PART EIGHTH: CHAPTER I
Neither loving words nor tender persuasion availed. Danusia recognized
nobody and did not regain consciousness. The only feeling which pervaded
her whole being was fear, a kind of fear shown by captured birds. When
food was brought to her she refused to eat it in the presence of others.
In the glances of rejection which she cast upon the food one could detect
habitual hunger. Left alone, she sprang upon the eatables like a ravenous
little wild beast. But when Zbyszko entered she rushed into the corner
and hid herself under a bundle of dry hops. Zbyszko opened his arms in
vain, he stretched out his hands in vain, with tears he begged her, but
unavailingly. She refused to issue from her hiding-place even when the
light was so arranged that she could recognize the outlines of Zbyszko's
face. It seemed as though she had lost her memory along with her senses.
He therefore gazed upon her emaciated pale face in which was depicted an
expression of dismay, her hollow eyes, her tattered dress, and his heart
cried out within him from pain at the thought in whose hands she had been
and how she had been treated. He was finally seized with such a terrible
rage that he grasped his sword and rushed toward Zygfried, and he would
have certainly killed him, had not Macko grasped him by the arm.
Then like enemies they struggled with each other. But the young man was
so much fatigued from his previous fight with the gigantic Arnold, that
the old knight prevailed. Twisting Zbyszko's wrist, he exclaimed:
"Are you mad?"
"Let me go!" he begged, gnashing his teeth, "for my heart bursts within
me."
"Let it burst! I will not let you go. It is better to dash your head to
pieces than disgrace yourself and the whole family."
And, clutching Zbyszko's hand, as with iron tongs, he said threateningly:
"See, revenge will not escape you; and you are a belted knight. How then
dare you kill a prisoner in bonds? You cannot help Danusia. What will be
the result? Nothing but disgrace. You say that kings and princes think it
proper to destroy their prisoners. Bah! That is not the case with us; and
what is feasible with them is not so with you. They have a kingdom,
cities, castles. But what have you? Knightly honor. Those who find no
fault with them will spit in your face. Consider, for God's sake!"
There was silence for a moment.
"Let me go!" Zbyszko repeated gloomily. "I will not kill him."
"Come to the fire, let us consult."
Macko led him by the hand to the fire which the servant stirred up near
the tar-ovens. There they sat down and Macko reflected for a moment, and
then said:
"You must also remember that you have promised this old dog to Jurand,
who will avenge his own and his daughter's tortures. He is the one who
will pay him, and do not you fear! In this you must please Jurand. It is
his affair and not yours. Jurand may do it, but you must not; he did not
capture him but will receive him as a present from you; he can even flay
him alive and none will blame him for it. Do you understand me?"
"I understand," replied Zbyszko. "You are right."
"You are evidently coming to your senses again. Should you again be
tempted by the devil, bear this also in your mind, that you have also
challenged Lichtenstein and other Knights of the Cross, and if you should
kill a defenceless captive and the men should publish your action, no
knight would accept your challenge, and he would be justified. God
forbid! We have enough misfortunes, but spare us shame. Let us rather
talk about what concerns our present doings and movements."
"Give your advice," said the young man.
"My advice is this: that serpent who was with Danusia ought to be killed;
but it does not become a knight to kill a woman. We shall therefore
deliver her into the hands of Prince Janusz. She plotted treason whilst
at the forest court of the prince and princess. Let the Mazovian courts
judge her. If they do not crush her upon the wheel for her crimes, then
they will offend God's justice. As long as we find no other woman to wait
upon Danusia, as long as she is wanted to serve her we must keep her
until some other old woman be found; then we will tie her to a horse's
tail. But now we must push on toward the Mazovian wilderness as soon as
possible.
"It cannot be done at once, it is dark already. By to-morrow, if God
will, Danusia may come to her senses."
"Let the horses rest well, and at daybreak we will start."
Further conversation was interrupted by Arnold von Baden, who was
stretched on his back at a distance, trussed by his own sword; he said
something in German. Old Macko got up and went to him, but as he did not
understand him he called the Bohemian.
