The Knights of the Cross, or, Krzyzacy: Historical Romance
"Yes! they did hang them, but they were pagans."
There was a certain sense of shame in his reply; it could easily be seen
that he did not entirely approve of such deeds.
Meanwhile, Zbyszko controlled himself, and in a quiet and dignified
manner said:
"De Lorche, you and I received our belts and spurs from the same hand,
you also know well that knightly honor is dearer to me than life and
fortune. Listen, therefore, to my words which I say under oath to Saint
Jerzy: There are many among this people whose Christianity does not date
from yesterday, and those who have not yet been converted stretch out
their hands toward the Cross for salvation. But, do you know who hinder
them and prevent their salvation and baptism?"
The Mazur translated all Zbyszko's words to de Lorche, who looked into
the young knight's face questioningly.
"The Germans!" said Zbyszko.
"Impossible," shouted de Lorche.
"By the spear and spurs of Saint Jerzy, the Germans! Because if the
religion of the Cross were to be propagated here, they would lose a
pretext for incursions, and domination and oppression of this unhappy
people. You are well acquainted with these facts, de Lorche! You are best
informed whether their dealings are upright or not."
"But I think that in fighting with the pagans they are only banishing
them to prepare them for baptism."
"They are baptizing them with the sword and blood, not with water that
saves. Read this letter, I pray, and you will be convinced that you
yourself are the wrongdoer, plunderer and the hell-_starosta_ of those
who fight religion and Christian love."
Then he handed him the letter which the Zmudzians had written to the
kings and princes, which was distributed everywhere; de Lorche took it
and perused it rapidly by the light of the fire. He was greatly
surprised, and said;
"Can all that be true?"
"May God, who sees best, so help you and me that I am not only speaking
the truth but I also serve justice."
De Lorche was silent for a moment and then said:
"I am your prisoner."
"Give me your hand," replied Zbyszko. "You are my brother, not my
prisoner."
Then they clasped hands and sat down in company to supper, which the
Bohemian ordered the servant to prepare.
De Lorche was greatly surprised when he was informed on the road that
Zbyszko, in spite of his letters, had not got Danusia, and that the
_comthurs_ had refused important and safe conduct on account of the
outbreak of the war.
"Now I understand why you are here," he said to Zbyszko, "and I thank God
that He delivered me into your hands, because I think that through me the
Knights of the Order will surrender to you what you wish. Otherwise there
will be a great outcry in the West, because I am a knight of importance
and come from a powerful family...."
Then he suddenly threw down his cap and exclaimed:
"By all the relics of Akwizgran! Then those who were at the head of the
relief train to Gotteswerder, were Arnold von Baden and old Zygfried von
Löve. That we learned from the letters which were sent to the castle.
Were they taken prisoners?"
"No!" said Zbyszko, excitedly. "None of the most important! But, by God!
The news you tell me is important. For God's sake, tell me, are there
other prisoners from whom I can learn whether there were any women with
Zygfried?"
Then he called the men to bring him lit resinous chips and he hastened to
where the prisoners were gathered by order of Skirwoilla. De Lorche,
Macko and the Bohemian ran with him.
"Listen," said de Lorche to Zbyszko, on the way. "If you will let me free
on parole I will run and seek her throughout the whole of Prussia, and
when I find her, I will return to you and you will exchange me for her."
"If she lives! If she lives!" replied Zbyszko.
Meanwhile they reached the place where Skirwoilla's prisoners were. Some
were lying upon their backs, others stood near the stumps of trees to
which they were cruelly fastened with fibre. The bright flame of the
chips illuminated Zbyszko's face. Therefore all the prisoners' looks were
directed toward him.
Then from the depths of the road there was heard a loud and terrible
voice:
"My lord and protector! Oh, save me!"
Zbyszko snatched from the hands of the servant a couple of burning chips
and ran into the forest toward the direction whence the voice proceeded,
holding aloft the burning chips, and cried:
"Sanderus!"
"Sanderus!" repeated the Bohemian, in astonishment.
But Sanderus, whose hands were bound to the tree, stretched his neck and
began to shout again.
"Mercy!... I know where Jurand's daughter is!... Save me."
CHAPTER VIII.
The soldiers unbound him at once, but his limbs were benumbed and he
fell; when they lifted him up he was seized with successive fainting
fits. In spite of Zbyszko's orders for him to be taken to the fire and
given food and drink, and rubbed over with fat and then covered with
warmed skins, Sanderus did not recover consciousness, but lapsed into a
very deep sleep, which continued until noon of the following day when the
Bohemian succeeded in awakening him.
Zbyszko, who was burning with fiery impatience, immediately went to him,
but at first he could get no information from him, because either from
his terrible experiences or from the relaxation which usually overpowers
weak natures when the threatening danger has passed, Sanderus burst into
long and uncontrollable weeping, so that for some time he could give no
answer to the questions put to him. He was choked with sobs, his lips
trembled, and tears flowed down his cheeks so copiously that it seemed as
though his very life was flowing out with them.
