CHAPTER I.

Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Thomas Berger, and the

Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team

THE KNIGHTS OF THE CROSS

or, KRZYZACY

Historical Romance

By HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ

Author Of "Quo Vadis," "The Deluge," "With Fire And Sword,"

"Pan Michael," Etc., Etc.

Translated From The Original Polish By Samuel A. Binion

Author Of "Ancient Egypt," Etc. Translator Of "Quo Vadis," Etc.

[Illustration: BUST OF HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ]

HON. WILLIAM T. HARRIS, LL.D.

Commissioner of Education

My Dear Doctor:--

This translation, of one of the greatest novels of Poland's foremost

modern writer, Henryk Sienkiewicz, I beg to dedicate to you. Apart for my

high personal regard for you, my reason for selecting you among all my

literary friends, is: that you are a historian and philosopher, and can

therefore best appreciate works of this kind.

SAMUEL A. BINION,

New York City.

To the Reader.

Here you have, gentle reader--old writers always called you

gentle--something very much more than a novel to amuse an idle hour. To

read it will be enjoyable pastime, no doubt; but the brilliant romance of

the brilliant author calls upon you for some exercise of the finest

sympathy and intelligence; sympathy for a glorious nation which, with

only one exception, has suffered beyond all other nations; intelligence,

of the sources of that unspeakable and immeasurable love and of the great

things that may yet befall before those woes are atoned for and due

punishment for them meted out to their guilty authors.

Poland! Poland! The very name carries with it sighings and groanings,

nation-murder, brilliance, beauty, patriotism, splendors, self-sacrifice

through generations of gallant men and exquisite women; indomitable

endurance of bands of noble people carrying through world-wide exile the

sacred fire of wrath against the oppressor, and uttering in every clime a

cry of appeal to Humanity to rescue Poland.

It was indeed a terrible moment in history, when the three military

monarchies of Europe, Russia, Austria and Prussia, swooped down upon the

glorious but unhappy country, torn by internal trouble, and determined to

kill it and divide up its dominions. All were alike guilty, as far as

motive went. But Holy Russia--Holy!--since that horrible time has taken

upon herself by far the greatest burden of political crime in her

dealings with that noble nation. Every evil passion bred of despotism, of

theological hatred, of rancorous ancient enmities, and the ghastliest

official corruption, have combined in Russian action for more than one

hundred and fifty years, to turn Poland into a hell on earth. Her very

language was proscribed.

This is not the place to give details of that unhappy country's woes. But

suffice it to say, that Poland, in spite of fatuous prohibitions, has had

a great literature since the loss of her independence, and that

literature has so kept alive the soul of the nation, that with justice

Poland sings her great patriotic song:

"Poland is not yet lost

As long as we live...."

The nation is still alive in its writers and their works, their splendid

poetry and prose.

It is a pity that so few of these great writers are widely known. But

most people have heard of Jan Kochanowski, of Mikolaj Rey, of Rubinski,

of Szymanowicz, of Poland's great genius in this century, one of the

supreme poets of the world, Adam Mickiewicz, of Joseph Ignac, of

Kraszewski, who is as prolific in literary and scientific works as

Alexander von Humboldt, and of hundreds of others in all branches of

science and art, too numerous to mention here.

And it is remarkable that the author of this book, Henryk Sienkiewicz,

should of late have attained such prominence in the public eye and found

a place in the heart of mankind. It is of good omen. Thus, Poland, in

spite of her fetters, is keeping step in the very van of the most

progressive nations.

The romance of Sienkiewicz in this volume is perhaps the most interesting

and fascinating he has yet produced. It is in the very first rank of

imaginative and historical romance. The time and scene of the noble story

are laid in the middle ages during the conquest of Pagan Lithuania by the

military and priestly order of the "Krzyzacy" Knights of the Cross. And

the story exhibits with splendid force the collision of race passions and

fierce, violent individualities which accompanied that struggle. Those

who read it will, in addition to their thrilling interest in the tragical

and varied incidents, gain no little insight into the origin and working

of the inextinguishable race hatred between Teuton and Slav. It was an

unfortunate thing surely, that the conversion of the heathen Lithuanians

and Zmudzians was committed so largely to that curious variety of the

missionary, the armed knight, banded in brotherhood, sacred and military.

To say the least, his sword was a weapon dangerous to his evangelizing

purpose. He was always in doubt whether to present to the heathen the one

end of it, as a cross for adoration, or the other, as a point _to kill

with_. And so, if Poland _was_ made a Catholic nation, she was also made

an undying and unalterable hater of the German, the Teutonic name and

person.

And so this noble, historical tale, surpassed perhaps by none in

literature, is commended to the thoughtful attention and appreciation of

the reader.

SAMUEL A. BINION.

NEW YORK, May 9, 1899.

KNIGHTS OF THE CROSS.

PART FIRST

CHAPTER I.

In Tyniec,[1] in the inn under "Dreadful Urus," which belonged to the

abbey, a few people were sitting, listening to the talk of a military man

who had come from afar, and was telling them of the adventures which he

had experienced during the war and his journey.

He had a large beard but he was not yet old, and he was almost gigantic

but thin, with broad shoulders; he wore his hair in a net ornamented with

beads; he was dressed in a leather jacket, which was marked by the

cuirass, and he wore a belt composed of brass buckles; in the belt he had

a knife in a horn scabbard, and at his side a short traveling sword.

Near by him at the table, was sitting a youth with long hair and joyful

look, evidently his comrade, or perhaps a shield-bearer, because he also

was dressed as for a journey in a similar leather jacket. The rest of the

company was composed of two noblemen from the vicinity of Krakow and of

three townsmen with red folding caps, the thin tops of which were hanging

down their sides to their elbows.

The host, a German, dressed in a faded cowl with large, white collar, was

pouring beer for them from a bucket into earthen mugs, and in the

meanwhile he was listening with great curiosity to the military

adventures.

The burghers were listening with still greater curiosity. In these times,

the hatred, which during the time of King Lokietek had separated the city

and the knighthood, had been very much quenched, and the burghers were

prouder than in the following centuries. They called them still _des

allerdurchluchtigsten Kuniges und Herren_ and they appreciated their

readiness _ad concessionem pecuniarum_; therefore one would very often

see in the inns, the merchants drinking with the noblemen like brothers.

They were even welcome, because having plenty of money, usually they paid

for those who had coats of arms.

Therefore they were sitting there and talking, from time to time winking

at the host to fill up the mugs.

"Noble knight, you have seen a good piece of the world!" said one of the

merchants.

"Not many of those who are now coming to Krakow from all parts, have seen

as much," answered the knight.

"There will be plenty of them," said the merchant. "There is to be a

great feast and great pleasure for the king and the queen! The king has

ordered the queen's chamber to be upholstered with golden brocade,

embroidered with pearls, and a canopy of the same material over her.

There will be such entertainments and tournaments, as the world has never

seen before."

"Uncle Gamroth, don't interrupt the knight," said the second merchant.

"Friend Eyertreter, I am not interrupting; only I think that he also will

be glad to know about what they are talking, because I am sure he is

going to Krakow. We cannot return to the city to-day at any rate, because

they will shut the gates."

"And you speak twenty words, in reply to one. You are growing old, Uncle

Gamroth!"

"But I can carry a whole piece of wet broadcloth just the same."

"Great thing! the cloth through which one can see, as through a sieve."

But further dispute was stopped by the knight, who said:

"Yes, I will stay in Krakow because I have heard about the tournaments

and I will be glad to try my strength in the lists during the combats;

and this youth, my nephew, who although young and smooth faced, has

already seen many cuirasses on the ground, will also enter the lists."

The guests glanced at the youth who laughed mirthfully, and putting his

long hair behind his ears, placed the mug of beer to his mouth.

The older knight added:

"Even if we would like to return, we have no place to go."

"How is that?" asked one of the nobles.

"Where are you from, and what do they call you?"

"I am Macko of Bogdaniec, and this lad, the son of my brother, calls

himself Zbyszko. Our coat of arms is Tempa Podkowa, and our war-cry is

Grady!"

"Where is Bogdaniec?"

"Bah! better ask, lord brother, where it was, because it is no more.

During the war between Grzymalczyks and Nalenczs,[2] Bogdaniec was

burned, and we were robbed of everything; the servants ran away. Only the

bare soil remained, because even the farmers who were in the

neighborhood, fled into the forests. The father of this lad, rebuilt; but

the next year, a flood took everything. Then my brother died, and after

his death I remained with the orphan. Then I thought: 'I can't stay!' I

heard about the war for which Jasko of Olesnica, whom the king,

Wladyslaw, sent to Wilno after he sent Mikolaj of Moskorzowo, was

collecting soldiers. I knew a worthy abbot, Janko of Tulcza, to whom I

gave my land as security for the money I needed to buy armor and horses,

necessary for a war expedition. The boy, twelve years old, I put on a

young horse and we went to Jasko of Olesnica."

"With the youth?"

"He was not even a youth then, but he has been strong since childhood.

When he was twelve, he used to rest a crossbow on the ground, press it

against his chest and turn the crank. None of the Englishmen, whom I have

seen in Wilno, could do better."

"Was he so strong?"

"He used to carry my helmet, and when he passed thirteen winters, he

could carry my spear also."

"You had plenty of fighting there!"

"Because of Witold. The prince was with the Knights of the Cross, and

every year they used to make an expedition against Lithuania, as far as

Wilno. Different people went with them: Germans, Frenchmen, Englishmen,

who are the best bowmen, Czechs, Swiss and Burgundians. They cut down the

forests, burned the castles on their way and finally they devastated

Lithuania with fire and sword so badly, that the people who were living

in that country, wanted to leave it and search for another land, even to

the end of the world, even among Belial's children, only far from the

Germans."

"We heard here, that the Lithuanians wanted to go away with their wives

and children, but we did not believe it."

"And I looked at it. Hej! If not for Mikolaj of Moskorzowo, for Jasko of

Olesnica, and without any boasting, if not for us, there would be no

Wilno now."

"We know. You did not surrender the castle."

"We did not. And now notice what I am going to say, because I have

experience in military matters. The old people used to say: 'furious

Litwa'[3]--and it's true! They fight well, but they cannot withstand the

knights in the field. When the horses of the Germans are sunk in the

marshes, or when there is a thick forest--that's different."

"The Germans are good soldiers!" exclaimed the burghers.

"They stay like a wall, man beside man, in their iron armor. They advance

in one compact body. They strike, and the Litwa are scattered like sand,

or throw themselves flat on the ground and are trampled down. There are

not only Germans among them, because men of all nations serve with the

Knights of the Cross. And they are brave! Often before a battle a knight

stoops, stretches his lance, and rushes alone against the whole army."

"Christ!" exclaimed Gamroth. "And who among them are the best soldiers?"

"It depends. With the crossbow, the best is the Englishman, who can

pierce a suit of armor through and through, and at a hundred steps he

will not miss a dove. Czechowie (Bohemians) cut dreadfully with axes. For

the big two-handed sword the German is the best. The Swiss is glad to

strike the helmets with an iron flail, but the greatest knights are those

who come from France. These will fight on horseback and on foot, and in

the meanwhile they will speak very brave words, which however you will

not understand, because it is such a strange language. They are pious

people. They criticise us through the Germans. They say we are defending

the heathen and the Turks against the cross, and they want to prove it by

a knightly duel. And such God's judgment is going to be held between four

knights from their side, and four from our side, and they are going to

fight at the the court of Waclaw, the Roman and Bohemian king."[4]

Here the curiosity so increased among the noblemen and merchants, that

they stretched their necks in the direction of Macko of Bogdaniec and

they asked:

"And who are the knights from our side? Speak quickly!" Macko raised the

mug to his mouth, drank and then answered:

"Ej, don't be afraid about them. There is Jan of Wloszczowa, castellan of

Dobrzyn; there's Mikolaj of Waszmuntow; there are Jasko of Zdakow and

Jarosz of Czechow: all glorious knights and sturdy fellows. No matter

which weapons they choose,--swords or axes--nothing new to them! It will

be worth while for human eyes to see it and for human ears to hear

it--because, as I said, even if you press the throat of a Frenchman with

your foot, he will still reply with knightly words. Therefore so help me

God and Holy Cross they will outtalk us, but our knights will defeat

them."

"That will be glory, if God will bless us," said one of the nobles.

"And Saint Stanislaw!" added another. Then turning toward Macko, he asked

him further:

"Well! tell us some more! You praised the Germans and other knights

because they are valiant and have conquered Litwa easily. Did they not

have harder work with you? Did they go against you readily? How did it

happen? Praise our knights."

But evidently Macko of Bogdaniec was not a braggart, because he answered

modestly:

"Those who had just returned from foreign lands, attacked us readily; but

after they tried once or twice, they attacked us with less assurance,

because our people are hardened and they reproached us for that hardness:

'You despise,' they used to say,'death, but you help the Saracens, and

you will be damned for it.' And with us the deadly grudge increased,

because their taunt is not true! The king and the queen have christened

Litwa and everyone there tries to worship the Lord Christ although not

everyone knows how. And it is known also, that our gracious lord, when in

the cathedral of Plock they threw down the devil, ordered them to put a

candle before him--and the priests were obliged to tell him that he ought

not to do it. No wonder then about an ordinary man! Therefore many of

them say to themselves:

"'The _kniaz_[5] ordered us to be baptized, therefore I was baptized; he

ordered us to bow before the Christ, and I bowed; but why should I grudge

a little piece of cheese to the old heathen devils, or why should I not

throw them some turnips; why should I not pour the foam off of the beer?

If I do not do it, then my horses will die; or my cows will be sick, or

their milk will turn into blood--or there will be some trouble with the

harvest.' And many of them do this, and they are suspected. But they are

doing it because of their ignorance and their fear of the devils. Those

devils were better off in times of yore. They used to have their own

groves and they used to take the horses which they rode for their tithe.

But to-day, the groves are cut down and they have nothing to eat--in the

cities the bells ring, therefore the devils are hiding in the thickest

forest, and they howl there from loneliness. If a Litwin[6] goes to the

forest, then they pull him by his sheep-skin overcoat and they say:

'Give!' Some of them give, but there are also courageous boys, who will

not give and then the devils catch them. One of the boys put some beans

in an ox bladder and immediately three hundred devils entered there. And

he stuffed the bladder with a service-tree peg, brought them to Wilno and

sold them to the Franciscan priests, who gave him twenty _skojcow_[7] he

did this to destroy the enemies of Christ's name. I have seen that

bladder with my own eyes; a dreadful stench came from it, because in that

way those dirty spirits manifested their fear before holy water."

"And who counted them, that you know there were three hundred devils,"

asked the merchant Gamroth, intelligently.

"The Litwin counted them, when he saw them entering the bladder. It was

evident that they were there, because one would know it from the stench,

and nobody wished to take out the peg to count them."

"What wonders, what wonders!" exclaimed one of the nobles.

"I have seen many great wonders, because everything is peculiar among

them. They are shaggy and hardly any _kniaz_ combs his hair; they live on

baked turnips, which they prefer to any other food, because they say that

bravery comes from eating them. They live in the forests with their

cattle and snakes; they are not abstinent in eating nor drinking. They

despise the married women, but greatly respect the girls to whom they

attribute great power. They say that if a girl rubs a man with dried

leaves, it will stop colic."

"It's worth while to have colic, if the women are beautiful!" exclaimed

Uncle Eyertreter.

"Ask Zbyszko about it," answered Macko of Bogdaniec.

Zbyszko laughed so heartily that the bench began to shake beneath him.

"There are some beautiful ones," he said. "Ryngalla was charming."

"Who is Ryngalla? Quick!"

"What? you haven't heard about Ryngalla?" asked Macko.

"We have not heard a word."

"She was Witold's sister, and the wife of Henryk, Prince Mazowiecki."

"You don't say! Which Prince Henryk? There was only one Prince

Mazowiecki, elect[8] of Plock, but he died."

