The Knights of the Cross, or, Krzyzacy: Historical Romance
The young and fiery Brother Godfried was the first to intercept Jurand's
way, but he severed his head, hand and shoulder-blade with a lightning
swing of his weapon; after him fell by Jurand's hand the captain of the
archers, and the castle administrator, von Bracht and the Englishman
Hugues, who, although he did not very well understand the cause, pitied
Jurand and his sufferings, and only drew his weapon when Danveld was
killed. Others, seeing the terrible force and the fury of the man,
gathered closely together, so as to offer combined resistance, but this
plan brought about a still greater defeat, because he, with his hair
standing upright on his head, with maddened eyes, covered all over with
blood, panting, raging and furious, broke, tore and cut with terrible
strokes of his sword that battered group, casting men to the floor,
splashed all over with clotted blood, as a storm overturns bushes and
trees. Then followed a moment of terrific fright, in which it seemed that
this terrible Mazovian, all by himself, would hew and slay all these
people. Like a pack of barking hounds that cannot overpower a fierce boar
without the assistance of the hunters, so were those armed Germans; they
could not match his might and fierceness in that fight which resulted
only in their death and discomfiture.
"Scatter! surround him! strike from behind!" shrieked old Zygfried von
Löve.
They consequently dispersed through the hall like a flock of starlings in
the field upon which a hawk with crooked beak swoops from a height, but
they could not surround him, because, in the heat of the fight, instead
of looking for a place of defence, he commenced to chase them around the
walls and whoever was overtaken died as if thunderstruck. Humiliation,
despair, disappointed hope, changed into one thirst for blood, seemed to
multiply tenfold his terrific natural strength. A weapon, for which the
most powerful of the Knights of the Cross needed both hands, he managed
to wield with one as if it were a feather. He did not care for his life,
nor look for escape; he did not even crave for victory; he sought
revenge, and like a fire, or like a river, which breaking a dam, blindly
destroys everything obstructing its flow, so he, a terrible, blindfolded
destroyer, tore, broke, trampled, killed and extinguished human beings.
They could not hurt him in his back, because, in the beginning they were
unable to overtake him; moreover the common soldiers feared to come near
him even from behind; they knew that if he happened to turn no human
power could save them from death. Others were simply terror-stricken at
the thought, that an ordinary man could cause so much havoc, and that
they were dealing with a man who was aided by some superhuman power.
But old Zygfried, and with him Brother Rotgier, rushed to the gallery
which extended above the large windows of the hall, and commenced to call
others to take shelter after them; these did so in haste, so that, on the
narrow stairs, they pushed each other in their desire to get up as
quickly as possible and thence to strike the strong knight, with whom any
hand to hand struggle appeared to them impossible.
Finally, the last one banged the door leading to the gallery and Jurand
remained alone below. From the gallery the sounds of joy and triumph
reached him, and soon heavy oak benches and iron collars of torches began
to fall upon the nobleman. One of the missiles struck him on the forehead
and bathed his face with blood. At the same time the large entrance door
opened, and through the upper windows the summoned servants rushed into
the hall in a body, armed with pikes, halberds, axes, crossbows,
palisades, poles, ropes and all varieties of weapons, which they could
hurriedly get hold of. And with his left hand the mad Jurand wiped the
blood from his face, so as not to obstruct his sight, gathered himself
together, and threw himself at the entire throng. In the hall again
resounded groans, the clash of iron, the gnashing of teeth and the
piercing voices of the slain men.
In the same hall, behind the table that evening, sat old Zygfried von
Löve, who, after the bailiff Danveld, temporarily took command of
Szczytno, and near him were Brother Rotgier, and the knight von Bergow, a
former prisoner of Jurand's and two noble youths, novices, who were soon
to put on white mantles. The wintry storm was howling outside the
windows, shaking the leaden window-frames; the torchlights, which were
burning in iron frames, wavered, and now and then the wind drove clouds
of smoke from the chimney into the hall. Silence reigned among the
brethren, although they were assembled for a consultation, because they
were waiting for the word from Zygfried, who, again resting his elbows on
the table and running his hands over his grey and bowed head, sat gloomy
with his face in the shadow and with sullen thoughts in his soul.
"About what are we to deliberate?" finally asked Brother Rotgier.
Zygfried raised his head, looked at the speaker, and, awakening from
thought, said:
"About the defeat, about what the master and the assembly will say, and
about this, that our actions may not cause any loss to the Order." He was
silent again, but after a while he looked around and moved his nostrils:
"There is still a smell of blood here."
"No, count," replied Rotgier; "I ordered the floor to be scrubbed and the
place to be fumigated with sulphur. It is the odor of sulphur."
And Zygfried looked at those present with a strange glance, and said:
"God have mercy upon the soul of our brothers Danveld and Godfried!"
They again understood that he implored God's mercy upon their souls,
because, at the mention of sulphur, he thought of hell; therefore a chill
ran through their bones and all at once replied: "Amen! amen! amen!"
After a moment the howling of the wind and the rattling of the
window-frames were heard again.
