The Knights of the Cross, or, Krzyzacy: Historical Romance
however, and accepted the complaint which he handed to Tenczynski.
The castellan unfolded it and began to read; but the further he read, the
more sorrowful and sad his face became.
"Sir," said he, finally, "you are seeking the life of that lad, as though
he were dangerous to the whole Order. Is it possible that the Knights of
the Cross are afraid even of the children?"
"The Knights of the Cross are not afraid of anyone," answered the
_comthur_, proudly.
And the old castellan added:
"And especially of God."
The next day Powala of Taczew testified to everything he could before the
court of the castellan, that would lessen the enormity of Zbyszko's
offence. But in vain did he attribute the deed to childishness and lack
of experience; in vain he said that even some one older, if he had made
the same vow, prayed for its fulfillment and then had suddenly perceived
in front of him such a crest, would also have believed that it was God's
providence. But one thing, the worthy knight could not deny; had it not
been for him, Zbyszko's spear would have pierced the Krzyzak's chest.
Kuno had brought to the court the armor which he wore that day; it
appeared that it was so thin that Zbyszko with his great strength, would
have pierced it and killed the envoy, if Powala of Taczew had not
prevented him. Then they asked Zbyszko if he intended to kill the
Krzyzak, and he could not deny it. "I warned him from afar," said he, "to
point his lance, and had he shouted in reply that he was an envoy, I
would not have attacked him."
These words pleased the knights who, on account of their sympathy for the
lad, were present in great numbers, and immediately numerous voices were
heard to say: "True! Why did he not reply!" But the castellan's face
remained gloomy and severe. Having ordered those present to be silent, he
meditated for a while, then looked sharply at Zbyszko, and asked:
"Can you swear by the Passion of our Lord that you saw neither the mantle
nor the cross?"
"No!" answered Zbyszko. "Had I not seen the cross, I would have thought
he was one of our knights, and I would not have attacked one of ours."
"And how was it possible to find any Krzyzak near Krakow, except an
envoy, or some one from his retinue?"
To this Zbyszko did not reply, because there was nothing to be said. To
everybody it was clear, that if the _Pan_ of Taczanow had not interposed,
at the present moment there would lie before them not the armor of the
envoy, but the envoy himself, with pierced breast--an eternal disgrace to
the Polish nation;--therefore even those who sympathized with Zbyszko,
with their whole souls, understood that he could not expect a mild
sentence.
In fact, after a while the castellan said:
"As you did not stop to think whom you were attacking, and you did it
without anger, therefore our Saviour will forgive you; but you had better
commit yourself to the care of the Most Holy Lady, because the law cannot
condone your offence."
Having heard this, Zbyszko, although he expected such words, became
somewhat pale; but he soon shook his long hair, made the sign of the
cross, and said:
"God's will! I cannot help it!"
Then he turned to Macko and looked expressively at Lichtenstein, as if to
recommend him to Macko's memory; his uncle nodded in return that he
understood and would remember. Lichtenstein also understood the look and
the nod, and although he was as courageous as implacable, a cold shiver
ran through him--so dreadful and ill-omened was the face of the old
warrior. The Krzyzak knew that between him and that knight it would be a
question of life or death. That even if he wanted to avoid the combat, he
could not do it; that when his mission was ended, they must meet, even at
Malborg.[56]
Meanwhile the castellan went to the adjoining room to dictate the
sentence to a secretary. Some of the knights during the interruption came
near the Krzyzak, saying:
"May they give you a more merciful sentence in the great day of
judgment!"
But Lichtenstein cared only for the opinion of Zawisza, because he was
noted all over the world for his knightly deeds, his knowledge of the
laws of chivalry and his great exactness in keeping them. In the most
entangled affairs in which there was any question about knightly honor,
they used to go to him even from distant lands. Nobody contradicted his
decisions, not only because there was no chance of victory in a contest
with him, but because they considered him "the mirror of honor." One word
of blame or praise from his mouth was quickly known by the knighthood of
Poland, Hungary, Bohemia (Czech) and Germany; and he could decide between
the good and evil actions of a knight.
Therefore Lichtenstein approached him as if he would like to justify his
deadly grudge, and said:
"The grand master himself, with the chapter, could show him clemency; but
I cannot."
"Your grand master has nothing to do with our laws; our king can show
clemency to our people, not he," answered Zawisza.
"I as the envoy was obliged to insist upon punishment."
"Lichtenstein, you were first a knight, afterward an envoy!"
"Do you think that I acted against honor?"
"You know our books of chivalry, and you know that they order us to
imitate two animals, the lamb and the lion. Which of the two have you,
imitated in this case?"
"You are not my judge!"
"You asked me if you had committed an offence, and I answered as I
thought."
"You give me a hard answer, which I cannot swallow."
"You will be choked by your own malice, not by mine."
"But Christ will put to my account, the fact that I cared more about the
dignity of the Order, than about your praise."
"He will judge all of us."
Further conversation was interrupted by the reappearance of the castellan
and the secretary. They knew that the sentence would be a severe one, and
everyone waited silently. The castellan sat at the table, and, having
taken a crucifix in his hand, ordered Zbyszko to kneel.
