Ogniem i mieczem. English

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  CHAPTER XV.

  Skshetuski, hearing the battle, waited with trembling for theconclusion of it. He thought at first that Hmelnitski was meeting allthe forces of the hetmans. But toward evening old Zakhar led him out ofhis error. The news of the treason of the Cossacks under Krechovski andthe destruction of the Germans agitated Pan Yan to the bottom of hissoul; for it was prophetic of future desertions, and the lieutenantknew perfectly that no small part of the armies of the hetmans was madeup of Cossacks.

  The anguish of the lieutenant increased, and triumph in the Zaporojiancamp added bitterness to his sorrow. Everything foreshadowed the worst.There were no tidings of Prince Yeremi, and evidently the hetmans hadmade a terrible mistake; for instead of moving with all their forces toKudak or waiting for the enemy in fortified camps in the Ukraine, theyhad divided their forces, weakened themselves of their own accord, andopened a wide field to breach of faith and treason. It is true thatmention had been made previously in the Zaporojian camp of Krechovski,and of the special despatch of troops under the leadership of StephenPototski; but the lieutenant had given no faith to those reports. Hesupposed that these troops were strong advance guards which would bewithdrawn in time. But it turned out otherwise. Hmelnitski wasstrengthened several thousand men by the treason of Krechovski, andterrible danger hung over young Pototski. Deprived of assistance andlost in the Wilderness, Hmelnitski might easily surround and crush himcompletely.

  In pain from his wounds, in disquiet, during sleepless nights,Skshetuski had consoled himself with the single thought of the prince.The star of Hmelnitski must pale when that of the prince rises inLubni. And who knows whether he has not joined the hetmans already?Though the forces of Hmelnitski were considerable, though the beginningof the campaign was favorable, though Tugai Bey marched with him, andin case of failure the "Tsar of the Crimea" had promised to move withreinforcements in person, the thought never rose in the mind ofSkshetuski that the disturbance could endure long, that one Cossackcould shake the whole Commonwealth and break its terrible power. "Thatwave will be broken at the threshold of the Ukraine," thought thelieutenant. "How have all the Cossack rebellions ended? They have burstout like a flame and have been stifled at the first meeting with thehetmans." Such had been the outcome up to that time. For on one sidethere rose a crowd of bandits from the lower country, and on the otherthe power whose shores were washed by two seas. The end was easilyforeseen: the storm could not be lasting; it would pass, and calm wouldfollow. This thought strengthened Skshetuski, and perhaps kept him onhis feet while he was weighted with such a burden as he had nevercarried in his life before. The storm, though it would pass mightdesolate fields, wreck houses, and inflict unspeakable harm. In thisstorm he had almost lost his life, had lost his strength, and hadfallen into bitter captivity just at the time when freedom was worthreally as much to him as life itself. What, then, must be thesuffering, in this uproar, of beings without power to defendthemselves? What was happening to Helena in Rozlogi?

  But Helena must be in Lubni already. The lieutenant in his sleep sawher surrounded by friendly faces, petted by Princess Griselda and theprince himself, admired by the knights,--and still grieving for herhussar, who had disappeared somewhere in the Saitch. But the time wouldcome at last when he would return, Hmelnitski himself had promisedfreedom; and besides, the Cossack wave would flow on and on, to thethreshold of the Commonwealth, where it would be broken; then wouldcome the end of anxiety, affliction, and dread.

  The wave flowed on, indeed. Hmelnitski moved forward without delay, andmarched to meet the son of the hetman. His power was really formidable;for with the Cossacks of Krechovski and the party of Tugai Bey, he lednearly twenty-five thousand trained men eager for battle. There was noreliable information concerning Pototski's numbers. Deserters declaredthat he had two thousand heavy cavalry and a number of field-pieces. Abattle with that proportion of forces might be doubtful; for one attackof the terrible hussars was often sufficient to destroy ten times thenumber of troops. Thus Pan Hodkyevich, the Lithuanian hetman, in histime, with three thousand hussars at Kirchholm, ground into the dusteighteen thousand chosen men of the Swedish infantry and cavalry; andat Klushin one armored regiment with wild fury dispersed severalthousand English and Scotch mercenaries. Hmelnitski remembered this,and marched, as the Russian chronicler has it, slowly and carefully;"looking, with the many eyes of his mind, on every side, like a cunninghunter, and having sentries posted five miles and farther from hiscamp."

  In this fashion he approached Joltiya Vodi. Two new informants werebrought in. These gave assurance of the small number of Pototski'sforces, and stated that the castellan had already crossed Joltiya Vodi.

  Hearing this, Hmelnitski stopped as if pinned to the earth, andintrenched himself. His heart beat joyfully. If Pototski would ventureon a storm, he must be beaten. The Cossacks were unequal to armored menin the field, but behind a rampart they fought to perfection; and withsuch great preponderance of power they would surely repulse an assault.Hmelnitski reckoned on the youth and inexperience of Pototski. But atthe side of the young castellan was an accomplished soldier,--thestarosta of Jiwets, Stephen Charnetski, colonel of hussars. He saw thedanger, and persuaded Pototski to withdraw beyond Joltiya Vodi.