"The same one. He expected a dispensation from Rome, but death gave him

his dispensation, because evidently he had not pleased God by his action.

Jasko of Olesnica sent me with a letter to Prince Witold, when Prince

Henryk, elect of Plock, was sent by the king to Ryterswerder. At that

time, Witold was tired of the war, because he could not capture Wilno,

and our king was tired of his own brothers and their dissipation. The

king having noticed that Witold was shrewder and more intelligent than

his own brothers, sent the bishop to him, to persuade him to leave the

Knights of the Cross, and return to his allegiance, for which he promised

to make him ruler over Litwa. Witold, always fond of changing, listened

with pleasure to the embassy. There were also a feast and tournaments.

The elect mounted a horse, although the other bishops did not approve of

it, and in the lists he showed his knightly strength. All the princes of

Mazowsze are very strong; it is well known, that even the girls of that

blood can easily break horseshoes. In the beginning the prince threw

three knights from their saddles; the second time he threw five of them.

He threw me from my saddle, and in the beginning of the encounter,

Zbyszko's horse reared and he was thrown. The prince took all the prizes

from the hands of the beautiful Ryngalla, before whom he kneeled in full

armor. They fell so much in love with each other, that dining the feasts,

the _clerici_[9] pulled him from her by his sleeves and her brother,

Witold, restrained her. The prince said: 'I will give myself a

dispensation, and the pope, if not the one in Home, then the one in

Avignon, will confirm it, but I must marry her immediately--otherwise I

will burn up!' It was a great offence against God, but Witold did not

dare to oppose him, because he did not want to displease the

embassador--and so there was a wedding. Then they went to Suraz, and

afterward to Sluck, to the great sorrow of this youth, Zbyszko, who,

according to the German custom, had selected the Princess Ryngalla to be

the lady of his heart and had promised her eternal fidelity."

"Bah!" suddenly interrupted Zbyszko, "it's true. But afterward the people

said that Ryngalla regretted being the wife of the elect (because he,

although married, did not want to renounce his spiritual dignity) and

feeling that God's blessing could not be over such a marriage, poisoned

her husband. When I heard that, I asked a pious hermit, living not far

from Lublin, to absolve me from that vow."

"He was a hermit," answered Macko, laughing, "but was he pious? I don't

know; we went to him on Friday, and he was splitting bear's bones with an

axe, and sucking the marrow so hard, that there was music in his throat."

"But he said that the marrow was not meat, and besides he had received

permission to do it, because after sucking marrow, he used to have

marvelous visions during his sleep and the next day he could prophesy

until noontime."

"Well, well!" answered Macko. "And the beautiful Ryngalla is a widow and

she may call you to her service."

"It would be in vain, because I am going to choose another lady, whom I

will serve till death, and then I will find a wife."

"You must first find the girdle of a knight."

"_Owa!_[10] There will be plenty of tournaments. And before that the king

will not dub a single knight. I can measure myself against any. The

prince could not have thrown me down, if my horse had not reared."

"There will be knights here better than you are."

Here the noblemen began to shout:

"For heaven's sake! Here, in the presence of the queen, will fight not

such as you, but only the most famous knights in the world. Here will

fight Zawisza of Garbow and Farurej, Dobko of Olesnica, Powala of Taczew,

Paszko Zlodzie of Biskupice, Jasko Naszan and Abdank of Gora. Andrzej of

Brochocice, Krystyn of Ostrow, and Jakob of Kobylany! Can you measure

your sword against the swords of those, with whom neither the knights

here, nor of the Bohemian court, nor of the Hungarian court can compete?

What are you talking about? Are you better then they? How old are you?"

"Eighteen," answered Zbyszko.

"Everyone of them could crush you between his fingers."

"We will see."

But Macko said:

"I have heard that the king rewarded those knights munificently who

returned from the Lithuanian war. Speak, you belong here; is it true?"

"Yes, it is true!" answered one of the nobles. "The king's munificence is

known to the world; but it will be difficult to get near him now, because

the guests are swarming to Krakow; they are coming to be in time for the

queen's confinement and for the christening, wishing to show reverence to

our lord and to render him homage. The king of Hungary is coming; they

say the Roman emperor will be here also, and plenty of princes, counts

and knights, will come because not one of them expects to return with

empty hands. They even say that Pope Boniface, himself will arrive,

because he also needs favor and help from our lord against his adversary

in Avignon. Therefore in such a crowd, it will be difficult to approach

the king; but if one would be able to see him and bow at his feet, then

he will liberally reward him who deserves it."

"Then I will bow before him, because I have served enough, and if there

is another war, I shall go again. We have taken some booty, and we are

not poor; but I am getting old, and when one is old, and the strength has

left his bones, one is pleased to have a quiet corner."

"The king was glad to see those who returned from Litwa with Jasko of

Olesnica; and they feast well now."

"You see I did not return at that time; I was still at the war. You know

that the Germans have suffered because of that reconciliation between the

king and _Kniaz_ Witold. The prince cunningly got the hostages back, and

then rushed against the Germans! He ruined and burned the castle and

slaughtered the knights and a great many of the people. The Germans

wanted revenge, as did also Swidrygello, who went to them. There was

again a great expedition started. The grand master Kondrat himself went

with a great army; they besieged Wilno, and tried from their towers to

ruin the castles; they also tried to capture the city by treachery--but

they did not succeed! While retreating there were so many killed, that

even half of them did not escape. Then we attacked Ulrich von Jungingen,

the grand master's brother, who is bailiff in Swabja. But the bailiff was

afraid of the _kniaz_ and ran away. On account of this flight there is

peace, and they are rebuilding the city. One pious monk, who could walk

with bare feet on hot iron, has prophesied since that time, that as long

as the world exists, no German soldier will be seen under the walls of

Wilno. And if that be so, then whose hands have done it?"

Having said this, Macko of Bogdaniec, extended his palms, broad and

enormous; the others began to nod and to approve:

"Yes, yes! It's true what he says! Yes!"

But further conversation was interrupted by a noise entering through the

windows from which the bladders had been taken out, because the night was

warm and clear. From afar thrumming, singing, laughing and the snorting

of horses were heard. They were surprised because it was quite late. The

host rushed to the yard of the inn, but before the guests were able to

drink their beer to the last drop, he returned shouting:

"Some court is coming!"

A moment afterward, in the door appeared a footman dressed in a blue

jacket and wearing a red folding cap. He stopped, glanced at the guests,

and then having perceived the host, he said:

"Wipe the tables and prepare lights; the princess, Anna Danuta, will stop

here to-night."

Having said this, he withdrew. In the inn a great commotion began; the

host called his servants, and the guests looked at one another with great

surprise.

"Princess Anna Danuta," said one of the townsmen, "she is

Kiejstutowna,[11] Janusz Mazowiecki's wife. She was in Krakow two weeks,

but she went to Zator to visit Prince Waclaw, and now she is coming

back."

"Uncle Gamroth," said the other townsman, "let us go to the barn and

sleep on the hay; the company is too high for us."

"I don't wonder they are traveling during the night," said Macko,

"because the days are very warm; but why do they come to the inn when the

monastery is so near?"

Here he turned toward Zbyszko:

"The beautiful Ryngalla's own sister; do you understand?"

And Zbyszko answered:

"There must be many Mazovian ladies with her, hej!"

CHAPTER II.

At that moment the princess entered. She was a middle-aged lady with a

smiling face, dressed in a red mantle and light green dress with a golden

girdle around her hips. The princess was followed by the ladies of the

court; some not yet grown up, some of them older; they had pink and lilac

wreaths on their heads, and the majority of them had lutes in their

hands. Some of them carried large bunches of fresh, flowers, evidently

plucked by the roadside. The room was soon filled, because the ladies

were followed by some courtiers and young pages. All were lively, with

mirth on their faces, talking loudly or humming as if they were

intoxicated with the beauty of the night. Among the courtiers, there were

two _rybalts_;[12] one had a lute and the other had a _gensla_[13] at his

girdle. One of the girls who was very young, perhaps twelve years old,

carried behind the princess a very small lute ornamented with brass

nails.

"May Jesus Christ be praised!" said the princess, standing in the centre

of the room.

"For ages and ages, amen!" answered those present, in the meanwhile

saluting very profoundly.

"Where is the host?"

The German having heard the call, advanced to the front and kneeled, in

the German fashion, on one knee.

"We are going to stop here and rest," said the lady. "Only be quick,

because we are hungry."

The townsmen had already gone; now the two noblemen, and with them Macko

of Bogdaniec and young Zbyszko, bowed again, intending to leave the room,

as they did not wish to interfere with the court.

But the princess detained them.

"You are noblemen; you do not intrude, you are acquainted with courtiers.

From where has God conducted you?"

Then they mentioned their names,[14] their coats of arms, their nicknames

and the estates from which they received their names. The lady having

heard from _wlodyka_[15] Macko that he had been to Wilno, clapped her

hands, and said:

"How well it has happened! Tell us about Wilno and about my brother and

sister. Is Prince Witold coming for the queen's confinement and for the

christening?"

"He would like to, but does not know whether he will be able to do so;

therefore he sent a silver cradle to the queen for a present. My nephew

and I brought that cradle."

"Then the cradle is here? I would like to see it! All silver?"

"All silver; but it is not here. The Basilians took it to Krakow."

"And what are you doing in Tyniec?"

"We returned here to see the procurator of the monastery who is our

relative, in order to deposit with the worthy monks, that with which the

war has blessed us and that which the prince gave us for a present."

"Then God gave you good luck and valuable booty? But tell me why my

brother is uncertain whether he will come?"

"Because he is preparing an expedition against the Tartars."

"I know it; but I am grieved that the queen did not prophesy a happy

result for that expedition, and everything she predicts is always

fulfilled."

Macko smiled.

"Ej, our lady is a prophetess, I cannot deny; but with Prince Witold, the

might of our knighthood will go, splendid men, against whom nobody is

able to contend."

"Are you not going?"

"No, I was sent with the cradle, and for five years I have not taken off

my armor," answered Macko, showing the furrows made by the cuirass on his

reindeer jacket; "but let me rest, then I will go, or if I do not go

myself then I will send this youth, my nephew, Zbyszko, to Pan[16] Spytko

of Melsztyn, under whose command all our knights will go."

Princess Danuta glanced at Zbyszko's beautiful figure; but further

conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a monk from the monastery,

who having greeted the princess, began to humbly reproach her, because

she had not sent a courier with the news that she was coming, and because

she had not stopped at the monastery, but in an ordinary inn which was

not worthy of her majesty. There are plenty of houses and buildings in

the monastery where even an ordinary man will find hospitality, and

royalty is still more welcome, especially the wife of that prince from

whose ancestors and relatives, the abbey had experienced so many

benefits.

But the princess answered mirthfully:

"We came here only to stretch our limbs; in the morning we must be in

Krakow. We sleep during the day and we travel during the night, because

it is cooler. As the roosters were crowing, I did not wish to awaken the

pious monks, especially with such a company which thinks more about

singing and dancing than about repose."

But when the monk still insisted, she added:

"No. We will stay here. We will spend the time well in singing lay songs,

but we will come to the church for matins in order to begin the day with

God."

"There will be a mass for the welfare of the gracious prince and the

gracious princess," said the monk.

"The prince, my husband, will not come for four or five days."

"The Lord God will be able to grant happiness even from afar, and in the

meanwhile let us poor monks at least bring some wine from the monastery."

"We will gladly repay," said the princess.

When the monk went out, she called:

"Hej, Danusia! Danusia! Mount the bench and make our hearts merry with

the same song you sang in Zator."

Having heard this, the courtiers put a bench in the centre of the room.

The _rybalts_ sat on the ends, and between them stood that young girl who

had carried behind the princess the lute ornamented with brass nails. On

her head she had a small garland, her hair falling on her shoulders, and

she wore a blue dress and red shoes with long points. On the bench she

looked like a child, but at the same time, a beautiful child, like some

figure from a church. It was evident that she was not singing for the

first time before the princess, because she was not embarrassed.

"Sing, Danusia, sing!" the young court girls shouted.

She seized the lute, raised her head like a bird which begins to sing,

and having closed her eyes, she began with a silvery voice:

"If I only could get

The wings like a birdie,

I would fly quickly

To my dearest Jasiek!"

The _rybalts_ accompanied her, one on the _gensliks_, the other on a big

lute; the princess, who loved the lay songs better than anything else in

the world, began to move her head back and forth, and the young girl sang

further with a thin, sweet childish voice, like a bird singing in the

forest:

"I would then be seated

On the high enclosure:

Look, my dear Jasiulku,

Look on me, poor orphan."

And then the _rybalts_ played. The young Zbyszko of Bogdaniec, who being

accustomed from childhood to war and its dreadful sights, had never in

his life heard anything like it; he touched a Mazur[17] standing beside

him and asked:

"Who is she?"

"She is a girl from the princess' court. We do not lack _rybalts_ who

cheer up the court, but she is the sweetest little _rybalt_ of them all,

and to the songs of no one else will the princess listen so gladly."

"I don't wonder. I thought she was an angel from heaven and I can't look

at her enough. What do they call her?"

"Have you not heard? Danusia. Her father is Jurand of Spychow, a

_comes_[18] mighty and gallant."

"Hej! Such a girl human eyes never saw before!"

"Everybody loves her for her singing and her beauty."

"And who is her knight?"

"She is only a child yet!"

Further conversation was stopped by Danusia's singing. Zbyszko looked at

her fair hair, her uplifted head, her half-closed eyes, and at her whole

figure lighted by the glare of the wax candles and by the glare of the

moonbeams entering through the windows; and he wondered more and more. It

seemed to him now, that he had seen her before; but he could not remember

whether it was in a dream, or somewhere in Krakow on the pane of a church

window.

And again he touched the courtier and asked in a low voice:

"Then she is from your court?"

"Her mother came from Litwa with the princess, Anna Danuta, who married

her to Count Jurand of Spychow. She was pretty and belonged to a powerful

family; the princess liked her better than any of the other young girls

and she loved the princess. That is the reason she gave the same name to

her daughter--Anna Danuta. But five years ago, when near Zlotorja, the

Germans attacked the court,--she died from fear. Then the princess took

the girl, and she has taken care of her since. Her father often comes to

the court; he is glad that the princess is bringing his child up healthy

and in happiness. But every time he looks at her, he cries, remembering

his wife; then he returns to avenge on the Germans his awful wrong. He

loved his wife more dearly than any one in the whole Mazowsze till now

has loved; but he has killed in revenge a great many Germans."

In a moment Zbyszko's eyes were shining and the veins on his forehead

swelled.

"Then the Germans killed her mother?" he asked.

"Killed and not killed. She died from fear. Five years ago there was

peace; nobody was thinking about war and everybody felt safe. The prince

went without any soldiers, only with the court, as usual during peace, to

build a tower in Zlotorja. Those traitors, the Germans, fell upon them

without any declaration of war, without any reason. They seized the

prince himself, and remembering neither God's anger, nor that from the

prince's ancestor, they had received great benefits, they bound him to a

horse and slaughtered his people. The prince was a prisoner a long time,

and only when King Wladyslaw threatened them with war, did they release

him. During this attack Danusia's mother died."

"And you, sir, were you there? What do they call you? I have forgotten!"

"My name is Mikolaj of Dlugolas and they call me Obuch.[19] I was there.

I saw a German with peacock feathers on his helmet, bind her to his

saddle; and then she died from fear. They cut me with a halberd from

which I have a scar."

Having said this he showed a deep scar on his head coming from beneath

his hair to his eyebrows.

There was a moment of silence. Zbyszko was again looking at Danusia. Then

he asked:

"And you said, sir, that she has no knight?"

But he did not receive any answer, because at that moment the singing

stopped. One of the _rybalts_, a fat and heavy man, suddenly rose, and

the bench tilted to one side. Danusia tottered and stretched out her

little hands, but before she could fall or jump, Zbyszko rushed up like a

wild-cat and seized her in his arms.

