PART FIRST: CHAPTER VII
During this time Zbyszko was entirely forgotten. Who in the time of such
sorrow and misfortune, could remember about the noble lad or about his
imprisonment in the tower of the castle? Zbyszko had heard, however, from
the guards, about the queen's illness. He had heard the noise of the
people around the castle; when he heard their weeping and the tolling of
the bells, he threw himself on his knees, and having forgotten about his
own lot, began to mourn the death of the worshipped lady. It seemed to
him, that with her, something died within him and that after her death,
there was nothing worth living for in this world.
The echo of the funeral--the church bells, the processional songs and the
lamenting of the crowd,--was heard for several weeks. During that time,
he grew gloomier, lost his appetite, could not sleep and walked in his
underground cell like a wild beast in a cage. He suffered in solitude;
there were often days during which the jailer did not bring him food nor
water. So much was everybody engaged with the queen's funeral, that after
her death nobody came to see him: neither the princess, nor Danusia, nor
Powala of Taczew, nor the merchant Amylej. Zbyszko thought with
bitterness, that as soon as Macko left the city, everybody forgot about
him. Sometimes he thought that perhaps the law would forget about him
also, and that he would putrefy in the prison till death. Then he prayed
for death.
Finally, when after the queen's funeral one month passed, and the second
commenced, he began to doubt if Macko would ever return. Macko had
promised to ride quickly and not to spare his horse. Marienburg was not
at the other end of the world. One could reach it and return in twelve
weeks, especially if one were in haste. "But perhaps he has not hurried!"
thought Zbyszko, bitterly; "perhaps he has found some woman whom he will
gladly conduct to Bogdaniec, and beget his own progeny while I must wait
here centuries for God's mercy."
Finally he lost all trace of time, and ceased altogether to talk with the
jailer. Only by the spider web thickly covering the iron grating of the
window, did he know that fall was near at hand. Whole hours he sat on his
bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his fingers in his long hair. Half
dreaming and stiff, he did not raise his head even when the warden
bringing him food, spoke to him. But at last one day the bolts of the
door creaked, and a familiar voice called him from the threshold;
"Zbyszku!"
"Uncle!" exclaimed Zbyszko, rushing from the bed.
Macko seized him in his arms, and began to kiss his fair head. Grief,
bitterness and loneliness had so filled the heart of the youth, that he
began to cry on his uncle's breast like a little child.
"I thought you would never come back," said he, sobbing.
"That came near being true," answered Macko.
Now Zbyszko raised his head and having looked at him, exclaimed:
"What was the matter with you?"
He looked with amazement at the emaciated and pallid face of the old
warrior, at his bent figure and his gray hair.
"What was the matter with you?" he repeated.
Macko sat on the bed and for a while breathed heavily.
"What was the matter?" said he, finally.
"Hardly had I passed the frontier, before the Germans whom I met in the
forest, wounded me with a crossbow. _Raubritters!_ You know! I cannot
breathe! God sent me help, otherwise you would not see me here."
"Who rescued you?"
"Jurand of Spychow," answered Macko.
There was a moment of silence.
"They attacked me; but half a day later he attacked them and hardly half
of them escaped. He took me with him to the _grodek_ and then to Spychow.
I fought with death for three weeks. God did not let me die and although
I am not well yet, I have returned."
"Then you have not been in Malborg?"
"On what would I ride? They robbed me of everything and they took the
letter with the other things. I returned to ask Princess Ziemowitowa for
another; but I have not met her yet, and whether I will see her or not, I
do not know. I must prepare for the other world!"
Having said this, he spit on the palm of his hand and stretching it
toward Zbyszko, showed him blood on it, saying:
"Do you see?"
After a while he added:
"It must be God's will."
They were both silent for a time under the burden of their gloomy
thoughts; then Zbyszko said:
"Then you spit blood continually?"
"How can I help it; there is a spear head half a span long between my
ribs. You would spit also! I was a little better before I left Jurand of
Spychow; but now I am very tired, because the way was long and I
hastened."
"He; I why did you hasten?"
