The Knights of the Cross, or, Krzyzacy: Historical Romance
turned to the brothers as if nothing had happened and said:
"I bow to you, brave knights!"
"We recognize you," answered Danveld, approaching slowly. "Have you
anything for us?"
"The knight Zbyszko of Bogdaniec, after whom I carry the spear, sent me,
because being injured by the bison, he could not come himself."
"What does your master wish from us?"
"My master commanded me to tell you that because you unrighteously
accused Jurand of Spychow, to the detriment of his knightly honor, you
did not act like honest knights, but howled like dogs; and if any one of
you feels insulted by these words, he challenges him to a combat on
horseback or on foot, to the last breath; he will be ready for the duel
as soon as with God's help and mercy he is released from his present
indisposition."
"Tell your master, that the Knights of the Order bear insults patiently
for the Saviour's sake, and they cannot fight, without special permission
from the grand master or from the grand marshal; for which permission
they will write to Malborg."
The Czech again looked at de Fourcy's corpse, because he had been sent
especially to that knight. Zbyszko knew that the monks could not fight in
single combat: but having heard that there was a secular knight with
them, he wanted to challenge him especially, thinking that by doing so he
would win Jurand's favor. But that knight was lying slaughtered like an
ox, by the four Knights of the Cross.
It is true that the Czech did not understand what had happened; but being
accustomed from childhood to different kinds of danger, he suspected some
treachery. He was also surprised to see Danveld, while talking with him,
approach him closer and closer; the others began to ride to his sides, as
if to surround him. Consequently he was upon the alert, especially as he
did not have any weapons; he had not brought any, being in great haste.
In the meanwhile Danveld who was near him, said:
"I promised your master some healing balm; he repays me badly for my good
deed. But no wonder, that is the usual thing among the Polaks. But as he
is severely injured and may soon be called to God, tell him then----"
Here he leaned his left hand on the Czech's shoulder.
"Tell him then, that I--well--I answer this way!----"
And at the same moment, his knife gleamed near the throat of the
shield-bearer; but before he could thrust, the Czech who had been
watching his movements closely, seized Danveld's right hand, with his
iron-like hands, bent and twisted it so that the bones cracked; then
hearing a dreadful roaring of pain, he pricked his horse and rushed away
like an arrow, before the others could stop him.
Brothers Rotgier and Godfried pursued him, but they soon returned,
frightened by a dreadful cry from Danveld. Von Löve supported him with
his shoulders, while he cried so loudly that the retinue, riding with the
wagons in front at quite a distance, stopped their horses.
"What is the matter with you?" asked the brothers.
But von Löve ordered them to ride forward as fast as they could, and
bring a wagon, because Danveld could not remain in his saddle. After a
moment, a cold perspiration covered his forehead and he fainted.
When they brought the wagon, they put him on some straw in the bottom and
hurried toward the frontier. Von Löve urged them forward because he
realized that after what had happened, they could not lose time in
nursing Danveld. Having seated himself beside him in the wagon, he rubbed
his face with snow from time to time; but he could not resuscitate him.
At last when near the frontier, Danveld opened his eyes and began to look
around.
"How do you feel?" asked Löve.
"I do not feel any pain, but neither can I feel my hand," answered
Danveld.
"Because it has grown stiff already; that is why you do not feel any
pain. It will come back in a warm room. In the meanwhile, thank God even
for a moment of relief."
Rotgier and Godfried approached the wagon.
"What a misfortune!" said the first. "What shall we do now?"
"We will declare," said Danveld in a feeble voice, "that the
shield-bearer murdered de Fourcy."
"It is their latest crime and the culprit is known!" added Rotgier.
CHAPTER VII
In the meanwhile, the Czech rushed as fast as he could to the prince's
hunting residence, and finding the prince still there, he told him first,
what had happened. Happily there were some courtiers who had seen the
shield-bearer go without any arms. One of them had even shouted after
him, half in jest, to take some old iron, because otherwise the Germans
would get the best of him; but he, fearing that the knights would pass
the frontier, jumped on horseback as he stood, in a sheepskin overcoat
only and hurried after them. These testimonies dispelled all possible
doubts from the prince's mind as to the fact who had murdered de Fourcy;
but they filled him with uneasiness and with such anger, that at first he
wanted to pursue the Knights of the Cross, capture them and send them to
the grand master in chains. After a while, however, he came to the
conclusion, that it was impossible to reach them on this side of the
boundary and he said:
"I will send, instead, a letter to the grand master, so that he may know
what they are doing here. God will punish them for it!"
Then he became thoughtful and after a while he began to say to the
courtiers:
"I cannot understand why they killed their guest; I would suspect the
shield-bearer if I did not know that he went there without weapons."
"Bah!" said the _ksiondz_ Wyszoniek, "why should the boy kill him? He had
not seen him before. Then suppose he had had arms, how could he attack
five of them and their armed retinues?"
"That is true," said the prince. "That guest must have opposed them in
something, or perhaps he did not wish to lie as was necessary for them. I
saw them wink at him, to induce him to say that Jurand was the first to
begin the fight."
Then Mrokota of Mocarzew said:
"He is a strong boy, if he could crush the arm of that dog Danveld."