The princess, who at first screamed from fear, laughed immediately and

began to shout:

"Here is Danusia's knight! Come, little knight and give us back our dear

little girl!"

"He grasped her boldly," some among the courtiers were heard to say.

Zbyszko walked toward the princess, holding Danusia to his breast, who

having encircled his neck with one arm, held the lute with the other,

being afraid it would be broken. Her face was smiling and pleased,

although a little bit frightened.

In the meanwhile the youth came near the princess, put Danusia before

her, kneeled, raised his head and said with remarkable boldness for his

age:

"Let it be then according to your word, my gracious lady! It is time for

this gentle young girl to have her knight, and it is time for me to have

my lady, whose beauty and virtues I shall extol. With your permission, I

wish to make a vow and I will remain faithful to her under all

circumstances until death."

The princess was surprised, not on account of Zbyszko's words, but

because everything had happened so suddenly. It is true that the custom

of making vows was not Polish; but Mazowsze, being situated on the German

frontier, and often being visited by the knights from remote countries,

was more familiar with that custom than the other provinces, and imitated

it very often. The princess had also heard about it in her father's

court, where all eastern customs were considered as the law and the

example for the noble warriors. Therefore she did not see in Zbyszko's

action anything which could offend either herself or Danusia. She was

even glad that her dear girl had attracted the heart and the eyes of a

knight.

Therefore she turned her joyful face toward the girl.

"Danusia! Danusia! Do you wish to have your own knight?"

The fair-haired Danusia after jumping three times in her red shoes,

seized the princess by the neck and began to scream with joy, as though

they were promising her some pleasure permitted to the older people only.

"I wish, I wish----!"

The princess' eyes were filled with tears from laughing and the whole

court laughed with her; then the lady said to Zbyszko:

"Well, make your vow! Make your vow! What will you promise her?"

But Zbyszko, who preserved his seriousness undisturbed amidst the

laughter, said with dignity, while still kneeling:

"I promise that as soon as I reach Krakow, I will hang my spear on the

door of the inn, and on it I will put a card, which a student in writing

will write for me. On the card I will proclaim that Panna Danuta

Jurandowna is the prettiest and most virtuous girl among all living in

this or any other kingdom. Anyone who wishes to contradict this

declaration, I will fight until one of us dies or is taken into

captivity."

"Very well! I see you know the knightly custom. And what more?"

"I have learned from Pan Mikolaj of Dlugolas that the death of Panna

Jurandowna's mother was caused by the brutality of a German who wore the

crest of a peacock. Therefore I vow to gird my naked sides with a hempen

rope, and even though it eat me to the bone, I will wear it until I tear

three such tufts of feathers from the heads of German warriors whom I

kill."

Here the princess became serious.

"Don't make any joke of your vows!"

And Zbyszko added:

"So help me God and holy cross, this vow I will repeat in church before a

priest."

"It is a praiseworthy thing to fight against the enemy of our people; but

I pity you, because you are young, and you can easily perish."

At that moment Macko of Bogdanice approached, thinking it proper to

reassure the princess.

"Gracious lady, do not be frightened about that. Everybody must risk

being killed in a fight, and it is a laudable end for a _wlodyka_, old or

young. But war is not new nor strange to this man, because although he is

only a youth, he has fought on horseback and on foot, with spear and with

axe, with short sword and with long sword, with lance and without. It is

a new custom, for a knight to vow to a girl whom he sees for the first

time; but I do not blame Zbyszko for his promise. He has fought the

Germans before. Let him fight them again, and if during that fight a few

heads are broken, his glory will increase."

"I see that we have to do with a gallant knight," said the princess.

Then to Danusia, she said:

"Take my place as the first person to-day; only do not laugh because it

is not dignified."

Danusia sat in the place of the lady; she wanted to be dignified, but her

blue eyes were laughing at the kneeling Zbyszko, and she could not help

moving her feet from joy.

"Give him your gloves," said the princess.

Danusia pulled off her gloves and handed them to Zbyszko who pressed them

with great respect to his lips, and said:

"I will fix them on my helmet and woe to the one who stretches his hands

for them!"

Then he kissed Danusia's hands and feet and arose. Then his dignity left

him, and great joy filled his heart because from that time the whole

court would consider him a mature man. Therefore shaking Danusia's

gloves, he began to shout, half mirthfully, half angrily:

"Come, you dog-brothers with peacock's crests, come!"

But at that moment the same monk who had been there before entered the

inn, and with him two superior ones. The servants of the monastery

carried willow baskets which contained bottles of wine and some tidbits.

The monks greeted the princess and again reproached her because she had

not gone directly to the abbey. She explained to them again, that having

slept during the day, she was traveling at night for coolness; therefore

she did not need any sleep; and as she did not wish to awaken the worthy

abbot nor the respectable monks, she preferred to stop in an inn to

stretch her limbs.

After many courteous words, it was finally agreed, that after matins and

mass in the morning, the princess with her court would breakfast and rest

in the monastery. The affable monks also invited the Mazurs, the two

noblemen and Macko of Bogdaniec who intended to go to the abbey to

deposit his wealth acquired in the war and increased by Witold's

munificent gift. This treasure was destined to redeem Bogdaniec from his

pledge. But the young Zbyszko did not hear the invitation, because he had

rushed to his wagon which was guarded by his servants, to procure better

apparel for himself. He ordered his chests carried to a room in the inn

and there he began to dress. At first he hastily combed his hair and put

it in a silk net ornamented with amber beads, and in the front with real

pearls. Then he put on a "_jaka_" of white silk embroidered with golden

griffins; he girded himself with a golden belt from which was hanging a

small sword in an ivory scabbard ornamented with gold. Everything was

new, shining and unspotted with blood, although it had been taken as

booty from a Fryzjan knight who served with the Knights of the Cross.

Then Zbyszko put on beautiful trousers, one part having red and green

stripes, the other part, yellow and purple, and both ended at the top

like a checkered chessboard. After that he put on red shoes with long

points. Fresh and handsome he went into the room.

In fact, as he stood in the door, his appearance made a great impression.

The princess seeing now what a handsome knight had vowed to Danusia, was

still more pleased. Danusia jumped toward him like a gazelle. But either

the beauty of the young man or the sounds of admiration from the

courtiers, caused her to pause before she reached him, drop her eyes

suddenly and blushing and confused, begin to wring her fingers.

After her, came the others; the princess herself, the courtiers, the

ladies-in-waiting, the _rybalts_ and the monks all wanted to see him. The

young Mazovian girls were looking at him as at a rainbow, each regretting

that he had not chosen her; the older ones admired the costly dress; and

thus, a circle of curious ones was formed around him. Zbyszko stood in

the centre with a boastful smile on his youthful face, and turned himself

slightly, so that they could see him better.

"Who is he?" asked one of the monks.

"He is a knight, nephew of that _wlodyka_" answered the princess,

pointing to Macko; "he has made a vow to Danusia."

The monks did not show any surprise, because such a vow did not bind him

to anything. Often vows were made to married women, and among the

powerful families where the eastern custom was known, almost every woman

had a knight. If a knight made a vow to a young girl, he did not thus

become her fiancé; on the contrary he usually married another; he was

constant to his vow, but did not hope to be wedded to her, but to marry

another.

The monks were more astonished at Danusia's youth, and even not much at

that, because in those times sixteen year old youths used to be

castellans. The great Queen Jadwiga herself, when she came from Hungary,

was only fifteen years old, and thirteen year old girls used to marry. At

any rate, at that moment they were more occupied looking at Zbyszko than

at Danusia; they also listened to Macko's words, who, proud of his

nephew, was telling how the youth came in possession of such beautiful

clothes.

"One year and nine weeks ago," said he, "we were invited by the Saxon

knights. There was another guest, a certain knight, from a far Fryzjan

nation, who lived there on the shores of a sea. With him was his son who

was three years older than Zbyszko. Once at a banquet, that son began to

taunt Zbyszko because he has neither moustache nor beard. Zbyszko being

quick tempered, was very angry, and immediately seized him by his

moustache, and pulled out all the hair. On account of that I afterward

fought until death or slavery."

"What do you mean?" asked the Pan of Dlugolas.

"Because the father took his son's part and I took Zbyszko's part;

therefore we fought, in the presence of the guests, on level ground. The

agreement was, that the one who conquered, should take the wagons,

horses, servants and everything that belonged to the vanquished one. God

helped us. We killed those Fryzes, although with great labor, because

they were brave and strong. We took much valuable booty; there were four

wagons, each one drawn by two horses, four enormous stallions, ten

servants, and two excellent suits of armor which are difficult to find.

It is true we broke the helmets in the fight, but the Lord Jesus rewarded

us with something else; there was a large chest of costly clothing; those

in which Zbyszko is now dressed, we found there also."

Now the two noblemen from the vicinity of Krakow, and all the Mazurs

began to look with more respect on both the uncle and the nephew, and the

Pan of Dlugolas, called Obuch, said:

"I see you are terrible fellows, and not lazy."

"We now believe that this youngster will capture three peacocks' crests."

Macko laughed, and in his face there really appeared an expression

similar to that on the face of a beast of prey.

But in the meanwhile, the servants of the monastery had taken the wine

and the dainties from the willow baskets, and the servant girls were

bringing large dishes full of steaming boiled eggs, surrounded by

sausage, from which a strong and savory smell filled the whole room. This

sight excited everybody's appetite, and they rushed to the tables.

But nobody sat down until the princess was seated at the head of the

table; she told Zbyszko and Danusia to sit opposite her and then she said

to Zbyszko:

"It is right for you both to eat from one dish; but do not step on her

feet under the table, nor touch her with your knees, as the other knights

do to their ladies, because she is too young."

To this he answered:

"I shall not do it, gracious lady, for two or three years yet, until the

Lord Jesus permits me to accomplish my vow, and then this little berry

will be ripe; as for stepping on her feet, even if I would like to do it

I can not, because they do not touch the floor."

"True," answered the princess; "but it is pleasant to see that you have

good manners."

Then there was silence because everybody was busy eating. Zbyszko picked

the best pieces of sausage, which he handed to Danusia or put directly

into her mouth; she was glad that such a famous knight served her.

After they had emptied the dishes, the servants of the monastery began to

pour out the sweet-smelling wine--abundantly for the men, but not much

for the ladies. Zbyszko's gallantry was particularly shown when they

brought in the nuts which had been sent from the monastery. There were

hazel nuts and some very rare nuts imported from afar, called Italians;

they all feasted so willingly, that after awhile there was heard no sound

in the whole room but the cracking of shells, crushed between the jaws.

But Zbyszko did not think only about himself; he preferred to show to the

princess and Danusia his knightly strength and abstinence. Therefore he

did not put the nuts between his jaws, as the others did, but he crushed

them between his fingers, and handed to Danusia the kernels picked from

the shells. He even invented for her an amusement; after having picked

out the kernel, he placed his hand near his mouth and, with his powerful

blowing, he blew the shells to the ceiling. Danusia laughed so much, that

the princess fearing that the young girl would choke, was obliged to ask

him to stop the amusement; but perceiving how merry the girl was, she

asked her:

"Well, Danusia, is it good to have your own knight?"

"Oj! Very!" answered the girl.

And then she touched Zbyszko's white silk "_jaka_" with her pink finger,

and asked:

"And will he be mine to-morrow?"

"To-morrow, and Sunday, and until death," answered Zbyszko.

Supper lasted a long time, because after the nuts, sweet cakes with

raisins were served. Some of the courtiers wished to dance; others wished

to listen to the _rybalts_ or to Danusia's singing; but she was tired,

and having with great confidence put her little head on the knight's

shoulder, she fell asleep.

"Does she sleep?" asked the princess. "There you have your 'lady.'"

"She is dearer to me while she sleeps than the others are while they

dance," answered Zbyszko, sitting motionless so as not to awaken the

girl.

But she was awakened neither by the _rybalts_' music nor by the singing.

Some of the courtiers stamped, others rattled the dishes in time to the

music; but the greater the noise, the better she slept.

She awoke only when the roosters, beginning to crow, and the church bell

to ring, the company all rushed from the benches, shouting:

"To matins! To matins!"

"Let us go on foot for God's glory," said the princess.

She took the awakened Danusia by the hand and went out first, followed by

the whole court.

The night was beginning to whiten. In the east one could see a light

glare, green at the top, then pink below, and under all a golden red,

which extended while one looked at it. It seemed as though the moon was

retreating before that glare. The light grew pinker and brighter. Moist

with dew, the rested and joyous world was awakening.

"God has given us fair weather, but there will be great heat," said the

courtiers.

"No matter," answered the Pan of Dlugolas; "we will sleep in the abbey,

and will reach Krakow toward evening."

"Sure of a feast."

"There is a feast every day now, and after the confinement and

tournaments, there will be still greater ones."

"We shall see how Danusia's brave knight will acquit himself."

"Ej! They are of oak, those fellows! Did you hear what they said about

that fight for four knights on each side?"

"Perhaps they will join our court; they are consulting with each other

now."

In fact, they were talking earnestly with each other; old Macko was not

very much pleased with what had happened; therefore while walking in the

rear of the retinue, he said to his nephew:

"In truth, you don't need it. In some way I will reach the king and it

may be he will give us something. I would be very glad to get to some

castle or _grodek_[20]---- Well we shall see. We will redeem Bogdaniec

from our pledge anyhow, because we must hold that which our forefathers

held. But how can we get some peasants to work? The land is worth nothing

without peasants. Therefore listen to what I am going to tell you: if you

make vows or not to anyone you please, still you must go with the Pan of

Mielsztyn to Prince Witold against the Tartars. If they proclaim the

expedition by the sound of trumpets before the queen's confinement, then

do not wait either for the lying-in, or for the tournaments; only go,

because there will be found some profit. Prince Witold is munificent, as

you know; and he knows you. If you acquit yourself well, he will reward

you liberally. Above all, if God help you, you will secure many slaves.

The Tartars swarm in the world. In case of victory, every knight will

capture three-score of them."

At this, Macko being covetous for land and serfs, began to fancy:

"If I could only catch fifty peasants and settle them in Bogdaniec! One

would be able to clear up quite a piece of forest. You know that nowhere

can you get as many as there."

But Zbyszko began to twist his head.

"Owa! I will bring hostlers from the stables living on horse carrion and

not accustomed to working on the land! What use will they be in

Bogdaniec? Then I vowed to capture three German crests. Where will I find

them among the Tartars?"

"You made a vow because you were stupid; but your vow is not worth

anything."

"But my honor of _wlodyka_ and knight? What about that?"

"How was it with Ryngalla?"

"Ryngalla poisoned the prince, and the hermit gave me absolution."

"Then in Tyniec, the abbot will absolve you from this vow also. The abbot

is greater than a hermit."

"I don't want absolution!"

Macko stopped and asked with evident anger:

"Then how will it be?"

"Go to Witold yourself, because I shall not go."

"You knave! And who will bow to the king? Don't you pity my bones?"

"Even if a tree should fall on your bones, it would not crush them; and

even if I pity you, I will not go to Witold."

"What will you do then? Will you turn _rybalt_ or falconer at the

Mazowiecki court?"

"It's not a bad thing to be a falconer. But if you would rather grumble

than to listen to me, then grumble."

"Where will you go? Don't you care for Bogdaniec? Will you plow with your

nails without peasants?"

"Not true! You calculated cleverly about the Tartars! You have forgotten

what the Rusini[21] told us, that it is difficult to catch any prisoners

among the Tartars, because you cannot reach a Tartar on the steppes. On

what will I chase them? On those heavy stallions that we captured from

the Germans? Do you see? And what booty can I take? Scabby sheep-skin

coats but nothing else! How rich then I shall return to Bogdaniec! Then

they will call me _comes_!"

Macko was silent because there was a great deal of truth in Zbyszko's

words; but after a while he said:

"But Prince Witold will reward you."

"Bah, you know; to one he gives too much, to another nothing."

"Then tell me, where will you go?"

"To Jurand of Spychow."