"Where are the bodies of the count and Brother Godfried?" inquired the
old man.
"In the chapel: the priests are chanting the litany over them."
"Are they already in coffins?"
"In coffins, only the count's head is covered, because his skull and face
are crushed."
"Where are the other corpses, and where are the wounded?"
"The corpses are in the snow so as to stiffen whilst the coffins are
being made, and the wounded are being attended to in the hospital."
Zygfried again ran his hands over his head.
"And one man did that!... God, have the Order under Thy care, when it
comes to a great war with this wolfish race!"
Upon that Rotgier turned up his eyes, as if recollecting something, and
said: "I heard in Wilno, how the bailiff of Samboz spoke to his brother
the master: 'If you do not make a great war and get rid of them, so that
even their name shall not remain, then woe to us and our nation.'"
"May God give such a war and a meeting with them!" said one of the noble
novices.
Zygfried looked at him for some time, as if he wanted to say: "You could
have met one of them to-day," but seeing the small and youthful figure of
the novice, and perhaps remembering that he himself, although famous for
his courage, did not care to expose himself to a sure destruction,
refrained and inquired:
"Who saw Jurand?"
"I," replied von Bergow.
"Is he alive?"
"Yes, he lies in the same net in which we entrapped him. When he awoke
the servants wanted to kill him, but the chaplain would not allow it."
"He cannot be executed. He is too great a man among his people, and there
would be a terrible clamor," replied Zygfried. "It will be also
impossible to hide what has happened, because there were too many
witnesses."
"What then are we to say and do?" inquired Rotgier.
Zygfried meditated, and finally said:
"You, noble Count von Bergow go to Malborg to the master. You were
groaning in Jurand's slavery, and are now a guest of the Order; therefore
as such, and because you need not necessarily speak in favor of the
monks, they will rather believe you. Tell, then, what you saw, that
Danveld, having recovered from a band of rogues a certain girl and
thinking her to be Jurand's daughter, informed the latter, who also came
to Szczytno, and what happened further you know yourself."
"Pardon me, pious count," said von Bergow. "I suffered great hardships as
a slave in Spychow, and as your guest, I would gladly testify for you;
but tell me, for the sake of quieting my soul, whether there was not a
real daughter of Jurand's in Szczytno, and whether it was not Danveld's
treason that drove her father to madness?"
Zygfried von Löve hesitated for a moment with his answer; in his nature
lay deep hatred toward the Polish nation, and barbarity in which he
exceeded even Danveld, and rapacity, and, when the Order was in question,
pride and avarice, but there was no falsehood. It was the greatest
bitterness and grief of his life, that lately, through insubordination
and riot, the affairs of the Order had turned in such a manner that
falsehood had become one of the most general and unavoidable factors of
the life of the Order. Therefore von Bergow's inquiry touched the most
painful string of his soul, and, after a long silence, he said:
"Danveld stands before God, and God will judge him, while you, duke,
should they ask you for conjectures, answer what you please; should they
again ask you about what you saw, then say that before we coiled a wild
man in a net you saw nine corpses, besides the wounded, on this floor,
and among them the bodies of Danveld, Brother Godfried, von Bracht and
Hugues, and two noble youths.... God, give them eternal peace. Amen!"
"Amen! Amen!" again repeated the novices.
"And say also," added Zygfried, "that although Danveld wished to subdue
the foe of the Order, yet nobody here raised the first weapon against
Jurand."
"I shall say only what my eyes saw," replied von Bergow.
"Be in the chapel before midnight; we shall also go there to pray for the
souls of the dead," answered Zygfried.
He then extended his hand to him as a sign of gratitude and farewell; he
wished to remain for a further consultation alone with Brother Rotgier,
whom he loved and had great confidence in. After the withdrawal of von
Bergow, he also dismissed the two novices, under the pretence that they
might watch the work of the coffins for the common servants killed by
Jurand, and after the doors had closed behind them he turned with
animation to Rotgier, and said:
"Listen to what I am going to say: there is only one remedy: that no
living soul should ever find out that the real daughter of Jurand was
with us."
"It will not be difficult," replied Rotgier, "because nobody knew that
she was here except Danveld, Godfried, we two, and those servants of the
Order who watched her. Danveld ordered the people who brought her here to
be made intoxicated and hanged. There were some among the garrison who
suspected something, but that affair confused them, and they do not know
now themselves whether an error happened on our part, or whether some
wizard really exchanged Jurand's daughter."
"This is good," said Zygfried.
"I have been thinking again, noble count, whether, since Danveld lives no
longer, we should not cast all the guilt upon him...."
"And so admit before the whole world that we, in a time of peace and
concord with the prince of Mazowsze, ravished from his court the pupil of
the princess and her beloved courtlady? No, for God's sake! this cannot
be!... We were seen at the court together with Danveld; and the grand
master, his relative, knows that we always undertook everything
together.... If we accuse Danveld, he may desire to avenge his
memory...."
"Let us consult on that," said Rotgier. "Let us consult and find good
advice, because otherwise woe to us! If we return Jurand's daughter, then