PART SEVENTH: CHAPTER IX
The road to the battlefield where Skirwoilla had routed the Germans was
easy, because they knew it, and so they soon reached it. Owing to the
insufferable stench arising from the unburied dead, they crossed it in a
hurry. As they did so, they drove away wolves, and large flights of
crows, ravens and jackdaws. Then they began to look for traces along the
road. Although a whole division had passed over it on the previous day,
nevertheless, the experienced Macko found upon the trampled road without
trouble, the imprint of gigantic hoofs leading in an opposite direction.
Then he explained to the younger and less experienced companions-in-arms:
"It is fortunate that there has been no rainfall since the battle. Only
look here. Arnold's horse carrying an unusually big man must also be
exceedingly large; this too is easily observed, that the imprint of the
horse's feet on this side of the road is much deeper, owing to the
galloping in his flight; whilst the tracks marking the previous march on
the other side of the road are not so deep, because the horse walked
slowly. Let those who have eyes look how the marks of the horseshoes are
visible. God grant that we may track those dog-brothers successfully,
provided they have not already found shelter somewhere behind walls!"
"Sanderus said," replied Zbyszko, "that there are no forts in this
neighborhood, and it is actually so; because the Knights of the Cross
have only recently taken possession of this region and have not had
enough time to build in it. Then where can they hide themselves? All the
peasants who dwelt in these lands joined Skirwoilla, because they belong
to the same stock as the Zmudzians.... The villages, Sanderus said, these
same Germans destroyed by fire and the women and children are hidden in
the thick forest. Provided we do not spare our horses we shall yet
overtake them."
"We must spare the horses, for even if we overtake them our safety
afterward depends upon our horses," said Macko.
"Sir Arnold," interrupted Sanderus, "received a blow between his
shoulder-blades in battle. He took no notice of it at first, but kept on
fighting and slaying, but they were obliged to dress it afterward; as is
always the case, at first one does not feel the blows but they pain later
on. For this reason he cannot exert himself too much to run fast and it
may be that he is even obliged to rest himself."
"You said that there are no other people with them?" inquired Macko.
"There are two who lead the litter, the _comthur_ and Sir Arnold. There
were quite a number of men with them, but the Zmudzians killed them."
"Let our men lay hold of the two fellows who are with the litter," said
Zbyszko. "You, uncle, manage old Zygfried, and I will pounce upon
Arnold."
"Well," replied Macko, "I shall be able to manage Zygfried, because,
thank God, there is still strength in these bones. But as far as your
task is concerned, I should say, do not be so self-confident, for that
knight seems to be a giant."
"O well! We shall see," replied Zbyszko.
"You are strong, that I don't dispute, but there are stronger men than
you are. Did you observe our own knights whom we met at Krakow? Could you
conquer Pan Powala of Taczew, Paszko Zlodziej of Biskupice, and Zawisza
Czarny, eh? Don't be too rash, but consider the facts."
"Rotgier also was a strong man," murmured Zbyszko.
"Will there be any work for myself?" asked the Bohemian. But he received
no reply, because Macko was thinking about something else.
"If God blesses us we shall be able to reach the Mazowiecki wilderness.
We shall be safe there, and all trouble will be at an end."
But after a while he sighed when he reflected that even there affairs
would not be entirely ended, there would yet be something to attend to
for the unfortunate Jagienka.
"Hey!" he murmured, "God's decrees are wonderful. I had often thought
about it. Why did it not occur to you to get married quietly, and let me
live with you peacefully. That would have been the most happy course. But
now we are the only ones among the noblemen of the kingdom, who are
wandering in various regions and wilds, instead of attending to our homes
as God commands."
"Well, that is true, but it is God's will," replied Zbyszko.
Then they proceeded on their journey for a while in silence. The old
knight turned again to his nephew:
"Do you rely on that vagabond? Who is he?"
"He is a fickle man and perhaps he is a rogue, but he wishes me well, and
I am not afraid of treachery from him."
"If so let him ride in front, for if he overtakes them he will not be
scared. Let him tell them that he is fleeing from captivity, and they
will easily believe him. This is the best way, because if they chanced to
see us they might evade us and hide themselves, or have time enough to
prepare for defence."
