The Knights of the Cross, or, Krzyzacy: Historical Romance
"Without Danusia I will be as unhappy as a chained dog or a bear in a
ditch," answered Zbyszko. "There will be neither joy nor pleasure,
nothing but sorrow and sighing; I will go against the Tartars with Prince
Witold and may they kill me there. But first I must accompany uncle to
Bogdaniec, and then tear from German heads the peacock's tufts as I
promised. Perhaps the Germans will kill me; and I prefer such a death
rather than to live and see some one else take Danusia."
The princess looked at him with her kind blue eyes, and asked him, with a
certain degree of astonishment:
"Then you would permit it?"
"I? As long I have breath in my nostrils, it will not happen, unless my
hand be paralyzed, and I be unable to hold my axe!"
"Then you see!"
"Bah! But how can I take her against her father's will?"
To this the princess said, as to herself:
"Does it not happen that way sometimes?"
Then to Zbyszko:
"God's will is stronger than a father's will. What did Jurand say to you?
He said to me 'If it be God's will, then he will get her.'"
"He said the same to me!" exclaimed Zbyszko.
"Do you not see?"
"It is my only consolation, gracious lady."
"I will help you, and you can be sure of Danusia's constancy. Only
yesterday I said to her: 'Danusia, will you always love Zbyszko?' And she
answered: 'I will be Zbyszko's and no one else's.' She is still a green
berry, but when she promises anything, she keeps her word, because she is
the daughter of a knight. Her mother was like her."
"Thank God!" said Zbyszko.
"Only remember to be faithful to her also; man is inconstant; he promises
to love one faithfully, and afterward he promises another."
"May Lord Jesus punish me if I prove such!" exclaimed Zbyszko
energetically.
"Well, remember then. And after you have conveyed your uncle to
Bogdaniec, come to our court; there will be some opportunity then for you
to win your spurs; then we will see what can be done. In the meanwhile
Danusia will mature, and she will feel God's will; although she loves you
very much even now, it is not the same love a woman feels. Perhaps Jurand
will give his consent, because I see he likes you. You can go to Spychow
and from there can go with Jurand against the Germans; it may happen that
you will render him some great service and thus gain his affection."
"Gracious princess, I have thought the same; but with your sanction it
will be easier."
This conversation cheered Zbyszko. Meanwhile at the first baiting place,
old Macko became worse, and it was necessary to remain until he became
better. The good princess, Anna Danuta, left him all the medicine she had
with her; but she was obliged to continue her journey; therefore both
_wlodykas_ of Bogdaniec bid those belonging to the Mazovian court
farewell. Zbyszko prostrated himself at the princess' feet, then at
Danusia's; he promised her once more to be faithful and to meet her soon
at Ciechanow or at Warszawa; finally he seized her in his strong arms,
and having lifted her, he repeated with a voice full of emotion:
"Remember me, my sweetest flower! Remember me, my little golden fish!"
Danusia embraced him as though he were a beloved brother, put her little
cheek to his face and wept copiously.
"I do not want to go to Ciechanow without Zbyszko; I do not want to go to
Ciechanow!"
Jurand saw her grief, but he was not angry. On the contrary, he bid the
young man good-bye kindly; and after he had mounted, he turned toward him
once more, and said:
"God be with you; do not bear ill will toward me."
"How can I feel ill will toward you; you are Danusia's father!" answered
Zbyszko cordially; then he bent to his stirrup, and the old man shook
hands with him, and said:
"May God help you in everything! Understand?"
Then he rode away. But Zbyszko understood that in his last words, he
wished him success; and when he went back to the wagon on which Macko was
lying, he said:
"Do you know I believe he is willing; but something hinders him from
giving his consent. You were in Spychow and you have good common sense,
try to guess what it is."
But Macko was too ill. The fever increased so much toward evening, that
he became delirious. Therefore instead of answering Zbyszko, he looked at
him as if he were astonished; then he asked:
"Why do they ring the bells?"
Zbyszko was frightened. He feared that if the sick man heard the sound of
bells, it was a sign that death would soon come. He feared also that the
old man might die without a priest and without confession, and therefore
go, if not to hell, then at least for long centuries to purgatory;
therefore he determined to resume their journey, in order to reach, as
soon as possible, some parish in which Macko could receive the last
sacraments.
Consequently they started and traveled during the night. Zbyszko sat in
the wagon on the hay, beside the sick man and watched him till day-break.
From time to time he gave him wine to drink. Macko drank it eagerly,
because it relieved him greatly. After the second quart he recovered from
his delirium; and after the third, he fell asleep; he slept so well that
Zbyszko bent toward him from time to time, to ascertain if he was still
alive.
Until the time of his imprisonment in Krakow, he did not realize how
dearly he loved this uncle who replaced, for him, father and mother. But
now he realized it very well; and he felt that after his uncle's death,
life would be very lonesome for him, alone, without relatives, except the
abbot who held Bogdaniec in pledge, without friends and without anyone to
help him. The thought came to him that if Macko died, it would be one
more reason for vengeance on the Germans, by whose means he had nearly
lost his head, by whom all his forefathers had been killed, also
Danusia's mother and many other innocent people, whom he knew or about
whom he had heard from his acquaintances--and he began to say to himself:
"In this whole kingdom, there is no man who has not suffered some wrong
from them, and who would not like to avenge those wrongs." Here he
remembered the Germans with whom he fought at Wilno, and he knew that
even the Tartars were less cruel.