Macko angrily twisted the belt of his leather jacket, and said:

"May you become a blind man!"

"Listen," answered Zbyszko quietly. "I had a talk with Mikolaj of

Dlugolas and he said that Jurand is seeking revenge on the Germans for

the death of his wife. I will go and help him. In the first place, you

said yourself that it was nothing strange for us to fight the Germans

because we know them and their ways so well. _Secundo_, I will thus more

easily capture those peacock's crests; and _tercio_, you know that

peacock's crests are not worn by knaves; therefore if the Lord Jesus will

help me to secure the crests, it will also bring booty. Finally: the

slaves from those parts are not like the Tartars. If you settle such

slaves in a forest, then you will accomplish something."

"Man, are you crazy? There is no war at present and God knows when there

will be!"

"How clever you are! The bears make peace with the bee-keepers and they

neither spoil the beehives, nor eat the honey! Ha! ha! ha! Then it is

news to you, that although the great armies are not fighting and although

the king and the grand master stamped the parchment with their seals,

still there is always great disturbance on the frontiers? If some cattle

are seized, they burn several villages for one cow's head and besiege the

castles. How about capturing peasants and their girls? About merchants on

the highways? Remember former times, about which you told me yourself.

That Nalencz, who captured forty knights going to join the Knights of the

Cross, and kept them in prison until the grand master sent him a cart

full of _grzywien_;[22] did he not do a good business? Jurand of Spychow

is doing the same and on the frontier the work is always ready."

For a while they walked along silently; in the meanwhile, it was broad

daylight and the bright rays of the sun lighted up the rocks on which the

abbey was built.

"God can give good luck in any place," Macko said, finally, with a calm

voice; "pray that he may bless you."

"Sure; all depends on his favor!"

"And think about Bogdaniec, because you cannot persuade me that you go to

Jurand of Spychow for the sake of Bogdaniec and not for that duck's

beak."

"Don't speak that way, because it makes me angry. I will see her gladly

and I do not deny it. Have you ever met a prettier girl?"

"What do I care for her beauty! Better marry her, when she is grown up;

she is the daughter of a mighty _comes_."

Zbyszko's face brightened with a pleasant smile.

"It must be. No other lady, no other wife! When your bones are old, you

shall play with the grandchildren born to her and myself."

Now Macko smiled also and said:

"Grady! Grady![23]---- May they be as numerous as hail. When one is old,

they are his joy; and after death, his salvation. Jesus, grant us this!"

CHAPTER III.

Princess Danuta, Macko and Zbyszko had been in Tyniec before; but in the

train of attendants there were some courtiers who now saw it for the

first time; these greatly admired the magnificent abbey which was

surrounded by high walls built over the rocks and precipices, and stood

on a lofty mountain now shining in the golden rays of the rising sun. The

stately walls and the buildings devoted to various purposes, the gardens

situated at the foot of the mountain and the carefully cultivated fields,

showed immediately the great wealth of the abbey. The people from poor

Mazowsze were amazed. It is true there were other mighty Benedictine

abbeys in other parts of the country; as for instance in Lubusz on Odra,

in Plock, in Wielkopolska, in Mogila and in several other places: but

none of them could compare with the abbey in Tyniec, which was richer

than many principalities, and had an income greater than even the kings

of those times possessed.

Therefore the astonishment increased among the courtiers and some of them

could scarcely believe their own eyes. In the meanwhile, the princess

wishing to make the journey pleasant, and to interest the young ladies,

begged one of the monks to relate the awful story about Walgierz Wdaly

which had been told to her in Krakow, although not very correctly.

Hearing this, the ladies surrounded the princess and walked slowly,

looking in the rays of the sun like moving flowers.

"Let Brother Hidulf tell about Walgierz, who appeared to him on a certain

night," said one of the monks, looking at one of the other monks who was

an old man.

"Pious father, have you seen him with your own eyes?" asked the princess.

"I have seen him," answered the monk gloomily; "there are certain moments

during which, by God's will, he is permitted to leave the underground

regions of hell and show himself to the world."

"When does it happen?"

The old monk looked at the other monks and became silent. There was a

tradition that the ghost of Walgierz appeared when the morals of the

monastic lives became corrupted, and when the monks thought more about

worldly riches and pleasures than was right.

None of them, however, wished to tell this; but it was also said that the

ghost's appearance portended war or some other calamity. Brother Hidulf,

after a short silence, said:

"His appearance does not foretell any good fortune."

"I would not care to see him," said the princess, making the sign of the

cross; "but why is he in hell, if it is true as I heard, that he only

avenged a wrong?"

"Had he been virtuous during his whole life," said the monk sternly, "he

would be damned just the same because he was a heathen, and original sin

was not washed out by baptism."

After those words the princess' brows contracted painfully because she

recollected that her father whom she loved dearly, had died in the

heathen's errors also.

"We are listening," said she, after a short silence.

Brother Hidulf began thus:

During the time of heathenism, there was a mighty _grabia_[24] whose name

was Walgierz, whom on account of his great beauty, they called Wdaly.[25]

This whole country, as far as one can see, belonged to him, and he lead

all the expeditions, the people on foot and a hundred spearmen who were

all _wlodykas_; the men to the east as far as Opole, and to the west as

far as Sandomierz, were his vassals. Nobody was able to count his herds,

and in Tyniec he had a towerful of money the same as the Knights of the

Cross have now in Marienburg."

"Yes, they have, I know it!" interrupted the princess.

"He was a giant," continued the monk. "He was so strong he could dig up

an oak tree by the roots, and nobody in the whole world could compare

with him for beauty, playing on the lute or singing. One time when he was

at the court of a French king, the king's daughter, Helgunda, fell in

love with him, and ran away with him to Tyniec, where they lived together

in sin. No priest would marry them with Christian rites, because

Helgunda's father had promised her to the cloister for the glory of God.

At the same time, there lived in Wislica, Wislaw Piekny,[26] who belonged

to King Popiel's family. He, while Walgierz Wdaly was absent, devastated

the county around Tyniec. Walgierz when he returned overpowered Wislaw

and imprisoned him in Tyniec. He did not take into consideration this

fact: that every woman as soon as she saw Wislaw, was ready immediately

to leave father, mother and even husband, if she could only satisfy her

passion. This happened to Helgunda. She immediately devised such fetters

for Walgierz, that that giant, although he could pluck an oak up by its

roots, was unable to break them. She gave him to Wislaw, who took and

imprisoned him in Wislica. There Rynga, Wislaw's sister, having heard

Walgierz singing in his underground cell, soon fell in love with him and

set him at liberty. He then killed Wislaw and Helgunda with the sword,

left their bodies for the crows, and returned to Tyniec with Rynga."

"Was it not right, what he did?" asked the princess.

Brother Hidulf answered:

"Had he received baptism and given Tyniec to the Benedictines, perhaps

God would have forgiven his sins; but he did not do this, therefore the

earth has devoured him."

"Were the Benedictines in this kingdom at that time?"

"No, the Benedictines were not here; only the heathen lived here then."

"How then could he receive baptism, or give up Tyniec?"

"He could not; and that is exactly why he was sent to hell to endure

eternal torture," answered the monk with authority.

"Sure! He speaks rightly!" several voices were heard to say.

In the meanwhile they approached the principal gate of the monastery,

where the abbot with numerous monks and noblemen, was awaiting the

princess. There were always many lay people in the cloister: land

stewards, barristers and procurators. Many noblemen, even powerful

_wlodykas_, held in fief from the monastery numerous estates; and these,

as "vassals," were glad to pass their time at the court of their

"suzerain," where near the main altar it was easy to obtain some gift and

many benefits. Therefore the "_abbas centum villarum_"[27] could greet

the princess with a numerous retinue.

He was a man of great stature, with a thin, intelligent face; his head

was shaved on the top with a fringe of grey hair beneath. He had a deep

scar on his forehead, which he had evidently received during his youth

when he performed knightly deeds. His eyes looked penetratingly from

beneath dark eyebrows. He wore a monk's dress similar to that worn by the

other monks, but over it he wore a black mantle, lined with purple;

around his neck was a gold chain from which was hanging a gold cross set

with precious stones. His whole figure betrayed a proud man, accustomed

to command and one who had confidence in himself.

But he greeted the princess affably and even humbly, because he

remembered that her husband belonged to the family of the princes of

Mazowsze, from which came the kings, Wladyslaw and Kazimierz; and that

her mother was the reigning queen of one of the most powerful kingdoms in

the world. Therefore he passed the threshold of the gate, bowed low, and

then having made the sign of the cross over Anna Danuta and over her

court, he said;

"Welcome, gracious lady, to the threshold of this poor monastery. May

Saint Benedictus of Nursja, Saint Maurus, Saint Bonifacius, Saint

Benedictus of Aniane and also Jean of Tolomeia--our patrons living in

eternal glory,--give you health and happiness, and bless you seven times

a day during the remainder of your life."

"They would be deaf, if they did not hear the words of such a great

abbot," said the princess affably; "we came here to hear mass, during

which we will place ourselves under their protection."

Having said this she stretched her hand toward him, which he falling upon

one knee, kissed in knightly manner. Then they passed through the gate.

The monks were waiting to celebrate mass, because immediately the bells

were rung; the trumpeters blew near the church door in honor of the

princess. Every church used to make a great impression on the princess

who had not been born in a Christian country. The church in Tyniec

impressed her greatly, because there were very few churches that could

rival it in magnificence. Darkness filled the church except at the main

altar where many lights were shining, brightening the carvings and

gildings. A monk, dressed in a chasuble, came from the vestry, bowed to

the princess and commenced mass. Then the smoke from the fragrant incense

arose, veiled the priest and the altar, and mounted in quiet clouds to

the vaulted ceiling, increasing the solemn beauty of the church. Anna

Danuta bent her head and prayed fervently. But when an organ, rare in

those times, began to shake the nave with majestic thunderings, filling

it with angelic voices, then the princess raised her eyes, and her face

expressed, beside devotion and fear, a boundless delight; and one looking

at her would take her for some saint, who sees in a marvelous vision, the

open heaven.

Thus prayed Kiejstut's daughter, who born in heathenism, in everyday life

mentioned God's name just as everybody else did in those times,

familiarly; but in the Lord's house she used to raise her eyes with fear

and humility, toward his secret and unmeasurable power.

The whole court, although with less humility, prayed devoutly. Zbyszko

knelt among the Mazurs, and committed himself to God's protection. From

time to time he glanced at Danusia who was sitting beside the princess;

he considered it an honor to be the knight of such a girl, and that his

vow was not a trifle. He had already girded his sides with a hempen rope,

but this was only half of his vow; now it was necessary to fulfill the

other half which was more difficult. Consequently now, when he was more

serious than when in the inn drinking beer, he was anxious to discover

how he could fulfill it. There was no war. But amidst the disturbances on

the frontier, it was possible to meet some Germans, and either kill them

or lay down his own life.

He had told this to Macko. But he thought: "Not every German wears

peacock or ostrich feathers on his helmet. Only a few among the guests of

the Knights of the Cross are counts, and the Knights of the Cross

themselves are only _comthurs_; and not every one of them is a _comthur_

either. If there be no war, then years may pass before I shall get those

three crests; I have not been knighted yet and can challenge only those

who are not knights like myself. It is true I expect to receive the

girdle of a knight from the king's hands during the tournaments, which

have been announced to take place during the christening, but what will

happen then? I will go to Jurand of Spychow; he will help me kill as many

_knechts_[28] as possible; but that will benefit me little. The _knechts_

are not knights, with peacock feathers on their heads."

Therefore in his uncertainty, seeing that without God's special favor, he

could do nothing, he began to pray:

"Jesus, grant a war between the Knights of the Cross and the Germans who

are the foes of this kingdom and of all other nations confessing Your

Holy Name. Bless us; but crush them who would rather serve the

_starosta_[29] of hell, than serve you; they have hatred in their hearts

against us, being angry because our king and queen, having baptized the

Lithuanians, forbade them cut your Christian servants with the sword. For

which anger punish them!"

"And I, Zbyszko a sinner, repent before you and from your five wounds

beseech for help, that in your mercy you permit me to kill as soon as

possible three Germans having peacock feathers on their morions. These

crests I promised upon my knightly honor to Panna Anna Danuta, Jurand's

daughter, and your servant."

"If I shall find any booty on those defeated Germans, I shall faithfully

pay to holy church the tithe, in order that you also, sweet Jesus, may

have some benefit and glory through me; and also that you may know, that

I promise to you with a sincere heart. As this is true, so help me,

amen!"

But as he prayed, his heart softened under the influence of his devotions

and he made another promise, which was that after having redeemed

Bogdaniec from its pledge, he would give to the church all the wax which

the bees could make during the whole year. He hoped that his Uncle Macko

would not make any opposition to this, and that the Lord Jesus would be

especially pleased with the wax for the candles, and wishing to get it,

would help him sooner. This thought seemed to him so right, that joy

filled his soul; and he was almost sure that his prayer would be heard

and that the war would soon come, so that he could accomplish his vow. He

felt such might in his legs and in his arms, that at that moment he would

have attacked a whole army. He even thought that having increased his

promises to God, he would also add for Danusia, a couple of Germans! His

youthful anger urged him to do it, but this time prudence prevailed, as

he was afraid to exhaust God's patience by asking too much.

His confidence increased, however, when after mass and a long rest, he

heard the conversation between the abbot and Anna Danuta.

The wives of the reigning kings and princes, both on account of devotion

as well as on account of the magnificent presents, sent them by the

Master of the Order, were very kindly disposed toward the Knights of the

Cross. Even the pious Jadwiga, as long as she lived, restrained her

husband's anger against them. Anna Danuta alone, having experienced

dreadful wrongs from the knights hated them with her whole soul.

Therefore when the abbot asked her about Mazowsze and its affairs, she

began to complain bitterly against the Order:

"Our affairs are in a bad condition and it cannot be otherwise with such

neighbors! Apparently it is the time of peace; they exchange ambassadors

and letters, but notwithstanding all that nobody can be sure of anything.

The one who lives on the borders of the kingdom, never knows when he goes

to bed in the evening, whether he will awaken in fetters, or with the

blade of a sword in his throat, or with a burning ceiling over his head.

Neither oaths, nor seals, nor parchment will protect from treachery. Thus

it happened at Zlotorja where during the time of peace, they seized the

prince and imprisoned him. The Knights of the Cross said that our castle

was a menace to them; but the castles are repaired for defence not for an

onset; and what prince has not the right to build and repair in his own

land? Neither the weak nor the powerful can agree with the Order, because

the knights despise the weak and try to ruin the mighty. Good deeds they

repay with evil ones. Is there anywhere in the world another order which

has received as many benefits from other kingdoms as the knights have

received from Polish princes? And how have they repaid? With threats,

with devastation of our lands, with war and with treachery. And it is

useless to complain, even to our apostolic capital, because they do not

listen to the Roman pope himself. Apparently they have sent an embassy

now for the queen's confinement and the expected christening, but only

because they wish to appease the anger of this mighty king for the evil

deeds they performed in Litwa. But in their hearts they are always

plotting means to annihilate this kingdom and the whole Polish nation."

The abbot listened attentively with approval and then said:

"I know that Comthur Lichtenstein came to Krakow at the head of the

embassy; he is very much respected in the Order for his bravery and

intelligence. Perhaps you will see him here soon, gracious lady, because

he sent me a message yesterday, saying that as he wished to pray to our

holy relics, he would pay a visit to Tyniec."

Having heard this, the princess began to complain again:

"The people say--and I am sure rightly--that there will soon be a great

war, in which on one side will be the kingdom of Poland and all the

nations speaking a language similar to the Polish tongue, and on the

other side will be all the Germans and the Order. There is a prophecy

about this war by some saint."

"Bridget," interrupted the scholarly abbot; "eight years ago she was

canonized. The pious Peter from Alvastra and Matthew from Linköping have

written her revelations, in which a great war has been predicted."

