what is more certain, till you perish, in theserocks. We have nothing further to give you, except wishes that God mayincrease your days, and permit you to live to old age."

  After this conversation the envoys separated straightway. The Turksreturned to the vizir; Makovetski, Humyetski, and Myslishevski to thecastle. They were covered with questions as to how they had sent offthe envoys. They related the Turkish declaration.

  "Do not receive it, dear brothers," said Kazimir Humyetski. "In brief,these dogs wish that we should give up the keys of the town beforeevening."

  To this many voices gave answer, repeating the favorite expression,--

  "That Pagan dog will not grow fat with us. We will not surrender; wewill drive him away in confusion. We do not want him."

  After such a decision, all separated; and firing began at once. TheTurks had succeeded already in putting many heavy guns in position; andtheir balls, passing the "breastworks," began to fall into the town.Cannoneers in the town and the castles worked in the sweat of theirforeheads the rest of the day and all night. When any one fell, therewas no man to take his place, there was a lack also of men to carryballs and powder. Only before daybreak did the uproar cease somewhat.But barely was the day growing gray in the east, and the rosygold-edged belt of dawn appearing, when in both castles the alarm wassounded. Whoso was sleeping sprang to his feet; drowsy throngs came outon the streets, listening carefully. "They are preparing for anassault," said some to others, pointing to the side of the castle."But is Pan Volodyovski there?" asked alarmed voices. "He is, he is!"answered others.

  In the castles they rang the chapel bells, and rattling of drums wasbeard on all sides. In the half-light, half-darkness of morning, whenthe town was comparatively quiet, those voices seemed mysterious andsolemn. At that moment the Turks played the "kindya;" one band gave thesounds to another, and they ran in that way, like an echo, through thewhole immense tabor. The Pagan swarms began to move around the tents.At the rising day the towering intrenchments, ditches, and approachescame out of the darkness, stretching in a long line at the side of thecastle. The heavy Turkish guns roared at once along its whole length;the cliffs of the Smotrych roared back in thundering echo; and thenoise was as awful and terrible as if all the thunders in thestorehouse of heaven had flashed and shot down together, bringing withthem the dome of clouds to the earth.

  That was a battle of artillery. The town and the castles gave mightyanswers. Soon smoke veiled the sun and the light; the Turkish workswere invisible. Kamenyets was hidden; only one gray enormous cloud wasto be seen, filled in the interior with lightning, with thunder androaring. But the Turkish guns carried farther than those of the town.Soon death began to cut people down in Kamenyets. A number of cannonwere dismounted. In service at the arquebuses, two or three men fell ata time. A Franciscan Father, who was blessing the guns, had his noseand part of his lip carried off by a wedge from under a cannon; twovery brave Jews who assisted in working that cannon were killed.

  But the Turkish guns struck mainly at the intrenchment of the town. PanKazimir Humyetski sat there like a salamander, in the greatest fire andsmoke: one half of his company had fallen; nearly all of those whoremained were wounded. He himself lost speech and hearing; but with theaid of the Polish mayor he forced the enemy's battery to silence, atleast until new guns were brought to replace the old ones.

  A day passed, a second, a third; and that dreadful "colloquium" ofcannon did not cease for an instant. The Turks changed gunners fourtimes a day; but in the town the very same men had to work all the timewithout sleep, almost without food, stifled from smoke; many werewounded from broken stones and fragments of cannon carriages. Thesoldiers endured; but the hearts began to weaken in the inhabitants. Itwas necessary at last to drive them with clubs to the cannon, wherethey fell thickly. Happily, in the evening of the third day and throughthe night following, from Thursday till Friday, the main cannonadingwas turned on the castles.

  They were both covered, but especially the old one, with bombs fromgreat mortars, which, however, "harmed little, since in darkness eachbomb was discernible, and a man could avoid it." But toward evening,when such weariness seized men that they fell off their feet fromdrowsiness, they perished often enough.

  The little knight, Ketling, Myslishevski, and Kvasibrotski answered theTurkish fire from the castles. The starosta looked in at themrepeatedly, and advanced amid a hail of bullets, anxious, butregardless of danger.

  Toward evening, however, when the fire had increased still more, PanPototski approached Pan Michael.

