The Knights of the Cross, or, Krzyzacy: Historical Romance
or sword in the other, the Mazurs were disquieted, and some said: "Oh, if
only Jurand were here, he could give an account of himself with even two;
no German ever escaped him yet, but the youth--bah!--for the other
exceeds him in strength, years and experience."
Therefore others regretted that they had not accepted the challenge,
asserting that they would undoubtedly have done so, if it had not been
for the news from Jurand. "But fear of the judgment of God...." On this
occasion, and for mutual entertainment, they recalled the names of
Mazovian and more often of Polish knights, who, either in courtly jousts
or hunting, had gained numerous victories over the western knights; above
all they mentioned Zawisza of Garbow, with whom no knight of the
Christian kingdom could cope. But there were also those who cherished
great hopes of Zbyszko: "He is not to be despised!" they said "and
according to common report he once admirably broke the heads of Germans
in fair field." But their hearts were particularly strengthened by the
action of Zbyszko's follower, the Bohemian Hlawa, who, on the eve of the
combat, hearing how van Krist was talking about Rotgier's unheard-of
victories, and being a hasty youth, caught van Krist by the beard, pulled
his head up, and said:
"If it is no shame to lie before men, then look up, so that God also may
hear you!"
And he kept him long enough to say a "Pater"; while the other, when at
length liberated, began to ask him about his lineage, and, having heard
that he sprang from the _wlodykas_, challenged him also to fight with
axes.
The Mazovians were delighted at such conduct, and again several said:
"Indeed these fellows will not hobble on the barn-floor; even if truth
and God be on their side these Teutonic women will not carry away sound
bones with them!"
But Rotgier succeeded in throwing dust in the eyes of all, so that many
were disquieted as to which had the truth on his side, and the prince
himself partook of that fear.
Therefore, on the evening before the combat, he summoned Zbyszko to a
consultation at which was present the princess only, and asked:
"Are you positive that God will be with you? How do you know that they
captured Danusia? Did Jurand perchance tell you any thing? Because, you
see, here is Jurand's letter, by the hand of the priest Kaleb, and his
seal, and in this letter Jurand says that he knows that it was not the
Teutons. What did he tell you?"
"He said that it was not the Teutons."
"How then can you risk your life and appeal to the judgment of God?"
Then Zbyszko was silent, and only his jaws worked for some time and tears
gathered in his eyes.
"I know nothing, gracious lord," he said. "We left here together with
Jurand, and on the way I admitted our marriage. He then began to lament
that this might be a sin against God, but when I told him it was God's
will, he quieted down and forgave me. Along the whole way he said that
nobody captured Danusia but the Teutons, and what happened afterward I do
not know myself! That woman who brought certain medicines for me to the
Forest Court, came to Spychow, accompanied by another messenger. They
shut themselves up with Jurand and deliberated. Neither do I know what
they said, only after the interview his own servants could not recognize
Jurand, because he looked as if he had risen from the grave. He told us:
'Not the Teutons,' but he released von Bergow and all the prisoners he
had underground, God knows why! he himself again rode away without any
warrior or servant.... He said that he was riding after robbers to ransom
Danusia, and ordered me to wait. And I waited until the news from
Szczytno arrived, that Jurand had slain Germans and fallen himself. Oh!
gracious lord! The soil in Spychow almost scorched me and I nearly ran
mad. I made people mount horses in order to revenge Jurand's death, and
then the priest Kaleb said: 'You will not be able to take the castle, and
do not commence war. Go to the prince, perhaps they know something about
Danusia there.' Hlawa and I arrived, and just heard how that dog was
barking about Teutonic grievances and Jurand's frenzy.... My lord, I
accepted his challenge, because I had challenged him before, and although
I know nothing, this much I know, that they are hellish liars--without
shame, without honor and without belief! Look, gracious lord, they
stabbed de Fourcy to death and tried to cast the guilt upon my follower!
By God! they stabbed him like an ox, and then they came to you, lord, for
vengeance and retribution! Who will swear then, that they did not lie to
Jurand before, and now do the same to you, lord?... I know not, I know
not where Danusia is but I challenged him, because, even if I were to
lose my life, I prefer death to life without my love, without the one who
is clearest to me in the whole world."
Saying this in rapture, he tore off a band from his head, so that his
hair fell about his shoulders, and clutching it, he began to weep
bitterly, until the princess Anna Danuta was moved to the bottom of her
soul for the loss of Danusia, and, pitying him for his sufferings, laid
her hands upon his head, and said:
"May God help you, console and bless you!"
CHAPTER IV.
The prince did not object to the duel, because, according to the customs
of that time, he had no power to do so. He only prevailed upon Rotgier to
write a letter to the master and to Zygfried von Löve, stating that he
was the first to throw down the gauntlet to the Mazovian knights, in
consequence of which he appeared at a combat with the husband of Jurand's
daughter, who had already challenged him once before.
