The Knights of the Cross, or, Krzyzacy: Historical Romance
He bent his head so as to look in the face of the prostrate man, and
began to shout:
"Help! Help! Help!"
Then he rushed to the gate and pulled with all his strength at the
bell-rope.
END OF PART FIFTH.
PART SIXTH.
CHAPTER I.
Although Glowacz was somewhat anxious to hasten to Zgorzelice, he could
not make the progress he wished, because the road was exceedingly bad. A
general thaw had followed the severe winter, keen frost, and immense
snowdrifts which covered whole villages.
Luty (February), in spite of its name,[110] by no means showed itself
formidable. First there were thick, continuous fogs, succeeded by
torrential rains, which melted the white snowdrifts before one's eyes;
and in the intervals there were very high winds as is usual in the month
of March; then the tempestuous clouds were suddenly torn asunder by the
wind which now drove them together, and now scattered them, whilst on the
earth the wind howled in the thickets, whistled in the forests and
dispersed the snow beneath which only a short time before the boughs and
trunks had slept their silent, wintry sleep.
The woods assumed a dark color. The meadows were inundated with broad
sheets of water. The rivers and streams overflowed. Only the fishermen
were glad at the abundance of the watery element, but the rest of
humanity were confined as within a prison, sheltering themselves within
their houses and huts. In many places communication between village and
village could only be effected by means of boats. There was no lack of
dams, dykes and roads through the forests and swamps, constructed of
trunks, of trees and logs, but now the dykes became soft and the stumps
in the low, wet places endangered travel, or the roads were rendered
altogether impracticable. The most difficult part for the Bohemian to
traverse was the lake-land region of Wielkopolska, where every spring the
thaw was greater than in any other part of Poland. Consequently the road
was specially difficult for horses.
He was therefore obliged to wait whole weeks, sometimes in small towns,
sometimes in villages and farms, where he and his men were hospitably
received, according to custom, by the people, who were willing listeners
to the tale of the "Knights of the Cross," and paid for it with bread and
salt. For this reason spring was already far advanced, and the greater
part of March had already passed before he found himself in the
neighborhood of Zgorzelice and Bogdaniec.
He longed to see his mistress as soon as possible, although he knew that
he could never gain her, even as he could not gain the stars of heaven;
nevertheless he adored and loved her with his whole soul. Yet he resolved
first to go and see Macko; first, because he was sent to him; secondly,
because he was bringing men with him who were to be left at Bogdanice.
Zbyszko, having killed Rotgier, according to established rules, became
the owner of his following, which consisted of ten men and as many
horses. Two of them had been sent back with the body of Rotgier to
Szczytno. Knowing how anxious his uncle was to obtain colonists, he sent
the remaining eight men by Glowacz as a present to old Macko.
The Bohemian, on his arrival at Bogdaniec, did not find Macko at home; he
was informed that Macko had gone with his dogs and crossbow to the
forest; but he returned the same day, and having heard that an important
retinue was waiting for him, he hastened to salute the guests and offer
them hospitality. He did not recognize Glowacz at first, but when he gave
his name, Macko was greatly agitated, and throwing down his hat and
crossbow he cried:
"For God's sake! tell me, have they killed him? Tell what you know."
"They have not killed him," replied the Bohemian. "He is enjoying good
health."
On hearing this, Macko was somewhat ashamed of himself, and began to
puff; at last he drew a deep breath.
"Praised be the Lord Christ," he said. "Where is he now?"
"He left for Malborg and sent me here with news."
"And why did he go to Malborg?"
"To fetch his wife."
"Be careful, boy, in the name of God what wife did he go for?"
"For Jurand's daughter. There is much to be told about it, enough for a
whole night, but, honored sir, allow me to rest a little, for I have been
constantly traveling since midnight."
Macko ceased questioning for a little while, for his great surprise
deprived him of speech. When he had somewhat recovered, he shouted to the
servant to throw some wood on the fire and bring food for the Bohemian;
then he began to pace up and down, gesticulating and talking to himself:
"I cannot believe mine own ears.... Jurand's daughter.... Zbyszko
married...."
"He is married and not married," said the Bohemian.
Then he began slowly to relate what had happened, while Macko listened
eagerly, only interrupting with questions when what the Bohemian related
was not quite clear to him. For instance, Glowacz could not give the
exact time when Zbyszko had got married, as there had been no public
marriage. Nevertheless he affirmed that that marriage had surely taken
place, and that it had come to pass owing to the instigation of Princess
Anna Danuta, and had been made public only after the arrival of the
Knight of the Cross, Rotgier, when Zbyszko had challenged him to the
judgment of God, in the presence of the entire Mazovian court.
"Ah! He fought?" Macko exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with intense
curiosity. "What followed?"
"He cut the German in two, and God also made me happy by delivering the
armor-bearer into my hands."
Macko again began to puff, but this time with an air of satisfaction.
"Well!" he said. "He is a fellow not to be trifled with. He is the last
of the Gradys, but so help me God, not the least. He was that already in
the fight with the Fryzjans ... when he was a mere stripling...."
