The Knights of the Cross, or, Krzyzacy: Historical Romance
cross for the journey. Before the departure, she turned once more toward
him, stretched out her arms and exclaimed:
"Zbyszku, remain with God!"
"May God permit me to see you in Ciechanow!"
But the snow was falling abundantly, as though to deaden every sound, and
to cover everything; therefore those last words came muffled to their
ears, so that it seemed to each of them that they were already calling to
each other from afar.
END OF PART THIRD.
PART FOURTH.
CHAPTER I.
After abundant snowfalls, heavy frost and dry, clear days set in. By day
the wood sparkled in the rays of the sun, the ice fettered the rivers and
hardened the marshes; serene nights followed in which the frost was
intensified to such a degree that the wood in the forest cracked loudly.
The birds approached the dwelling-places. Wolves rendered the roads
unsafe, gathering in packs and attacking not only solitary people, but
also villages. The people however enjoyed themselves at the firesides in
their smoky shanties, presaging from the intensely cold winter an
abundant year, and they waited gladly for the approaching holidays. The
princely Forest Court was deserted. The princess with the court and
priest Wyszoniek left for Ciechanow. Zbyszko, who, though considerably
improved, was not yet strong enough to ride on horseback, remained in the
Forest Court together with Sanderus, his Bohemian armor-bearer and the
servants of the place, who were under the superintendence of a
noble-woman fulfilling the household duties.
But the knight greatly yearned after his young wife. It is true, it was
an immensely consoling thought to him that Danusia was already his, and
that no human power could take her from him; but, on the other hand, that
same thought intensified his longing. For whole days he hoped for that
moment when he should be able to leave the court, and pondered on what he
should then do, where to go, and how to appease Jurand. He had, likewise,
bad and restless moments. But on the whole the future appeared joyful to
him. To love Danusia and pluck peacock plumes from helmets--such a life
would he lead. Many a time he desired to speak of it to his Bohemian whom
he loved, but he reflected, since the Bohemian, he thought, was with his
whole soul Jagienka's, it would be imprudent to speak to him about
Danusia, but he, bound to secrecy, could not tell everything that
happened.
However, his health improved daily. A week before Vigil (Christmas Eve)
he mounted his horse for the first time, and although he felt that he
could not do this in his armor, nevertheless he gathered confidence.
Besides, he did not expect soon to be obliged to put on the coat of mail
and helmet. At the worst he hoped soon to be strong enough to do that
too. Indoors, in order to kill time, he attempted to lift up the sword,
which he accomplished well, but the wielding of the axe seemed to him yet
a difficult task. Nevertheless, he believed that if he grasped the axe
with both hands he would be able to wield it effectively.
Finally, two days before the Vigil, he gave orders to repair the
carriage, saddle the horses, and notified the Bohemian that they were
going to Ciechanow. The faithful armor-bearer was somewhat anxious, the
more so on account of the intense frost out-of-doors. But Zbyszko said to
him:
"Glowacz,[105] it concerns not your head, there is nothing for us in this
court, and even should I happen to be sick, I would not miss seeing the
old gentleman in Ciechanow. Moreover, I shall not ride on horseback, but
in a sleigh, up to the neck in hay and under furs, and only when quite
near Ciechanow shall I mount my horse."
And so it happened. The Bohemian knew his young master and was aware that
it was not good to oppose him, and still worse not to attend scrupulously
to his orders. Therefore they started at an early hour. At the moment of
departure, Zbyszko seeing Sanderus placing himself and his boxes in the
sleigh, said to him: "Why are you sticking to me like burs to sheep's
wool?... You told me you wished to go to Prussia."
"Yes, I said so," Sanderus replied. "But can I get there alone in such
snows? The wolves would devour me before the first star made its
appearance, and I have nothing to stay here for. I prefer the town, to
edify the people in godliness, and bestow upon them my holy wares and
rescue them from the devil's grasp, as I have sworn to the father of all
Christendom in Rome. Besides this, I am exceedingly attached to your
grace, whom I shall not leave before my return to Rome, for it may happen
that I may be enabled to render you some service."
"He is always for you, sir! He is ready to eat and drink for you," said
the Bohemian. "Such service he would be too glad to render, but if a pack
of wolves should happen to attack us in the forests near Przasnysz then I
shall feed the wolves with him, for he is unfit for anything else."
"Better take care that the sinful words don't freeze to your moustache,"
replied Sanderus, "for such icicles can only melt in hellfire."
"Owa!" replied Glowacz, reaching with his gauntlet to his incipient
moustache, "I shall first try to warm some beer for refreshment, but I'll
give none to you."
"But it is forbidden there to give drink to the thirsty,--another sin."
"I shall give you a pail full of water, but meanwhile take what I have in
my hand!" Thus saying he gathered as much snow as he could hold with both
gauntlets and threw it at Sanderus' beard, but the latter bent aside and
said:
"There is nothing for _you_ in Ciechanow, for there is already a grown-up
bear that plays with snow."
Thus they loved to tease each other. But Zbyszko did not forbid Sanderus
to ride with him because that strange man amused him, and at the same
time it seemed to him that the man was really attached to him.
