The Knights of the Cross, or, Krzyzacy: Historical Romance
were now progressing well. After sixteen days' travel they were at the
gates of Plock.
But they arrived at night, when the gates of the city were closed. They
were obliged to pass the night with a weaver outside the wall.
The girls retired late, and after the fatigue of the long journey they
fell sound asleep, but Macko, who was not troubled by fatigue, got up
early; he did not wish to wake them and he entered the town by himself at
the opening of the gates. He found the cathedral and the bishop's
residence without difficulty. There he was informed that the abbot had
died a week ago, but according to the prevailing custom they had
celebrated mass before the coffin from the sixth day, and the funeral was
to take place on the day of Macko's arrival, after which would be
obsequies and last honors in memory of the defunct.
Owing to intense grief, Macko did not even look about the town, but he
knew something already from that time when he had passed through that
city with a letter from the princess Alexandra to the grand master. He
returned to the weaver's place as fast as he could, and on his way home
he said to himself:
"Ha! He is dead. Eternal repose to him. There is nothing in the world to
remedy it. But now what shall I do with the girls?"
Then he reflected whether it were not better to leave them with the
princess Alexandra, or with the princess Anna Danuta, or to take them to
Spychow. It struck him more than once, that if Danuska were dead, it
would be advisable to have Jagienka close to Zbyszko at Spychow, since
Zbyszko, who loved Danuska above all other things would greatly mourn
after his beloved. He was also sure that Jagienka's presence at Zbyszko's
side would have the desired effect. He also remembered that Zbyszko in
his boyhood, although his heart was after the woods in Mazowsze, was
constantly longing for Jagienka. For these reasons, and fully believing
that Danusia was lost, he often thought that in case of the abbot's
demise, he would not send Jagienka to any other place; but as he was
greedy to acquire landed property, he was therefore concerned about the
property of the abbot. Surely, the abbot was displeased with them and
promised to bequeath nothing to them; but after that he must have felt
sorry and, before he died left something for Jagienka. He was sure that
the abbot had bequeathed something to her, because he frequently spoke
about it at Zgorzelice, and he would not overlook Zbyszko on account of
Jagienka. Macko was also thinking of remaining for sometime at Plock, so
as to investigate the will and attend to the matter, but other thoughts
crossed his mind, and he said: "Should I longer be here looking after
property, whilst my boy yonder is stretching out his hand and waiting for
my help from some Knight of the Cross dungeon?"
In truth, there was only one course, and that was: to leave Jagienka
under the care of the princess and the bishop, and beg them to look after
her interest. But that plan did not please Macko. The girl has already
considerable property of her own, and when her estate is increased by
that which the abbot has bequeathed her, then as sure as there is a God
some Mazur will take her, for she cannot hold out any longer. Zych, her
defunct father, used to say of her, that she was in danger[112] even
then. In such case, the old knight thought that both Danusia and Jagienka
might fail Zbyszko. That of course was not to be thought of.
He will take one of the two, whichever God had decreed. Finally that plan
to rescue Zbyszko he preferred to the others; and as to Jagienka, he
resolved either to leave her in the care of Princess Danuta, or at
Spychow, but not at the court at Plock where there was much glitter, and
which was filled with handsome knights.
Overwhelmed with these thoughts, he proceeded quickly to the dwelling of
the weaver, to inform Jagienka of the abbot's death. He was determined
not to break the news to her suddenly, as it might greatly endanger her
health. When he reached home both ladies were properly dressed and
appeared as gay as birds; he sat down and ordered the servants to bring
him a jug of brown beer; then he assumed a doleful air, and said:
"Do you hear the bells ringing in town? Guess, why are they ringing,
since to-day is not Sunday, and you slept during matins. Would you like
to see the abbot?"
"Surely! What a question?" answered Jagienka.
"Well, you shall see him as the king sees Cwiék."[113]
"Has he left the city?"
"He has left, but do you not hear the bells ringing?"
"Is he dead?" exclaimed Jagienka.
"Yes! say 'God rest his soul.' ..."
Both ladies knelt down and began to chant: "God rest his soul," in a
bell-like voice. Then tears streamed down Jagienka's cheeks, for she was
very fond of the abbot, who, though of a violent temper, never harmed
anybody, but did much good; he specially loved Jagienka, for he was her
godfather, he loved her as one loves his own daughter. Macko remembered
that the abbot was related to him and Zbyszko; he was also moved to tears
and even cried. After his grief had subsided a little, he took the ladies
and the Bohemian with him and went to the funeral services in the church.
It was a magnificent funeral. The bishop himself, Jacob of Kurdwanow,
conducted it. There were present all the priests and monks of the diocese
of Plock, all the bells were ringing, and prayers were said which none
else but the clergy understood, for they were said in the Latin. Then the
clergy and the laity went to the banquet at the bishop's palace.
Macko and his two girls (disguised as boys) also went to the banquet; he,
as a relative of the deceased, and known to the bishop, was fully
entitled to be present. The bishop also willingly received him as such,
but immediately after the invitation he said to Macko:
"There is here a bequest of some forests for the Gradys of Bogdaniec. The
rest he did not bequeath to the abbey and the cloister, but to his
goddaughter, a certain Jagienka of Zgorzelice."