The coming dawn interrupted his thoughts. The day was bright but cold.
Evidently Macko felt better, because he was breathing more regularly and
more quietly. He did not awaken until the sun was quite warm; then he
opened his eyes and said:
"I am better. Where are we?"
"We are approaching Olkusk. You know, where they dig silver."
"If one could get that which is in the earth, then one could rebuild
Bogdaniec!"
"I see you are better," answered Zbyszko laughing. "Hej! it would be
enough even for a stone castle! We will go to the _fara_,[65] because
there the priests will offer us hospitality and you will be able to make
your confession. Everything is in God's hands; but it is better to have
one's conscience clear."
"I am a sinner and will willingly repent," answered Macko. "I dreamed
last night that the devils were taking my skin off. They were talking
German. Thanks be to God that I am better. Have you slept any?"
"How could I sleep, when I was watching you?"
"Then lie down for a while. When we arrive, I will awaken you."
"I cannot sleep!"
"What prevents you?"
Zbyszko looked at his uncle and said:
"What else can it be, if not love? I have pain in my heart; but I will
ride on horseback for a while, that will help me."
He got down from the wagon, and mounted the horse, which his servant
brought for him; meanwhile, Macko touched his sore side; but he was
evidently thinking about something else and not about his illness,
because he tossed his head, smacked his lips and finally said:
"I wonder and wonder, and I cannot wonder enough, why you are so eager
for love, because your father was not that way, and neither am I."
But Zbyszko, instead of answering, stretched himself on the saddle, put
his hands on his hips, gave his head a toss and sang:
"I cried the whole night, cried in the morning,
Where have you been, my sweet girl, my darling!
It will not help me, if I mourn for thee,
Because I am quite sure, you will not see me."
"Hej!"
This "hej" resounded in the forest, reverberated against the trunks of
the trees, finally reëchoed in the far distance and then was lost in the
thickets.
Again Macko felt his side, in which the German spearhead had lodged and
said, moaning a little:
"Formerly the people were wiser!"
Then he became thoughtful, as if recollecting the old times; and he
added:
"Although even then some of them were stupid also."
But, in the meantime, they emerged from the forest, behind which they
perceived the miners' sheds, and further walls, built by King Kazimierz,
and the tower of the _fara_ erected by Wladyslaw Lokietek.
The canon of the _fara_ beard Macko's confession and offered them
hospitality; they remained there over night, and started the next
morning. Beyond Olkusk, they turned toward Szlonsk,[66] and on its
boundaries, they proposed to ride toward Wielkopolska. The road was laid
out through a large forest, in which there was heard toward sunset, the
roaring of the urus and of the bison, and during the night the eyes of
wolves were seen shining behind the thick hazelnut trees. But the
greatest danger which threatened the traveler on this road, was from the
German and Germanized knights of Szlonsk, whose castles were erected here
and there near the boundaries. It is true, that because of the war with
the Opolczyk, Naderspraw, whom the Silesians were helping against King
Wladyslaw, the majority of these castles had been destroyed by Polish
hands; it was necessary, however, to be watchful, and especially after
sunset, and to have one's weapons ready.
They were riding so quietly, however, that Zbyszko found the journey
tedious; when they were about one day's journey from Bogdaniec, they
heard the snorting and trampling of horses behind them.
"Some people are following us," said Zbyszko.
Macko, who was awake, looked at the stars and answered like an
experienced traveler:
"Day-break is near. Robbers do not attack toward the end of the night."
Zbyszko stopped the wagon; however, placed the men across the road,
facing the advancing horses, and waited.
In fact, after a certain time he perceived in the dusk, several horsemen.
One of them was riding ahead, and it was evident that he did not wish to
hide, because he was singing. Zbyszko could not hear the words of the
song; but the gay "hoc! hoc!" with which the stranger ended each refrain,
reached his ears.
"Our people!" he said to himself.
After a while he shouted, however:
"Stop!"
"And you sit down!" answered a joyous voice.
"Who are you?"
"And you?"
"Why do you follow us?"
"And why do you obstruct the road?"
"Answer, our crossbows are bent."
"And ours,--thrust out,--aimed!"
"Answer like a man, otherwise woe to you!"
To this a merry song was given, as an answer to Zbyszko.
"One misery with another
They are dancing on the crossway.
Hoc! Hoc! Hoc!
What use have they of dancing?
It's a good thing, anyhow.
Hoc! Hoc! Hoc!"
Zbyszko was amazed at hearing such an answer; meantime, the song stopped
and the same voice asked:
"And how is the old man Macko? Does he still breathe?"
Macko rose in the wagon and said:
"For God's sake, they are some of our people!"
Zbyszko rushed forward.
"Who asks about Macko?"
"A neighbor. Zych of Zgorzelice. I have looked for you for a week and
inquired about you from all on the road."
"_Rety!_[67] Uncle! Zych of Zgorzelice is here!" shouted Zbyszko.
They began to greet each other joyfully because Zych was really their
neighbor, and also a good man of whom everybody was very fond on account
of his mirth.