  Nothing was left to Hmelnitski but to follow him. Next day he crossedthe swamps of Joltiya Vodi. The armies stood face to face, but neitherof the leaders wished to strike the first blow. The hostile camps beganto surround themselves hurriedly with trenches. It was Saturday, the5th of May. Rain fell all day; clouds so covered the sky that from noondarkness reigned as on a winter day. Toward evening the rain increasedstill more. Hmelnitski rubbed his hands with joy.

  "Only let the steppe get soft," said he to Krechovski, "and I shall nothesitate to meet even the hussars on the offensive; for they will bedrowned in the mud with their heavy armor."

  The rain fell and fell, as if Heaven itself wished to come to the aidof the Zaporojians. The armies intrenched themselves lazily andgloomily amidst streams of water. It was impossible to kindle fires.Several thousand Tartars issued from the camp to watch lest the Polishtabor, taking advantage of the fog, the rain, and the night, might tryto escape. Then profound stillness fell upon the camp. Nothing washeard but the patter of rain and the sound of wind. It was certain thatno one slept on either side that night.

  In the morning the trumpets sounded in the Polish camp, prolonged andplaintive, as if giving an alarm; then drums began to rattle here andthere. The day rose gloomy, dark, damp; the storm had ceased, but stillthere was rain, fine as if strained through a sieve.

  Hmelnitski ordered the firing of a cannon. After it, was heard asecond, a third,--a tenth; and when the usual "correspondence" of campwith camp had begun. Pan Yan said to Zakhar, his Cossack guardian:"Take me out on the rampart, that I may see what is passing."

  Zakhar was curious himself, and therefore made no opposition. Theymounted a lofty bastion, whence could be seen, as if on the palm of thehand, the somewhat sunken valley in the steppe, the swamp of JoltiyaVodi, and both armies. But Pan Yan had barely given a glance when,seizing his head, he cried,--

  "As God is living! it is the advance guard,--nothing more!"

  In fact, the ramparts of the Cossack camp extended almost a mile and aquarter, while the Polish intrenchment looked like a little ditch incomparison with it. The disparity of forces was so great that thevictory for the Zaporojians was beyond a doubt.

  Pain straitened the lieutenant's heart. The hour of fall had not comeyet for pride and rebellion, and that which was coming was to be a newtriumph for them. At least, so it appeared.

  Skirmishing under cannon-fire had already begun. From the bastionsingle horsemen, or groups of them, could be seen in hand-to-handconflict. Now the Tartars fought with Pototski's Cossacks, dressed indark blue and yellow. The cavalry rushed on one another and retreatedquickly; approached from the flanks, hit one another from pistols andbows or with lances, tried to catch one another with lariats. Theseactions s
eemed from a distance more like amusement than fighting; andonly the horses, running along the field without riders, showed that itwas a question of life and death.

  The Tartars came out thicker and thicker. Soon the plain was black fromthe dense mass of them. Then, too, new regiments began to issue fromthe Polish camp, and arrange themselves in battle-array before theintrenchment. This was so near that Pan Yan, with his quick eye, wasable to distinguish clearly the flags and ensigns, and also the cavalrycaptains and lieutenants, who were on horseback a little on one side ofthe regiments.

  His heart began to leap within him. A ruddy color appeared on his paleface; and just as if he could find a favorable audience in Zakhar andthe Cossacks standing to their guns on the bastion, he cried withenthusiasm as the regiments marched out of the intrenchments,--

  "Those are the dragoons of Balaban; I saw them in Cherkasi! That is theWallachian regiment; they have a cross on their banner! Oh! now theinfantry comes down from the ramparts!" Then with still greaterdelight, opening his hands: "The hussars! Charnetski's hussars!"

  In fact the hussars came out, above their heads a cloud of wings; aforest of lances embellished with golden tassels and with long greenand black bannerets, stood above them in the air. They went out sixabreast, and formed under the wall. At the sight of their calmness,dignity, and good order tears of joy came into Skshetuski's eyes,dimming his vision for a moment.

  Though the forces were so disproportionate; though against these fewregiments there was blackening a whole avalanche of Zaporojians andTartars, which, as is usual, occupied the wings; though their ranksextended so far into the steppe that it was difficult to see the end ofthem,--Pan Yan believed now in the victory of the Poles. His face wassmiling, his strength came back; his eyes, intent on the field, shotfire, but he was unable to stand.

  "Hei, my child!" muttered old Zakhar, "the soul would like to enterparadise."

  A number of detached Tartar bands rushed forward, with cries and shoutsof "Allah!" They were answered from the camp with shots. But these weremerely threats. The Tartars, before reaching the Polish regiments,retreated on two sides to their own people and disappeared in the host.

