The Knights of the Cross, or, Krzyzacy: Historical Romance
non-appearance. The storm increased in strength, and all declared that if
any one were caught in the open country he would not survive. The
princess, however, concluded that Danuska had confessed to her father her
marriage to Zbyszko, and he being offended, was resolved not to proceed
to Ciechanow. The princess however, did not desire to reveal her thoughts
to Zbyszko; there was not even time to do so, for the servants brought in
the viands and placed them on the table. Nevertheless Zbyszko endeavored
to follow her up and make further inquiries.
"And if they arrive, what will happen then, beloved lady? Mrokota told me
that there are special quarters set apart for Jurand; there will be hay
enough for bedding for the chilled horses. How then will it be?"
The princess laughed and tapped him lightly on the face with her glove
and said: "Be quiet, do you see him?"
And she went toward the prince and was assisted to a chair. One of the
attendants placed before the prince a flat dish with thin slices of cake,
and wafers, which he was to distribute among the guests, courtiers and
servants. Another attendant held before the prince a beautiful boy, the
son of the castellan of Sokhochova. On the other side of the table stood
Father Wyszoniek who was to pronounce a benediction upon the fragrant
supper.
At this moment, a man covered with snow entered and cried: "Most Gracious
Prince!"
"What is it?" said the prince. "Is there no reverence; they have
interrupted him in his religious ceremonies."
"Some travelers are snowbound on the road to Radzanow, we need people to
help us to dig them out."
On hearing this all were seized with fear--the prince was alarmed, and
turning toward the castellan of Sokhochova, he commanded:
"Horses and spades! Hasten!"
Then he said to the man who brought the news: "Are there many under the
snow?"
"I could not tell, it blew terribly; there are a considerable number of
horses and wagons."
"Do you not know who they are?"
"People say that they belong to Jurand of Spychow."
CHAPTER II.
When Zbyszko heard the ill tidings, he did not even ask the prince's
permission, but hastened to the stable and ordered his horse to be
saddled. The Bohemian, being a noble-born armor-bearer, met Zbyszko in
the hall before he returned to the house, and brought him a warm fur
coat, yet he did not attempt to detain his young master, for he possessed
strong natural sense; he knew that detention would be of no avail, and
only loss of time, he therefore mounted the second horse and seized some
torches from the guard at the gate, and started at once together with the
prince's men who were under the management of the old castellan.
Impenetrable darkness enveloped them beyond the gate, but the storm
seemed to them to have moderated; were it not for the man who notified
them of the accident, they would have lost their way at once; but he had
a trained dog with him which being acquainted with the road, enabled him
to proceed safely and quickly. In the open field the storm again
increased and began to cut their faces. It may be because they galloped.
The road was filled with snow, so much so that in some places they were
obliged to slacken their speed, for the horses sank up to their bellies
in snow. The prince's people lighted their torches and fire-pots and
moved on amid smoke and flames; the wind blew with such force as though
it endeavored to tear the flames from the torches and carry them over the
field and forest. It was a long journey. They passed the settlement near
Ciechanow, then they passed Niedzborz, then they turned toward Radzanow.
The storm began really to subside beyond Niedzborz; the gusts of wind
were less frequent and no longer carried immense snowclouds. The sky
cleared. Some snow yet drifted from the hills, but it soon ceased. The
stars appeared here and there between the broken clouds. The horses began
to snort, the horsemen breathed freely. The stars came out by degrees and
it began to freeze. In a short time the storm subsided entirely.
Sir de Lorche who rode beside Zbyszko began to comfort him, saying, that
Jurand undoubtedly in moments of peril thought of his daughter's safety
above everything, and although all those buried in the snow should be
found dead, she undoubtedly would be discovered alive, probably sleeping
in her fur robes. But Zbyszko understood him not, in fact he had no time
to listen to him. When, after a little while, the guide who was riding in
front of them turned from the road, the young knight moved in front and
inquired:
"Why do we deviate from the road?"
"Because they are not covered up on the road, but yonder! Do you observe
that clump of alders?"
And he pointed with his hand to the darkening in the distant thicket
which could be seen plainly on the white snow-covered expanse, when the
clouds unveiled the moon's disk and the night became clear.
"They have apparently wandered from the road; they turned aside and moved
in a small circle along the river; in the wind and drifting snow, it is
quite easy to go astray. They moved on and on as long as the horses did
not give out."
"How did you find them?"
"The dog led us."
"Are there any huts near here?"
"Yes, but they are on the other side of the river. Close here is Wkra."
"Whip up the horses," commanded Zbyszko.
But the command was easier than the execution of the order. The piled up
snow upon the meadow was not yet frozen firm, and the horses sank
knee-deep in the drifts; they were therefore obliged to move slowly.
Suddenly they heard the barking of a dog; directly in front of them there
was the deformed thick stump of a willow-tree upon which glistened in the
light of the moon a crown of leafless twigs.