"He is afraid and will not travel by himself at night," replied Zbyszko.
"But during the daytime I am sure that that plan is the best one to
adopt. I will tell him to stop and wait for us three times during the
day. If we do not find him at the appointed places then it will be a sign
that he is already with them, and following up his tracks we will fall
upon them unexpectedly."
"But will he not warn them?"
"No. He is more friendly to me than to them. I will also tell him that
when we surprise them we will also bind him, so that he may escape their
revenge later on. Let him not recognize us at all...."
"Do you intend to preserve those fellows alive?"
"How else should it be?" replied Zbyszko, somewhat anxiously. "You
see.... If it were in our country, at home in Mazowsze, we would
challenge them, as I challenged Rotgier, to mortal combat; but this
cannot be here in their own country.... What concerns us here is Danuska
and speed. In order to avoid trouble all must be done quietly afterward
we will do as you said and push on as fast as our horses can go, to the
wilds of Mazowsze. But attacking them unexpectedly we might find them
unarmed, yes, even without their swords. Then how could we kill them? I
am afraid of reproach. We are now both of us, belted knights, so are
they...."
"It is so," said Macko. "Yet it may lead to an encounter."
But Zbyszko contracted his brow and in his face was depicted that
determination so characteristic of the looks of the men of Bogdaniec, for
at that moment he looked as if he were Macko's own son.
"What I should also like," he said, in low tones, "is to have that bloody
dog Zygfried crushed under Jurand's feet! May God grant it!"
"Grant it, God! grant it!" immediately repeated Macko.
Whilst conversing, they covered a considerable stretch of the road until
nightfall. It was a starry night, but there was no moon. They were
obliged to halt the horses, breathe, and refresh the men with food and
sleep. Zbyszko informed Sanderus before resting that he was to proceed in
front in the morning. Sanderus willingly assented; but reserved to
himself, in case of an attack by wolves or people, the right to run back
to Zbyszko. He also asked him for permission to make four stations
instead of three, because in solitude fear always took hold of him, even
in pious countries. How much more so in such an abominable wilderness as
the one where they found themselves now?
When they had refreshed themselves with food, they lay down to sleep upon
skins near a small camp-fire, which they built about half a furlong from
the road. The servants alternately guarded the horses, which, after they
were fed, rolled upon the ground and then slept, resting their heads upon
each other's necks. But no sooner did the first ray illuminate the woods
with a silvery hue, than Zbyszko arose and awoke the others, and at dawn
they continued their march. The tracks of the hoofs of Arnold's immense
stallion were easily recovered, because the usual muddy ground had dried
up from drought. Sanderus went on ahead and soon disappeared.
Nevertheless, they found him about half way between sunrise and noon, at
the waiting place. He told them that he had not seen any living soul,
only one large aurochs, but was not scared and did not run away, because
the animal got out of his way. But he declared that shortly before, he
had seen a peasant bee-keeper, but had not detained him, for fear that in
the depths of the forest there might be more of them. He had attempted to
question him, but they had not been able to make themselves understood.
As time went by, Zbyszko became somewhat troubled.
"What will happen," he said, "if I arrive in the higher and drier region,
where, owing to the hard, dry road, the traces of the fugitives will be
lost? or, if the pursuit shall last too long and lead to an inhabited
region where the people have long since accustomed themselves to the
servitude of the Knights of the Cross; an attack and capture of Danusia
by them is more than probable, because, although Arnold and Zygfried did
not erect forts, or fortify their towns, the inhabitants would surely
take their part."
Happily that fear turned out to be groundless, because they did not find
Sanderus at the appointed second post, but found instead an incision in
the form of a cross, apparently newly cut into the bark of an adjacent
pine tree. They looked at each other and their hearts began to beat
faster. Macko and Zbyszko immediately dismounted, in order to discover
the tracks upon the ground; they examined carefully, but it did not last
long, because they were plainly discernible.
