The Knights of the Cross, or, Krzyzacy: Historical Romance
knights in the field. When the horses of the Germans are sunk in the
marshes, or when there is a thick forest--that's different."
"The Germans are good soldiers!" exclaimed the burghers.
"They stay like a wall, man beside man, in their iron armor. They advance
in one compact body. They strike, and the Litwa are scattered like sand,
or throw themselves flat on the ground and are trampled down. There are
not only Germans among them, because men of all nations serve with the
Knights of the Cross. And they are brave! Often before a battle a knight
stoops, stretches his lance, and rushes alone against the whole army."
"Christ!" exclaimed Gamroth. "And who among them are the best soldiers?"
"It depends. With the crossbow, the best is the Englishman, who can
pierce a suit of armor through and through, and at a hundred steps he
will not miss a dove. Czechowie (Bohemians) cut dreadfully with axes. For
the big two-handed sword the German is the best. The Swiss is glad to
strike the helmets with an iron flail, but the greatest knights are those
who come from France. These will fight on horseback and on foot, and in
the meanwhile they will speak very brave words, which however you will
not understand, because it is such a strange language. They are pious
people. They criticise us through the Germans. They say we are defending
the heathen and the Turks against the cross, and they want to prove it by
a knightly duel. And such God's judgment is going to be held between four
knights from their side, and four from our side, and they are going to
fight at the the court of Waclaw, the Roman and Bohemian king."[4]
Here the curiosity so increased among the noblemen and merchants, that
they stretched their necks in the direction of Macko of Bogdaniec and
they asked:
"And who are the knights from our side? Speak quickly!" Macko raised the
mug to his mouth, drank and then answered:
"Ej, don't be afraid about them. There is Jan of Wloszczowa, castellan of
Dobrzyn; there's Mikolaj of Waszmuntow; there are Jasko of Zdakow and
Jarosz of Czechow: all glorious knights and sturdy fellows. No matter
which weapons they choose,--swords or axes--nothing new to them! It will
be worth while for human eyes to see it and for human ears to hear
it--because, as I said, even if you press the throat of a Frenchman with
your foot, he will still reply with knightly words. Therefore so help me
God and Holy Cross they will outtalk us, but our knights will defeat
them."
"That will be glory, if God will bless us," said one of the nobles.
"And Saint Stanislaw!" added another. Then turning toward Macko, he asked
him further:
"Well! tell us some more! You praised the Germans and other knights
because they are valiant and have conquered Litwa easily. Did they not
have harder work with you? Did they go against you readily? How did it
happen? Praise our knights."
But evidently Macko of Bogdaniec was not a braggart, because he answered
modestly:
"Those who had just returned from foreign lands, attacked us readily; but
after they tried once or twice, they attacked us with less assurance,
because our people are hardened and they reproached us for that hardness:
'You despise,' they used to say,'death, but you help the Saracens, and
you will be damned for it.' And with us the deadly grudge increased,
because their taunt is not true! The king and the queen have christened
Litwa and everyone there tries to worship the Lord Christ although not
everyone knows how. And it is known also, that our gracious lord, when in
the cathedral of Plock they threw down the devil, ordered them to put a
candle before him--and the priests were obliged to tell him that he ought
not to do it. No wonder then about an ordinary man! Therefore many of
them say to themselves:
"'The _kniaz_[5] ordered us to be baptized, therefore I was baptized; he
ordered us to bow before the Christ, and I bowed; but why should I grudge
a little piece of cheese to the old heathen devils, or why should I not
throw them some turnips; why should I not pour the foam off of the beer?
If I do not do it, then my horses will die; or my cows will be sick, or
their milk will turn into blood--or there will be some trouble with the
harvest.' And many of them do this, and they are suspected. But they are
doing it because of their ignorance and their fear of the devils. Those
devils were better off in times of yore. They used to have their own
groves and they used to take the horses which they rode for their tithe.
But to-day, the groves are cut down and they have nothing to eat--in the
cities the bells ring, therefore the devils are hiding in the thickest
forest, and they howl there from loneliness. If a Litwin[6] goes to the
forest, then they pull him by his sheep-skin overcoat and they say:
'Give!' Some of them give, but there are also courageous boys, who will
not give and then the devils catch them. One of the boys put some beans
in an ox bladder and immediately three hundred devils entered there. And
he stuffed the bladder with a service-tree peg, brought them to Wilno and
sold them to the Franciscan priests, who gave him twenty _skojcow_[7] he
did this to destroy the enemies of Christ's name. I have seen that
bladder with my own eyes; a dreadful stench came from it, because in that
way those dirty spirits manifested their fear before holy water."
"And who counted them, that you know there were three hundred devils,"
asked the merchant Gamroth, intelligently.
"The Litwin counted them, when he saw them entering the bladder. It was
evident that they were there, because one would know it from the stench,
and nobody wished to take out the peg to count them."
"What wonders, what wonders!" exclaimed one of the nobles.
"I have seen many great wonders, because everything is peculiar among
them. They are shaggy and hardly any _kniaz_ combs his hair; they live on
baked turnips, which they prefer to any other food, because they say that
bravery comes from eating them. They live in the forests with their
cattle and snakes; they are not abstinent in eating nor drinking. They
despise the married women, but greatly respect the girls to whom they
attribute great power. They say that if a girl rubs a man with dried
leaves, it will stop colic."