Zbyszko shuddered at these words, and not being able to restrain himself,

asked:

"How soon will it be?"

But the abbot being occupied with the princess, did not hear, or probably

did not wish to hear, the question.

The princess spoke further:

"Our young knights are glad that this war is coming, but the older and

prudent ones speak thus: 'We are not afraid of the Germans, although

their pride and power are great, but we are afraid of their relics,

because against those all human might is powerless.'"

Here Anna Danuta looked at the abbot with fear and added in a softer

voice:

"They say they have a true piece of the holy cross; how then can one

fight against them?"

"The French king sent it to them," answered the abbot.

There was a moment of silence, then Mikolaj of Dlugolas, called Obuch, a

man of great experience, said:

"I was in captivity among the Knights of the Cross; I saw a procession in

which they carried this great relic. But beside this, there are many

other relics in the monastery in Oliva without which the order would not

have acquired such power."

The Benedictines stretched their necks toward the speaker, and began to

ask with great curiosity:

"Tell us, what are they?"

"There is a piece of the dress of the Most Holy Virgin," answered the

_wlodyka_ of Dlugolas; "there is a molar tooth of Marya from Magdala and

branches from the bush in which God the Father revealed himself to Moses;

there is a hand of Saint Liberjus, and as for the bones of other saints,

I cannot count them on the fingers of both hands and the toes of both

feet."

"How can one fight them?" repeated the princess, sighing.

The abbot frowned, and having thought for awhile, said:

"It is difficult to fight them, for this reason; they are monks and they

wear the cross on their mantles; but if they have exceeded the measure of

their sins, then even those relics will refuse to remain with them; in

that case they will not strengthen the knights, but will take their

strength away, so that the relics can pass into more pious hands. May God

spare Christian blood; but, if a great war should come, there are some

relics in our kingdom also which will succor us."

"May God help us!" exclaimed Zbyszko.

The abbot turned toward the princess and said:

"Therefore have confidence in God, gracious lady, because their days are

numbered rather than yours. In the meanwhile, accept with grateful heart

this box, in which there is a finger of Saint Ptolomeus, one of our

patrons."

The princess extended her hand and kneeling, accepted the box, which she

immediately pressed to her lips. The courtiers shared the joy of the

lady. Zbyszko was happy because it seemed to him that war would come

immediately after the Krakowian festivals.

CHAPTER IV.

It was in the afternoon that the princess left hospitable Tyniec and went

toward Krakow. Often the knights of those times, coming into larger

cities or castles to visit some eminent person, used to put on their

entire battle armor. It is true it was customary to take it off

immediately after they arrived at the gates; in fact it was the custom

for the host himself to invite them to remove it in these words: "Take

off your armor, noble lord; you have come to friends!" This entrance was

considered to be more dignified and to increase the importance of the

knight. To conform with this ostentatious custom Macko and Zbyszko took

with them those excellent suits of armor and shoulder-bands--won from the

conquered Fryzjan knights,--bright, shining and ornamented on the edges

with a gold band. Mikolaj of Dlugolas, who had seen the world and many

knights, and was very expert in judging war things, immediately

recognized that the suits of armor had been made by a most famous armorer

of Milan; armor which only the richest knights could afford; each of them

being worth quite a fortune. He concluded that those Fryzes were mighty

lords among their own people, and he looked with more respect on Macko

and Zbyszko. Their helmets, although not common ones, were not so rich;

but their gigantic stallions, beautifully caparisoned, excited envy and

admiration among the courtiers. Macko and Zbyszko, sitting on very high

saddles, could look down proudly at the whole court. Each held in his

hand a long spear; each had a sword at at his side and an axe at the

saddlebow. For the sake of comfort they had left their shields in the

wagons, but even without them, both men looked as though they were going

to battle and not to the city.

Both were riding near the carriage, in which was seated the princess,

accompanied by Danusia, and in front of them a dignified court lady,

Ofka, the widow of Krystyn of Jarzombkow and the old Mikolaj of Dlugolas.

Danusia looked with great interest at the two iron knights, and the

princess, pulling from time to time the box with the relics of Saint

Ptolomeus from her bosom, raised it to her lips.

"I am very anxious to see what bones are inside," said she, "but I will

not open it myself, for I do not want to offend the saint; the bishop in

Krakow will open it."

To this the cautious Mikolaj of Dlugolas answered:

"Ej, it will be better not to let this go out of your hands; it is too

precious a thing."

"May be you are right," said the princess, after a moment of reflection;

then she added:

"For a long time nobody has given me such pleasure, as this worthy abbot

has by this present; and he also calmed my fears about the relics of the

Knights of the Cross."

"He spoke wisely and well," said Macko of Bogdaniec. "At Wilno they also

had different relics, and they wanted to persuade the guests that they

were at war with the heathen. And what? Our knights noticed that if they

could only make a blow with an axe, immediately the helmet gave way and

the head fell down. The saints help--it would be a sin to say

differently--but they only help the righteous, who go to war justly in

God's name. Therefore, gracious lady, I think that if there be another

war, even if all Germans help the Knights of the Cross, we will overcome

them, because our nation is greater and the Lord Jesus will give us more

strength in our bones. As for the relics,--have we not a true particle of

the holy cross in the monastery of Holy Cross?"

"It is true, as God is dear to me," said the princess. "But ours will

remain in the monastery, while if necessary they carry theirs."

"No matter! There is no limit to God's power."

"Is that true? Tell me; how is it?" asked the princess, turning to the

wise Mikolaj of Dlugolas; and he said:

"Every bishop will affirm it. Rome is distant too, and yet the pope rules

over the whole world; cannot God do more!"

These words soothed the princess so completely that she began to converse

about Tyniec and its magnificence. The Mazurs were astonished not only at

the riches of the abbey, but also at the wealth and beauty of the whole

country through which they were now riding. All around were many

flourishing villages; near them were orchards full of trees, linden

groves, storks' nests on the linden trees, and beneath the trees were

beehives with straw roofs. Along the highway on both sides, there were

fields of all kinds of grain. From time to time, the wind bent the still

greenish sea of grain, amidst which shone like the stars in the sky, the

blue heads of the flowers of the bachelor button, and the light red wild

poppies. Far beyond the fields appeared the woods, black in the distance

but bathed in sunlight; here and there appeared moist meadows, full of

grass and birds flying round the bushes; then appeared hills with houses;

again fields; and as far as one could see, the country appeared to flow

not only with milk and honey but also with quiet and happiness.

"That is King Kazimierz' rural economy," said the princess; "it must be a

pleasure to live here."

"Lord Jesus rejoices to see such a country," answered Mikolaj of

Dlugolas; "and God's blessing is over it; but how can it be different;

when they ring the bells here, there is no corner where they cannot be

heard! And it is known that no evil spirit can endure the ringing of the

bells, and they are obliged to escape to the forests on the Hungarian

frontier."

"I wonder," said Pani Ofka, the widow of Krystyn of Jarzombkow, "how

Walgierz Wdaly, about whom the monk was talking, can appear in Tyniec,

where they ring the bells seven times a day."

This remark embarrassed Mikolaj for a moment, who after thinking, quietly

said:

"In the first place, God's decrees are not well known; and then you must

remember that every time he appears he has had special permission."

"At any rate, I am glad that we shall not pass the night in the

monastery. I would die from fear if I saw such an infernal giant."

"Hej! I doubt it, because they say, he is very handsome."

"If he were very beautiful, I would not want a kiss from such a man, from

whose mouth one could smell sulphur."

"I see that when the conversation is even about devils, you are still

thinking about kisses."

At these words the princess, Pan Mikolaj and both _wlodykas_ of Bogdaniec

began to laugh. Danusia laughed also, following the example of the

others. But Ofka of Jarzombkow turned her angry face toward Mikolaj of

Dlugolas, and said:

"I should prefer him to you."

"Ej! Don't call the wolf out of the forest;" answered the merry Mazur;

"the ghost often wanders on the high road, between Krakow and Tyniec,

especially toward night; suppose he should hear you and appear to you in

the form of a giant!"

"Let the enchantment go on the dog!" answered Ofka.

But at that moment Macko of Bogdaniec, who being seated on a high

stallion, could see further than those who were in the carriage, reined

in his horse, and said:

"O, as God is dear to me, what is it?"

"What?"

"Some giant of the forest is coming!"

"And the word became flesh!" exclaimed the princess. "Don't say that!"

But Zbyszko arose in his stirrups and said:

"It is true; the giant Walgierz; nobody else!"

At this the coachman reined in the horses, but not dropping the reins,

began to make the sign of the cross, because he also perceived on an

opposite hill the gigantic figure of a horsemen.

The princess had risen; but now she sat down, her face changed with fear.

Danusia hid her face in the folds of the princess' dress. The courtiers,

ladies and _rybalts_, who were on horseback behind the carriage, having

heard the ill-omened name, began to surround the carriage. The men tried

to laugh, but there was fear in their eyes; the young girls were pale;

only Mikolaj of Dlugolas maintained his composure and wishing to

tranquilize the princess, said:

"Don't be frightened, gracious lady. The sun has not yet set; and even if

it were night, Saint Ptolomeus will manage Walgierz."

In the meanwhile, the unknown horseman, having mounted the top of the

hill, stopped his horse and stood motionless. In the rays of the setting

sun, one could see him very distinctly; his stature seemed greater than

ordinary human dimensions. The space separating him from the princess'

retinue was not more than three hundred steps.

"Why is he stopping?" asked one of the _rybalts_.

"Because we stopped," answered Macko.

"He is looking toward us as if he would like to choose somebody," said

another _rybalt_; "if I were sure he was a man and not an evil spirit, I

would go and give him a blow on the head with the lute."

The women began to pray aloud, but Zbyszko wishing to show his courage to

the princess and Danusia, said:

"I will go just the same. I am not afraid of Walgierz!"

Danusia began to scream: "Zbyszko! Zbyszko!" But he went forward and rode

swiftly, confident that even if he did meet the true Walgierz, he could

pierce him through and through with his spear.

Macko who had sharp sight, said:

"He appears like a giant because he is on the hill. It is some big man,

but an ordinary one, nothing else! Owa! I am going also, to see that he

does not quarrel with Zbyszko."

Zbyszko, while riding was debating whether he should immediately attack

with the spear, or whether first take a close view of the man standing on

the hill. He decided to view him first, and immediately persuaded himself

that it was the better thought, because as he approached, the stranger

began to lose his extraordinary size. He was a large man and was mounted

on a large horse, which was bigger than Zbyszko's stallion; yet he did

not exceed human size. Besides that he was without armor, with a velvet

cap shaped like a bell on his head; he wore a white linen dust cloak,

from beneath which a green dress could be seen. While standing on the

hill he was praying. Evidently he had stopped his horse to finish his

evening devotions.

"It is not Walgierz," thought the boy.

He had approached so close that he could touch the unknown man with his

spear. The man who evidently was a knight, smiled at him benevolently,

and said:

"May Jesus Christ be praised!"

"For ages and ages."

"Is that the court of the Princess of Mazowsze below?"

"Yes, it is!"

"Then you come from Tyniec?"

But he did not receive any answer, because Zbyszko was so much surprised

that he did not even hear the question. For a moment he stood like a

statue, scarcely believing his own eyes, for, behold! about half a

furlong behind the unknown man, he perceived several soldiers on

horseback, at the head of whom was riding a knight clad in full armor,

with a white cloth mantle with a red cross on it, and with a steel helmet

having a magnificent peacock tuft in the crest.

"A Knight of the Cross!" whispered Zbyszko. Now he thought that God had

heard his prayers; that he had sent him the German knight for whom he had

asked in Tyniec. Surely he must take advantage of God's kindness;

therefore without any hesitation,--before all these thoughts had hardly

passed through his head, before his astonishment had diminished,--he bent

low on the saddle, let down his spear and having uttered his family

shout: "Grady! Grady!" he rushed with the whole speed of his horse

against the Knight of the Cross.

That knight was astonished also; he stopped his horse, and without

lowering his spear, looked in front of him, uncertain whether the attack

was against him or not.

"Lower your spear!" shouted Zbyszko, pricking his horse with the iron

points of the stirrups.

"Grady! Grady!"

The distance separating them began to diminish. The Knight of the Cross

seeing that the attack was really against him, reined in his horse and

poised his spear. At the moment that Zbyszko's lance was nearly touching

his chest, a powerful hand broke it like a reed; then the same hand

reined in Zbyszko's horse with such force, that the charger stopped as

though rooted to the ground.

"You crazy man, what are you doing?" said a deep, threatening voice; "you

are attacking an envoy, you are insulting the king!"

Zbyszko glanced around and recognized the same gigantic man, whom he had

taken for Walgierz, and who had frightened the princess and her court.

"Let me go against the German! Who are you?" he cried, seizing his axe.

"Away with the axe! for God's sake! Away with the axe, I say! I will

throw you from your horse!" shouted the stranger more threateningly. "You

have offended the majesty of the king and you will be punished."

Then he turned toward the soldiers who were riding behind the Knight of

the Cross.

"Come here!"

"At this time Macko appeared and his face looked threatening. He

understood that Zbyszko had acted like a madman and that the consequences

of this affair might be very serious; but he was ready to defend him just

the same. The whole retinue of the stranger and of the Knight of the

Cross contained only fifteen men, armed with spears and crossbows;

therefore two knights in full armors could fight them with some hope of

being victorious. Macko also thought that as they were threatened with

punishment, it would be better perhaps to avoid it, by overcoming these

men, and then hiding somewhere until the storm had passed over. Therefore

his face immediately contracted, like the jaws of a wolf ready to bite,

and having pushed his horse between Zbyszko and the stranger's horse, he

began to ask, meanwhile handling his sword:

"Who are you? What right have you to interfere?"

"My right is this," said the stranger, "that the king has intrusted to me

the safety of the environs of Krakow, and they call me Powala of Taczew."

At these words, Macko and Zbyszko glanced at the knight, then returned to

their scabbards the half drawn swords and dropped their heads, not

because they were frightened but in respect for this famous and very

well-known name. Powala of Taczew, a nobleman of a powerful family and a

mighty lord, possessor of large estates round Radom, was at the same time

one of the most famous knights in the kingdom. _Rybalts_ sang about him

in their songs, citing him as an example of honor and gallantry, praising

his name as much as the names of Zawisza of Garbow and Farurej, Skarbek

of Gora, Dobek of Olesnica, Janko Nanszan, Mikolaj of Moskorzowo, and

Zandram of Maszkowic. At this moment he was the representative of the

king, therefore to attack him was to put one's head under the

executioner's axe.

Macko becoming cooler, said with deep respect:

"Honor and respect to you, sir, to your fame and to your gallantry."

"Honor to you also, sir," answered Powala; "but I would prefer to make

your acquaintance under less serious circumstances."

"Why?" asked Macko.

Powala turned toward Zbyszko.

"What have you done, you youngster? You attacked an envoy on the public

highway in the king's presence! Do you know the consequences of such an

act?"

"He attacked the envoy because he was young and stupid; therefore action

was easier for him than reflection," said Macko. "But you will not judge

him so severely, after I tell you the whole story."

"It is not I who will judge him. My business is only to put him in

fetters."

"How is that?" said Macko, looking gloomy again.

"According to the king's command."

Silence followed these words.

"He is a nobleman," said Macko finally.

"Let him swear then upon his knightly honor, that he will appear at the

court."

"I swear!" exclaimed Zbyszko.

"Very well. What do they call you?"

Macko mentioned the name and the coat of arms of his nephew.

"If you belong to Princess Janusz' court, beg her to intercede for you

with the king."

"We are not with her court. We are returning from Litwa, from Prince

Witold. Better for us if we had never met any court! This misfortune has

come from that."

Here Macko began to tell about what had happened in the inn; he spoke

about the meeting with the princess and about Zbyszko's vow. Then

suddenly he was filled with anger against Zbyszko, whose imprudence had

caused their present dreadful plight; therefore, turning toward him, he

exclaimed:

"I would have preferred to see you dead at Wilno! What have you done, you

young of a wild boar!"