But Hlawa could not come at once because he was busy about something
else. During the conversation, near the fire, he went directly to the
servant of the Order, put his hands around her neck, shook her like a
pear-tree, and said:
"Listen, you slut! Go into the shanty and prepare the fur bedding for the
young lady. But before you do that, dress her in your good apparel,
whilst you put upon your carcass the tattered rags which you have given
her.... May your mother suffer perdition!"
He was so angry that he could not control himself, and shook her so
savagely that her eyes bulged out. He would have twisted her neck, but he
thought better of it since she was still of some use; finally he let her
go, saying:
"After that I will hang you to a branch."
She embraced his knees in terror, but he kicked her. She rushed into the
shanty, threw herself at Danusia's feet and began to scream:
"Protect me. Do not permit!"
But Danusia closed her eyes, and uttered her customary suppressed
whisper: "I am afraid, I am afraid, I am afraid."
Then she lapsed into perfect silence, because that was the effect
whenever the woman approached her. She permitted the woman to undress,
wash and dress her in the new clothes. The woman prepared the bedding and
laid upon it Danusia, who had the appearance of a wooden or wax figure;
after which she sat down near the fireplace fearing to go out.
But the Bohemian entered after awhile. First he turned toward Danusia and
said:
"You are among friends, lady, so in the name of the Father, Son and Holy
Ghost, sleep peacefully!"
Then he made the sign of the cross. Then not wishing to disturb her he
said to the servant in a low voice:
"You shall lie bound at the threshold; you must keep quiet and do not
frighten her; if not, I will break your neck. Get up, and come."
He led her out and bound her tightly, then he went to Zbyszko.
"I have ordered that lizard to dress the lady in her own garments, to
make her a soft bed, and the lady is asleep; better leave her alone
because she is scared. God grant that by to-morrow, after repose, she may
regain her presence of mind. You too must think of refreshment and rest."
"I shall sleep at her threshold," replied Zbyszko.
"Then I shall withdraw the slut from the threshold and place her near
that corpse with curled locks. But you must take refreshment now, because
there is a long road and no little fatigue before you."
Then he went and got some smoked meat and dried turnips which they had
procured in the Lithuanian camp; but he had scarcely put the meal in
front of Zbyszko when Macko called him to come to Arnold.
"Notice carefully, what this mass wishes, although I know a few German
words, I am unable to understand him."
"Bring him to the fire, sir, and have your conversation there," replied
the Bohemian.
Then he unbelted himself and placed the belt under Arnold's arms and
lifted him upon his shoulders; he bent much under the heavy weight of the
giant, but as the Bohemian was a powerful man, he carried him near the
fireplace and threw him down, as one throws a sack of peas, at the side
of Zbyszko.
"Take off the fetters from me," said Arnold.
"That might be done if you swore on knightly honor, that you would
consider yourself a prisoner. Nevertheless, I will order the sword to be
taken from under your knees, the bonds of your hands to be loosened, so
as to enable you to sit with us, but the rope binding your feet shall
remain until we have discussed the affair." And he nodded to the
Bohemian, who cut the bonds away from Arnold's hands and assisted him to
sit down. Arnold looked haughtily at Macko and Zbyszko and asked:
"Who are you?"
"How do you dare to ask? It is not your business. Go and inform
yourself."
"It concerns me, because to swear upon the honor of a knight can only be
done to knights."
"Then look!"
And Macko opened his cloak and showed his knightly belt upon his loins.
Seeing that, the Knight of the Cross was greatly amazed, and after awhile
said:
"How is it? and you prowl in the wilderness for prey and assist the
pagans against the Christians?"
"You lie!" exclaimed Macko.