The Teuton also explained to the grand master, that if he appeared at the
duel without permission, he did it for the sake of the honor of the
Order, and to avert ugly suspicions, which might entail disgrace, and
which he, Rotgier, was always prepared to redeem with his own blood. This
letter was sent instantly to the border by one of the knight's footmen,
to be sent thence to Malborg by mail, which the Teutons, some years
before others, invented and introduced into their possessions.
Meanwhile the snow in the courtyard was leveled and strewn with ashes, so
that the feet of the fighters should neither clog nor slip upon the
smooth surface. There was unusual excitement in the whole castle.
The knights and court ladies were so agitated that on the night preceding
the fight nobody slept. They said, that a fight on horseback with spears,
and even with swords, frequently terminates in wounds; on foot on the
contrary, and particularly with terrible axes, it always terminates in
death. All hearts were with Zbyszko, but the very ones who felt most
friendly toward him or Danusia recollected with so much more fear the
stories about the fame and dexterity of the Teuton. Many ladies spent the
night in church, where also Zbyszko confessed to the priest Wyszoniek,
They said one to another as they looked at his almost boyish face: "Why,
he is a child yet! how can he expose his head to the German axe?" And
they prayed the more fervently for aid for him. But when he arose at
daybreak and walked through the chapel, in order to put on his arms in
the hall, they again gained courage, because, although Zbyszko's features
were indeed boyish, his body was of an extraordinary size, and strong, so
that he seemed to them to be a picked man, who could take care of himself
against even the most powerful.
The fight was to take place in the castle yard, which was surrounded by a
porch. When it was broad daylight, the prince and princess arrived
together with their children and took their seats in the centre between
the pillars, from where the whole yard could best be overlooked. Next to
them were the principal courtiers, noble ladies, and the knighthood. All
the corners of the vestibule were filled: the domestics gathered behind
the wall which was made from the swept snow, some clung to the posts, and
even to the roof. There the vulgar muttered among themselves: "God grant
that our champion may not be subdued!"
The day was cold, moist, but clear; the sky swarmed with daws, which
inhabited the roofs and summits of the bastions, and which, scared by the
unusual bustle, moved in circles, with great clapping of wings, over the
castle. Notwithstanding the cold, the people perspired with excitement,
and when the first horn sounded to announce the entrance of the
combatants, all hearts began to beat like hammers.
They entered from opposite sides of the arena and halted at the barriers.
Every one of the onlookers then held his breath, every one thought, that
very soon two souls would escape to the threshold of the Divine Court and
two dead bodies remain on the snow, and the lips, as well as the cheeks
of the women turned pale and livid at that thought; the eyes of the men
again gazed steadfastly at the opponents as at a rainbow, because every
one was trying to forecast, from their postures and armament alone, which
side would be victorious.
The Teuton was dressed in an enameled blue cuirass, with similar armor
for the thighs, as also the helmet with raised visor, and with a
magnificent bunch of peacock feathers on the crest. Zbyszko's breast,
sides and back were encased in splendid Milanese mail, which he had once
captured from the Fryzjans. He had on his head a helmet with an open
visor, and without feathers; on his legs was bull's hide. On their left
shoulders, they carried shields with coat of arms; on the Teuton's at the
top was a chessboard, at the bottom, three lions rampant; on Zbyszko's, a
blunt horseshoe. In the right hand they carried broad, huge, terrible
axes, set in oaken, blackened helves, longer than the arm of a grown man.
The warriors who seconded them were: Hlawa, called by Zbyszko, Glowacz,
and van Krist, both dressed in dark iron mail, both equally with axes and
shields: van Krist had on his shield a St. John's wort; the shield of the
Bohemian resembled that of the _Pomian_, with this difference, that
instead of an axe stuck in a bull's head, it had a short weapon half sunk
in the eye.
The horn sounded the second time, and, at the third, the opponents,
according to agreement, were to advance against each other. A small space
strewn with grey ashes now only separated them; over that space hovered
in the air like an ominous bird--death. But before the third signal was
given, Rotgier approached the pillars between which sat the prince's
family, raised his steel-encased head, and began to speak in such a loud
voice that he was heard in all corners of the vestibule:
"I take God, you, worthy lord, and the whole knighthood of this soil, as
witness that I am not guilty of the blood that is about to be shed."
At these words their hearts were again ready to break with grief, seeing
that the Teuton was so confident of himself and his victory. But Zbyszko,
having a simple soul, turned to his Bohemian, and said:
"That Teutonic boasting stinks; it would be more appropriate after my
death than while I am alive. That boaster moreover has a peacock's plume
on his helmet, and at the very outset I made a vow to obtain three of
them and afterward as many fingers of the hand. God grant it!"
"Lord ..." said the Bohemian, bending down and picking up in his hands
some ashes from the snow, to prevent the axe-handle from slipping in his
hand; "perhaps Christ will permit me quickly to despatch that vile
Prussian, and then perhaps, if not to defeat this Teuton, at least put
the handle of the axe between his knees and upset him."
"God save you!" hastily exclaimed Zbyszko; "you would cover me and
yourself with disgrace."
But at that moment the horn sounded the third time. On hearing it, the
seconds sprang quickly and furiously at each other, while the knights