"Well," said Zbyszko, "after the vow, I prayed to the Lord Jesus to give

me some Germans; I promised him a present; therefore when I perceived the

peacock feathers, and also a mantle embroidered with a cross, immediately

some voice cried within me: 'Strike the German! It is a miracle!' Well I

rushed forward then; who would not have done it?"

"Listen," interrupted Powala, "I do not wish you any evil. I see clearly

that this youngster sinned rather from youthful giddiness than from

malice. I will be only too glad to ignore his deed and go forward as if

nothing had happened. But I cannot do this unless that _comthur_ will

promise that he will not complain to the king. Beseech him; perhaps he

also will pity the lad."

"I prefer to go before the courts, than to bow to a _Krzyzak_!"[30]

exclaimed Zbyszko. "It would not be befitting my dignity as a _wlodyka_."

Powala of Taczew looked at him severely and said:

"You do not act wisely. Old people know better than you, what is right

and what is befitting a knight's dignity. People have heard about me; but

I tell you, that if I had acted as you have, I would not be ashamed to

ask forgiveness for such an offence."

Zbyszko felt ashamed; but having glanced around, answered:

"The ground is level here. Instead of asking him for forgiveness, I would

prefer to fight him on horseback or on foot, till death or slavery."

"You are stupid!" interrupted Macko. "You wish then to fight the envoy?"

Here he turned to Powala:

"You must excuse him, noble lord. He became wild during the war. It will

be better if he does not speak to the German, because he may insult him.

I will do it. I will entreat him to forgive. If this _comthur_ be willing

to settle it by combat, after his mission is over, I will meet him."

"He is a knight of a great family; he will not encounter everybody,"

answered Powala.

"What? Do I not wear a girdle and spurs? Even a prince may meet me."

"That is true; but do not tell him that, unless he mentions it himself; I

am afraid he will become angry if you do. Well, may God help you!"

"I am going to humiliate myself for your sake," said Macko to Zbyszko;

"wait awhile!"

He approached the Knight of the Cross who had remained motionless on his

enormous stallion, looking like an iron statue, and had listened with the

greatest indifference to the preceding conversation. Macko having learned

German during the long wars, began to explain to the _comthur_ in his own

language what had happened; he excused the boy on account of his youth

and violent temper, and said that it had seemed to the boy as though God

himself had sent the knight wearing a peacock tuft, and finally he begged

forgiveness for the offence.

The _comthur's_ face did not move. Calm and haughty he looked at Macko

with his steely eyes with great indifference, but also with great

contempt. The _wlodyka_ of Bogdaniec noticed this. His words continued to

be courteous but his soul began to rebel. He talked with increasing

constraint and his swarthy face flushed. It was evident that in the

presence of this haughty pride, Macko was endeavoring to restrain his

anger.

Powala having noticed this, and having a kind heart, determined to help

Macko. He had learned to speak German while seeking knightly adventures

at the Hungarian, Burgundian and Bohemian courts, when he was young.

Therefore he now said in that language in a conciliatory but jesting

tone:

"You see, sir, the noble _comthur_ thinks that the whole affair is

unimportant. Not only in our kingdom but in every country the youths are

slightly crazy; but such a noble knight does not fight children, neither

by sword nor by law."

Lichtenstein touched his yellow moustache and moved on without a word,

passing Macko and Zbyszko.

A dreadful wrath began to raise the hair under their helmets, and their

hands grasped their swords.

"Wait, you scoundrel!" said the elder _wlodyka_ through his set teeth;

"now I will make a vow to you. I will seek you as soon as you have

finished your mission."

But Powala, whose heart began to bleed also, said:

"Wait! Now the princess must speak in favor of the boy; otherwise, woe to

him!"

Having said this, he followed the Knight of the Cross, stopped him and

for a while they talked with great animation. Macko and Zbyszko noticed

that the German knight did not look at Powala so proudly as he had at

them; this made them still more angry. After a while, Powala returned and

said to them:

"I tried to intercede for you, but he is a hard man. He said that he

would not complain to the king if you would do what he requires."

"What?"

"He said thus: 'I will stop to greet the Princess of Mazowsze; let them

come, dismount, take off their helmets, and standing on the ground with

uncovered heads, ask my forgiveness.'"

Here Powala looked sharply at Zbyszko, and added:

"I know it will be hard for people of noble birth to do this; but I must

warn you, that if you refuse no one knows what you may expect,--perhaps

the executioner's sword."

The faces of Macko and Zbyszko became like stone. There was silence.

"What then?" asked Powala.

Zbyszko answered quietly and with great dignity as though during this

conversation he had grown twenty years older:

"Well, God's might is over all!"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, that even if I had two heads and the executioner was going to

cut off both, still I have only one honor which I will not stain."

Powala became grave and turning toward Macko, asked:

"And what do you say?"

"I say," answered Macko gloomily, "that I reared this youth from

childhood. On him depends our family, because I am old; but he cannot do

what the German asks, even if he must perish."

Here his grim face began to quiver and finally his love for his nephew

burst forth with such strength, that he seized the boy in his arms, and

began to shout:

"Zbyszku! Zbyszku!"[31]

The young knight was surprised and having returned his uncle's embrace,

said:

"Aj! I did not know that you loved me so much."

"I see that you are both true knights," said Powala; "and as the young

man has promised me upon his knightly honor, that he will appear at the

court, I will not imprison him; one can trust such people as you. No more

gloomy thoughts! The German intends to stay in Tyniec a day or two;

therefore I will have an opportunity to see the king first, and I will

try to tell him about this affair in such a way that his anger will not

be aroused. I am glad I succeeded in breaking the spear in time,--great

luck, I tell you!"

But Zbyszko said:

"Even if I had to lay down my life, I would like at least to have the

satisfaction of breaking his bones."

"It surprises me that you who know how to defend your own honor, do not

understand that you would thus disgrace our whole nation!" impatiently

answered Powala.

"I understand it very well," said Zbyszko; "but I regret my disability

just the same."

Powala turned toward Macko:

"Do you know, sir, that if this lad succeeds in escaping the penalty for

his offence, then you ought to put a cowl like a hawk's on his head!

Otherwise he will not die a natural death."

"He will escape if you, sir, will not say anything to the king about the

occurrence."

"And what shall we do with the German? We cannot tie his tongue."

"That is true! That is true!"

Talking thus, they went back toward the princess' retinue. Powala's

servants followed them. From afar one could see amidst the Mazovian caps,

the quivering peacock feathers of the Knight of the Cross and his bright

helmet shining in the sun.

"Strange is the nature of a _Krzyzak_," said the knight of Taczew. "When

a _Krzyzak_ is in a tight place, he will be as forbearing as a Franciscan

monk, as humble as a lamb and as sweet as honey; in fact, it would be

difficult to find a better man. But let him feel power behind him; then

nobody will be more arrogant and merciless. It is evident that God gave

them stones for hearts. I have seen many different nations and I have

often witnessed a true knight spare another who was weaker, saying to

himself; 'My fame will not increase if I trample this fallen foe.' But at

such a time a _Krzyzak_ is implacable. Hold him by the throat, otherwise

woe to you! Such a man is that envoy! He wanted not only an apology, but

also your humiliation. But I am glad he failed."

"He can wait!" exclaimed Zbyszko.

"Be careful not to show him that you are troubled, because then he would

rejoice."

After these words they approached the retinue and joined the princess'

court. The envoy of the _Krzyzaks_, having noticed them, immediately

assumed an expression of pride and disdain; but they ignored him. Zbyszko

stood at Danusia's side and began to tell her that from the hill one

could see Krakow; at the same time Macko was telling one of the _rybalts_

about the extraordinary strength of the Pan of Taczew, who had broken the

spear in Zbyszko's hand, as though it were a dry stem.

"And why did he break it?" asked the _rybalt_.

"Because the boy in fun attacked the German."

The _rybalt_, being a nobleman, did not consider such an attack a joke;

but seeing that Macko spoke about it lightly, did not take it seriously

either. The German was annoyed by such conduct. He glanced at Macko and

Zbyszko. Finally be realized that they did not intend to dismount and

that they did not propose to pay any attention to him. Then something

like steel shone in his eyes, and he immediately began to bid the

princess adieu.

The Lord of Taczew could not abstain from deriding him and at the moment

of departure he said to him:

"Go without fear, brave knight. The country is quiet and nobody will

attack you, except some careless child."

"Although the customs of this country are strange, I was seeking your

company and not your protection," answered Lichtenstein; "I expect to

meet you again at the court and elsewhere."

In the last words a hidden menace rang; therefore Powala answered

gravely:

"If God will permit."

Having said this, he saluted and turned away; then he shrugged his

shoulders and said in an undertone, but loud enough to be heard by those

who were near:

"Gaunt! I could lift you from the saddle with the point of my spear, and

hold you in the air during three _pater-nosters_."[32]

Then he began to talk with the princess with whom he was very well

acquainted. Anna Danuta asked him what he was doing on the highway. He

told her that the king had commanded him to keep order in the environs

while there were so many wealthy guests going to Krakow. Then he told her

about Zbyszko's foolish conduct. But having concluded that there would be

plenty of time to ask the princess to protect Zbyszko, he did not put any

stress on the incident, not wishing to spoil the gaiety. The princess

laughed at the boy, because he was so anxious to obtain the peacock tuft;

the others, having learned about the breaking of the spear, admired the

Lord of Taczew very much, especially as he did it with one hand only.

And he, being a little vain, was pleased because they praised him.

Finally he began to tell about some of the exploits which made his name

famous; especially those he performed in Burgundia, at the court of

Philip the Courageous. There one time, during a tournament, he seized an

Ardenian knight, pulled him out of the saddle and threw him in the air,

notwithstanding that the knight was in full armor. For that exploit,

Philip the Courageous presented him with a gold chain and the queen gave

him a velvet slipper, which he wore on his helmet.

Upon hearing this, all were very much amazed, except Mikolaj of Dlugolas,

who said:

"In these effeminate times, there are not such strong men as there were

when I was young. If a nobleman now happens to shatter a cuirass, to bend

a crossbow without the aid of the crank, or to bend a cutlass between his

fingers, he immediately considers himself a very strong man. But in times

of yore, girls could do such deeds."

"I don't deny that formerly there were stronger people," answered Powala;

"but even now there are some strong men. God did not stint me in

strength, but I do not consider myself the strongest in this kingdom.

Have you ever seen Zawisza of Garbow? He can surpass me."

"I have seen him. He has shoulders broad like a rampart."

"And Dobko of Olesnica? Once at the tournament given in Torun by the

Knights of the Cross, he defeated twelve knights for his own and our

nation's glory."

"But our Mazur, Staszko Ciolek, was stronger, sir, than you or your

Zawisza and Dobko. They say that he took a peg made from green wood in

his hand and pressed the sap out of it."[33]

"I can press the sap out myself," said Zbyszko. And before anyone could

ask him to prove it, he broke a branch which he pressed so strongly, that

really the sap began to ooze from it.

"Aj, Jesus!" exclaimed Ofka of Jarzombkow; "don't go to the war; it would

be a pity if such an one should perish before his marriage."

"It would indeed be a pity!" replied Macko, suddenly becoming sorrowful.

But Mikolaj of Dlugolas laughed as did also the princess. The others,

however, praised Zbyszko's strength, and as in those times might was

appreciated more than any other quality, the young girls cried to

Danusia: "Be glad!" She was glad although she could not then understand

what benefit she would receive from that piece of compressed wood.

Zbyszko having forgotten all about the _Krzyzak_ now looked so proud,

that Mikolaj of Dlugolas wishing to curb his pride, said:

"There are better men than you; therefore do not be so proud of your

strength. I did not see it, but my father was a witness of something more

difficult which happened at the court of Charles, the Roman emperor. King

Kazimierz went to pay him a visit and with him went many courtiers. Among

these courtiers was Staszko Ciolek, son of _Wojewoda_[34] Andrzej, who

was noted for his strength. The emperor began to boast that he had a

Czech who could strangle a bear. They had an exhibition and the Czech

strangled two bears in succession. Our king not wishing to be outdone,

said: 'But he cannot overcome my Ciolek.' They agreed that they should

fight in three days' time. Many ladies and famous knights came, and the

Czech and Ciolek grappled in the yard of the castle; but the contest did

not last long; hardly had they come together before Ciolek broke the

backbone of the Czech, crushed all his ribs, and left him dead to the

great glory of the king.[35] They have called him since then

Lomignat.[36] Once he placed without help, a bell which twelve men could

not move from its place."[37]

"How old was he?" asked Zbyszko.

"He was young!"

In the meantime, Powala of Taczew, while riding at the princess' right

hand, bent toward her and told her the truth about the importance of

Zbyszko's adventure, and asked her to speak to the king in Zbyszko's

behalf. The princess being fond of Zbyszko, received this news with

sadness and became very uneasy.

"The Bishop of Krakow is a friend of mine," said Powala; "I will ask him

and also the queen to intercede; but the more protectors he has, the

better it will be for the lad."

"If the queen will promise to say one word in his favor, not a hair will

fall from his head," said Anna Danuta; "the king worships her for her

piety and for her dowry, and especially now, when the shame of sterility

has been taken from her. But the king's beloved sister, Princess Ziemowit

lives in Krakow; you must go to her. For my part I will do anything I

can; but the princess is his own sister, and I am only his first cousin."

"The king loves you also, gracious lady."

"Ej, but not as much," she answered with a certain sadness; "for me a

link, for her a whole chain; for me a fox skin, for her a sable. He loves

none of his relations as dearly as he loves Alexandra."

Thus talking, they approached Krakow. The highway which was crowded on

the road from Tyniec, was still more crowded here. They met countrymen

going with their servants to the city, sometimes armed and sometimes in

summer clothing and straw hats. Some of them were on horseback; some

traveled in carriages, with their wives and daughters, who wished to see

the long looked for tournaments. In some places the whole road was

crowded with merchants' wagons which could not pass Krakow until the toll

was paid. They carried in these wagons wax, grain, salt, fish, skins,

hemp and wood. Others came from the city loaded with cloth, barrels of

beer and different merchandise. One could now see Krakow very well; the

king's gardens, lords' and burghers' houses surrounded the city; beyond

them were the walls and the towers of the churches. The nearer they came

to the city the greater was the traffic and at the gates it was almost

impossible to pass.

"What a city! There is no other like it in the world," said Macko.

"It is always like a fair," answered one of the _rybalts_; "how long

since you were here, sir?"

"A very long time ago. I wonder at it just as much as if I saw it now for

the first time, because we are returning from a wild country."

"They say that Krakow has grown very much since the time of King

Jagiello."

This was true; after the grand duke of Litwa ascended the throne,

enormous Lithuanian and Russian countries were opened for commerce;

because of this the city had increased in population, richness and

buildings, and had become one of the most important cities in the world.

"The cities of the Knights of the Cross are very beautiful also," said

the larger _rybalt_.

"If only we could capture one of them," said Macko. "Worthy booty we

could get!"

But Powala of Taczew was thinking about something else; namely, of

Zbyszko, who was in peril because of his stupid blind fury. The Pan of

Taczew, fierce and implacable in the time of war, had in his powerful

breast, however, the heart of a dove; he realized better than the others

what punishment awaited the offender; therefore he pitied him.

"I ponder and ponder," said he again to the princess, "whether to tell

the king of the incident or not. If the _Krzyzak_ does not complain,

there will be no case; but if he should complain, perhaps it would be

better to tell the king everything beforehand, so that he will not become

angry."

"If the _Krzyzak_ has an opportunity to ruin somebody, he will do it,"

answered the princess; "but I will tell that young man to join our court.

Perhaps the king will be more lenient to one of our courtiers."

She called Zbyszko, who having had his position explained to him, jumped

from his horse, kissed her hands and became with the greatest pleasure

one of her courtiers, not so much for greater safety, as because he could

now remain nearer Danusia.