  Now the great drum of the Saitch was sounded, and at its voice agigantic crescent of Cossacks and Tartars rushed forward swiftly.Hmelnitski was trying, apparently, to see whether he could not with onesweep dislodge those regiments and occupy the camp. In case ofdisorder, that was possible. But nothing of the kind took place withthe Polish regiments. They remained quietly, deployed in rather a longline, the rear of which was covered by the intrenchment, and the flanksby the cannon of the camp; so it was possible to strike them only infront. For a while it seemed as if they would receive battle on thespot; but when the crescent had passed half the field, the trumpets inthe intrenchment were sounded for attack, and suddenly the fence ofspears, till then pointing straight to the sky, was lowered to a linewith the heads of the horses.

  "The hussars are charging!" cried Pan Yan.

  They had, in fact, bent forward in the saddles, and were moving on, andimmediately after them the dragoon regiments and the whole line ofbattle.

  The momentum of the hussars was terrible. At the first onset theystruck three kurens,--two of Stebloff, and one of Mirgorod,--andcrushed them in the twinkle of an eye. The roar reached the ears ofSkshetuski. Horses and men, thrown from their feet with the giganticweight of the iron riders, fell like grain at the breath of a storm.The resistance was so brief that it seemed to Pan Yan as though someenormous dragons had swallowed the three kurens at a gulp. And theywere the best troops of the Saitch. Terrified by the noise of thewings, the horses began to spread disorder in the Zaporojian ranks. TheIrkleyeff, Kalnibolok, Minsk, Shkurinsk, and Titareff regiments fellinto complete disorder, and pressed by the mass of the fleeing, beganto retreat in confusion. Meanwhile the dragoons came up with thehussars, and began to help them in the bloody harvest. The Vasyurinskkuren, after a desperate resistance, turned in flight to the Cossackintrenchments. The centre of Hmelnitski's forces, shaken more and more,beaten, pushed into a disorderly mass, slashed with swords, forced backin the iron onset, was unable to get time to stop and re-form.

  "Devils! not Poles!" cried old Zakhar.

  Skshetuski was as if bewildered. Being ill, he could not masterhimself. He laughed and cried at once, and at times screamed out wordsof command, as if he were leading the regiments himself. Zakhar heldhim by the skirts, and had to call others to his aid.

  The battle came so near the Cossack camp that faces could be almostdistinguished. There were artillery discharges from the intrenchments;but the Cossack balls, striking their own men as well as the enemy,increased the disorder. The hussars struck upon the Pashkoff kuren,which formed the guard of the hetman, in the centre of which wasHmelnitski himself. Suddenly a fearful cry was heard through all theCossack ranks. The great red standard had tottered and fallen.

  But at that moment Krechovski, at the head of his five thousandCossacks, rushed to the fight. Sitting on an enormous cream-coloredhorse, he flew on in the first rank, without a cap, a sabre above hishead, gathering before him the disordered Zaporojians, who, seeing theapproaching succor, though without order, returned to the attack. Thebattle raged again in the centre of the line.

  On both flanks fortune in like manner failed Hmelnitski. The Tartars,repulsed twice by the Wallachian regiments and Pototski's Cossacks,lost all eagerness for the fight. Two horses were killed under TugaiBey. Victory inclined continually to the side of young Pototski.

  But the battle did not last long. The rain, which for some time hadbeen increasing every moment, soon became so violent that through therush of water nothing could be seen. Not streams, but torrents of rainfell on the ground from the open flood-gates of heaven. The steppe wasturned into a lake. It grew so dark that one man could not distinguishanother at a few paces' distance. The noise of the storm drowned thewords of command. The wet muskets and guns grew silent. Heaven itselfput an end to the slaughter.

  Hmelnitski, drenched to the skin, furious, rushed into his camp. Hespoke not a word to any man. A tent of camelskin was pitched, underwhich, hiding himself, he sat alone with his sad thoughts.

  Despair seized him. He understood at last what work he had begun. See!he is beaten, repulsed, almost broken, in a battle with such a smallforce that it could be properly considered as a scouting party. He knewhow great was the power of resistance in the armies of theCommonwealth, and he took that into account when he ventured on a war.And still he had failed in his reckoning,--so at least it seemed to himat that moment. Therefore he seized himself by his shaven head, andwished to break it against the first cannon he saw. What would theresistance be at his meeting with the hetmans and the wholeCommonwealth?

  His thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of Tugai Bey. The eyes ofthe Tartar were blazing with rage; his face was pale, and his teethglittered from behind his lips, unhidden by mustaches.

  "Where is the booty, where the prisoners, where the heads of theleaders,--where is victory?" asked he, in a hoarse voice.

  Hmelnitski sprang from his place. "There!" answered he loudly, pointingto the Polish camp.

  "Go there, then!" roared Tugai Bey; "and if you don't go, I will dragyou by a rope to the Crimea."

  "I will go," said Hmelnitski,--"I will go to-day! I will take booty andprisoners; but you shall give answer to the Khan, for you want bootyand you avoid battle."

  "Dog!" howled Tugai Bey, "you are destroying the army of the Khan!"