"They are farther off," said the guide, "they are near the alder clump,
but it seems that here also there might be something."
"There is much drift under the willow-tree. Bring a light."
Several attendants dismounted and lit up the place with their torches.
One of them soon exclaimed:
"There is a man under the snow, his head is visible. Here!"
"There is also a horse," said another.
"Dig them out!"
They began to remove the snow with their spades and throw it aside.
In a moment they observed a human being under the tree, his head upon his
chest, and his cap pulled down over his face. One hand held the reins of
the horse that lay beside him with its nostrils buried in the snow. It
was obvious that the man must have left the company, probably with the
object of reaching a human habitation as quickly as possible in order to
secure help, and when the horse fell he had then taken refuge under the
lee of the willow-tree.
"Light!" shouted Zbyszko.
The attendant brought the torch near the face of the frozen man, but his
features could not be distinguished. Only when a second attendant lifted
the head from the chest, they all exclaimed with one accord:
"It is the lord of Spychow!"
Zbyszko ordered two of his men to carry him to the nearest hut and try to
resuscitate him, but himself lost no time but hastened with the rest of
the attendants and the guide to rescue the rest of the retinue. On the
way it crossed Zbyszko's mind that perhaps he might find his wife Danuska
dead, and he urged on his horse who waded up to his breast in snow, to
his last breath.
Fortunately it was not distant, a few furlongs at most. In the darkness
voices were heard exclaiming: "_Byway_."[107] They were those who had
been left with the snow-covered people.
Zbyszko rushed in and jumped from his horse and shouted:
"To the spades!"
Two sleighs were dug out before they reached those in the rear. The
horses and the people in the sleighs were frozen to death, and past all
hope of reviving. The place where the other teams were could be
recognized by the heaps of snow, though not all the sleighs were entirely
covered with snow; in front of some of the sleighs were the horses up to
their bellies, in the posture of their last effort to run. In front of
one team there stood a man up to his belt in snow, holding a lance and
motionless as a post; in front of the others were dead attendants holding
the horses by their muzzles. Death had apparently overtaken them at the
moment when they attempted to extricate the horses from the drifts. One
team, at the very end of the train, was not at all in the drift. The
driver sat in front bent, his hands protecting his ears, but in the rear
lay two people, who, owing to the continuous, long snow-fall, were
completely covered. On their breasts, to escape the drift, they lay
closely side by side, and the snow covered them like a blanket. They
seemed to be sleeping peacefully. But others perished, struggling hard
with the snow-drift to the last moment, their benumbed position
demonstrated the fact. A few sleighs were upset, others had their poles
broken. The spades now and then uncovered horses' backs, bent like bows,
and jaws biting the snow. People were within and beside the sleighs. But
there was no woman in any of the sleighs. At times even Zbyszko labored
with the spade till his brow was covered with perspiration, and at others
he looked with palpitating heart into the eyes of the corpses, perchance
to discover the face of his beloved. But all in vain. The faces which the
torchlight revealed were those of whiskered soldiers of Spychow. Neither
Danusia nor any other woman was there.
"What does it mean?" the young knight asked himself with astonishment.
He hailed those working at a distance and inquired whether they had come
across anything else, but they too only found the corpses of men. At last
the work was finished. The servants hitched their own horses to the
sleighs, placed the corpses in them and drove to Niedzborz, to make an
attempt there in the warm mansion, to restore some of the dead to life.
Zbyszko, the Bohemian and two attendants remained. It crossed his mind
that the sleigh containing Danusia might have separated from the train,
or that Jurand's sleigh, as might be supposed, was drawn by his best
horses and had been ordered to drive in front; and it might also be that
Jurand had left her somewhere in one of the huts along the road. Zbyszko
did not know what to do. In any case he desired to examine closely the
drifts and grove, and then return and search along the road.
But nothing was found in the drifts. In the grove he only saw several
glistening wolves' eyes, but nowhere discovered any traces of people or
horses. The meadow between the woods and road now sparkled in the shiny
light of the moon, and upon its white mournful cover he really espied
dark spots, but those were only wolves that quickly vanished at the
approach of people.
"Your grace!" finally said the Bohemian. "Our search is in vain, for the
young lady of Spychow was not in the train."
"To the road!" replied Zbyszko.
"We shall not find her there either. I looked well in the sleighs for any
baskets containing ladies' finery, but I discovered none. The young lady
remained in Spychow."
This supposition struck Zbyszko as correct, he therefore said:
"God grant it to be as you say!"
But the Bohemian penetrated further into his thoughts, and proceeded with
his reasoning.
"If she were in one of the sleighs the old gentleman would not have
separated from her, or when he left the train he would have taken her
with him on horseback, and we should have found her with him."
"Come, let us go there once more," said Zbyszko, in a restless voice. It
struck him that the Bohemian might be right, perhaps they had not
searched enough where the old man was discovered, perhaps Jurand had
taken Danusia with him on horseback, and when the horse fell, she had
left her father in search of assistance, in that case she might be