Finally he succeeded to some extent in controlling himself, and he
strengthened himself a little with mares' milk, which mode of refreshing
themselves the Lithunians learned from the Tartars. He began to complain
that the "sons of Belial" had thrust him with their pikes against a wild
apple-tree; that they had taken away his horse which was laden with
relics of priceless virtue; and finally when they had bound him to the
tree, the ants had attacked his feet and body so that he expected to die
from it, if not to-day, to-morrow.
Zbyszko's anger overcame him and he could restrain himself no longer, and
he interrupted Sanderus and said:
"You vagabond, answer the questions I am going to put to you and take
care that you tell the truth, or you will fare worse."
"There are red ants yonder," said the Bohemian, "order them to be pat
upon him, and he will soon find a tongue in his mouth."
Hlawa did not say this seriously; he even smiled as he spoke, for his
heart was well inclined toward Sanderus. The latter, however, was
terror-stricken, and shouted.
"Mercy! Mercy! Give me some more of that pagan drink and I will tell you
all that I have and that I have not seen."
"If you tell lies, even one word that is not true, I will drive a wedge
between your teeth," said the Bohemian.
They brought him another skin full of mares' milk; he grasped it and
fastened his lips to it with the avidity that a child does to its
mother's breast, and began to gulp it down, alternatively opening and
closing his eyes. When he had drank from it about half a gallon or more,
he shook himself, placed the skin upon his knees, and as if submitting
himself to the inevitable, he said:
"Vile stuff!..." Then he turned toward Zbyszko. "Now, deliverer! ask."
"Was my wife in that division with you?"
Sanderus' face assumed a certain air of surprise. In fact he had heard
that Danusia was Zbyszko's wife, but it had been a secret marriage, and
immediately afterward she had been abducted, and he had always thought of
her as Jurandowna, (Miss Jurand).
He replied quickly:
"Yes, _voyevode!_ She was! But Zygfried von Löve and Arnold von Baden
broke through the enemy's ranks and escaped."
"Did you see her?" asked Zbyszko, with beating heart.
"I did not see her face, sir, but I saw a closed litter made of
brushwood, suspended between two horses, in which there was somebody, led
by that very lizard, the same servant of the Order who came from Danveld
to the Forest Court. I also heard sad singing proceeding from the
litter...."
Zbyszko grew pale with emotion; he sat down on the stump and was unable
to ask another question for a while. Macko and the Bohemian were also
much moved at this great and important news. The latter, probably,
thought about his beloved lady who remained at Spychow, and upon whom
this news would fall like a doom.
There was silence for a moment. Finally, the shrewd Macko who did not
know Sanderus, and who had scarcely heard of him previously, looked at
him with suspicion, and asked:
"Who are you and what were you doing among the Knights of the Cross?"
"Who am I, powerful knight?" replied Sanderus. "Let this valiant prince
answer for me," (here he pointed toward Zbyszko), "and this manly
Bohemian noble who has known me long."
The effect of the kumys (mares' milk) upon Sanderus apparently began to
show itself, for he grew lively, and turning to Zbyszko he spoke in a
loud voice and showed no trace of his previous feeble condition.
"Sir, you have saved my life twice. If it were not for you, the wolves
would have devoured me, or the punishment of the bishops who were
misguided by my enemies. (Oh, what a wicked world this is!) They issued
an order to hunt me for selling relics which they thought were not
genuine, simply because they took me for one of your people. But you, O
lord, protected me, and thanks to you I was not destroyed by the wolves,
nor shall their persecution harm me. Food and drink was never lacking
whilst I was with you--better than the mares' milk here which makes me
sick, but I drink it in order to show how a poor but pious pilgrim can
stand all kinds of privations."
"Speak, you bear-trainer; tell us quickly what you know, and do not play
the fool," exclaimed Macko.
But he lifted the skin to his mouth again and entirely emptied it;
apparently not hearing Macko's words, he turned again to Zbyszko: "This
is another reason why I love you. The saints, as it is written in the
Scriptures, sinned nine times an hour, consequently, sometimes also
Sanderus transgresses, but Sanderus never was nor shall be ungrateful.
Therefore, when misfortune came upon you, you remember, sir, what I told
you; I said, 'I will go from castle to castle, and, instructing the
people along the road, I will search for your lost one.' Whom did I not
ask? Where did I not go?--It would take me a long time to tell you.--But,
suffice it to say, I found her; and from that moment on, burrs do not
cling as tenaciously to the cloak as I attached myself to old Zygfried. I
became his servant, and from castle to castle, from one _comthur_ to
another, from town to town I went with him without intermission until
this last battle."
Zybszko meanwhile mastered his emotion and said:
"I am very thankful to you and I shall surely reward you. But now, answer
my questions. Will you swear, by the salvation of your soul, that she is
alive?"
"I swear by the salvation of my soul that she is alive," replied
Sanderus, with a serious air.
"Why did Zygfried leave Szczytno?"
"I do not know, sir. But I surmise that as he was never the _starosta_ of
Szczytno, he left it; perhaps he feared the grand master's orders, which
were, they say, to give up the little lamb to the Mazovian court. Perhaps
that very letter was the cause of his flight, because his soul burned
within him with pain and vengeance for Rotgier who, they say now, was
Zygfried's own son. I cannot tell what happened there, but this I do
know, that something turned his head and he raved, and determined not to
surrender Jurand's daughter--I meant to say, the young lady--as long as
he lives."