  For a moment they stood snorting in front of each other. Hmelnitskiregained his composure first.

  "Tugai Bey," said he, "be not disturbed! Rain interrupted the battle,just as Krechovski was breaking the dragoons. I know them! They willfight with less fury to-morrow. The steppe will be mud to the bottom.The hussars will be beaten. To-morrow everything will be ours."

  "That's your word!" blurted out Tugai Bey.

  "And I will keep it. Tugai Bey, my friend, the Khan sent you for myassistance, not for my misfortu
ne."

  "You prophesied victory, not defeat."

  "A few prisoners of the dragoons are taken; I will give them to you."

  "Let me have them. I will order them to be empaled."

  "Don't do that. Give them their liberty. They are men from the Ukraine,from Balaban's regiment. I will send them to bring the dragoons over toour side. It will be with them as with Krechovski."

  Tugai Bey was satisfied; he glanced quickly at Hmelnitski, andmuttered: "Serpent!"

  "Craft is the equal of courage. If we persuade the dragoons to ourside, not a man of the Poles will escape,--you understand!"

  "I will have Pototski."

  "I will give him to you, and Charnetski also."

  "Let me have some vudka now, for it is cold."

  "Agreed."

  At that moment entered Krechovski. The colonel was as gloomy as night.His future starostaships, dignities, castles, and wealth were coveredas if with a fog. To-morrow they may disappear altogether, and perhapsout of that fog will rise in their place a rope or a gibbet. Were itnot that the colonel had burned the bridges in his rear by destroyingthe Germans, he would surely have begun to think how to betrayHmelnitski in his turn, and go over with his Cossacks to Pototski'scamp. But that was impossible now.

  The three sat down, therefore, to a decanter of vudka, and began todrink in silence. The noise of the rain ceased gradually. It wasgrowing dark.

  Skshetuski, exhausted from joy, weak and pale, lay motionless in thetelega. Zakhar, who had become attached to him, ordered the Cossacks toput a little felt roof over him. The lieutenant listened to the drearysound of the rain, but in his soul it was clear, bright, and joyful.Behold, his hussars had shown what they could do; his Commonwealth hadshown a resistance worthy of its majesty; the first impetus of theCossack storm had broken on the sharp spears of the royal army. Andbesides there are the hetmans, there is also Prince Yeremi, and so manylords, so many nobles, so much power, and above all these the king,_primus inter pares_. Pride expanded the breast of Skshetuski, as if atthat moment it contained all that power.

  In feeling this, he felt, for the first time since he had lost hisfreedom in the Saitch, a certain pity for the Cossacks; they wereguilty, but blinded, since they tried to go to the sun on a spade. Theywere guilty, but unfortunate, since they allowed themselves to becarried away by one man, who is leading them to evident destruction.

  Then his thoughts wandered farther. Peace would come, when every onewould have the right to think of his own private happiness. Then inmemory and spirit he hovers above Rozlogi. There, near the lion's den,it must be as quiet as the falling of poppy-seeds. There the rebellionwill never raise its head; and though it should, Helena is already inLubni beyond a doubt.

  Suddenly the roar of cannon disturbed the golden thread of histhoughts. Hmelnitski, after drinking, led his regiments again to theattack. But it ended with the play of cannon-firing. Krechovskirestrained the hetman.

  The next morning was Sunday. The whole day passed quietly and without ashot. The camps lay opposite each other, like the camps of two alliedarmies.

  Skshetuski attributed that silence to the discouragement of theCossacks. Alas! he did not know that then Hmelnitski, "looking forwardwith the many eyes of his mind," was occupied in bringing Balaban'sdragoons to his side.

  On Monday the battle began at daybreak. Pan Yan looked on it, as on thefirst one, with a smiling, happy face. And again the regiments of thecrown came out before the intrenchment; but this time, not rushing tothe attack, they opposed the enemy where they stood. The steppe hadgrown soft, not on the surface only, as during the first day of thebattle, but to its depths. The heavy cavalry could scarcely move; thisgave a great preponderance at once to the flying regiments of theCossacks and the Tartars. The smile vanished gradually from thelieutenant's lips. At the Polish intrenchment the avalanche of attackcovered completely the narrow line of the Polish regiments. It appearedas if that chain might break at any moment, and the attack begindirectly on the intrenchments. Skshetuski did not observe half of thespirit or warlike readiness with which the regiments fought on thefirst day. They defended themselves with stubbornness, but did notstrike first, did not crush the kurens to the earth, did not sweep thefield like a hurricane. The soft soil had rendered fury impossible, andin fact fastened the heavy cavalry to its place in front of theintrenchment. Impetus was the power of the cavalry, and decidedvictories; but this time the cavalry was forced to remain on one spot.