"Because I wished to see Princess Alexandra and get another letter from
her. Jurand of Spychow said 'Go and bring the letter to Spychow. I have a
few Germans imprisoned here. I will free one of them if he promise upon
his knightly word to carry the letter to the gland master.' For vengeance
for his wife's death, he always keeps several German captives and listens
joyfully when they moan and their chains rattle. He is a man full of
hatred. Understand?"
"I understand. But I wonder that you did not recover the lost letter, if
Jurand captured those who attacked you."
"He did not capture all of them. Five or six escaped. Such is our lot!"
"How did they attack you? From ambush?"
"From behind such thick bushes that one could see nothing. I was riding
without armor, because the merchants told me that the country was safe,
and it was warm."
"Who was at the head of the robbers? A Krzyzak?"
"Not a friar, but a German. Chelminczyk of Lentz, famous for his
robberies on the highway."
"What became of him?"
"Jurand chained him. But he has in his dungeons two noblemen, Mazurs,
whom he wishes to exchange for himself."
There was a moment of silence.
"Dear Jesus," Zbyszko said, finally; "Lichtenstein is alive, and also
that robber from Lentz; but we must perish without vengeance. They will
behead me and you will not be able to live through the winter."
"Bah! I will not live even until winter. If I could only help you in some
way to escape."
"Have you seen anybody here?"
"I went to see the castellan of Krakow. When I learned that Lichtenstein
had departed, I thought perhaps the castellan would be less severe."
"Then Lichtenstein went away?"
"Immediately after the queen's death, he went to Marienburg. I went to
see the castellan; but he answered me thus: 'They will execute your
nephew, not to please Lichtenstein, but because that is his sentence. It
will make no difference whether Lichtenstein be here or not. Even if he
die, nothing will be changed; the law is according to justice and not
like a jacket, which you can turn inside out. The king can show clemency;
but no one else.'"
"And where is the king?"
"After the funeral he went to Rus'."
"Well, then there is no hope at all."
"No." The castellan said still further: "I pity him, because the Princess
Anna begs for his pardon, but I cannot, I cannot!"
"Then Princess Anna is still here?"
"May God reward her! She is a good lady. She is still here, because
Jurandowna is sick, and the princess loves her as her own child."
"For God's sake! Then Danusia is sick! What is the matter with her?"
"I don't know! The princess says that somebody has thrown a spell over
her."
"I am sure it is Lichtenstein! Nobody else,--only Lichtenstein--a
dog-brother!"
"It may be he. But what can you do to him? Nothing!"
"That is why they all seemed to have forgotten me here; she was sick."
Having said this, Zbyszko began to walk up and down the room; finally he
seized Macko's hand, kissed it, and said:
"May God reward you for everything! If you die, I will be the cause of
your death. Before you get any worse, you must do one thing more. Go to
the castellan and beg him to release me, on my knightly word, for twelve
weeks. After that time I will return, and they may behead me. But it must
not be that we both die without vengeance. You know! I will go to
Marienburg, and immediately send a challenge to Lichtenstein. It cannot
be otherwise. One of us must die!"
Macko began to rub his forehead.
"I will go; but will the castellan permit?"
"I will give my knightly word. For twelve weeks--I do not need more."
"No use to talk; twelve weeks! And if you are wounded, you cannot return;
what will they think then?"
"I will return if I have to crawl. But don't be afraid! In the meanwhile
the king may return and one will be able to beseech him for clemency."
"That is true," answered Macko.
But after awhile he added:
"The castellan also told me this: 'On account of the queen's death, we
forgot about your nephew; but now his sentence must be executed.'"
"Ej, he will permit," answered Zbyszko, hopefully. "He knows that a
nobleman will keep his word, and it is just the same to him, whether they
behead me now, or after St. Michael's day."
"Ha! I will go to-day."
"You better go to Amylej to-day, and rest awhile. He will bandage your
wound, and to-morrow you can go to the castellan."
"Well, with God then!"
"With God!"
They hugged each other and Macko turned toward the door; but he stopped
on the threshold and frowned as if he remembered something unpleasant.
"Bah, but you do not yet wear the girdle of a knight; Lichtenstein will
tell you that he will not fight with you; what can you do then?"
