The Knights of the Cross, or, Krzyzacy: Historical Romance
Danusia are in his power, and they must be saved quickly. In order that
no accident may happen to you, I will give you a letter to the grand
master. Listen and understand me well, that you do not go as a messenger,
but as a delegate, and write to the master as follows: Since they had
once made an attempt upon our person, in carrying off a descendant of
their benefactors, it is most likely now, that they have also carried off
Jurand's daughter, especially having a grudge against Jurand. I ask
therefore of the master to order a diligent search, and if he is anxious
to have my friendship, to restore her instantly to your hands."
Zbyszko, hearing this, fell at the prince's feet, and, embracing them,
said:
"But Jurand, gracious lord, Jurand? Will you intercede also in his
behalf! If he has mortal wounds, let him at least die in his own home and
with his children."
"There is also mention made of Jurand," said the prince, kindly. "He is
to appoint two judges and I two also to investigate the counts' and
Jurand's actions, according to the rules of knightly honor. And they
again will select a fifth to preside over them, and it will be as they
decide."
With this, the council terminated, after which Zbyszko took leave of the
prince, because they were soon to start on their journey. But before
their departure, Mikolaj of Dlugolas, who had experience and knew the
Teutons well, called Zbyszko aside and inquired:
"And will you take that Bohemian fellow along with you to the Germans?"
"Surely, he will not leave me. But why?"
"Because I feel sorry for him. He is a worthy fellow, but mark what I
say: you will return from Malborg safe and sound, unless you meet a
better man in combat, but his destruction is sure."
"But why?"
"Because the dog-brothers accused him of having stabbed de Fourcy to
death. They must have informed the master of his death, and they
doubtless said that the Bohemian shed his blood. They will not forgive
that in Malborg. A trial and vengeance await him because, how can his
innocence be proven to the master. Why, he even crushed Danveld's arm,
who is a relative of the grand master. I am sorry for him, I repeat, if
he goes it is to his death."
"He will not go to his death, because I shall leave him in Spychow."
But it happened otherwise, as reasons arose whereby the Bohemian did not
remain in Spychow. Zbyszko and de Lorche started with their suites the
following morning. De Lorche, whose marriage to Ulryka von Elner, Father
Wyszoniek dissolved, rode away happy and, with his mind entirely occupied
with the comeliness of Jagienka of Dlugolas, was silent. Zbyszko, not
being able to talk with him about Danusia also, because they could not
understand each other very well, conversed with Hlawa, who until now had
known nothing about the intended expedition into the Teutonic regions.
"I am going to Malborg," he said, "but God knows when I shall return....
Perhaps soon, in the spring, in a year, and perhaps not at all, do you
understand?"
"I do. Your honor also is surely going to challenge the knights there.
And God grant that with every knight there is a shield-bearer!"
"No," replied Zbyszko. "I am not going for the purpose of challenging
them, unless it comes of itself; but you will not go with me at all, but
remain at home in Spychow."
Hearing this, the Bohemian at first fretted and began to complain
sorrowfully, and then he begged his young lord not to leave him behind.
"I swore that I would not leave you. I swore upon the cross and my honor.
And if your honor should meet with an accident, how could I appear before
the lady in Zgorzelice! I swore to her, lord! Therefore have mercy upon
me, and not disgrace me before her."
"And did you not swear to her to obey me?" asked Zbyszko.
"Certainly! In everything, but not that I should leave you. If your honor
drives me away, I shall go ahead, so as to be at hand in case of
necessity."
"I do not, nor will I drive you away," replied Zbyszko; "but it would be
a bondage to me if I could not send you anywhere, even the least way, nor
separate from you for even one day. You would not stand constantly over
me, like a hangman over a good soul! And as to the combat, how will you
help me? I do not speak of war, because these people fight in troops,
and, in a single combat, you certainly will not fight for me. If Rotgier
were stronger than I, his armor would not lie on my wagon, but mine on
his. And besides, know that I should have greater difficulties there if
with you, and that you might expose me to dangers."
"How so, your honor?"
Then Zbyszko began to tell him what he had heard from Mikolaj of
Dlugolas, that the counts, not being able to account for de Fourcy's
murder, would accuse him and prosecute him revengefully.
"And if they catch you," he said, finally, "then I certainly cannot leave
you with them as in dogs' jaws, and may lose my head."
The Bohemian became gloomy when he heard these words, because he felt the
truth in them; he nevertheless endeavored to alter the arrangement
according to his desire.
"But those who saw me are not alive any more, because some, as they say,
were killed by the old lord, while you slew Rotgier."
"The footmen who followed at a distance saw you, and the old Teuton is
alive, and is surely now in Malborg, and if he is not there yet he will
arrive, because the master, with God's permission, will summon him."
He could not reply to that, they therefore rode on in silence to Spychow.
They found there complete readiness for war, because old Tolima expected
that either the Teutons would attack the small castle, or that Zbyszko,
on his return, would lead them to the succor of the old lord. Guards were
on watch everywhere, on the paths through the marshes and in the castle
itself. The peasants were armed, and, as war was nothing new to them,
they awaited the Germans with eagerness, promising themselves excellent
booty.
