The Knights of the Cross, or, Krzyzacy: Historical Romance
blast of the horn resounded in front of the bastion at the gate of the
fortress. Zygfried, who was just finishing his vesper prayer, immediately
dispatched a page to see who had arrived.
After a while the page returned with a troubled face. This Zygfried did
not observe on account of the darkness, for the fire in the stove was too
far back to illuminate the room sufficiently.
"Have they returned?" inquired the old Knight of the Cross.
"Yes!" replied the page.
But there was something in his voice which alarmed the old knight, and he
said:
"And Brother Rotgier?"
"They have brought Brother Rotgier."
Then Zygfried got up and for a long while he held on to the arm of the
chair to prevent himself from falling, then in a stifled voice he said:
"Give me the cloak."
The page placed the cloak on his shoulders. He had apparently regained
his strength, for he put on the cowl himself without assistance, then he
went out.
In a moment he found himself in the courtyard of the castle, where it was
already quite dark; he walked slowly upon the cracking snow toward the
retinue which was coming through the gate. He stopped near it where a
crowd had already gathered, and several torches, which the soldiers of
the guard brought, illuminated the scene. At the sight of the old knight
the servants opened a way for him. By the light of the torches could be
seen the terrified faces, and the whispering of the people could be heard
in the dark background:
"Brother Rotgier...."
"Brother Rotgier has been killed...."
Zygfried drew near the sleigh, upon which the corpse was stretched on
straw and covered with a cloak; he lifted one end of it.
"Bring a light," he said, whilst drawing aside the cowl.
One of the servants brought a torch which he held toward the corpse and
by its light the old knight observed the head of Rotgier; the face was
white as if frozen and bandaged with a black kerchief fastened under the
beard, evidently for the purpose of keeping the mouth closed. The whole
face was drawn and so much altered that it might be mistaken for somebody
else's. The eyes were closed, and around them and near the temples were
blue patches, and the cheeks were scaly with frost. The old knight gazed
at it for a long while amid complete silence. Others looked at him, for
it was known that he was like a father to Rotgier, and that he loved him.
But he did not shed even a single tear, only his face looked more severe
than usual, but there was depicted in it a kind of torpid calm.
"They sent him back thus!" he said at last.
But he immediately turned toward the steward of the castle and said:
"Let a coffin be prepared by midnight, and place the body in the chapel."
"There is one coffin left of those which were made for those Jurand
killed; it wants only to be covered with cloth, which I shall order to be
done."
"And cover him with a cloak," said Zygfried, whilst covering the face of
Rotgier, "not with one like this but with one of the Order."
After a while he added:
"Do not close the lid."
The people approached the sleigh. Zygfried again pulled the cowl over his
head, but he recollected something before leaving, and he asked:
"Where is van Krist?"
"He also was killed," replied one of the servants, "but they were obliged
to bury him in Ciechanow because putrefaction set in."
"Very well."
Then he left, walking slowly, entered the room and sat down upon the same
chair where he was when the tidings reached him; his face was as if
petrified and motionless and he sat there so long that the page began to
be alarmed; he put his head halfway in the door now and then. Hour after
hour passed by. The customary stir ceased within the castle, but from the
direction of the chapel came a dull indistinct hammering; then nothing
disturbed the silence but the calls of the watchmen.
It was already about midnight when the old knight awoke as from sleep,
and called the servant.
"Where is Brother Rotgier?" he asked.
But the servant, unnerved by the silence, events and sleeplessness,
apparently did not understand him, but looked at him with fear and
replied in a trembling voice:
"I do not know, sir...."
The old man burst out into laughter and said mildly:
"Child, I asked whether he is already in the chapel."
"Yes, sir."
"Very well then. Tell Diedrich to come here with a lantern and wait until
my return; let him also have a small kettle of coals. Is there already a
light in the chapel?"
"There are candles burning about the coffin."
Zygfried put on his cloak and left.
When he entered the chapel, he looked around to see whether anybody else
was present; then he closed the door carefully, approached the coffin,
put aside two of the six candles burning in large brazen candlesticks in
front of him, and knelt down before it.
As his lips did not move, it showed that he was not praying. For some
time he only looked at the drawn yet still handsome face of Rotgier as
though he were trying to discover in it traces of life.
Then amid the dead silence in the chapel he began to call in suppressed
tones:
"Dear little son! Dear little son!"
Then he remained silent; it seemed as though he were expecting an answer.
Then he stretched out his hand and pushed his emaciated talon-like
fingers under the cloak, uncovered Rotgier's breast and began to feel
about it, looking everywhere at the middle and sides below the ribs and
along the shoulder-blades: at last he touched the rent in the clothing
which extended from the top of the right shoulder down to the armpit, his
fingers penetrated and felt along the whole length of the wound, then he
cried with a loud voice which sounded like a complaint:
"Oh!... What merciless thing is this!... Yet thou saidst that fellow was
quite a child!... The whole arm! The whole arm? So many times thou hast
raised it against the Pagans in defence of the Order.... In the name of
the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. Thou foughtest falsely, and so
succumbed in a false cause; be absolved and may thy soul...."