  Hmelnitski, on the contrary, led new regiments every moment to thebattle. He was present everywhere. He led each kuren personally to theattack, and withdrew only before the sabres of the enemy. His ardor wascommunicated gradually to the Zaporojians, who, though they fell inlarge numbers, rushed to the attack with shouts and cries. They struckthe wall of iron breasts and sharp spears, and beaten, decimated,returned again to the attack. Under this weight the regiments began towaver, to disappear, and in places to retreat, just as an athletecaught in the iron arms of an opponent grows weak, then struggles, andstrains every nerve.

  Before midday nearly all the forces of the Zaporojians had been underfire and in battle. The fight raged with such stubbornness that betweenthe two lines of combatants a new wall, as it were, was formed of thebodies of horses and men. Every little while, from the battle to theCossack intrenchments came crowds of wounded men,--bloody, covered withmud, panting, falling from weakness,--but they came with songs on theirlips. Fainting, they still cried, "To the death!" The garrison left inthe camp was impatient for the fight.

  Pan Yan hung his head. The Polish regiments began to retreat from thefield to the intrenchment. They were unable to hold out, and a feverishhaste was observable in their retreat. At the sight of this twentythousand mouths and more gave forth a shout of joy, and redoubled theattack. The Zaporojians sprang upon the Cossacks of Pototski, whocovered the retreat. But the cannon and a shower of musket-balls drovethem back. The battle ceased for a moment. In the Polish camp a trumpetfor parley was sounded.

  Hmelnitski, however, did not wish to parley. Twelve kurens slipped fromtheir horses to storm the breastworks on foot, with the infantry andTartars. Krechovski, with three thousand infantry, was coming to theiraid in the decisive moment. All the drums, trumpets, and kettledrumssounded at once, drowning the shouts and salvos of musketry.

  Skshetuski looked with trembling upon the deep ranks of the peerlessZaporojian infantry rushing to the breastworks and surrounding themwith an ever-narrowing circle. Long streaks of white smoke were blownout at it from the breastworks, as if some gigantic bosom were strivingto blow away the locusts closing in upon it inexorably from every side.Cannon-balls dug furrows in it; the firing of musketry did not weakenfor a moment. Swarms melted before the eye; the circle quivered inplaces like a wounded snake, but went on. Already they are coming! Theyare under the breastworks! The cannon can hurt them no longer!Skshetuski closed his eyes.

  And now questions flew through his head as swift as lightning: When heopens his eyes will he see the Polish banners on the breastwork? Willhe see--or will he not see? There is some unusual tumult increasingevery moment. Something must have happened? The shouts come from thecentre of the camp. What is it? What has happened?

  "All-powerful God!"

  That cry was forced from the mouth of Pan Yan when opening his eyes hesaw on the battlements the crimson standard with the archangel, insteadof the golden banner of the crown. The camp was captured.

  In the evening he learned from Zakhar of the whole course of the storm.Not in vain had Tugai Bey called Hmelnitski a serpent; for in themoment of most desperate defence the dragoons of Balaban, talked overby the hetman, joined the Cossacks, and hurling themselves on the rearof their own regiments, aided in cutting them to pieces.

  In the evening the lieutenant saw the prisoners, and was present at thedeath of young Pototski, who, having his throat pierced by an arrow,lived only a few hours after the battle, and died in the arms ofStephen Charnetski: "Tell my father," whispered the young castellan in
his last moments,--"tell my father--that--like a knight--" He could addno more. His soul left the body and flew to heaven.

  Pan Yan long after remembered that pale face and those blue eyes gazingupward in the moment of death. Charnetski made a vow over the cold bodyto expiate the death of his friend and the disgrace of defeat intorrents of blood, should God give him freedom. And not a tear flowedover his stern face, for he was a knight of iron, greatly famed alreadyfor deeds of daring, and known as a man whom no misfortune could bend.He kept the vow. Instead of yielding to despair, he strengthened PanYan, who was suffering greatly from the disgrace and defeat of theCommonwealth.

  "The Commonwealth has passed through more than one defeat," saidCharnetski, "but she contains within her inexhaustible force. No powerhas broken her as yet, and she will not be broken by a sedition ofserfs, whom God himself will punish, since by rising up againstauthority, they are putting themselves against his will. As to defeat,true, it is sad; but who have endured defeat?--the hetmans, the forcesof the crown? No! After the defection and treason of Krechovski, thedivision which Pototski led could be considered only an advance guard.The uprising will spread undoubtedly through the whole Ukraine, for theserfs there are insolent and trained to fighting; but an uprising inthat part is no novelty. The hetmans will quell it, with Prince Yeremi,whose power stands unshaken as yet; the more violent the outburst, whenonce put down, the longer will be the peace, which may last perhapsforever. He would be a man of little faith and a small heart, who couldadmit that some Cossack leader, in company with one Tartar murza, couldreally threaten a mighty people. Evil would it be with theCommonwealth, if a simple outbreak of serfs could be made a question ofits fate or its existence. In truth we did set out contemptuously onthis expedition," said Charnetski; "and though our division is rubbedout, I believe that the hetmans are able to put down this rebellion,not with the sword, not with armor, but with clubs."