  "Gracious Colonel," said he, "we shall not hold out."

  "While they confine themselves to firing we shall hold out," answeredthe little knight; "but they will blow us out of here with mines, forthey are making them."

  "Are they really mining?" asked the starosta, in alarm.

  "Seventy cannon are playing, and their thunder is almost unceasing;still, there are moments of quiet. When such a moment comes, put downyour ear carefully and listen."

  At that time it was not needful to wait long, especially as an accidentcame to their aid. One of the Turkish siege-guns burst; that caused acertain disorder. They sent from other intrenchments to inquire whathad happened, and there was a lull in cannonading.

  Pan Michael and the starosta approached the very end of one of theprojections of the castle, and began to listen. After a certain timetheir ears caught clearly enough the resonant sound of hammers in thecliff.

  "They are pounding," said the starosta.

  "They are pounding," said the little knight.

  Then they were silent. Great alarm appeared on the face of thestarosta; he raised his hands and pressed his temples. Seeing this, PanMichael said,--

  "This is a usual thing in all sieges. At Zbaraj they were digging underus night and day."

  The starosta raised his hand: "What did Prince Yeremi do?"

  "He withdrew from intrenchments of wide circuit into narrower ones."

  "But what should we do?"

  "We should take the guns, and with them all that is
movable, andtransfer them to the old castle; for the old one is founded on rocksthat the Turks cannot blow up with mines. I have thought always thatthe new castle would serve merely for the first resistance; after thatwe must blow it up with powder, and the real defence will begin in theold one."

  A moment of silence followed; and the starosta bent his anxious headagain.

  "But if we heave to withdraw from the old castle, where shall we go?"asked he, with a broken voice.

  At that, the little knight straightened himself, and pointed with hisfinger to the earth: "I shall go there."

  At that moment the guns roared again, and a whole flock of bombs beganto fly to the castle; but as darkness was in the world, they could beseen perfectly. Pan Michael took leave of the general, and went alongthe walls. Going from one battery to another, he encouraged meneverywhere, gave advice; at last, meeting with Ketling, he said,--

  "Well, how is it?"

  Ketling smiled pleasantly.

  "It is clear as day from the bombs," said he, pressing the littleknight's hand. "They do not spare fire on us."

  "A good gun of theirs burst. Did you burst it?"

  "I did."

  "I am terribly sleepy."

  "And I too, but there is no time."

  "Ai," said Pan Michael; "and the little wives must be frightened; atthought of that, sleep goes away."

  "They are praying for us," said Ketling, raising his eyes toward theflying bombs.

  "God give them health!" said Pan Michael.

  "Among earthly women," began Ketling, "there are none--"

  But he did not finish, for the little knight, turning at that momenttoward the interior of the castle, cried suddenly, in a loud voice,--

  "For God's sake! Save us! What do I see?"

  And he sprang forward.

  Ketling looked around with astonishment. At a few paces distant, in thecourt of the castle, he saw Basia, with Zagloba and the Lithuanian,Pyentka.

  "To the wall! to the wall!" cried the little knight, dragging them asquickly as possible to the cover of the battlements. "For God's sake!"

  "Ha!" said Zagloba, with a broken voice, and panting; "help yourselfhere with such a woman, if you please. I remonstrate with her, saying,'You will destroy yourself and me.' I kneel down,--no use. Was I to lether go alone? Uh! No help, no help! 'I will go; I will go,' said I.Here she is for you!"

  Basia had fear in her face, and her brow was quivering as if beforeweeping. But it was not bombs that she feared, nor the whizzing ofballs, nor fragments of stones, but the anger of her husband. Thereforeshe clasped her hands like a child fearing punishment, and exclaimed,with sobbing voice,--

  "I could not, Michael dear; as I love you, I could not. Be not angry,Michael. I cannot stay there when you are perishing here. I cannot; Icannot!"

  He had begun to be angry indeed, and had cried, "Basia, you have nofear of God!" but sudden tenderness seized him, his voice stuck in histhroat; and only when that dearest bright head was resting on hisbreast, did he say,--

  "You are my faithful friend until death;" and he embraced her.