Sanderus had apparently deviated from the road into the forest, and
followed the prints of the huge horse-hoofs, which, owing to the dry
condition of the turfy soil, were not so deeply impressed, but
sufficiently visible. The heavy horse disturbed at every step the pine
needles which were blackened at the margins of the impressions.
Other marks did not escape Zbyszko's keen sight. Then he and Macko
mounted their horses, and, together with the Bohemian, silently began
taking counsel as though the enemy were quite near them.
The Bohemian's advice was that they should advance on foot at once, but
they did not agree to that, because they did not know the distance they
would have to traverse in the woods. The footmen, however, had to proceed
carefully in advance, and signal in case something occurred, so that they
might be in readiness.
They moved onward among the woods in some trepidation, and another
incision upon a pine tree assured them that they had not lost Sanderus'
tracks. Very soon they also discovered a path, showing that people
frequently passed that way, and they were convinced that they were in the
neighborhood of some forest habitation, and within it was the object of
their search.
The sun was getting low, and shed a golden hue upon the trees of the
forest. The evening promised to be serene; silence reigned in the woods
because beast and birds had retired to rest, only here and there, among
the little top branches of the trees, squirrels moved to and fro looking
quite red in the last beams of the sun. Zbyszko, Macko, the Bohemian and
the attendants, closely followed each other, knowing that their men were
considerably in advance and would warn them in proper time; the old
knight spoke to his nephew in not very subdued tones.
"Let us calculate from the sun," he said. "From the last station to the
place where we found the first incision, we covered a great distance.
According to Krakow time it would be about three hours.... Then Sanderus
must be by this time among them, and has had time enough to tell them his
adventure, provided he has not betrayed us."
"He has not betrayed us," replied Zbyszko.
"Provided they believe him," continued Macko; "if they do not, then it
will be bad for him."
"But why should they not believe him? Do they know of us? Him they know.
It often happens that prisoners escape from captivity."
"But what concerns me is this: if he told them that he ran away they
might fear he would be pursued, and they would move on at once."
"No, he will succeed in casting dust in their eyes by telling them that
such a long pursuit would not be undertaken."
They were silent for a while, then it seemed to Macko that Zbyszko was
whispering to him; he turned and asked:
"What do you say?"
But Zbyszko had said nothing to Macko, but looking upward, said:
"Only if God would favor Danuska and the courageous enterprise in her
behalf."
Macko also began to cross himself; but he had scarcely made the first
sign of the cross, when from the hazelnut thickets one of the scouts
approached him suddenly and said:
"A pitch-burning cabin! They are there!"
"Stop!" whispered Zbyszko, and dismounted at once. Macko, the Bohemian,
and the attendants, also dismounted; three of the latter received orders
to hold the horses in readiness and take care that they, God forbid, did
not neigh. "I left five men," said Macko. "There will be the two
attendants and Sanderus, whom we shall bind in a moment, and, should any
one show fight, then, at his head!"
Then they advanced, and, as they moved on, Zbyszko said to his uncle:
"You take the old man, Zygfried; and I, Arnold."
"Only take care!" replied Macko. Then he beckoned to the Bohemian,
reminding him to be ready at a moment's notice to be on hand to assist
his master.
The Bohemian nodded assent. Then he breathed deeply and felt for his
sword to see whether it could be easily unsheathed.
But Zbyszko observed it and said:
"No! I command you to hasten at once to the litter and not move from it
for a single moment whilst the fight is going on."
They went quickly but silently through the hazelnut thickets. But they
had not gone far, when at a distance of not quite two furlongs, the
growth ceased suddenly, revealing a small field upon which were
extinguished pitch-burning heaps, and two earthen shanties, or huts,
where the pitch-burners had dwelt before the war. The setting sun
brightly illuminated the lawn, the pitch-burning heaps, and the two
detached shanties--in front of one of which the two knights were sitting
upon the ground; and in front of the other were Sanderus and a bearded,
red-headed fellow. These two were occupied in polishing the coats of mail
with rags. Besides this, the two swords were lying at Sanderus' feet
ready to be cleaned afterward.
"Look," said Macko, forcibly grasping Zbyszko's arm to detain him if
possible for another moment, "he has taken the coats of mail and swords
purposely. Well, that one with the grey head must be...."