  And while he was speaking in this manner, it seemed that not a captive,not a soldier after a lost battle was speaking, but a proud hetman,certain of victory on the morrow. This greatness of soul and faith inthe Commonwealth flowed like balsam over the wounds of the lieutenant.He had had a near view of the power of Hmelnitski, therefore it blindedhim somewhat, especially since success had followed it to that moment.But Charnetski must be right. The forces of the hetmans were stillintact, and behind them stood the power of the Commonwealth, the rightsof authority, and the will of God. The lieutenant therefore went awaystrengthened in soul and more cheerful. When going he asked Charnetskiif he did not wish to begin negotiations for his freedom withHmelnitski at once.

  "I am the captive of Tugai Bey," said Charnetski; "to him I will pay myransom. But with that fellow Hmelnitski I will have nothing to do; Igive him to the hangman."

  Zakhar, who had made it easy for Skshetuski to see the prisoners,comforted him while returning to the telega.

  "Not with young Pototski, but with the hetmans is the difficulty. Thestruggle is only begun, but what will be the end, God knows! TheCossacks and Tartars have taken Polish treasure, it is true, but it isone thing to take and another to keep. And you, my child, do notgrieve, do not despair, for you will get your freedom in time. You willgo to your own people, and I, old man, shall be sorry for you. It issad for an old man alone in the world. With the hetmans it will behard, oh, how hard!"

  In truth the victory, though brilliant, did not in the least decide thestruggle for Hmelnitski. It might even be unfavorable for him, becauseit was easy to foresee that now the Grand Hetman, to avenge his son,would press upon the Cossacks with special stubbornness, and wouldleave nothing undone to break them at once. The Grand Hetman, however,cherished a certain dislike for Prince Yeremi, which, though veiledwith politeness, was still evident enough in various circumstances.

  Hmelnetski, knowing this perfectly, admitted that now this dislikewould cease, and Pototski would first reach out his hand inreconciliation, which would secure for him the assistance of a famouswarrior and his powerful troops. With such forces united under a leaderlike the prince, Hmelnitski did not dare yet to measure strength, forhe had not yet sufficient confidence in himself. He determinedtherefore to hasten, and together with the news of the defeat ofJoltiya Vodi, appear in the Ukraine, and strike the hetmans before thesuccor of the prince could arrive.

  He gave no rest to his troops, therefore, but at daybreak after thebattle hurried on. The march was as rapid as if the hetman werefleeing. It was as if an inundation were covering the steppe andrushing forward, collecting all the waters on the way. Forests,oak-groves, grave-mounds were avoided; rivers were crossed withouthalting. The Cossack forces increased on the road, for new crowds ofpeasants fleeing from the Ukraine were added to them continually.

  They brought news of the hetmans, but contradictory. Some said thatPrince Yeremi was yet beyond the Dnieper; others that he had joined theforces of the crown. But all declared that the Ukraine was already onfire. The peasants were not only fleeing to meet Hmelnitski in theWilderness, but burning villages and towns, throwing themselves ontheir masters, and arming everywhere. The forces of the crown had beenfightings for the past two weeks. Stebloff was destroyed; atDerenhovtsi a bloody battle had been fought. The town Cossacks invarious places went over to the side of the people, and at all pointswere merely waiting for the word. Hmelnitski had reckoned on all this,and hastened the more.

  At last he stood on the threshold. Chigirin opened wide her gates. TheCossack garrison went over at once to his regiments. The house ofChaplinski was wrecked; a handful of nobles, seeking refuge in thetown, were cut to pieces. Joyful shouts, ringing of bells, andprocessions ceased not for a moment. The whole region flamed up atonce. All living men, seizing scythes and pikes, joined theZaporojians; endless crowds hastened to the camp from every side. Therecame also joyful, because certain, tidings that Yeremi had indeedoffered his assistance to the hetmans, but had not yet joined them.

  Hmelnitski felt relieved. He moved on without delay, and advancedthrough insurrection, slaughter, and fire. Ruin and corpses borewitness to this. He advanced like an avalanche, destroying everythingin his path. The country rose before him, and was a desert behind. Hewent like an avenger, like a legendary dragon; his footsteps pressedout blood, his breath kindled conflagrations.

  In Cherkasi he halted with his main forces, sending in advance theTartars under Tugai Bey and the wild Krivonos, who came up with thePolish hetmans at Korsun and attacked them without delay. The Tartarswere forced to pay dearly for their boldness. Repulsed, decimated,scattered, they retreated in confusion.

  Hmelnitski hurried to their aid. On the way news reached him thatSenyavski with some regiments had joined the hetmans, who had leftKorsun, and were marching on Boguslav. This was true. Hmelnitskioccupied Korsun without resistance, and leaving there his trains andprovisions, in a word, his whole camp, hurried after them. He had noneed to follow long, for they had not gone far. At Krutaya Balka hisadvance guard came upon the Polish camp.