  But Zagloba, pressing up to the wall, said to Ketling: "And yourswished to come, but we deceived her, saying that we were not coming.How could she come in such a condition? A general of artillery will beborn to you. I'm a rogue if it will not be a general. Well, on thebridge from the town to the castle, the bombs are falling like peas. Ithought I should burst,--from anger, not from fear. I slipped on sharppieces of shell, and cut my skin. I shall not be able to sit downwithout pain for a week. The nuns will have to rub me, without mindingmodesty. Uf! But those rascals are shooting. May the thunderbolts shootthem away! Pan Pototski wants to yield the command to me. Give thesoldiers a drink, or they will not hold out. See that bomb! It willfall somewhere near us. Hide yourself, Basia! As God lives, it willfall near!"

  But the bomb fell far away, not near, for it fell on the roof of theLutheran church in the old castle. Since the dome was very strong,ammunition had been carried in there; but this missile broke the dome,and set fire to the powder. A mighty explosion, louder than the thunderof cannon, shook the foundations of both castles. From the battlement,voices of terror were heard. Polish and Turkish cannon were silent.

  Ketling left Zagloba, and Volodyovski left Basia. Both sprang to thewalls with all the strength in their limbs. For a time it was heard howboth gave commands with panting breasts; but the rattle of drums in theTurkish trenches drowned their commands.

  "They will make an assault!" whispered Zagloba.

  In fact, the Turks, hearing the explosion, imagined apparently thatboth castles were destroyed, the defenders partly buried in the ruins,and partly seized with fear. With that thought, they prepared for thestorm. Fools! they knew not that only the Lutheran church had gone intothe air. The explosion had produced no other effect than the shock; noteven a gun had fallen from its carriage in the new castle. But in theintrenchments the rattle of drums grew more and more hurried. Crowds ofjanissaries pushed out of the intrenchments, and ran with quick stepstoward the castle. Fires in the castle and in the Turkish trenches werequenched, it is true; but the night was clear, and in the light of themoon a dense mass of white caps were visible, sinking and rising in therush, like waves stirred by wind. A number of thousands of janissariesand several hundred volunteers were running forward with rage and thehope of certain victory in their hearts; but many of them were neveragain to see the minarets of Stambul, the bright waters of theBosphorus, and the dark cypresses of the cemeteries.

  Pan Michael ran, like a spirit, along the walls. "Don't fire! Wait forthe word!" cried he, at every gun.

  The dragoons were lying flat at the battlements, panting with rage.Silence followed; there was no sound but that of the quick tread of thejanissaries, like low thunder. The nearer they came, the more certainthey felt of taking both castles at a blow. Many thought that theremnant of the defenders had withdrawn to the town, and that thebattlements were empty. When they had run to the fosse, they began tofill it with fascines and bundles of straw, and filled it in a twinkle.On the walls, the stillness was unbroken.

  But when the first ranks stood on the stuff with which the fosse hadbeen filled, in one of the battlement openings a pistol-shot was heard;then a shrill voice shouted,--

  "Fire!"

  At the same time both bulwarks, and the prolongation joining them,gleamed with a long flash of flame. The thunder of cannon, the rattleof musketry, and the shouts of the assailants were mingled. When adart, hurled by the hand of a strong beater, sinks half its length inthe belly of a bear, he rolls himself into a bundle, roars, struggles,flounders, straightens, and again rolls himself; thus precisely did thethrong of janissaries and volunteers. Not one shot of the defenders waswasted. Cannon loaded with grape laid men flat as a pavement, just as afierce wind levels standing grain with one breath. Those who attackedthe extension, joining the bulwarks, found themselves under threefires, and seized with terror, became a disordered mass in the centre,falling so thickly that they formed a quivering mound. Ketling pouredgrape-shot from two cannon into that group; at last, when they began toflee, he closed, with a rain of lead and iron, the narrow exit betweenthe bulwarks.

  The attack was repulsed on the whole line, when the janissaries,deserting the fosse, ran, like madmen, with a howl of terror. Theybegan in the Turkish intrenchments to hurl flaming tar buckets andtorches, and burn artificial fires, making day of night, so as toilluminate the road for the fugitives, and to make pursuit difficultfor a sortie.