Father Kaleb received Zbyszko and de Lorche in the castle, and,
immediately after supper, showed them the parchment with Jurand's seal,
in which he had written with his own hand the last will of the knight of
Spychow.
"He dictated it to me," he said, "the night he went to Szczytno". And--he
did not expect to return."
"But why did you say nothing?"
"I said nothing, because he admitted his intentions to me under the seal
of confession."
"May God give him eternal peace, and may the light of glory shine upon
him...."
"Do not say prayers for him. He is still alive. I know it from the Teuton
Rotgier, with whom I had a combat at the prince's court. There was God's
judgment between us and I killed him."
"Then Jurand will undoubtedly not return ... unless with God's help!..."
"I go with this knight to tear him from their hands."
"Then you know not, it seems, Teutonic hands, but I know them, because,
before Jurand took me to Spychow, I was priest for fifteen years in their
country. God alone can save Jurand."
"And He can help us too."
"Amen!"
He then unfolded the document and began to read. Jurand bequeathed all
his estates and his entire possessions to Danusia and her offspring, but,
in case of her death without issue, to her husband Zbyszko of Bogdaniec.
He finally recommended his will to the prince's care; so that, in case it
contained anything unlawful, the prince's grace might make it lawful.
This clause was added because Father Kaleb knew only the canon law, and
Jurand himself, engaged exclusively in war, only knew the knightly. After
having read the document to Zbyszko, the priest read it to the officers
of the Spychow garrison, who at once recognized the young knight as their
lord, and promised obedience.
They also thought that Zbyszko would soon lead them to the assistance of
the old lord, and they were glad, because their hearts were fierce and
anxious for war, and attached to Jurand. They were seized with grief when
they heard that they would remain at home, and that the lord with a small
following was going to Malborg, not to fight, but to formulate
complaints.
The Bohemian Glowacz, shared their grief, although on the other hand, he
was glad on account of such a large increase of Zbyszko's wealth.
"Hej! who would be delighted," he said, "if not the old lord of
Bogdaniec! And he could govern here! What is Bogdaniec in comparison with
such a possession!"
But Zbyszko was suddenly seized with yearning for his uncle, as it
frequently happened to him, especially in hard and difficult questions in
life; therefore, turning to the warrior, he said on the impulse:
"Why should you sit here in idleness! Go to Bogdaniec, you shall carry a
letter for me."
"If I am not to go with your honor, then I would rather go there!"
replied the delighted squire.
"Call Father Kaleb to write in a proper manner all that has happened
here, and the letter will be read to my uncle by the priest of Krzesnia,
or the abbot, if he is in Zgorzelice."
But as he said this, he struck his moustache with his hand and added, as
if to himself:
"Bah! the abbot!..."
And instantly Jagienka arose before his eyes, blue-eyed, dark-haired,
tall and beautiful, with tears on her eyelashes! He became embarrassed
and rubbed his forehead for a time, but finally he said:
"You will feel sad, girl, but not worse than I."
Meanwhile Father Kaleb arrived and immediately began to write. Zbyszko
dictated to him at length everything that had happened from the moment he
had arrived at the Forest Court. He did not conceal anything, because he
knew that old Macko, when he had a clear view of the matter, would be
glad in the end. Bogdaniec could not be compared with Spychow, which was
a large and rich estate, and Zbyszko knew that Macko cared a great deal
for such things.
But when the letter, after great toil, was written and sealed, Zbyszko
again called his squire, and handed him the letter, saying:
"You will perhaps return with my uncle, which would delight me very
much."
But the Bohemian seemed to be embarrassed; he tarried, shifted from one
foot to another, and did not depart, until the young knight remarked:
"Have you anything to say yet, then do so."
"I should like, your honor ..." replied the Bohemian, "I should like to
inquire yet, what to tell the people?"
"Which people?"
"Not those in Bogdaniec, but in the neighborhood.... Because they will
surely like to find out!"
At that Zbyszko, who determined not to conceal anything, looked at him
sharply and said:
"You do not care for the people, but for Jagienka of Zgorzelice."
And the Bohemian flushed, and then turned somewhat pale and replied:
"For her, lord!"
"And how do you know that she has not got married to Cztan of Rogow, or
to Wilk of Brzozowa?"
"The lady has not got married at all," firmly answered the warrior.
"The abbot may have ordered her."
"The abbot obeys the lady, not she him."
"What do you wish then? Tell the truth to her as well as to all."
The Bohemian bowed and left somewhat angry.
"May God grant," he said to himself, thinking of Zbyszko, "that she may
forget you. May God give her a better man than you are. But if she has
not forgotten you, then I shall tell her that you are married, but
without a wife, and that you may become a widower before you have entered
the bedchamber."
But the warrior was attached to Zbyszko and pitied Danusia, though he
loved Jagienka above all in this world, and from the time before the last
battle in Ciechanow, when he had heard of Zbyszko's marriage, he bore
pain and bitterness in his heart.
"That you may first become a widower!" he repeated.
But then other, and apparently gentler, thoughts began to enter his head,
because, while going down to the horses, he said:
"God be blessed that I shall at least embrace her feet!"