PART SEVENTH: CHAPTER VII
Zbyszko gave orders for him to be laid upon one of the captured wagons
which were laden with spare wheels and axles for the expedition coming to
relieve the castle. He mounted another horse, and with Macko they
continued the pursuit of the fleeing Germans. It was not a difficult
pursuit, because the German horses were not speedy enough, particularly
upon the ground softened by the spring rains, more especially for Macko,
who had with him a light and fleet mare which belonged to the deceased
_wlodyka_ of Lenkawice. After a distance of several furlongs he passed
almost all the Zmudzians. He soon reached the first German trooper, whom
he at once challenged according to the then prevailing custom among the
knights, to surrender or fight. But the German feigned deafness. He even
threw away his shield to relieve the horse, and bent in the saddle and
spurred his horse. The old knight struck him with his broad axe between
the shoulder-blades, and he fell to the ground.
Thus Macko avenged himself upon the fleeing Germans for the treacherous
shot he had once received. They ran before him like a herd of frightened
deer. They had no thought of continuing the fight or defending
themselves, but of fleeing before that terrible man. Some dashed into the
forest, but one stuck fast near the stream: him the Zmudzians strangled
with a halter. Then a hunt as if after wild beasts began after the crowd
of fugitives which sprang into the woods.
The depths of the forests rang with the shouts of the hunters and the
shrieks of the hunted until the latter were exterminated. Then the old
knight, accompanied by Zbyszko and the Bohemian, returned to the
battlefield upon which lay the hacked bodies of the German infantry. They
were already stripped naked. Some were mutilated by the revengeful
Zmudzians. It was an important victory, and the soldiers were drunk with
joy. After the last defeat suffered by Skirwoilla near Gotteswerder, a
sort of apathy had seized the Zmudzians, more especially because the
promised relief from Prince Witold had not yet arrived as quickly as
expected. However, now hope revived and the fire was kindled anew as when
wood is thrown upon glowing embers. The number of slain Germans, as well
as Zmudzians to be buried, was very great, but Zbyszko ordered a special
grave to be dug for the _wlodykas_ of Lenkawice, who contributed so much
toward the victory. They were buried there among the pine-trees, and
Zbyszko cut a cross with his sword upon the bark. Then he ordered the
Bohemian to keep watch over de Lorche who was still unconscious; he
stirred up the people and hurried on along the road toward Skirwoilla to
lend him affective assistance in case of emergency.
But after a long march he came across a deserted battlefield that
resembled the former, being covered with German and Zmudzian corpses. It
was easy for Zbyszko to conclude that the terrible Skirwoilla had also
gained an equally important victory over the enemy, because if he had
been defeated, Zbyszko would have met the victorious Germans marching to
the castle. But the victory must have been a bloody one, because for some
distance a great number of dead were met with. The experienced Macko was
able to deduce from this that some Germans had even succeeded in
retreating from the defeat.
It was difficult to tell whether Skirwoilla was pursuing them or not,
because the tracks were mingled and confused. He also concluded that the
battle had taken place quite early, perhaps earlier than Zbyszko's fight,
for the corpses were livid and swollen, and some of them torn by wolves,
that scattered in the thickets at the approach of armed men.
In face of these circumstances Zbyszko resolved not to wait for
Skirwoilla, but to return to the original safe camp. He arrived there
late at night and found the leader of the Zmudzians who had arrived
somewhat early. His face, which usually wore a sullen expression, was now
lighted with fiendish joy. He asked at once about the result of the
fight, and when he was told of the victory he said in tones that sounded
like the croaking of a crow:
"I am glad of your victory, and I am glad of mine. They will send no more
relief expeditions for some time, and when the great prince arrives there
will be more joy, for the castle will be ours."
"Have you taken any prisoners?" inquired Zbyszko.
"Only small fry, no pike. There was one, there were two but they got
away. They were pikes with sharp teeth! They cut the people and escaped."
"God granted me one." replied the young knight. "He is a powerful and
renowned knight, although a Swede--a guest!"
The terrible Zmudzian raised his hands to his neck and with the right
hand made a gesture like the up-jerk of a halter:
"This shall happen to him," he said, "to him as well as to the other
prisoners ... this!"
Then Zbyszko's brow furrowed.
"Listen, Skirwoilla," he said. "Nothing will happen to him, neither
_this_ nor _that_ because he is my prisoner and my friend. Prince Janusz
knighted both of us. I will not even permit you to cut off one finger
from his hand."
"You will not permit?"
"No, I will not."
Then they glared fiercely into each other's eyes. Skirwoilla's face was
so much wrinkled that it had the appearance of a bird of prey. It
appeared as if both were about to burst out. But Zbyszko did not want any
trouble with the old leader, whom he prized and respected; moreover his
heart was greatly agitated with the events of the day. He fell suddenly
upon his neck, pressed him to his breast and exclaimed:
"Do you really desire to tear him from me, and with him my last hope? Why
do you wrong me?"
Skirwoilla did not repel the embrace. Finally, withdrawing his head from
Zbyszko's arm, he looked at him benignantly, breathing heavily.
"Well," he said, after a moment's silence. "Well, to-morrow I will give
orders for the prisoners to be hanged, but if you want any one of them, I
will give him to you."
Then they embraced each other again and parted on good terms--to the
great satisfaction of Macko, who said:
"It is obvious that you will never be able to do anything with him by
anger, but with kindness you can knead him like wax."
"Such is the whole nation," replied Zbyszko; "but the Germans do not know
it."
Then he gave orders for de Lorche, who had taken rest in the booth, to be
brought to the camp-fire. A moment later the Bohemian brought him in; he
was unarmed and without a helmet, having only his leather jacket upon
which the marks of the coat of mail were visible. He had a red cap on his
head. De Lorche had already been informed by Hlawa that he was a prisoner
and therefore he came in looking cool and haughty, and the light of the
flames revealed defiance and contempt in his countenance.
"Thank God," Zbyszko said, "that He delivered you in my hands, because
nothing evil shall happen to you by me."
Then he extended a friendly hand; but de Lorche did not even move.
"I decline to give my hand to knights who outrage knightly honor, by
joining pagans in fighting Christian knights."
One of the Mazovians present, who could not restrain himself, owing to
Zbyszko's importance, on hearing this became excited and his blood
boiled.
"Fool!" he shouted and involuntarily grasped the handle of his
"_misericordia_."
But de Lorche lifted up his head.
"Kill me," he said. "I know that you do not spare prisoners."
"But, do you spare prisoners?" the Mazur who could not restrain himself,
exclaimed: "Did you not hang on the shore of the island all the prisoners
you took in the last fight? That is the reason why Skirwoilla will hang
all his prisoners."
"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
Loeve. 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."
Content of PART SEVENTH: CHAPTER VII [Henryk Sienkiewicz's novel: The Knights of the Cross]
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