  Meanwhile Pan Michael, seeing that crowd enclosed between the bulwarks,shouted for his dragoons, and went out against them. The unfortunateTurks tried once more to escape through the exit; but Ketling coveredthem so terribly that he soon blocked the place with a pile of bodiesas high as a wall. It remained to the living to perish; for thebesieged would not take prisoners, hence they began to defendthemselves desperately. Strong men collected in little groups (two,three, five), and supporting one another with their shoulders, armedwith darts
, battle-axes, daggers, and sabres, cut madly. Fear,terror, certainty of death, despair, was changed in them into onefeeling of rage. The fever of battle seized them. Some rushed in furysingle-handed on the dragoons. These were borne apart on sabres in atwinkle. That was a struggle of two furies; for the dragoons, fromtoil, sleeplessness, and hunger, were possessed by the anger of beastsagainst an enemy that they surpassed in skill in using cold weapons;hence they spread terrible disaster.

  Ketling, wishing on his part to make the scene of struggle morevisible, gave command to ignite tar buckets, and in the light of themcould be seen irrestrainable Mazovians fighting against janissarieswith sabres, dragging them by the heads and beards. The savage Lusniaraged specially, like a wild bull. At the other wing Pan Michaelhimself was fighting; seeing that Basia was looking at him from thewalls, he surpassed himself. As when a venomous weasel breaks intograin where a swarm of mice are living, and makes terrible slaughteramong them, so did the little knight rush like a spirit of destructionamong the janissaries. His name was known to the besiegers already,both from previous encounters and from the narratives of Turks inHotin. There was a general opinion that no man who met him could savehimself from death; hence many a janissary of those enclosed betweenthe bulwarks, seeing Pan Michael suddenly in front, did not even defendhimself, but closing his eyes, died under the thrust of the littleknight's rapier, with the word "kismet" on his lips. Finally resistancegrew weak; the remnant of the Turks rushed to that wall of bodies whichbarred the exit, and there they were finished.

  The dragoons returned now through the filled fosse with singing,shouting, and panting, with the odor of blood on them; a number ofcannon-shots were fired from the Turkish intrenchments and the castle;then silence followed. Thus ended that artillery battle which lastedsome days, and was crowned by the storm of the janissaries.

  "Praise be to God," said the little knight, "there will be rest tillthe morning kindya at least, and in justice it belongs to us."

  But that was an apparent rest only, for when night was still deeperthey heard in the silence the sound of hammers beating the cliff.

  "That is worse than artillery," said Ketling, listening.

  "Now would be the time to make a sortie," said the little knight; "but'tis impossible; the men are too weary. They have not slept and theyhave not eaten, though they had food, for there was no time to take it.Besides, there are always some thousands on guard with the miners, sothat there may be no opposition from our side. There is no help but toblow up the new castle ourselves, and withdraw to the old one."

  "That is not for to-day," answered Ketling. "See, the men have fallenlike sheaves of grain, and are sleeping a stone sleep. The dragoonshave not even wiped their swords."

  "Basia, it is time to go home and sleep," said the little knight.

  "I will, Michael," answered Basia, obediently; "I will go as youcommand. But the cloister is closed now; I should prefer to remain andwatch over your sleep."

  "It is a wonder to me," said the little knight, "that after such toilsleep has left me, and I have no wish whatever to rest my head."

  "Because you have roused your blood among the janissaries," saidZagloba. "It was always so with me; after a battle I could never sleepin any way. But as to Basia, why should she drag herself to a closedgate? Let her remain here till morning."

  Basia pressed Zagloba with delight; and the little knight, seeing howmuch she wished to stay, said,--

  "Let us go to the chambers."

