The Knights of the Cross, or, Krzyzacy: Historical Romance
voice died away for an instant in his breast, then he said, half
groaning: "I had only one, like a ewe lamb, like the heart in my breast,
and they captured her like a dog on a rope, and she died there.... Now
again, the child ... Jesus, Jesus!"
And again there was silence. Zbyszko raised his youthful, perplexed face
toward the moon, then again looked at Jurand and inquired:
"Father!... It would be far better for them to earn men's esteem than
their vengeance. Why do they commit so much wrong on all nations and all
people?"
But Jurand spread his hands apart as if in despair, and replied with a
choked voice: "I do not know...."
Zbyszko meditated for a time over his own question, presently however his
thoughts turned to Jurand.
"People say that you wreaked a worthy vengeance," he said.
Jurand meanwhile controlled his anguish, bethought himself and said:
"But I swore their ruin ... and I also swore to God that if He would
permit me to glut my vengeance I would surrender to Him the child that
was left to me. This is the reason why I objected to you. But now I do
not know: was it His will, or did you awaken His anger by your action?"
"No," said Zbyszko. "I told you once before that even if the ceremony had
not been performed, yet the scoundrels would have carried her off. God
accepted your vow, and presented me with Danusia, because without His
will we could accomplish nothing."
"Every sin is against God's will."
"A sin is, but not the sacrament. Because the sacrament is God's matter."
"Therefore there is no help."
"And God be blessed there is not! Therefore do not complain, because
nobody would help you against the robbers so well as I will. You will
see! In any case I shall pay them for Danusia, but even if one of those
who captured your deceased be still alive, leave him to me and you shall
see!"
But Jurand shook his head.
"No," he answered, gloomily, "none of those will be alive...."
For a time only the snorting of horses and the smothered echo of the
hoofs striking against the beaten road was audible.
"Once at night," continued Jurand, "I heard a voice, as if coming from a
wall, saying to me: 'Enough vengeance!' but I did not obey, because it
was not the voice of the deceased."
"And whose voice could that be?" inquired Zbyszko, anxiously.
"I do not know. In Spychow frequently something talks in the walls, and
sometimes moans, because many have died there in chains underground."
"And what does the priest tell you?"
"The priest sanctified the castle and also ordered me to relinquish
vengeance, but that could not be. I became too hard on them, and then
they themselves sought revenge. They lay in ambush and challenged me in
the field.... And so it was this time. Meineger and von Bergow were the
first to challenge me."
"Did you ever accept ransom?"
"Never! Of those I have captured, von Bergow will be the first to come
out alive."
The conversation ceased, because they now turned from the broad highway
into a narrower road, on which they traveled for a long time in silence
on account of its tortuous course, and because in some places the snow
formed drifts difficult to traverse. In the spring or summer, on rainy
days, this road must have been almost impassable.
"Are we approaching Spychow already?" asked Zbyszko.
"Yes," answered Jurand. "There is a good deal of forest yet, and then
begin the morasses, in the centre of which is the castle.... Beyond the
morasses are the marshes and dry fields, while the castle can be
approached only by the dike. The Germans wished to capture me repeatedly,
but they could not, and their bones rot among the forest weeds."
"And it is hard to find," said Zbyszko. "If the Teutons send messengers
with letters, how will they find us?"
"They have sent out several times already, and they have people who know
the way."
"If we could only meet them at Spychow," said Zbyszko.
This wish was realized sooner than the young knight thought, for issuing
from the forest into the open country, where lay Spychow among the
swamps, they perceived before them two riders and a low sledge, in which
were sitting three dark figures.
The night was very bright, therefore the whole group was perfectly
visible against the white background of snow. Jurand's and Zbyszko's
heart began to beat faster at this sight, because who else would be
riding to Spychow in the middle of the night, but the messengers from the
Teutons?
Zbyszko ordered the driver to go faster, and so they soon came so near
each other, that they could be heard, and two riders, who apparently
watched over the safety of the sledge, turned to them, and, unslinging
their crossbows, cried:
"Who is there?"
"Germans!" whispered Jurand to Zbyszko.
Then he raised his voice and said:
"It is my right to ask, and yours to reply!"
"Who are you?"
"Travelers."
"What sort of travelers?"
"Pilgrims."
"Where from?"
"From Szczytno."
"It is they!" again whispered Jurand.
Meanwhile the sledges had come together, and at the same time six
horsemen appeared before them. This was the guard of Spychow, which
watched the dike leading to the castle day and night. With the horses
were very large and savage dogs, exactly resembling wolves.
The guardsmen, having recognized Jurand, began to utter cries of welcome
mingled with astonishment that the master had returned so soon and
unexpectedly; but he was entirely engaged with the messengers, and
therefore turned to them again:
"Where are you traveling to?" he asked.
"To Spychow."
"What do you want there?"
"We can tell that only to the lord himself."