Macko, who did not expect much, was glad for the woodlands. The bishop
did not observe that one of the youths accompanying the old knight at the
mentioning of the name of Jagienka of Zgorzelice lifted up her tearful
eyes, and said:
"May God recompense him, but I wish he were alive."
Macko turned and said angrily:
"Be silent, otherwise you will shame yourself."
But he suddenly stopped, his eyes glistened with amazement, then his face
assumed wolfish fierceness, when at a distance from him opposite the
door, through which the princess Alexandra had just entered, he observed
the figure, dressed in court uniform, of Kuno of Lichtenstein, the very
man by whom Zbyszko had nearly lost his life in Krakow.
Jagienka had never seen Macko in such a condition. His face was
contracted like the jaws of a fierce dog, his teeth glistened beneath his
moustache, and in a moment he tightened his belt and moved toward the
hateful Knight of the Cross.
But when about midway he checked himself and began to pass his broad
hands through his hair; he reflected in time, that Lichtenstein might
only be a guest in the court of Plock, or an envoy, therefore, if he were
to strike him without apparent reason, the very thing which happened to
Zbyszko on his way from Tyniec to Krakow might be repeated here.
Thus possessing more reason than Zbyszko, he restrained himself, adjusted
the belt to its previous place, relaxed the muscles of his face and
waited, and when the princess, after greeting Lichtenstein, entered into
a conversation with the bishop, Macko approached her and bowed deeply. He
reminded her who he was, and that he had been once engaged in the service
of his benefactress as the carrier of letters.
The princess did not recognize him at first, but she remembered the
letters and the whole affair. She also was acquainted with the
occurrences in the neighboring Mazovian court. She had heard of Jurand,
of the imprisonment of his daughter, of Zbyszko's marriage, and of his
deadly fight with Rotgier. These things interested her greatly, so much
so that it seemed to her one of those knight-errant stories or one of the
minstrel songs in Germany, and the _rybalt_ songs in Mazowsze. Indeed,
the Knights of the Cross were not inimical to her, as they were to
princess Anna Danuta, the wife of Prince Janusz, more especially because
they wished to get her on their side, they strove to outvie each other in
rendering her homage and adulation, and overwhelmed her with munificent
gifts, but in the present case her heart beat for her favorite, whom she
was ready to help; above all, she was glad that she had before her a man
who could give her an accurate account of the events.
But Macko, who had already resolved to obtain, by whatever means
possible, the protection and the princely influence, seeing that she was
listening attentively, told her Zbyszko's and Danusia's ill luck. The
narrative brought tears to her eyes, specially when she felt more than
anybody the misfortune of her niece, and from her very soul she pitied
her.
"I have never heard a more woeful story," said the princess, at last,
"the greatest sorrow to my mind is, that he has married her, that she was
already his, yet he knew no happiness. However, are you sure that he knew
her not."
"Hey! Almighty God!" exclaimed Macko. "If he only knew her, he was
bed-ridden when he married her in the evening, and the following morning
she was carried off."
"And, do you think that the Knights of the Cross did it? It was said
here, that those who actually did it were robbers, and the Knights of the
Cross recaptured her, but it turned out to be another girl. They also
spoke of a letter which Jurand had written...."
"Human justice did not decide it, but divine. That was a great thing,
that knight Rotgier, who conquered the strongest, fell by the hand of a
comparative child."
"Well, a fine child he is," said the princess, with a smile, "his valor
is a safeguard in his travels. It is a grievance, true, and your
complaints are just, but three out of those four opponents are dead, and
the remaining old one has also, according to the information I have
received, been nearly killed."
"And Danuska? And Jurand?" replied Macko. "Where are they? God only knows
whether something ill has happened to Zbyszko, who was on the road to
Malborg."
"I know, but the Knights of the Cross are not such out-and-out
dog-brothers as you think them to be. In Malborg nothing evil can happen
to your nephew, whilst he is at the side of the grand master and his
brother Ulrych, who is an honorable knight. Your nephew undoubtedly is
provided with letters from Prince Janusz. Unless whilst there he
challenged one of the knights and succumbed. At Malborg there are always
present a great number of the most valorous knights from all parts of the
world."
"Ay! My nephew does not fear them much," said the old knight. "If they
only did not cast him in prison, or kill him treacherously, as long as he
has an iron weapon in his hand he is not afraid of them. Only once he
found himself facing one stronger than himself, but he stretched him in
the lists, and that was the Mazovian Prince Henryk who was bishop here
and who was enamored of the handsome Ryngalla. But Zbyszko was then a
mere youth. For this reason he would be the only one, as sure as amen in
prayer, to challenge this one whom I also have vowed to challenge and who
is present here."
Saying this, he glanced in the direction of Lichtenstein, who was
conversing with the governor (Waywode) of Plock.
But the princess wrinkled her brow and said in stern and dry tones, as
she always did when in an angry mood:
"Whether you vowed or not, you must remember that he is our guest and
whosoever wishes to be our guest must observe decorum."