  They went in; but the place was full of lime-dust, which thecannon-balls had raised by shaking the walls. It was impossible to staythere, so they went out again, and took their places in a niche madewhen the old gate had been walled in. Pan Michael sat there, leaningagainst the masonry. Basia nestled up to him, like a child to itsmother. The night was in August, warm and fragrant. The moonilluminated the niche with a silver light; the faces of the littleknight and Basia were bathed in its rays. Lower down, in the court ofthe castle, were groups of sleeping soldiers and the bodies of thoseslain during the cannonade, for there had been no time yet for theirburial. The calm light of the moon crept over those bodies, as if thathermit of the sky wished to know who was sleeping from wearinessmerely, and who had fallen into the eternal slumber. Farther on wasoutlined the wall of the main castle, from which fell a black shadow onone half of the courtyard. Outside the walls, from between thebulwarks, where the janissaries lay cut down with sabres, came thevoices of men. They were camp followers and those of the dragoons towhom booty was dearer than slumber; they were stripping the bodies ofthe slain. Their lanterns were gleaming on the place of combat likefireflies. Some of them called to one another; and one was singing inan undertone a sweet song not beseeming the work to which he was givenat the moment:--

  "Nothing is silver, nothing is gold to me now, Nothing is fortune. Let me die at the fence, then, of hunger, If only near thee."

  But after a certain time that movement began to decrease, and at laststopped completely. A silence set in which was broken only by thedistant sound of the hammers breaking the cliffs, and the calls of thesentries on the walls. That silence, the moonlight, and the night fullof beauty delighted Pan Michael and Basia. A yearning came upon them,it is unknown why, and a certain sadness, though pleasant. Basia raisedher eyes to her husband; and seeing that his eyes were open, shesaid,--

  "Michael, you are not sleeping."

  "It is a wonder, but I cannot sleep."

  "It is pleasant for you here?"

  "Pleasant. But for you?"

  Basia nodded her bright head. "Oh, Michael, so pleasant! ai, ai! Didyou not hear what that man was singing?"

  Here she repeated the last words of the little song,--

  "Let me die at the fence, then, of hunger, If only near thee."

  A moment of silence followed, which the little knight interrupted,--

  "But listen, Basia."

  "What, Michael?"

  "To tell the truth, we are wonderfully happy with each other; and Ithink if one of us were to fall, the other would grieve beyondmeasure."

  Basia understood perfectly that when the little knight said "if one ofus were to fall," instead of _die_, he had himself only in mind. Itcame to her head that maybe he did not expect to come out of that siegealive, that he wished to accustom her to that termination; therefore adreadful presentiment pressed her heart, and clasping her hands, shesaid,--

  "Michael, have pity on yourself and on me!"

  The voice of the little knight was moved somewhat, though calm.

  "But see, Basia, you are not right," said he; "for if you only reasonthe matter out, what is this temporal existence? Why break one's neckover it? Who would be satisfied with tasting happiness and love herewhen all breaks like a dry twig,--who?"

  But Basia began to tremble from weeping, and to repeat,--

  "I will not hear this! I will not! I will not!"

  "As God is dear to me, you are not right," repeated the little knight."Look, think of it: there above, beyond that quiet moon, is a countryof bliss without end. Of such a one speak to me. Whoever reaches thatmeadow will draw breath for the first time, as if after a long journey,and will feed in peace. When my time comes,--and that is a soldier'saffair,--it is your simple duty to say to yourself: 'That is nothing!Michael is gone. True, he is gone far, farther than from here toLithuania; but that is nothing, for I shall follow him.' Basia, bequiet; do not weep. The one who goes first will prepare quarters forthe other; that is the whole matter."

  Here there came on him, as it were, a vision of coming events; for heraised his eyes to the moonlight, and continued,--

  "What is this mortal life? Grant that I am there first, waiting tillsome one knocks at the heavenly gate. Saint Peter opens it. I look; whois that? My Basia! Save us! Oh, I shall jump then! Oh, I shall crythen! Dear God, words fail me. And there will be no tears, only endlessrejoicing; and there will be no Pagans, nor cannon, nor mines underwalls, only peace and happ
iness. Ai, Basia, remember, this life isnothing!"

  "Michael, Michael!" repeated Basia.

  And again came silence, broken only by the distant, monotonous sound ofthe hammers.

  "Basia, let us pray together," said Pan Michael, at last.

  And those two souls began to pray. As they prayed, peace came on both;and then sleep overcame them, and they slumbered till the first dawn.

  Pan Michael conducted Basia away before the morning kindya to thebridge joining the old castle with the town. In parting, he said,--

  "This life is nothing! remember that, Basia."