Powala asked Macko:

"Where will you stay?"

"In an inn."

"There is no room in any inn now."

"Then we will go to merchant Amylej, he is an acquaintance of mine,

perhaps he will let us pass the night in his house."

"Accept hospitality in my house. Your nephew can stay with the princess'

courtiers in the castle; but it will be better for him not to be near the

king. What one does in the first paroxysm of anger, one would not do

afterward. You will be more comfortable and safe with me."

Macko had become uneasy because Powala thought so much about their

safety; he thanked Powala with gratitude and they entered the city. But

here they both as well as Zbyszko forgot for a while about danger in the

presence of the wonders they saw before them. In Lithuania and on the

frontier, they had only seen single castles, and the only city of any

importance which they knew was Wilno, a badly built and ruined town; but

here many of the merchants' houses were more magnificent than the grand

duke's palace in Lithuania. It is true that there were many wooden

houses; but even these astonished them by the loftiness of their walls

and roofs; also by the windows, made of glass balls, set in lead which so

reflected the rays of the setting sun, that one would imagine that there

was fire in the houses. In the streets near the market place, there were

many highly ornamented houses of red brick, or of stone. They stood side

by side like soldiers; some of them, broad; others, narrow; but all lofty

with vaulted halls, very often having the sign of the Passion of our Lord

Jesus Christ or an image of the Most Holy Virgin over the door. There

were some streets, on which one could see two rows of houses, over them a

stripe of blue sky, between them, a road paved with stones; and on both

sides as far as one could see stores and stores. These were full of the

best foreign goods, at which being accustomed to war and the capture of

booty, Macko looked with a longing eye. But both were still more

astonished at the sight of the public buildings; the church of Panna

Maryia on the square; the _sukiennice_;[38] the city hall with its

gigantic cellar, in which they were selling beer from Swidnica; other

churches, depots of broadcloth, the enormous "_mercatorium_," devoted to

the use of foreign merchants; then a building in which were the public

scales, bath houses, cooper works, wax works, silver works, gold works,

breweries, the mountains of barrels round the so-called Schrotamto,--in a

word, riches which a man not familiar with the city, even though a

well-to-do possessor of a _grodek_, could not even imagine.

Powala conducted Macko and Zbyszko to his house situated on Saint Anna

Street, assigned a large room to them, recommended them to his

shield-bearers, and then went to the castle, from which he returned for

supper quite late at night.

A few friends accompanied him, and they enjoyed the plentiful repast of

wine and meat. The host alone was sorrowful. When finally the guests

departed, he said to Macko:

"I spoke to a canon, able in writing and in the law, who says, that an

insult to an envoy is a capital offence. Therefore pray God, that the

_Krzyzak_ may not complain."

Hearing this, both knights, who, during the feast had exceeded the other

guests in mirth, retired with sorrowful hearts. Macko could not even

sleep and after a while when they were in bed, he said to his nephew:

"Zbyszku?"

"What?"

"I have considered everything and I do not think they will execute you."

"You do not think so?" asked Zbyszko, in a sleepy voice.

Having turned toward the wall, he fell sound asleep, because he was very

weary.

The next day, both _wlodykas_ of Bogdaniec, went with Powala to morning

mass in the cathedral, for devotion and also to see the court and the

guests who had arrived at the castle. In fact, on the way Powala met many

acquaintances, and among them several knights famous at home and abroad.

At these Zbyszko looked with admiration, promising himself that if he

escaped death for the insult to Lichtenstein, he would try to rival them

in gallantry and in all knightly virtues. One of these knights,

Toporczyk, a relative of the castellan of Krakow, told them that Wojciech

Jastrzembiec had returned from Rome, where he had been sent to Pope

Bonifacius IX. with the king's invitation to the christening at Krakow.

Bonifacius accepted the invitation; and although it was doubtful whether

he would be able to come personally, he authorized the envoy to stand

godfather for the coming child in his name; and he asked that the name

Bonifacius or Bonifacia be given to the child as a proof of his

particular love for the king and the queen.

They also spoke of the arrival of the Hungarian king, Sigismundus; they

expected him positively, because he always came, invited or not, whenever

there was an opportunity for feasts and tournaments. Of these he was very

fond, because he desired to be famous the world over as a ruler, a singer

and the first among knights. Powala, Zawisza of Garbow, Dobko of

Olesnica, Naszan and others of the same rank, recollected with a smile

that during Sigismundus' first visit, King Wladyslaw requested them

privately not to attack him very fiercely, but to spare "the Hungarian

guest," whose vanity, known throughout the world, used to make him cry in

case of defeat. But the most interest was excited among the knights by

Witold's affairs. They told marvelous tales about the magnificence of

that cradle, made of sterling silver, which the Lithuanian princes and

_bojars_[39] had brought as a present from Witold and his wife, Anna.

Macko told about the proposed enormous expedition against the Tartars.

The expedition was almost ready, and a great army had already gone

eastward toward Rus'. If it were successful, it would extend the king's

supremacy over almost half the world, to the unknown Asiatic countries,

to the frontier of Persia and to the shores of the Aral. Macko, who

formerly served under Witold and knew his plans, could tell about them so

accurately and even so eloquently, that before the bells were rung for

mass, a large circle of curious people had formed around him. He said

that the question was simply about a crusade. "Witold himself," he said,

"although they call him a grand duke, rules over Litwa by Jagiello's

authority; he is only viceroy, therefore the renown will be the king's.

What fame it will be for the newly baptized Lithuanians and for the might

of Poland, when the united armies carry the cross to those countries

where, if they mention the Saviour's name at all, it is only to

blaspheme! When the Polish and Lithuanian armies restore Tochtamysh to

the throne of Kapchak, he will acknowledge himself "the son" of King

Wladyslaw, and he has promised to bow to the cross with the whole Zlota

Orda."

The people listened to Macko with great attention; but many did not

thoroughly understand what people Witold intended to help nor against

whom he intended to fight; therefore some one asked:

"Tell exactly with whom is the war to be?"

"With whom? With Tymur the Lame!" replied Macko.

There was a moment of silence. It is true the eastern knights often heard

the names of Golden, of Blue, of Azovian and of other Ords; but they were

not familiar with the civil wars of the Tartars. Nevertheless there was

not one man in Europe, who had not heard about the terrible Tymur the

Lame, or Tamerlan. This name was heard with no less fear than of old was

the name of Attila. He was "lord of the world" and "lord of ages;" the

ruler over twenty-seven conquered states: the ruler of Moskiewskoy

Russia; ruler of Siberia and of China as far as the Indies; of Bagdad, of

Ispahan, of Alep, of Damascus--whose shadow was falling over the sands of

Arabia, on Egypt, and on Bosphorus in the Greek empire; he was the

exterminator of mankind; the terrible builder of pyramids composed of

human skulls; he was the conqueror in all battles, never conquered in

any, "lord of souls and of bodies."

Tochtamysh had been placed by him on the throne of the Golden and the

Blue Ords,[40] and acknowledged as "the son." But when his sovereign

authority extended from Aral to Crimea, over more lands than were in the

rest of Europe, "the son" wanted to be an independent ruler. For this he

was deposed from his throne with "one finger" of the terrible father; he

escaped to the Lithuanian governor and asked him for help. Witold decided

to restore him to his throne; but to do this it was necessary to vie with

the world-ruling Tymur the Lame.

For these reasons his name made a great impression on the audience, and

after a short silence, one of the oldest knights, Kazko of Jaglow, said:

"A difficult business!"

"And for a trifle," said the prudent Mikolaj of Dlugolas. "What

difference will it make to us, whether Tochtamysh or some Kutluk rules

over the sons of Belial who dwell beyond the tenth-land?"

"Tochtamysh will turn to the Christian faith," answered Macko.

"He will or he will not! Can you trust dog-brothers, who do not confess

Christ?"

"But we are ready to lay down our lives for Christ's name," answered

Powala.

"And for knightly honor," added Toporczyk, the relative of the castellan;

"there are some among us however who will not go. The Lord _Wojewoda,

Spytko of Melsztyn_ has a young and beloved wife, but he has already

joined _Kniaz_ Witold."

"No wonder," added Jasko Naszan; "no matter how hideous a sin you have on

your soul, pardon and salvation are sure for those who fight in such a

war."

"And fame for ages and ages," said Powala of Taczew. "Let us then have a

war, and it will be better if it be a great war. Tymur has conquered the

world and has twenty-seven states under him. It will be an honor for our

nation if we defeat him."

"Why not?" answered Toporczyk, "even if he possesses a hundred kingdoms,

let others be afraid of him--not us! You speak wisely! Let us gather

together ten thousand good spearmen, and we will pass round the world."

"And what nation should conquer The Lame, if not ours?"

Thus the knights conversed. Zbyszko was sorry now because he did not go

with Witold to the wild steppes. But when he was in Wilno, he wanted to

see Krakow and its court and take part in the tournaments; but now he

fears that he will find disgrace here at the court, while there on the

steppes even at the worst, he would have found a glorious death.

But the aged Kazko of Jaglow, who was a hundred years old, and whose

common sense corresponded to his age, discouraged the zealous knights.

"You are stupid!" said he. "Is it possible that none of you have beard

that Christ's image spoke to the queen? If the Saviour himself condescend

to such familiarity, then why will the Holy Ghost, who is the third

person of the Trinity, be less kind to her. Therefore she sees future

events, as if they were passing before her, and she has thus spoken:"

Here he stopped for a while, shook his head, and then said:

"I have forgotten what she prophesied, but I will soon recollect."

He began to think, and they waited silently, because the popular belief

was that the queen could see the future.

"Aha!" said he, finally, "I remember now! The queen said, that if every

knight went with Witold against The Lame-Man, then heathenish power would

be destroyed. But all cannot go because of the dishonesty of Christian

lords. We are obliged to guard the boundaries from the attacks of the

Czechs and the Hungarians and also from the attacks of the Order, because

we cannot trust any of them. Therefore if Witold go with only a handful

of Polish warriors, then Tymur the Lame, or his _wojewodas_, coming with

innumerable hosts, will defeat him."

"But we are at peace now," said Toporczyk, "and the Order will give some

assistance to Witold. The Knights of the Cross cannot act otherwise, if

only for the sake of appearances, and to show to the holy father that

they are ready to fight the pagans. The courtiers say that Kuno von

Lichtenstein came not entirely for the christening, but also to consult

with the king."

"Here he is!" exclaimed the astonished Macko.

"True!" said Powala, turning his head. "So help me God, it is he! He did

not stay long with the abbot."

"He is in a hurry," answered Macko, gloomily.

Kuno von Lichtenstein passed them. Macko and Zbyszko recognized him by

the cross embroidered on his mantle; but he did not recognize either of

them because he had seen them before with their helmets on. Passing by,

he nodded to Powala of Taczew, and to Toporczyk; then with his

shield-bearers, he ascended the stairs of the cathedral, in a majestic

and stately manner.

At that moment the bells resounded, frightening flocks of doves and

jackdaws, and announcing that mass would soon begin. Macko and Zbyszko

entered the church with the others, feeling troubled about Lichtenstein's

quick return. The older _wlodyka_ was very uneasy, but the young one's

attention was attracted by the king's court. He was surrounded by noted

men, famous in war and in counsel. Many of those by whose wisdom the

marriage of the grand duke of Lithuania with the young and beautiful

queen of Poland, had been planned and accomplished, were now dead; but a

few of them were still living, and at these, all looked with the greatest

respect. The young knight could not admire enough the magnificent figure

of Jasko of Tenczyn, castellan of Krakow, in which sternness was united

with dignity and honesty; he admired the wise countenances of the

counsellors and the powerful faces of the knights whose hair was cut

evenly on their foreheads, and fell in long curls on their sides and

backs. Some of them wore nets, others wore bands to keep the hair in

order. The foreign guests, Hungarian and Austrian, and their attendants,

were amazed at the great elegance of the costumes; the Lithuanian princes

and _bojars_, notwithstanding the summer heat, were dressed for the sake

of pompous display in costly furs; the Russian princes wore large stiff

dresses, and in the background they looked like Byzantine pictures. With

the greatest curiosity Zbyszko awaited the appearance of the king and the

queen. He advanced toward the stalls behind which he could see the red

velvet cushions near the altar, on which the king and the queen kneeled

during mass.

He did not wait long; the king entered first, through the vestry door,

and before he reached the altar one could have a good look at him. He had

long, dark, disheveled hair; his face was thin and clean shaven; he had a

large pointed nose and some wrinkles around his mouth. His eyes were

small, dark, and shining. His face had a kind but cautious look, like

that of a man who having risen by good luck to a position far beyond his

expectations, is obliged to think continually whether his actions

correspond to his dignity and who is afraid of malicious criticism. This

also was the reason why in his face and in his movements there was a

certain impatience. It was very easy to understand that his anger would

be sudden and dreadful. He was that prince, who being angered at the

frauds of the Knights of the Cross, shouted after their envoy: "Thou

comest to me with a parchment, but I will come to thee with a spear!"

But now this natural vehemence was restrained by great and sincere piety.

He set a good example, not only to the recently converted Lithuanian

princes, but even to the Polish lords, pious for generations. Often the

king kneeled, for the greater mortification of the flesh, on bare stones;

often having raised his hands, he held them uplifted until they dropped

with fatigue. He attended at least three masses every day. After mass he

left the church as if just awakened from slumber, soothed and gentle. The

courtiers knew that it was the best time to ask him either for pardon, or

for a gift.

Jadwiga entered through the vestry door also. Seeing her enter, the

knights standing near the stalls, immediately kneeled, although mass had

not begun, voluntarily paying her homage as to a saint. Zbyszko did the

same; nobody in this assembly doubted that he really saw a saint, whose

image would some time adorn the church altars. Besides the respect due to

a queen, they almost worshipped her on account of her religious and holy

life. It was reported that the queen could perform miracles. They said

that she could cure the sick by touching them with her hand; that people

who could not move their legs nor their arms, were able to do it, after

they put on a dress which the queen had worn. Trustworthy witnesses

affirmed that they had heard with their own ears, Christ speak to her

from the altar. Foreign monarchs worshipped her on their knees and even

the Order of the Knights of the Cross respected her and feared to offend

her. Pope Bonifacius IX. called her the pious and chosen daughter of the

church. The world looked at her deeds and remembered that this child of

the Andegavian[41] house and Polish Piasts[42], this daughter of the

powerful Louis, a pupil of the most fastidious of courts, and also one of

the most beautiful women on earth, renounced happiness, renounced her

first love and being a queen married a "wild" prince of Lithuania, in

order to bring to the cross, by his help, the last pagan nation in

Europe. That which could not be accomplished by the forces of all the

Germans, by a sea of poured out blood, was done with one word from her.

Never did the glory of an apostle shine over a younger and more charming

forehead; never was the apostleship united with equal self-denial; never

was the beauty of a woman lighted with such angelic kindness and such

quiet sadness.

Therefore minstrels sang about her in all the European courts; knights

from the remotest countries came to Krakow to see this "Queen of Poland;"

her own people loved her, as the pupil of the eye and their power and

glory had increased by her marriage with Jagiello. Only one great sorrow

hung over her and the nation; for long years this child of God had had no

issue.

But now this sorrow had passed away and the joyful news of God's blessing

on the queen sped like lightning from the Baltic to the Black Sea, also

to Karpaty[43] and filled with joy all peoples of this powerful kingdom.

In all foreign courts, except in the capital of the Knights of the Cross,

the news was received with pleasure. In Rome "Te Deum" was sung. In the

provinces of Poland the belief was firmly established, that anything the

"Saint lady" asked of God, would be granted.

Therefore there came to her people to beseech her, that she ask health

for them; there came envoys from the provinces and from other countries,

to ask that she pray according to their need, either for rain, or for

fair weather for harvesting; for lucky moving time; for abundant fishing

in the lakes or for game in the forests.