"Forward!" suddenly shouted Zbyszko.
And like a whirlwind he rushed into the clearing; the others did the
same, but they only succeeded in reaching Sanderus. The terrible Macko
caught hold of old Zygfried by the breast, bent him backward and in a
moment held him under him. Zbyszko and Arnold grasped each other like two
hawks, with their arms intertwined and began to struggle fiercely with
each other. The bearded German, who was with Sanderus, sprang toward the
sword, but he did not use it. Wit, Macko's servant, struck him with the
back of his axe, and stretched him upon the ground. Then they began to
bind Sanderus, according to Macko's order, but he, although he well knew
that it was so arranged beforehand, began to bellow as terribly as a
yearling calf whose throat is being cut by the butcher's knife.
But Zbyszko, though so strong that he could squeeze a branch of a tree
and cause the sap to run out, felt that he was not grasped by human
hands, but was in the hug of a bear. He also felt that if it were not for
the cost of mail which he had on, in case of having to fight with the
sword, the German giant would have crushed his ribs and perhaps the
spinal column too. The young knight lifted him a little from the ground,
but Arnold lifted him up higher still, and gathering all his strength he
tried to throw him to the ground so that he might not be able to rise
again.
But Zbyszko also clutched him with such terrible force that blood issued
from the German's eyes. Then he crooked his leg between Arnold's knees,
bent him sideways and struck him in the hollow of the knee, which threw
him to the ground. In reality both fell to the ground, the young knight
underneath; but at the same moment, Macko, who was observing all this,
threw the half doubled-up Zygfried into the hands of an attendant, and
rushed toward the prostrate fighters, and in the twinkling of an eye he
had bound the feet of Arnold with a belt; then he jumped, and sat down
upon him as upon a wild boar, took the _misericordia_ from his side, and
plunged it deep into his throat.
Arnold screamed horribly, and his hands involuntarily withdrew from
Zbyszko's sides. Then he began to moan not only with the pain of the
wound, but he also felt an indescribable pain in his back: where he had
received a blow from a club in his previous fight with Skirwoilla.
Macko grasped him with both hands and dragged him off Zbyszko, and
Zbyszko got up from the ground and sat down; he tried to stand up but
could not; he sat thus without being able to rise, for some time. His
face was pale and covered with perspiration. His eyes were bloodshot and
his lips were blue; and he looked in front of him as though half dazed.
"What is the matter?" asked Macko, in alarm.
"Nothing, but I am very tired. Help me to get up."
Macko put his hands under Zbyszko's arms and lifted him up at once.
"Can you stand?"
"I can."
"Do you feel pain?"
"Nothing, but I am short of breath."
Meanwhile the Bohemian, seeing apparently that the struggle in the farm
yard was all over, appeared in front of the hut, dragging the woman
servant of the Order by the neck. At that sight, Zbyszko forgot his
fatigue, his strength returned to him at once, and he rushed to the hut
as though he had never struggled with the terrible Arnold.
"Danuska! Danuska!" cried Zbyszko; but no answer came.
"Danuska! Danuska!" he repeated; then he remained silent. It was dark
within, for that reason he could see nothing at first. But instead, he
heard, proceeding from behind the stones which were heaped up behind the
fireplace, a quick and audible panting, like that of a little animal
hiding.
"Danuska! For God's sake. It is I! Zbyszko!"
Then he observed in the darkness, her eyes, wide open, terrified and
bewildered.
He rushed toward her and pressed her in his arms, but she did not
entirely recognize him, and tore herself away from his embrace, and began
to repeat in a subdued whisper:
"I am afraid! I am afraid! I am afraid!"
END OF PART SEVENTH.
Content of PART SEVENTH: CHAPTER IX [Henryk Sienkiewicz's novel: The Knights of the Cross]
Read next: PART EIGHTH#CHAPTER I
Read previous: PART SEVENTH#CHAPTER VIII
Table of content of Knights of the Cross
GO TO TOP OF SCREEN
Post your reviewYour review will be placed after the table of content of this book