They moved from the Forest Court in the bright morning. The frost was so
intense that they had to cover the horses. The whole landscape was under
snow. The roofs of the cottages were covered and hardly visible. Smoke
seemed to issue directly from white hills, shooting up skyward, red-hued
in the morning, widening out on the roof like a brush, and looking like
the plumes on helmets.
Zbyszko sat in the sleigh, first to gather strength, secondly on account
of the severe cold, against which it was easy to protect oneself; he
commanded Glowacz to sit down beside him so as to be ready with the
crossbow against an attack of wolves, meanwhile he chatted with him
merrily.
"In Przasnysz, we shall only feed the horses and warm ourselves a little
and then immediately continue our journey."
"To Ciechanow?"
"First to Ciechanow, to pay homage to the court and attend worship."
"After that?" inquired Glowacz.
Zbyszko smiled and replied,
"Afterward, who knows, may be to Bogdaniec."
The Bohemian looked at him with astonishment, the thought crossed his
mind: Maybe he has quarrelled with Jurandowna, and this seemed to him
most likely, because she had gone away. The Bohemian had also heard in
the Forest Court that the lord of Spychow was opposed to the young
knight, therefore the honest armor-bearer was glad although he loved
Jagienka, but he looked upon her as upon a star in heaven for whose
happiness he was willing even to shed his blood. He therefore loved
Zbyszko, and from his very soul he longed to serve both of them even unto
death.
"Then your grace thinks to settle down on the estate," he exultingly
said.
"How can I settle down on my estate," replied Zbyszko, "when I challenged
those Knights of the Cross, and even before that, I challenged
Lichtenstein. De Lorche said that the Master would invite the king to
visit Torun. I shall attach myself to the king's retinue, and I think
that at Torun, either _Pan_ Zawisza of Garbow or Powala of Taczew will
ask permission from our lord to allow me to fight those monks. They will
certainly come to fight accompanied by their armor-bearers; in that case
you will also have to meet them."
"If I were to kill any one, I should like him to be a monk," said the
Bohemian.
Zbyszko looked at him with satisfaction. "Well, he will not fare well who
happens to feel your steel. God has given you great strength, but you
would act badly if you were to push it to excess, because humility is
becoming in the worthy armor-bearer."
The Bohemian shook his head as a sign that he would not waste his
strength, but would not spare it against the Germans.
Zbyszko smiled, not on account of what the armor bearer had said, but at
his own thoughts.
"The old gentleman will be glad when we return, and in Zgorzelice there
will also be joy."
Jagienka stood before Zbyszko's eyes as though she were sitting with him
in the sleigh. That always happened, whenever he thought of her he saw
her very distinctly.
"Well," he said to himself, "she will not be glad, for when I shall
return to Bogdaniec it will be with Danusia. Let her take somebody
else...." Here, the figures of Wills of Brzozowa, and young Cztan of
Rogow passed through his mind, and suddenly a disagreeable feeling crept
over him, because the girl might fall into the hands of one of them, and
he said to himself: "I wish I could find some better man, for those
fellows are beer-gulpers and gourmands, and the girl is upright." And he
thought of this and of that; of his uncle when he should learn what had
happened, it would be irksome, no matter how it turned out; but he
immediately consoled himself with the thought that with his uncle,
matters concerning kinship and wealth were always paramount, and these
could advance the interest of the family. Jagienka was indeed nearer, but
Jurand was a greater land owner than Zych of Zgorzelice. Moreover the
former could easily foresee that Macko could not be long opposed to such
a liaison, the more so when he should behold his nephew's love for
Danusia and her requital. He would grumble for a while, then he would be
glad and begin to love Danuska as his own daughter.
Suddenly his heart was moved with tenderness and yearning toward that
uncle who although a severe man, loved him like the pupil of his own eye;
that uncle cared for him on the battlefield more than for himself, he
took booty for him, and for his sake he was driven out from his estate.
Both of them were lonely in the world without near relatives, with only
distant ones like the abbot. Moreover, when the time arrived to separate
from each other, neither of them knew what to do, particularly the older
one, who no more desired anything for himself.
"Hej! he will be glad, he will be glad!" repeated Zbyszko to himself.
"Only one thing I should like,--that he should receive Jurand and me as
well as he would receive me by myself."
Then he attempted to imagine what Jurand would say and do when he learned
of the marriage. There was some alarm in this thought, but not too much
of it, for the simple reason that it was an accomplished fact. It would
not do for Jurand to challenge him to fight, and even should Jurand
oppose, Zbyszko could answer him thus: "Forbear, I ask you; your right to
Danuska is human, but mine is divine; she is therefore no more yours, but
mine." He once heard from a certain clergyman who was versed in the
Scriptures that the woman must leave her father and mother and go with
her husband. He felt therefore that the greater part of strength was in
his favor; nevertheless he did not expect that intense strife and passion
would arise between Jurand and himself, for he counted upon Danusia's
petition which would be granted, and quite as much, if not more, upon
that which would be obtained by the intercession of the prince under whom
Jurand was serving and that of the princess whom Jurand loved as the
protectress of his child.