Then the conversation began in an unfriendly and arrogant manner, which
seemed like quarreling. But when Macko vehemently shouted that the very
Order prevented Lithuania from embracing Christianity, and when all
proofs were adduced, Arnold was again amazed and became silent, because
the truth was so obvious that it was impossible not to see it, or to
dispute it. What specially struck him was Macko's words which he uttered
whilst making the sign of the cross: "Who knows whom ye actually serve,
if not all at least some among you." It specially struck him because
there were certain _comthurs_ in the very Order who were suspected of
having given themselves over to Satan. Steps were not taken against them
for fear of public reproach of the whole Order. But Arnold knew it well
because these things were whispered among the brethren of the Order and
happenings of such a character reached his ears. Therefore, Macko's
narrative which he had heard from Sanderus, concerning the inconceivable
conduct of Zygfried, greatly disturbed the mind of the candid giant.
"Oh, that very Zygfried, with whom you marched to war," he said. "Does he
serve Christ? Have you never heard how he communicates with evil spirits,
how he whispers to them, smiles and gnashes his teeth at them?"
"It is true!" murmured Arnold.
But Zbyszko, whose heart was filled with new waves of grief and anger,
suddenly exclaimed:
"And you, who speak of knightly honor? Shame upon you, because you help a
hangman, a devilish man. Shame upon you, because you quietly looked upon
the torture of a defenceless woman, and a knight's daughter. Maybe you
also outraged her. Shame upon you!"
Arnold closed his eyes, and making the sign of the cross, said:
"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.... How is
that?... That fettered girl in whose head dwell twenty-seven devils?
I?..."
"Oh, horrible! horrible!" interrupted Zbyszko, groaning.
And, grasping the handle of his _misericordia_ he again looked savagely
toward the dark corner where Zygfried lay on his back.
Macko placed his hand quietly upon Zbyszko's arm, which he pressed with
his whole strength, so as to bring him back to his senses; whilst he
himself, turning toward Arnold, said:
"That woman is the daughter of Jurand of Spychow, and wife of this young
knight. Do you understand now, why we followed you up, and why we have
captured you?"
"For God's sake!" said Arnold. "Whence? How? she is insane...."
"Because the Knights of the Cross kidnapped that innocent lamb and
subjected her to torture."
When Zbyszko heard these words: "Innocent lamb," he put his fist to his
mouth, gnashed his teeth, and was not able to restrain his tears.
Arnold sat absorbed in thought; but the Bohemian told him in a few words
of Danveld's treachery, the kidnapping of Danusia, the torture of Jurand,
and the duel with Rotgier. Silence reigned when he concluded. It was only
disturbed by the rustling of the trees of the forest and the crackling of
the brands in the fireplace.
In that manner they sat for a while. Finally Arnold lifted up his head
and said:
"I swear to you not only upon my knightly honor, but also upon the
crucifix, that I have not seen that woman, that I did not know who she
was, and that I have not taken the least part in her tortures and never
laid my hand upon her."
"Then swear also that you will go with us willingly and that you will
make no attempt to escape, then I will order your bonds to be entirely
unloosed," said Macko.
"Let it be as you say. I swear! Whither are you going to take me?"
"To Mazovia, to Jurand of Spychow."
Then Macko himself cut the rope from Arnold's feet, and ordered meat and
turnips to be brought. After a while Zbyszko went out and sat upon the
threshold of the hut to rest, where he no longer found the servant, for
the hostler boys had carried her off and put her among the horses.
Zbyszko lay down upon the fur which Hlawa brought. He resolved to keep
awake and wait until daybreak; peradventure then some happy change might
take place in Danusia!
But the Bohemian returned to the fireplace where he wished to converse
with the old knight of Bogdaniec about a certain affair and take off the
burden which pressed so heavily upon his heart. He found him also
absorbed in troubled thought, and not noticing the snoring of Arnold who,
after having consumed an immense quantity of baked turnips and meat, was
much fatigued and slept the sleep of a stone. "And why do you not take a
rest?" inquired the Bohemian.
"Sleep has fled from my eyelids," replied Macko. "May God grant a good
morning."