Here he glanced sharply once and again at the Bohemian, then he
continued:
"And so you tried to imitate him, and it seems you tell the truth. I
doubted your words, but, as you yourself say, you had little work with
the armor-bearer. But if he chopped off the arm of that dog-brother after
killing the Aurochs, those are valiant deeds."
Then he suddenly asked:
"Is there rich spoil?"
"We have taken the arms, horses and ten men, eight of whom, the young
lord sends you."
"What has he done with the other two?"
"He sent them back with the corpse."
"Why did not the prince send two of his own servants? Those two will not
return."
The Bohemian smiled at Macko's greed which often betrayed him.
"The young lord need not consider such trifles now," he said, "Spychow is
a large estate."
"It is a large estate; what of it, it is not yet his."
"Then whose is it?"
Macko rose from his seat.
"Speak! and Jurand?"
"Jurand is a prisoner, and dying, in the hands of the Knights of the
Cross. God knows whether he will survive, and even if he survives and
returns, what of it? Did not Father Caleb read Jurand's testament,
announcing to all that the young lord is to be their master?"
The last words obviously made a great impression upon Macko; because he
was too much amazed to thoroughly grasp the news. That Zbyszko had got
married was painful to him at the first moment, for he loved Jagienka
with a fatherly love, and heartily wished to see Zbyszko united to her.
But, on the other hand, he had already grown accustomed to regard the
affair as lost; moreover Jurandowna brought with her so much that
Jagienka could never bring; the prince's favor, and being an only
daughter her dower was many times greater. Macko already saw Zbyszko, as
the prince's friend, the master of Bogdaniec and of Spychow; nay, in the
near future, a castellan. That was not at all unlikely. For it was told
in those days of a certain poor nobleman who had twelve sons, six fell in
battle and the other six became castellans and were advancing toward
greatness; only a reputation could assist Zbyszko in this career, so that
Macko's ambition and greed for a pedigree might be realized according to
his wishes. The old man, however, had much cause for alarm. He, himself,
had once gone to the Knights of the Cross, to save Zbyszko and brought
back with him an iron splinter between the ribs; now Zbyszko had gone to
Malborg, into the very throat of the wolf. Was it to get his wife there
or death? They would not look upon him there with a favorable eye,
thought Macko. He had just destroyed one of their famous knights and
before that he had killed Lichtenstein. Those dog-blooded men loved
vengeance. That thought made the old knight very uneasy. It also occurred
to him that Zbyszko, being quick tempered, would engage in a fight with
some German; or what he most feared was that they would kidnap him as
they had old Jurand and his daughter. At Zlotorja they did not scruple to
kidnap even the prince himself. Why then should they be scrupulous with
Zbyszko?
Then he asked himself what would happen if the youngster should escape
the knights, but not find his wife? This thought pleased him, because
even if Zbyszko should not recover her, he would still be the owner of
Spychow, but that pleasure only lasted for a moment. For while the old
man was much concerned about the property, yet Zbyszko's offspring
interested him quite as much. If Danusia were to be lost, like a stone in
the water and nobody knew whether she were alive or dead, Zbyszko could
not marry another, and then there would be no heir to the Gradys of
Bogdaniec. Ah! It would be quite another thing if he were married to
Jagienka!... Moczydoly was not to be scorned; it was spacious and well
stocked. Such a girl, like an apple-tree in the orchard, would bring
forth every year without fail. Thus Macko's regret was greater than his
joy at the prospect of the possession of the new estate. His regret and
agitation caused him to renew his questions, and he again inquired of the
Bohemian how and when the marriage had taken place.
But the Bohemian replied:
"I have told you already, honored sir, that I do not know when it
happened, and what I conjecture I cannot confirm with an oath."
"What do you conjecture?"
"I have never left my young master and we slept together. On one evening
only, he ordered me to leave him when I saw them all visit him: the
princess accompanied by the lady Jurandowna, (Danusia,) Lord de Lorche
and Father Wyszoniek. I was even surprised to see the young lady with a
wreath on her head; but I thought they had come to administer the
sacrament to my master.... It may be that the marriage took place
then.... I recollect that the master commanded me to attire myself as for
a wedding ceremony, but then I also thought that that was to receive the
eucharist."
"And after that, did they remain by themselves?"
"They did not remain alone; and even if they had remained by themselves
the master was then so feeble that he could not even eat without
assistance. And there were already people sent by Jurand waiting for the
young lady, and she left the following morning...."
"Then Zbyszko has not seen her since?"
"No human eye has seen her."
Then silence reigned for a while.
"What do you think?" asked Macko, presently. "Will the Knights of the
Cross give her up, or not?"
The Bohemian shook his head, then he waved his hand discouragingly.
"I think," he said, slowly, "she is lost forever."
"Why?" asked Macko in terror.
"Because, when they said they had her there was yet hope, one could yet
contend with them, either to ransom her, or take her from them by force.
'But,' they said, 'we had a girl retaken from robbers and we notified
Jurand; he did not recognize her, and he killed of our people, in our
very presence, more than fall in one good fight in war.'"
"Then they showed Jurand some other girl."