The words were cut short on his lips which began to tremble, and deep
silence reigned once more in the chapel.
"Dear little son! Dear little son!"
Now there was something like a petition in Zygfried's voice, and at the
same time it seemed as he lowered his voice as though his petition
contained some important and terrible secret.
"Merciful Christ!... If thou art not condemned, give a sign, move thy
hand, or give one twitch of the eye, for my old heart is groaning within
my breast.... Give a sign, I loved thee, say one word!..."
And supporting himself with his hands upon the edge of the coffin, he
fastened his vulture-like eyes upon the closed eyelids of Rotgier and
waited.
"Bah! How couldst thou speak?" said he, at last, "when frost and evil
odor emanate from thee. But as thou art silent, then I will tell thee
something, and let thy soul, flying about here among the flaming candles,
listen!"
Then he bent down to the face of the corpse.
"Dost thou remember how the chaplain would not permit us to kill Jurand
and how we took an oath. Well, I will keep that oath, but I will cause
thee to rejoice wherever thou art, even at the cost of my own damnation."
Then he retreated from the coffin, replaced the candlesticks, covered the
corpse with the cloak, and left the chapel.
At the door of the room, overpowered with deep sleep, slept the servant,
and according to Zygfried's orders Diedrich was already waiting inside.
He was of low stature thickly set, with bowed legs and a square face
which was concealed by a dark cowl falling to his arm. He was dressed in
an untanned buffalo jacket, also a buffalo belt upon his hips from which
was hanging a bunch of keys and a short knife. In his right hand he held
a membrane-covered lantern; in the other, a small kettle and a torch.
"Are you ready?" inquired Zygfried.
Diedrich bowed silently.
"I gave orders for you to bring with you a kettle with coal in it."
The short fellow was still silent; he only pointed to the burning wood in
the fireplace and took the iron shovel standing at the fireside, and
filled the kettle with the burning coal, then he lit the lantern and
waited.
"Now listen, dog," said Zygfried; "you have never revealed what Count
Danveld commanded you to do; the count also ordered the cutting out of
your tongue. But you can still motion to the chaplain with your fingers.
I therefore forewarn you, if you show him even with the slightest motion
of your hand what you are to do now by my command, I shall order you to
be hanged."
Diedrich again bowed in silence, but his face was drawn on account of the
terrible, ominous recollection; for his tongue was torn out for quite
another reason than what Zygfried said.
"Now proceed, and lead to the underground cell where Jurand is."
The executioner grasped the handle of the kettle with his gigantic hand,
picked up the lantern and then left. At the door they passed by the guard
who was asleep, descended the stairs, and turned, not toward the
principal entrance, but directed their steps to the small corridor in the
rear of the stairs, extending through the whole width of the edifice, and
terminating in a heavy iron door which was concealed in a niche in the
wall. Diedrich opened it and they found themselves again in the open air
in a small courtyard surrounded on its four sides by high walled
granaries where they kept their stores in case the castle should be
besieged. Underneath one of these stores, on the right, was an
underground prison. There was not a single guard standing there, because
even if a prisoner should succeed in breaking through from the
underground prison, he would then find himself in the courtyard which
only gave exit through the door in the niche.
"Wait," said Zygfried, and leaning against the wall, he rested, for he
felt that something was the matter with him; he was short of breath, as
though his breast was too much tightened under the straight coat of mail.
In plain terms, considering what had happened, he felt his old age, and
his brow under the cowl was covered with drops of perspiration; he
therefore stopped for a moment to recover breath.
The night following the gloomy day became extraordinarily clear and the
little courtyard was brightly illuminated by the rays of the moon which
caused the snow to glisten with a yellowish tint. Zygfried inhaled with
pleasure the cool invigorating air, but he forgot that on a similar
bright night Rotgier left for Ciechanow whence he did not return alive.
"And now thou liest in the chapel," he murmured to himself.
Diedrich thought that the count was talking to him; he therefore lifted
up his lantern and threw its light upon his face which had a terrible and
cadaverous appearance, but at the same time it looked like the head of an
old vulture.
"Lead on," said Zygfried.
Diedrich lowered the lantern again which cast upon the snow a yellow
circle of light and they proceeded. In the thick wall of the storehouse
there was a recess in which several steps led to a large iron door.
Diedrich opened it and went down the stairs in the deep dark aperture,
raising the lantern so as to show the way to the count. At the end of the
stairs there was a corridor in which, to the right and left, were
exceedingly low doors leading to the cells of the prisoners.
"To Jurand!" said Zygfried.
And in a moment the bars creaked and they entered, but there was perfect
darkness in the cell. But Zygfried, who could not see well in the dim
light from the lantern, ordered the torch to be lighted, and in a moment
he was enabled by its bright light to see Jurand lying on the straw. The
prisoner's feet were fettered, but the chains on the hands were somewhat