Then he looked at the stars and said:
"The Wagoner is already visible in the sky, and I am continually thinking
about how all these things shall be arranged. And I shall not go to sleep
either because the young lady of Zgorzelice occupies my mind."
"Ah! that is true. More trouble. But she, at least, is at Spychow."
"But we brought her to Spychow from Zgorzelice, not knowing why."
"It was at her own request," replied Macko, impatiently, because he knew
in his heart that he was wrong and he hated to talk about it.
"Yes! But what now?"
"Ha! Well? I shall carry her back to her home; then let God's will be
done!"
But after a moment he added:
"Yes! God's will be done, that at least Danuska be restored to health,
one might then know what to do. But as it is now, the deuce knows! What
will it be if she neither recovers nor dies? The Devil knows."
But the Bohemian was thinking all the time of Jagienka.
"Your honor should understand that when I left Spychow and bade her
good-bye, she told me this: 'If anything should happen, come and inform
me before Zbyszko and Macko arrive. And as they will be obliged to send
information by somebody, let them send it by you, then you will take me
to Zgorzelice.'"
"Hey!" replied Macko. "Surely, it would be improper for her to stay at
Spychow when Danusia arrives. Surely she ought now to be taken back to
Zgorzelice. I pity the little orphan, I sincerely regret it. But God's
will must be done. But now how shall I arrange the matter? Let me see.
Did you say that she commanded you to come ahead of us with the news, and
then take her to Zgorzelice?"
"She did. I repeated to you her words exactly."
"Now, you may move ahead of us. Old Jurand must also be informed that his
daughter has been found, but it must be done carefully so that the sudden
joy may not kill him. As I love God, I declare that it is the most
practical thing to do."
"Return! Tell them that we have rescued Danusia, and that we shall bring
her home without delay. Then take that other poor girl to Zgorzelice!"
Then the old knight sighed, because he was really sorry for Jagienka,
whom he had fostered.
After a while he asked again:
"I know that you are a valiant and powerful man, but see that you keep
her out of harm's way or accident. Things of that character are often met
with on the road."
"I shall do my best, even if I lose my head! I shall take with me a few
good men, whom the lord of Spychow will not grudge, and I shall bring her
safely even to the end of the world."
"Well, do not have too much confidence in yourself. Bear also in mind
that even there, at Zgorzelice, it will be necessary to watch Wilk of
Brzozowa and Cztan of Rogow. But, I confess, in speaking of Wilk and
Cztan, I am out of order; for, it was necessary to watch them when there
was nothing else to think of. But now, things have changed and there is
no more hope, and that which is going to happen must happen."
"Nevertheless, I shall protect the young lady from those knights, seeing
Danusia is very weak and consumptive. What if she should die?"
"As God is dear to me you are right. The emaciated lady is scarcely
alive. If she should die?"
"We must leave that with God. But we must now think only of the young
lady of Zgorzelice."
"By rights, I ought to convey her myself to her fatherland. But it is a
difficult task. I cannot now leave Zbyszko for many potent reasons. You
saw how he gnashed his teeth, how he strove to get at the old _comthur_
to kill him, and my wrangling with him. Should that girl die on the road,
even I should be unable to restrain him. And if I shall not be able to
prevent him, nobody else could, and everlasting shame would fall upon him
and upon our clan, which God forbid. Amen!"
Then the Bohemian replied:
"Bah! There is, I am sure, a simple means. Give me the hangman and I will
keep him and bring him to Jurand at Spychow and shake him out of the
sack."
"How clever you are! May God grant you health," exclaimed Macko,
joyfully. "It is a very simple thing, quite simple. Should you succeed in
bringing him to Spychow alive then do with him as you please."
"Then let me also have that Szczytno bitch, and if she is not troublesome
on the road, I will bring her too to Spychow, if she is, then I shall
hang her on a tree."
"The removal of the pair, whose presence causes much fear to Danusia, may
contribute to her speedy recovery. But if you take the female servant
with you, who is going to nurse Danusia?"