"He said that he heard the bones of the German crack," answered the
prince; "and taking into consideration what he did in the forest, one
must admit it is true! The master and the servant are both strong boys.
But for Zbyszko, the bison would have rushed against the horses. Both the
Lotaringer and he contributed very much to the rescue of the princess."
"To be sure they are great boys," affirmed the _ksiondz_ Wyszoniek. "Even
now when he can hardly breathe, he has taken Jurand's part and challenged
those knights. Jurand needs exactly such a son-in-law."
"In Krakow, Jurand said differently; but now, I think he will not oppose
it," said the prince.
"The Lord Jesus will help," said the princess, who entered just now and
heard the end of the conversation.
"Jurand cannot oppose it now, if only God will restore Zbyszko's health;
but we must reward him also."
"The best reward for him will be Danusia, and I think he will get her,
for when the women resolve to accomplish some object, then even Jurand
himself could not prevent them."
"Am I not right, to wish for that marriage?" asked the princess.
"I would not say a word if Zbyszko were not constant; but I think there
is no other in the world as faithful as he. And the girl also. She does
not leave him now for a moment; she caresses him and he smiles at her,
although he is very ill. I cry myself when I see this! I am speaking
righteously! It is worth while to help such a love, because the Holy
Mother looks gladly on human happiness."
"If it be God's will," said the prince, "the happiness will come. But it
is true that he nearly lost his head for that girl and now the bison has
injured him."
"Do not say it was for that girl," said the princess, quickly, "because
in Krakow Danusia saved him."
"True! But for her sake he attacked Lichtenstein, in order to tear from
his head the feathers, and he would not have risked his life for de
Lorche. As for the reward, I said before that they both deserve one, and
I will think about it in Ciechanow."
"Nothing will please Zbyszko more than to receive the knightly girdle and
the golden spurs."
The prince smiled benevolently and answered:
"Let the girl carry them to him; and when the illness leaves him, then we
will see that everything is accomplished according to the custom. Let her
carry them to him immediately, because quick joy is the best!"
The princess having heard that, hugged her lord in the presence of the
courtiers, and kissed his hands; he smiled continually and said:
"You see--A good idea! I see that the Holy Ghost has granted the woman
some sense also! Now call the girl."
"Danuska! Danuska!" called the princess.
And in a moment in the side door Danusia appeared; her eyes were red on
account of sleepless nights; and she held a pot of steaming gruel, which
the _ksiondz_ Wyszoniek had ordered to be put on Zbyszko's fractured
bones.
"Come to me, my dear girl!" said Prince Janusz. "Put aside the pot and
come."
When she approached with some timidity, because "the lord" always excited
some fear in her, he embraced her kindly and began to caress her face,
saying:
"Well, the poor child is unhappy--_hein_?"
"Yes!" answered Danusia.
And having sadness in her heart, she began to cry but very quietly, in
order not to hurt the prince; he asked again:
"Why do you cry?"
"Because Zbyszko is ill," answered she, putting her little hands to her
eyes.
"Do not be afraid, there is no danger for him. Is that not true, Father
Wyszoniek?"
"Hej! by God's will, he is nearer to the wedding than to the coffin,"
answered the good-hearted _ksiondz_ Wyszoniek.
The prince said:
"Wait! In the meanwhile, I will give you a medicine for him, and I trust
it will relieve him or cure him entirely."
"Have the Krzyzaks sent the balm?" asked Danusia quickly, taking her
little hands from her eyes.
"With that balm which the Krzyzaks will send, you had better smear a dog
than a knight whom you love. I will give you something else."
Then he turned to the courtiers and said:
"Hurry and bring the spurs and the girdle."
After a while, when they had brought them to him, he said to Danusia:
"Take these to Zbyszko--and tell him that from this time he is a belted
knight. If he die, then he will appear before God as _miles cinctus_; if
he live, then the rest will be accomplished in Ciechanow or in Warszawa."
Having heard this, Danusia seized "the lord" by his knees; then caught
the knightly insignia with one hand and the pot of porridge with the
other, and rushed to the room where Zbyszko was lying. The princess, not
wishing to lose the sight of their joy, followed her.
Zbyszko was very ill, but having perceived Danusia, he turned his pale
face toward her and asked:
"Has the Czech returned?"
"No matter about the Czech!" answered the girl. "I bring you better news
than that. The lord has made you a knight and has sent you this by me."
Having said this, she put beside him the girdle and the spurs. Zbyszko's
pale cheeks flushed with joy and astonishment, he glanced at Danusia and
then at the spurs; then he closed his eyes and began to repeat:
"How could he dub me a knight?"
At that moment the princess entered, and he raised himself a little and
began to thank her, because he guessed that her intervention had brought
such a great favor and bliss to him. But she ordered him to be quiet and
helped Danusia to put his head on the pillows again. In the meanwhile,
the prince, the _ksiondz_ Wyszoniek, Mrokota and several other courtiers
entered.
Prince Janusz waved his hand to signify that Zbyszko must not move; then
having seated himself beside the bed, he said:
"You know! The people must not wonder that there is reward for good