The secretary began to read the sentence in Latin. It was a sentence of
death. When the reading was over, Zbyszko struck himself several times on
the chest, repeating; "God be merciful to me, a sinner!"
Then he arose and threw himself in Macko's arms, who began to kiss his
head and eyes.
In the evening of the same day, a herald announced at the four corners of
the market place with the sound of trumpets, to the knights, guests and
burghers assembled, that the noble Zbyszko of Bogdaniec was sentenced by
the castellan's court to be decapitated by the sword.
But Macko obtained a delay of the execution; this was readily granted,
because in those days they used to allow prisoners plenty of time to
dispose of their property, as well as to be reconciled to God.
Lichtenstein himself did not wish to insist upon an early execution of
the sentence, because he understood, that as long as he obtained
satisfaction for the offended majesty of the Order, it would be bad
policy to estrange the powerful monarch, to whom he was sent not only to
take part in the solemnity of the christening, but also to attend to the
negotiations about the province of Dobrzyn. But the chief reason for the
delay was the queen's health. Bishop Wysz did not wish even to hear about
the execution before her delivery, rightly thinking, that it would be
difficult to conceal such an affair from the lady. She would feel such
sorrow and distress that it would be very injurious to her health. For
these reasons, they granted Zbyszko several weeks, and perhaps more, of
life, to make his final arrangements and to bid his friends farewell.
Macko visited him every day and tried to console him. They spoke
sorrowfully about Zbyszko's inevitable death, and still more sorrowfully
about the fact that the family would become extinct.
"It cannot be otherwise, unless you marry," Zbyszko said once.
"I would prefer to find some distant relative," answered the sorrowful
Macko. "How can I think about women, when they are going to behead you.
And even if I am obliged to marry, I will not do it, until I send a
knightly challenge to Lichtenstein, and seek to avenge your death. Do not
fear!"
"God will reward you. I have at least that joy! But I know that you will
not forgive him. How will you avenge me?"
"When his duty as an envoy has ended, there may be a war! If there be
war, I will send him a challenge for single combat before the battle."
"On the leveled ground?"
"On the leveled ground, on horseback or on foot, but only for death, not
for captivity. If there be peace, then I will go to Malborg and will
strike the door of the castle gates with my spear, and will order the
trumpeter to proclaim that I challenge Kuno to fight until death. He
cannot avoid the contest!"
"Surely he will not refuse. And you will defeat him."
"Defeat? I could not defeat Zawisza, Paszko, nor Powala; but without
boasting, I can take care of two like him. That scoundrel Krzyzak shall
see! That Fryzjan knight, was he not stronger? And how I cut him through
the helmet, until the axe stopped! Did I not?"
Zbyszko breathed with relief and said:
"I will perish with some consolation."
They both began to sigh, and the old nobleman spoke with emotion:
"You mustn't break down with sorrow. Your bones will not search for one
another at the day of judgment. I have ordered an honest coffin of oak
planks for you. Even the canons of the church of Panna Marya could not
have any better. You will not perish like a peasant. I will not permit
them to decapitate you on the same cloth on which they behead burghers. I
have made an agreement with Amylej, that he furnish a new cloth, so
handsome that it would be good enough to cover king's fur. I will not be
miserly with prayers, either; don't be afraid!"
Zbyszko's heart rejoiced, and bending toward his uncle's hand, he
repeated:
"God will reward you!"
Sometimes, however, notwithstanding all this consolation he was seized
with a feeling of dreadful loneliness; therefore, another time when Macko
came to see him, as soon as he had welcomed him, he asked him, looking
through the grate in the wall:
"How is it outside?"
"Beautiful weather, like gold, and the sun warms so that all the world is
pleased."
Hearing this, Zbyszko put both his hands on his neck, and raising his
head, said:
"Hej, Mighty God! To have a horse and to ride on fields, on large ones!
It is dreadful for a young man to perish! It is dreadful!"
"People perish on horseback!" answered Macko.
"Bah! But how many they kill before!"
And he began to ask about the knights whom he had seen at the king's
court; about Zawisza, Farurej, Powala of Taczew, about Lis of Targowisko
and about all the others; what they were doing; how they amused
themselves; in what honest exercises they passed the time? And he
listened with avidity to Macko who told him that in the morning, the
knights dressed in their armor, jumped over horses, broke ropes, tried
one another's skill with swords and with axes having sharp ends made of
lead; finally, he told how they feasted and what songs they sang. Zbyszko
longed with heart and soul to be with them, and when he learned that
Zawisza, immediately after the christening, intended to go somewhere
beyond Hungary, against the Turks, he could not refrain from exclaiming:
"If they would only let me go! It would be better to perish among the
pagans!"
But this could not be done. In the meanwhile something else happened.
Both princesses of Mazowsze had not ceased to think about Zbyszko, who
had captivated them by his youth and beauty. Finally the Princess
Alexandra Ziemowitowna decided to send a letter to the grand master. It
was true that the grand master could not alter the sentence, pronounced