"You may find some old woman in the wilderness, or one of the fugitive
peasant women; take hold of the first one you meet, for any one will be
better than this. Meanwhile, you must take care of lady Zbyszko."
"You speak to-day somewhat more prudently than usually. Seeing that
Zbyszko is constantly with her, he will also succeed in filling the
double position, that of father and mother, for her. Very well, then.
When do you intend to start?"
"I shall not wait for the dawn; now I must lie down for a while, it is
scarcely midnight yet."
"The Wagoner[117] is already in the sky, but the chickens[117] had not
yet made their appearance."
"Thank God that we have taken some counsel together, for I was very much
troubled."
Then the Bohemian stretched himself near the expiring fire, covered
himself over with the long furred robe and in a moment he fell asleep.
However, the sky had not yet paled and it was still deep, dark night when
he awoke, crept from under the skin, looked at the stars, and stretching
his somewhat benumbed limbs, he awoke Macko.
"It is time for me to move," he said.
"Whither?" asked the semi-conscious Macko, rubbing his eyes with his
fists.
"To Spychow."
"True, I quite forgot. Who is there snoring so loud as to awake the
dead?"
"The knight Arnold. Let me throw a few branches upon the embers, then I
will go to the men."
Then he left, and hastily returned in a little while, and from a distance
he called in a low voice:
"Sir, there is news, bad news!"
"What has happened?" Macko exclaimed, jumping to his feet.
"The servant has escaped. The men took her among the horses. May thunder
strike them, and when they fell asleep, she sneaked like a serpent from
among them and escaped. Come, sir!"
Macko, in alarm, moved quickly with the Bohemian toward the horses, where
they found only one man, the others had scattered in pursuit of the
fugitive. But, considering the darkness of the night and the thickets of
the forest, the search was a foolish undertaking, and after a while they
returned with hanging heads. Macko began to belabor them quietly with his
fists. Then he returned to the fireplace, for there was nothing to be
done.
Zbyszko, who was watching in the hut and did not sleep, came in, hearing
the movements, to ascertain the reason. Macko told him all about his
consultation with the Bohemian, then he also informed him of the woman's
escape.
"It is not a great misfortune," he said. "Because she will either die of
starvation, or fall into the hands of the peasants who will flay her;
that is, if she succeeds first in escaping the wolves. It is only to be
regretted that she escaped the punishment at Spychow."
Zbyszko also regretted her escaping punishment at Spychow; otherwise he
received the news quietly. He did not oppose the departure of the
Bohemian with Zygfried, because he was indifferent to anything which did
not directly concern Danusia. He began to talk about her at once.
"I shall take her in front of me on horseback to-morrow, then we shall
proceed."
"How is it there? Is she asleep?" inquired Macko.
"At times she moans, but I do not know whether she does it in sleep or
whilst she is awake, but I don't want to disturb her, lest I frighten
her."
Further conversation was interrupted by the Bohemian, who observing
Zbyszko, exclaimed:
"O! your honor, also here! It is now time for me to start. The horses are
ready and the old devil is fastened to the saddle. It will soon begin to
dawn because now the nights are short. Good-bye, your grace!"
"God be with you, and health!"
But Hlawa pulled Macko aside again and said:
"I wish also to ask you kindly, that in case anything should happen....
You know, sir ... some misfortune or another ... you would dispatch a
courier posthaste to Spychow. If we have left Spychow, let him overtake
us."
"Well," said Macko, "I have also forgotten to tell you to take Jagienka
to Plock. Do you understand? Go there to the bishop, and tell him who she
is, that she is the goddaughter of the abbot, for whom there is a will in
the bishop's possession; then ask his guardianship for her, as that is
also mentioned in the abbot's will."
"But if the bishop orders us to remain in Plock?"
"Then obey him in everything and follow his counsel."
"It shall be so, sir! Good-bye!"
"Good-bye!"
Content of PART EIGHTH: CHAPTER I [Henryk Sienkiewicz's novel: The Knights of the Cross]
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