  It was not given to Skshetuski to see the battle, for he remained inKorsun with the camp. Zakhar lodged him on the square, in the house ofZabokshytski, whom the crowd had already hanged, and placed a guardfrom the remnants of the Mirgorod kuren; for the crowd robbedcontinually, and killed every man who seemed to them a Pole. Throughthe broken windows Skshetuski saw the multitude of drunken peasants,bloody, with rolled-up shirt-sleeves, going from house to house, fromcellar to cellar, and searching all corners, garrets, lofts; from timeto time a terrible noise announced that a nobleman, a Jew, a man, awoman, or a child had been found. The victim was dragged to the squareand gloated over in the most fearful manner. The crowd fought withone another for the remnants of the bodies; with delight they rubbedthe blood on their faces and breasts, and wound the still steamingentrails around their necks. They seized little Jews by the legs andtore them apart amid the wild laughter of the mob. They rushed uponhouses surrounded by guards in which distinguished captives wereconfined,--left living because large ransoms were expected from them.Th
en the Zaporojians or the Tartars standing guard repulsed the crowd,thumping the assailants on the heads with their pikestaffs, bows, orox-hide whips. Such was the case before the house where Skshetuski was.Zakhar gave orders to handle the crowd without mercy, and the Mirgorodmen executed the order with pleasure; for the men of the lower countryreceived the assistance of the mob willingly in time of insurrection,but had more contempt for them than they had for the nobility. It wasnot in vain therefore that they called themselves "nobly bornCossacks." Later Hmelnitski himself presented more than onceconsiderable numbers of the mob to the Tartar, who drove them to theCrimea, where they were sold into Turkey and Asia Minor.

  The crowd rioted on the square, and reached such wild disorder that atlast they began to kill one another. The day was drawing to an end. Oneside of the square and the priest's house were on fire. Fortunately thewind blew the fire toward the field, and prevented the extension of theconflagration. But the gigantic flame lighted up the square as brightlyas the sun's rays. The excitement became too great for restraint. Froma distance came the terrible roar of cannon; it was evident that thebattle at Krutaya Balka was growing fiercer and fiercer.

  "It must be pretty hot for ours there," muttered old Zakhar. "Thehetmans are not trifling. Ah! Pan Pototski is a real soldier." Then hepointed through the window at the crowd. "Oh!" said he, "they arerevelling now; but if Hmelnitski is beaten, then there will berevelling over them."

  At that moment the tramp of cavalry was heard, and a number of ridersrushed to the square on foaming horses. Their faces black from powder,their clothes torn, and the heads of some of them bound in rags showedthat they had hurried straightway from battle.

  "People who believe in God, save yourselves! The Poles are beatingours!" they cried in loud voices.

  Tumult and disorder followed. The multitude moved like a wave tossed bythe wind. Suddenly wild dismay possessed all. They rushed to escape;but the streets were blocked with wagons, one part of the square was onfire, there was no place for flight. The crowd began to press and cry,to beat, choke one another, and howl for mercy, though the enemy wasfar away.

  The lieutenant, when he heard what was taking place, grew almost wildfrom joy. He began to run through the room like a madman, to beat hisbreast with his hands with all his power, and to cry,--

  "I knew that it would be so! As I am alive, I knew it! This is themeeting with the hetmans, with the whole Commonwealth! The hour ofpunishment has come! What is this?"

  Again resounded the tramp; and this time several hundred Tartarhorsemen appeared on the square. They rushed on at random. The crowdstopped the way before them. They rushed at the crowd, struck, beat,and dispersed it; they lashed their horses, urging them on to the roadleading to Cherkasi.

  "They run like a whirlwind," said Zakhar.

  Scarcely had Skshetuski moved when a second division flew by, and afterthat a third. The flight seemed to be general. The guards before thehouses began to grow uneasy, and also to show a wish to escape. Zakharhurried through the porch.

  "Halt!" cried he to the Mirgorod men.

  Smoke, heat, disorder, the tramping of horses, sounds of alarm, thehowling of the crowd in the light of the conflagration, were blended inone fearful picture on which the lieutenant gazed through the window.

  "What a defeat there must be! what a defeat!" cried he to Zakhar, notconsidering that the latter could not share his delight.

  Now a new division of fugitives rushed by like lightning. The thunderof cannon shook the houses of Korsun to their foundations. Suddenly ashrieking voice began to cry right there at the house,--

  "Save yourselves! Hmelnitski is killed! Hmelnitski is killed! Tugai Beyis killed!"

  On the square there was a real end of the world. People in terrorrushed into the flames. The lieutenant fell upon his knees, raised hishands to heaven,--

  "Oh, almighty, great, and just God, praise to thee in the highest!"

  Zakhar interrupted his prayer, running into the room from theantechamber.

  "Come now," said he, panting, "come and promise pardon to the Mirgorodmen, for they wish to go away; and if they go, the crowd will fall uponus."