Jurand was about to say: "I am the lord of Spychow;" but he restrained
himself, feeling that conversation could not be carried on in the
presence of others. He asked them instead, whether they had any letters,
and, when they replied that they were ordered to communicate verbally, he
gave orders to drive as fast as the horses could go. Zbyszko was equally
anxious to hear news of Danusia, and could not turn his attention to
anything else. He became impatient when the guards on the dike stopped
them twice; and when the bridge was lowered over the moat, behind which
rose on the mound a gigantic palisade, and although he had previously
often desired to see that castle of ominous fame, at the mention of which
the Germans made the sign of a cross, now he saw nothing but the Teuton
messengers, from whom he might hear where Danusia was and when she would
be set at liberty. He did not foresee though, that a great disappointment
was awaiting him. Besides the horsemen, who were given for defence, and
the driver, the embassy from Szczytno was composed of two persons: one of
these was the same woman who had once brought the healing balsam to the
Forest Court; the other was a young _pontnik_.[108] Zbyszko did not
recognize the woman, because he had not seen her at the Forest Court; the
_pontnik_ at once seemed to him to be a disguised warrior. Jurand soon
led both into the neighboring room, and halted before them, huge, and
almost terrible in the glow of the fire, which fell upon him from the
logs burning in the chimney.
"Where is the child?" he asked.
But they were frightened, standing face to face with a menacing man.
Although the _pontnik_ had an insolent face, he simply trembled like a
leaf, and the woman's legs trembled also. She glanced from Jurand to
Zbyszko, and then at the shining bald head of the priest Kaleb, and then
again at Jurand, as if inquiring what the other two were doing there.
"Sir," she said, finally, "we do not know what you are asking, but we
were sent to you on important matters. Yet, the one who sent us ordered
us explicitly, that the conversation should be held without witnesses."
"I have no secrets from these!" said Jurand.
"But we have, noble lord," replied the woman, "and if you order them to
remain, then we shall ask for nothing but that you allow us to leave
to-morrow."
Anger appeared in Jurand's face as he was not used to opposition. For a
moment his tawny moustache worked ominously, but he reflected, "For
Danusia's sake!" and restrained himself. Moreover, Zbyszko, who wanted
above all things that the conversation might be concluded as soon as
possible, and felt sure that Jurand would repeat it to him, said:
"If it must be so, then remain alone." And he left, together with the
priest Kaleb; but he scarcely found himself in the main hall, in which
were hanging targets and weapons, captured by Jurand, when Glowacz
approached him.
"Sir," he said, "that is the same woman!"
"What woman?"
"From the Teutons, who brought the balsam. I recognized her at once, and
so did Sanderus. She came, at it seems, to spy, and she certainly knows
now where the lady is."
"And we shall know," said Zbyszko.
"Do you also know that _pontnik_?"
"No," replied Sanderus; "but do not buy, sir, any remissions from him,
because he is a false _pontnik_,"
"If you put him to the torture, you might obtain a lot of information."
"Wait!" said Zbyszko.
Meanwhile, in the next room hardly had the doors closed behind Zbyszko
and the priest Kaleb, when the sister of the Order quickly approached
Jurand and whispered:
"Robbers captured your daughter."
"With crosses on their robes?"
"No. But God blessed the pious brethren, so that they recovered her, and
now she is with them."
"Where is she, I ask."
"Under the care of the religious Brother Shomberg," she answered,
crossing her hands on her breast and bowing humbly.
But Jurand, hearing the dreadful name of the hangman of Witold's
children, turned as pale as linen; after a moment he sat on a bench, shut
his eyes, and began to wipe away the cold perspiration, which collected
in beads on his forehead.
Seeing this, the _pontnik_, although he had not hitherto been able to
restrain his fear, now put his hands on his hips, lounged on the bench,
stretched out his legs and looked at Jurand, with eyes full of pride and
scorn. A long silence followed.
"Brother Markward also assists Brother Shomberg in guarding her," again
said the woman; "it is a vigilant watch and no harm will happen to the
lady."
"What am I to do in order to get her back?" inquired Jurand.
"To humble yourself before the Order!" proudly said the _pontnik_.
At this Jurand arose, went up to him, and bending down over him, said in
concentrated, terrible tones:
"Be silent!"
And the _pontnik_ was again terror-stricken. He knew, that he could
threaten and say what would tame and overwhelm Jurand, but he was
terrified lest, before saying a word, something dreadful would happen to
him; he therefore remained silent, with dilated eyes, as if petrified
with fear, fixed on the threatening face of the lord of Spychow, and sat
motionless, only his beard began to quiver with agitation.
Jurand again turned to the sister of the Order:
"Have you a letter?"
"No, sir. We have no letter. What we have to say, we were ordered to say
verbally."
"Then speak!"
And she repeated again, as if wishing that Jurand should impress it well
in his memory:
"Brother Shomberg and Brother Markward watch over the lady; therefore,
you sir, restrain your anger.... But no evil will happen to her, because
although you have gravely injured the Order for many years, nevertheless
the brethren wish to repay you good for evil if you comply with their
just demands."
"What do they wish?"
"They wish you to release Herr von Bergow."
Jurand breathed heavily.
"I will return von Bergow to them," he said.
"And the other prisoners that you have in Spychow."
"There are two retainers of Meineger and von Bergow, besides their boys."
"You must release them, sir, and make amends for the imprisonment."
"God forbid that I should bargain for my child."