"It's worth while to have colic, if the women are beautiful!" exclaimed
Uncle Eyertreter.
"Ask Zbyszko about it," answered Macko of Bogdaniec.
Zbyszko laughed so heartily that the bench began to shake beneath him.
"There are some beautiful ones," he said. "Ryngalla was charming."
"Who is Ryngalla? Quick!"
"What? you haven't heard about Ryngalla?" asked Macko.
"We have not heard a word."
"She was Witold's sister, and the wife of Henryk, Prince Mazowiecki."
"You don't say! Which Prince Henryk? There was only one Prince
Mazowiecki, elect[8] of Plock, but he died."
"The same one. He expected a dispensation from Rome, but death gave him
his dispensation, because evidently he had not pleased God by his action.
Jasko of Olesnica sent me with a letter to Prince Witold, when Prince
Henryk, elect of Plock, was sent by the king to Ryterswerder. At that
time, Witold was tired of the war, because he could not capture Wilno,
and our king was tired of his own brothers and their dissipation. The
king having noticed that Witold was shrewder and more intelligent than
his own brothers, sent the bishop to him, to persuade him to leave the
Knights of the Cross, and return to his allegiance, for which he promised
to make him ruler over Litwa. Witold, always fond of changing, listened
with pleasure to the embassy. There were also a feast and tournaments.
The elect mounted a horse, although the other bishops did not approve of
it, and in the lists he showed his knightly strength. All the princes of
Mazowsze are very strong; it is well known, that even the girls of that
blood can easily break horseshoes. In the beginning the prince threw
three knights from their saddles; the second time he threw five of them.
He threw me from my saddle, and in the beginning of the encounter,
Zbyszko's horse reared and he was thrown. The prince took all the prizes
from the hands of the beautiful Ryngalla, before whom he kneeled in full
armor. They fell so much in love with each other, that dining the feasts,
the _clerici_[9] pulled him from her by his sleeves and her brother,
Witold, restrained her. The prince said: 'I will give myself a
dispensation, and the pope, if not the one in Home, then the one in
Avignon, will confirm it, but I must marry her immediately--otherwise I
will burn up!' It was a great offence against God, but Witold did not
dare to oppose him, because he did not want to displease the
embassador--and so there was a wedding. Then they went to Suraz, and
afterward to Sluck, to the great sorrow of this youth, Zbyszko, who,
according to the German custom, had selected the Princess Ryngalla to be
the lady of his heart and had promised her eternal fidelity."
"Bah!" suddenly interrupted Zbyszko, "it's true. But afterward the people
said that Ryngalla regretted being the wife of the elect (because he,
although married, did not want to renounce his spiritual dignity) and
feeling that God's blessing could not be over such a marriage, poisoned
her husband. When I heard that, I asked a pious hermit, living not far
from Lublin, to absolve me from that vow."
"He was a hermit," answered Macko, laughing, "but was he pious? I don't
know; we went to him on Friday, and he was splitting bear's bones with an
axe, and sucking the marrow so hard, that there was music in his throat."
"But he said that the marrow was not meat, and besides he had received
permission to do it, because after sucking marrow, he used to have
marvelous visions during his sleep and the next day he could prophesy
until noontime."
"Well, well!" answered Macko. "And the beautiful Ryngalla is a widow and
she may call you to her service."
"It would be in vain, because I am going to choose another lady, whom I
will serve till death, and then I will find a wife."
"You must first find the girdle of a knight."
"_Owa!_[10] There will be plenty of tournaments. And before that the king
will not dub a single knight. I can measure myself against any. The
prince could not have thrown me down, if my horse had not reared."
"There will be knights here better than you are."
Here the noblemen began to shout:
"For heaven's sake! Here, in the presence of the queen, will fight not
such as you, but only the most famous knights in the world. Here will
fight Zawisza of Garbow and Farurej, Dobko of Olesnica, Powala of Taczew,
Paszko Zlodzie of Biskupice, Jasko Naszan and Abdank of Gora. Andrzej of
Brochocice, Krystyn of Ostrow, and Jakob of Kobylany! Can you measure
your sword against the swords of those, with whom neither the knights
here, nor of the Bohemian court, nor of the Hungarian court can compete?
What are you talking about? Are you better then they? How old are you?"
"Eighteen," answered Zbyszko.
"Everyone of them could crush you between his fingers."
"We will see."
But Macko said:
"I have heard that the king rewarded those knights munificently who
returned from the Lithuanian war. Speak, you belong here; is it true?"
"Yes, it is true!" answered one of the nobles. "The king's munificence is
known to the world; but it will be difficult to get near him now, because
the guests are swarming to Krakow; they are coming to be in time for the
queen's confinement and for the christening, wishing to show reverence to
our lord and to render him homage. The king of Hungary is coming; they
say the Roman emperor will be here also, and plenty of princes, counts
and knights, will come because not one of them expects to return with
empty hands. They even say that Pope Boniface, himself will arrive,