  Skshetuski went out to the porch. The Mirgorod men were movingaround unquietly before the house, exhibiting a firm determination toleave the place and flee by the road leading to Cherkasi. Fear hadtaken possession of every one in the town. Each moment new crowdscame, fleeing, as if on wings, from the direction of KrutayaBalka,--peasants, Tartars, town Cossacks, Zaporojians, in the greatestdisorder. And still Hmelnitski's principal forces must be fighting yet.The battle could not be entirely decided, for the cannon werethundering with redoubled force. Skshetuski turned to the Mirgorod men.

  "Because you have guarded my person well," said he, loftily, "you needno flight to save yourselves, for I promise you intercession and favorwith the hetman."

  The Mirgorod men uncovered their heads. Pan Yan put his hands on hiships, and looked proudly on the square, which grew emptier each moment.What a change of fate! Here is the lieutenant, a short time since acaptive, dragged after the Cossack camp; now he has become amonginsolent Cossacks as a lord among subjects, as a noble among peasants,as an armored hussar among camp-followers. He, a captive, has nowpromised favor, and heads are uncovered in his presence, whilesubmissive voices cry with that prolonged tone indicating fear andobedience,--

  "Show favor to us, lord!"

  "It will be as I have said," returned the lieutenant.

  He was indeed sure of the efficacy of his intercession with the hetman,with whom he was acquainted, for he had often borne letters to him fromPrince Yeremi, and knew how to secure his favor. He stood, therefore,with his hands on his hips; and joy was on his face, lighted up withthe blaze of the conflagration.

  "Behold! the war is at an end, the wave is broken at the threshold!"thought he. "Pan Charnetski was right: the forces of the Commonwealthare unexhausted, its power unbroken."

  When he thought of this, pride swelled his breast,--not ignoble pride,coming from a hoped-for satisfaction of vengeance, from the conquest ofan enemy; not the gaining of freedom, which now he expected everymoment; nor because caps were removed before him; but he felt proudbecause he was a son of that victorious and mighty Commonwealth,against whose gates every malice, every attack, every blow, is brokenand crushed like the powers of hell against the gates of heaven. Hefelt proud, as a patriotic nobleman, that he had received strength inhis despondency, and was not deceived in his faith. He desired norevenge.

  "She has conquered like a queen, she will forgive like a mother,"thought he.

  Meanwhile the roar of cannon was changed to prolonged thunder. Horses'hoofs clattered again over the empty streets. A Cossack, bareheaded andin his shirt-sleeves, dashed into the square on a barebacked horse,with the speed of a thunderbolt; his face, cut open with a sword, wasstreaming with blood. He reined in the horse, stretched forth hishands, and when he had taken breath, with open mouth began to cry,--

  "Hmelnitski is beating the Poles! The serene great mighty lords, thehetmans and colonels, are conquered,--the knights and the cavalry!"

  When he had said this, he reeled and fell to the ground. The men ofMirgorod sprang to assist him.

  Flame and pallor passed over the face of Skshetuski.

  "What does he say?" asked he feverishly of Zakhar. "What has happened?It cannot be. By the living God, it cannot be!"

  Silence! Only the hissing of flames on the opposite side of the square,shaking out clusters of sparks, and from time to time a burnt housefalls with a crash.

  Now more couriers rush in. "Beaten are the Poles,--beaten!"

  After them follow a detachment of Tartars. They march slowly, for theysurround men on foot, evidently prisoners.

  Skshetuski believes not his own eyes. He recognizes perfectly on theprisoners the uniform of the hetmans' hussars; then he drops his hands,and with a wild, strange voice repeats persistently, "It cannot be! itcannot be!"

  The roar of cannon was still to be heard. The battl
e was not finished,but through all the unburnt streets Zaporojians and Tartars werecrowding in, their faces black, their breasts heaving, but they werecoming as if intoxicated, singing songs. Thus return soldiers fromvictory.

  The lieutenant grew pale as a corpse. "It cannot be!" repeated he in ahoarser voice,--"it cannot be! The Commonwealth--"

  A new object arrested his attention. Krechovski's Cossacks enter thetown, bringing bundles of flags. They come to the centre of the square,and throw them down. Polish flags!

  The roar of the artillery weakens, and in the distance is heard therumble of approaching wagons. One of them is in advance,--a loftyCossack telega, and after it a line of others, all surrounded byCossacks of the Pashkoff kuren, in yellow caps; they pass near thehouse where the Mirgorod men are standing.

  Skshetuski put his hand over his eyes, for the glare of the burningblinded him, and looked at the prisoners sitting in the first wagon.Suddenly he sprang back, began to beat the air with his hands, like aman struck with an arrow in the breast, and from his lips came aterrible unearthly cry: "Jesus, Mary! the hetmans!"

  He dropped into the arms of Zakhar; his eyes became leaden, his facegrew stiff and rigid as that of a corpse.

  A few minutes later three horsemen rode into the square of Korsun, atthe head of countless regiments. The middle rider, in red uniform, saton a white horse, holding a gilded baton at his side. He looked asproud as a king. This was Hmelnitski. On one side of him rode TugaiBey, on the other Krechovski.

  The Commonwealth lay prostrate in dust and blood at the feet of aCossack.