Zbyszko was filled with sorrow, but only for a moment, then he said:
"How is it during war? Is it necessary that a knight choose only
knights?"
"War is war; a single combat is quite different."
"True, but wait. You must find some way. Well, there is a way! Prince
Janusz will dub me a knight. If the princess and Danusia ask him, he will
do it. In the meantime I will fight in Mazowsze with the son of Mikolaj
of Dlugolas."
"What for?"
"Because Mikolaj, the same who is with the princess and whom they call
Obuch, called Danusia, 'bush.'"
Macko looked at him in amazement. Zbyszko, wishing to explain better
about what had occurred, said further:
"I cannot forgive that, but I cannot fight with Mikolaj, because he must
be nearly eighty years old."
To this Macko said:
"Listen! It is a pity that you should lose your head; but there will not
be a great loss of brains, because you are stupid like a goat."
"Why are you angry?"
Macko did not answer, but started to leave. Zbyszko sprang toward him and
said:
"How is Danusia? Is she well yet? Don't be angry for a trifle. You have
been absent so long!"
Again he bent toward the old man who shrugged his shoulders and said
mildly:
"Jurandowna is well, only they will not let her go out of her room yet.
Good-bye!"
Zbyszko remained alone, but he felt as if he had been regenerated. He
rejoiced to think that he might be allowed to live three months more. He
could go to remote lands; he could find Lichtenstein, and engage in
deadly combat with him. Even the thought about that filled him with joy.
He would be fortunate, to be able to ride a horse, even for twelve weeks;
to be able to fight and not perish without vengeance. And then--let
happen what would happen--it would be a long time anyhow! The king might
return and forgive him. War might break out, and the castellan himself
when he saw the victor of the proud Lichtenstein, might say: "Go now into
the woods and the fields!"
Therefore a great hope entered his heart. He did not think that they
would refuse to grant him those three months. He thought that perhaps
they would grant hem more. The old _Pan_ of Tenczyn would never admit
that a nobleman could not keep his word.
Therefore when Macko came to the prison, the next day toward evening,
Zbyszko, who could hardly sit quiet, sprang toward him and asked:
"Granted?"
Macko sat on the truckle-bed, because he could not stand on account of
his feebleness; for a while he breathed heavily and finally said:
"The castellan said: 'If you wish to divide your land, or attend to your
household, then I will release your nephew for a week or two on his
knightly word, but for no longer.'"
Zbyszko was so much surprised, that for a while he could not say a word.
"For two weeks?" asked he, finally. "But I could not even reach the
frontier in two weeks! How is it? You did not tell the castellan why I
wished to go to Marienburg?"
"Not only I, but the Princess Anna begged for you."
"And what then?"
"What? The old man told her that he did not want your head, and that he
pitied you. 'If I could find,' said he, 'some law in his favor, or only a
pretext, I would release him altogether; but I cannot. There would be no
order in a country in which the people shut their eyes to the law, and
acted according to friendship; I will not do it; even if it were
Toporczyk, who is a relative of mine, or even my own brother, I would
not. Such hard people are here!' And he said still further; 'We do not
care about the Knights of the Cross; but we cannot bring reproach on
ourselves. What would they think of us, and all our guests, coming from
all parts of the world, if I release a nobleman sentenced to death, in
order to give him a chance to fight? Would they believe that he will be
punished, and that there is some law in our country? I prefer to order
one head cut off, than to bring contempt on the king and the kingdom.'
The princess told him that that was strange justice, from which even a
king's relative could not obtain anything by her prayer; but the old man
answered: 'The king may use clemency; but he will not tolerate
lawlessness.' Then they began to quarrel because the princess grew very
angry: 'Then,' said she, 'don't keep him in the prison!' And the
castellan replied to this: 'Very well! To-morrow I will order a scaffold
built on the market square.' Then they departed. Only the Lord Jesus can
help you."
There was a long moment of silence.
"What?" he said, gloomily. "Then it will be immediately?"
"In two or three days. There is no help. I have done what I could. I fell
at the castellan's knees; I implored him for mercy, but he repeated:
'Find a law, or a pretext.' But what can I find? I went to see the
_ksiondz_ Stanislaw of Skarbimierz, and I begged him to come to you. At
least you will have this honor, that the same priest who heard the
queen's confession will hear yours. But I did not find him home; he had
gone to Princess Anna."
"Perhaps for Danusia!"
"Not at all. The girl is better. I will go see him to-morrow early in the
morning. They say that if he bears one's confession, salvation is as sure
as if you had it in your pocket."
Zbyszko put his elbows on his knees and dropped his head so that his hair
covered his face entirely. The old man looked at him a long time and
finally began to call him softly:
"Zbyszku! Zbyszku!"
The boy raised his head. His face had an expression of anger and of cold
hatred, but not of weakness.
"What?"
"Listen carefully; perhaps I have found a way of escape."
Having said this, he approached and began to whisper:
"Have your heard about Prince Witold, who at one time, being imprisoned
by our king in Krewo, went out from the prison disguised in a woman's
dress. There is no woman who will remain here instead of you, but take my
_kubrak_.[57] Take my cowl and go--understand? They will not notice. It
is dark behind the door. They will not flash a light into your eyes. They
saw me yesterday going out; but they did not look at me closely. Be quiet
and listen. They will find me here to-morrow--and what then? Will they
cut my head off? That will be no satisfaction, because I will die anyhow
in three or four weeks. And you, as soon as you are out of here, to
horse, and go straight to Prince Witold. You will present yourself to
him; you will bow before him; he will receive you and you will be as safe
with him as if you were sitting at God's right hand. They say here that
the _kniaz_'s armies have been defeated by the Tartars, because the late
queen prophesied defeat. If it be true, the _kniaz_ will need soldiers
and he will welcome you. You must remain with him, because there is no
better service in the world. If our king were defeated in a war, it would
be his end; but there is such an amount of shrewdness in _Kniaz_ Witold,
that after a defeat he grows still more powerful. And he is liberal also,
and he loves our family. Tell him everything that happened. Tell him that
you wanted to go with him against the Tartars; but you could not because
you were imprisoned in the tower. If God permit, he will give you some
land and peasants; he will dub you a knight and he will intercede for you
with the king. He is a good protector--you will see!--What?"
Zbyszko listened silently, and Macko, as if he was excited by his own
words, spoke further:
"You must not perish young, but return to Bogdaniec. And when you return,
you must immediately take a wife so that our family does not perish. Only
when you have children, may you challenge Lichtenstein to fight until
death; but before that, you must abstain from seeking vengeance. Take my
_kubrak_ now, take my cowl and go, in God's name."
Having said this, Macko stood up and began to undress; but Zbyszko arose
also, stopped him and said:
"I will not do it, so help me God and Holy Cross."
"Why?" asked Macko, astonished.
"Because I will not!"
Macko became pale with anger.
"I wish you had never been born!"
"You told the castellan," said Zbyszko, "that you would give your head in
exchange for mine."
"How do you know that?"
"The _Pan_ of Taczew told me."
"What of it?"
"What of it? The castellan told you that disgrace would fall on me and on
all my family Would it not be a still greater disgrace, if I escaped from
here, and left you to the vengeance of the law?"
"What vengeance? What can the law do to me, when I must die just the
same? Have common sense, for God's mercy!"
"May God punish me if I abandon you now when you are old and sick. Tfu!
shame!"
There was silence; one could only hear the heavy, hoarse breathing of
Macko, and the archers' calls.
"Listen," Macko said, finally, in broken tones, "it was not shameful for
_Kniaz_ Witold to escape from Krewo; it would not be for you, either."
"Hej!"' answered Zbyszko, with sadness "You know! _Kniaz_ Witold is a
great _kniaz_; he received a crown from the king's hand, also riches and
dominion; but I, a poor nobleman, have only my honor."
After a while he exclaimed in a sudden burst of anger:
"Then you do not understand that I love you, and that I will not give
your head instead of mine?"
At this, Macko stood on his trembling feet, stretched out his hands, and
although the nature of the people of those days, was hard, as if forged
of iron, be cried suddenly in a heartbroken voice:
"Zbyszku!"
Content of PART FIRST: CHAPTER VII [Henryk Sienkiewicz's novel: The Knights of the Cross]
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