Those knights, living in castles and _grodeks_ on the frontier, who

according to the custom learned from the Germans, had become robbers or

waged war among themselves, at the command of the queen, put their swords

in their scabbards, released their prisoners without ransom, restored

stolen herds and clasped hands in friendship. All kinds of misery, all

kinds of poverty crowded the gates of her castle in Krakow. Her pure

spirit penetrated human hearts, softened the hard lot of the serfs, the

great pride of the lords, the unjust severity of the judges, and hovered

like a dove of happiness, like an angel of justice and peace, over the

whole country.

No wonder then that all were awaiting with anxious hearts for the day of

blessing.

The knights looked closely at the figure of the queen, to see if they

could ascertain how long they would be obliged to wait for the future

heir to the throne. The _ksiondz_[44] bishop of Krakow, Wysz, who was

also the ablest physician in the country, and famous even abroad, had not

announced when the delivery would occur. They were making some

preparation; but it was the custom at that time to begin all festivals as

early as possible, and to prolong them for weeks. In fact the figure of

the lady, although a little rounded, had retained until now its former

grandeur. She was dressed with excessive simplicity. Formerly, having

been brought up at a brilliant court, and being more beautiful than any

of the contemporary princesses, she was fond of costly fabrics, of

chains, pearls, gold bracelets and rings; but now and even for several

years past, she not only wore the dress of a nun, but she even covered

her face, fearing that the thoughts of her beauty might arouse in her

worldly vanity. In vain Jagiello, having learned of her condition, in a

rapture of joy ordered her sleeping apartment to be decorated with

brocade and jewels. Having renounced all luxury, and remembering that the

time of confinement is often the time of death, she decided that not

among jewels, but in quiet humility she ought to receive the blessing

which God had promised to send her.

Meanwhile the gold and jewels went to establish a college and to send the

newly converted Lithuanian youths to foreign universities.

The queen agreed only to change her monastical dress, and from the time

that the hope of maternity was changed to positive certainty, she did not

veil her face, thinking that the dress of a penitent was no longer

proper.

Consequently everybody was now looking with love at that beautiful face,

to which neither gold, nor precious stones could add any charm. The queen

walked slowly from the vestry door toward the altar, with uplifted eyes,

holding in one hand a book, in the other a rosary. Zbyszko saw the

lily-like face, the blue eyes, and the angelic features full of peace,

kindness and mercy, and his heart began to throb with emotion. He knew

that according to God's command he ought to love the king and the queen,

and he did in his way; but now his heart overflowed with a great love,

which did not come by command, but burst forth like a flame; his heart

was also filled with the greatest worship, humility and desire for

sacrifice. The young _wlodyka_ Zbyszko was impetuous; therefore a desire

immediately seized him, to show in some way that love and the

faithfulness of a knight; to accomplish some deed for her; to rush

somewhere, to conquer some one and to risk his own life for it all. "I

had better go with _Kniaz_ Witold," he said to himself, "because how can

I serve the holy lady, if there is no war here." He did not stop to think

that one can serve in other ways as well as with sword or spear or axe;

he was ready to attack alone the whole power of Tymur the Lame. He wanted

to jump on his charger immediately after mass and begin something. What?

He did not know himself. He only knew, that he could not hold anything,

that his hands were burning and his whole soul was on fire.

He forgot all about the danger which threatened him. He even forgot about

Danusia, and when he remembered her, having heard the children singing in

the church, he felt that this love was something different. He had

promised Danusia fidelity; he had promised her three Germans and he would

keep his promise. But the queen is above all women. While he was thinking

how many people he would like to kill for the queen, he perceived

regiments of armors, helmets, ostrich feathers, peacocks' crests, and he

felt that even that would be small in proportion to his desire.

He looked at her constantly, pondering with overflowing heart, how he

could honor her by prayer, because he thought that one could not make an

ordinary prayer for a queen. He could say: _Pater noster, qui es in

coelis, sanctificetur nomen Tuum_, because a certain Franciscan monk

taught him this in Wilno; but it may be that the Franciscan himself did

not know more; it may be that Zbyszko had forgotten; but it is certain

that he could not recite the whole "Our Father." But now he began to

repeat these few words which in his soul had the following meaning: "Give

our beloved lady good health, long life and great happiness; care for her

more than for anyone else."

As this was repeated by a man over whose head punishment was suspended,

therefore there was no more sincere prayer in the whole church.

CHAPTER V.

After mass Zbyszko thought that if he could only fall upon his knees

before the queen and kiss her feet, then he did not care what happened

afterward. But after the first mass, the queen went to her apartments.

Usually she did not take any nourishment until noontime, and was not

present at the merry breakfast, during which jugglers and fools appeared

for the amusement of the king. The old _wlodyka_ of Dlugolas came and

summoned Zbyszko to the princess.

"You will serve Danusia and me at the table as my courtier," said the

princess. "It may happen that you will please the king by some facetious

word or deed, and the Krzyzak if he recognize you, will not complain to

the king, seeing that you serve me at the king's table."

Zbyszko kissed the princess' hand. Then he turned to Danusia; and

although he was more accustomed to battles than to the manners of the

court, still he evidently knew what was befitting a knight, when he sees

the lady of his thoughts in the morning; he retreated, and assuming an

expression of surprise, and making the sign of the cross, exclaimed:

"In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost!"

Danusia, looking at him with her blue eyes, asked:

"Why do you make the sign of the cross, Zbyszko, after mass is ended?"

"Because your beauty increased so much, during last night, that I am

astonished!"

Mikolaj of Dlugolas, who did not like the new, foreign customs of

chivalry, shrugged his shoulders and said:

"Don't lose time talking to her about her beauty! She is only a bush

hardly grown up from the soil."

At this Zbyszko looked at him with rancor.

"You must be careful about calling her a 'bush,'" said he, turning pale

with anger; "if you were younger, I would challenge you immediately and

would fight until either you or I were dead!"

"Keep quiet, you beardless boy! I can manage you even to-day!"

"Be quiet!" said the princess. "Instead of thinking about your own

danger, you are seeking a quarrel! I would prefer to find a more steady

knight for Danusia. If you wish to foam, go where you please; but we do

not need you here."

Zbyszko felt abashed at the princess' words and began to apologize. But

he thought to himself that if Pan Mikolaj of Dlugolas had a grown-up son,

then sometime he would challenge the son and would not forgive Mikolaj

for calling her "bush." Now he determined to be quiet while in the king's

castle and not to provoke anybody, only in case of absolute necessity.

The blowing of horns announced that breakfast was ready; therefore the

Princess Anna taking Danusia by the hand, went to the king's apartments,

where the lay-dignitaries and the knights, stood awaiting her arrival.

Princess Ziemowita entered first, because being the king's sister, she

occupied a higher seat at the table. Soon the hall was filled with

guests, dignitaries and knights. The king was seated at the upper end of

the table, having near him Wojciech Jastrzembiec, bishop of Krakow, the

bishop, although inferior in rank to the other priests wearing mitres,

was seated at the right hand of the king because he was the pope's envoy.

The two princesses took the next places. Near Anna Danuta, the former

archbishop of Gniezno, Jan, was comfortably seated in a large chair. He

was a descendant of the Piasts of Szlonsk and the son of Bolko, Prince of

Opole. Zbyszko had heard of him at the court of Witold; and now while

standing behind the princess and Danusia, he recognized the archbishop by

his abundant hair which being curled, made his head look like a

_kropidlo_.[45] At the courts of the Polish princes, they called him

"Kropidlo," for this reason; and the Knights of the Cross gave him the

name of "Grapidla." He was noted for his gaiety and giddy manners. Having

received the nomination for the archbishopric of Gniezno, against the

king's wish, he took possession of it by military force; for this act he

was deprived of his rank. He then joined the Knights of the Cross who

gave him the poor bishopric of Kamieniec in Pomorze. Then he concluded

that it was better to be friendly with the mighty king; he craved his

pardon, returned to the country and was now waiting for a vacancy to

occur, hoping that the good hearted lord would let him fill it. He was

not mistaken as the future proved. In the meantime he was trying to win

the king's heart by merry frolics. But he still liked the Knights of the

Cross. Even now, at the court of Jagiello where he was not greatly

welcomed by the dignitaries and knights, he sought Lichtenstein's company

and gladly sat beside him at the table.

Zbyszko, standing behind the princess' chair, was so near to the Krzyzak,

Lichtenstein, that he could have touched him with his hand. In fact, his

fingers began to twitch, but he overcame his impetuosity and did not

permit himself any evil thoughts. But he could not refrain from looking

eagerly at Lichtenstein's head and shoulders, trying to decide whether he

would have a hard fight with him, if they met either during the war, or

in single combat. He concluded that it would not be difficult to conquer

the German. The Krzyzak's shoulder bones appeared quite large under his

dress of grey broadcloth; but he was only a weakling compared with Powala

or with Paszko Zlodziej of Biskupice, or with both of the most famous

Sulimczyks, or with Krzon of Kozieglowy or with many of the other

knights, sitting at the king's table.

At these knights Zbyszko looked with admiration and envy; but his

attention was also attracted by the actions of the king, who at this

moment gathered his hair with his fingers and pushed it behind his ears,

as if he was impatient because breakfast was not served. His eyes rested

for a moment on Zbyszko, and at that the young knight felt afraid,

fearing that perhaps he would be obliged to face the angry king. This was

the first time he had thought seriously about the consequences of his

rash action. Until now it had seemed to him to be something remote,

therefore not worthy of sorrow.

The German did not know that that youth who dad attacked him so boldly on

the highway, was so near. The breakfast began. They brought in caudle,

seasoned so strongly with eggs, cinnamon, cloves, ginger and saffron,

that the fragrance filled the whole room. In the meanwhile the fool

Ciaruszek, sitting on a chair in the doorway, began to imitate the

singing of a nightingale, of which the king was very fond. Then another

jester went around the table, stopped behind the guests and imitated the

buzzing of a bee so well, that some of them began to defend their heads.

Seeing this, the others burst with laughter. Zbyszko had served the

princess and Danusia diligently; but when Lichtenstein began to clap his

baldhead, he again forgot about his danger and began to laugh. The young

Lithuanian _kniaz_, Jamut, who was standing beside him, also laughed at

this very heartily. The Krzyzak having finally noticed his mistake, put

his hand in his pocket, and turning to the bishop, Kropidlo, said a few

words to him in German; the bishop immediately repeated them in Polish.

"The noble lord says to you," said he, turning toward the fool, "that you

will receive two _skojce_; but do not buzz too near, because the bee is

driven away, but the drones are killed."

The fool took the two _skojce_ given to him by the Krzyzak, and taking

advantage of the license granted at all courts to the fools, answered:

"There is plenty of honey in the province of Dobrzyn;[46] that is why it

is beset with the drones. Drive them, King Wladyslaw!"

"Here is a penny from me, because you have said a clever thing," said

Kropidlo, "but remember that if the rope break, the beehive keeper break

his neck.[47] Those drones from Malborg, by whom Dobrzyn is beset, have

stings, and it is dangerous to climb to the beehives."

"Owa!" exclaimed Zyndram of Maszkow, the sword bearer of Krakow, "one can

smoke them out!"

"With what?"

"With powder."

"Or cut the beehive with an axe," added the gigantic Paszko Zlodziej of

Biskupice.

Zbyszko's heart was ready to leap with joy, because he thought that such

words betokened war. Kuno von Lichtenstein understood what was said,

because during his long sojourn in Torun and Chelmno, he learned the

Polish language; but he would not use it on account of pride. But now,

being irritated by the words of Zyndram of Maszkow, he looked at him

sharply with his grey eyes and said:

"We shall see."

"Our fathers saw at Plowce[48] and at Wilno," answered Zyndram.

"_Pax vobiscum!_" exclaimed Kropidlo. "_Pax, pax!_ If only the

_ksiondz_[49] Mikolaj of Kurow, will give up his Kujawian bishopric, and

the gracious king appoint me in his place, I will preach you such a

beautiful sermon about the love between Christian nations, that you will

sincerely repent. Hatred is nothing but _ignis_ and _ignis infernalis_ at

that; such a dreadful fire that one cannot extinguish it with water, but

is obliged to pour wine on it. Give us some wine! We will go on

_ops_,[50] as the late Bishop Zawisza of Kurozwenki used to say!"

"And from _ops_ to hell, the devil says," added the fool Ciaruszek.

"Let him take you!"

"It would be more amusing for him to take you. They have not yet seen the

devil with Kropidlo, but I think we shall all have that pleasure."

"I will sprinkle you first. Give us some wine and may love blossom among

the Christians!"

"Among true Christians!" added Kuno von Lichtenstein, emphatically.

"What?" exclaimed the Krakowian bishop Wysz, raising his head; "are you

not in an old Christian kingdom? Are not our churches older than yours in

Malborg?"[51]

"I don't know," answered the Krzyzak. The king was especially sensitive

where any question about Christianity arose. It seemed to him that the

Krzyzak wished to make an allusion to him; therefore his cheeks flamed

immediately and his eyes began to shine.

"What!" said he, in a deep voice, "am I not a Christian king?"

"The kingdom calls itself a Christian one," coolly answered the Krzyzak;

"but its customs are pagan."

At this many angry knights arose; Marcin of Wrocimowice, whose coat of

arms was Polkoza, Florian of Korytnica, Bartosz of Wodzinek, Domarat of

Kobylany, Zyndram of Maszkow, Powala of Taczew, Paszko Zlodziej of

Biskupice, Jaxa of Targowisko, Krzon of Kozieglowy, Zygmunt of Bobowa and

Staszko of Charbimowice, powerful and famous knights, victorious in many

battles and in many tournaments. Alternately blushing and turning pale

from anger, gnashing their teeth, they began to shout:

"Woe to us! He is a guest and we cannot challenge him!"

Zawisza Czarny, Sulimczyk, the most famous among the famous, "the model

of knighthood," turned to Lichtenstein with a frown on his forehead and

said:

"I do not recognize you, Kuno. How can you, a knight, insult a mighty

nation, when you know that, being an envoy, you cannot be punished for

it."

But Kuno quietly sustained the threatening look, and answered slowly and

precisely:

"Our Order, before it came to Prussia, fought in Palestine; even there

the Saracens respected the envoys. But you do not respect them; that is

the reason I called your customs pagan."

At these words the uproar increased. Round the table again were heard

shouts: "Woe! Woe!"

But they subsided when the king, who was furious, clasped his hands in

the Lithuanian fashion. Then the old Jasko Topor of Tenczyn, castellan of

Krakow, venerable, grave and dreaded on account of the importance of his

office, arose and said:

"Noble Knight of Lichtenstein, if you, an envoy, have been insulted,

speak, and severe punishment will be given quickly."

"It would not have happened to me in any other Christian country,"

answered Kuno. "Yesterday on the road to Tyniec I was attacked by one of

your knights, and although he could very easily recognize by the cross on

my mantle who I was, he attempted my life."

Zbyszko, having heard these words, became very pale and involuntarily

glanced at the king, whose anger was terrible. Jasko of Tenczyn was

surprised, and said:

"Can it be possible?"

"Ask the Pan of Taczew, who was a witness of the incident."

"All eyes turned toward Powala, who stood for a while gloomy, and with

lowered eyelids; then he said:

"Yes, it is so!"

Hearing this the knights began to shout: "Shame! Shame! The earth will

devour such a man!" Because of this disgrace some of them began to strike

their chests with their hands, and others to rap the silver dishes, not

knowing what to do.

"Why did you not kill him?" shouted the king.

"Because his head belongs to the court," answered Powala.

"Have you put him in prison?" asked the castellan, Topor of Tenczyn.

"No. He is a _wlodyka_, who swore on his knightly honor, that he would

appear."

"But he will not appear!" ironically exclaimed Kuno, raising his head.

At that moment a young voice resounded behind the Krzyzak:

"I did it; I, Zbyszko of Bogdaniec!"

After these words the knights rushed toward the unhappy Zbyszko; but they

were stopped by a threatening nod from the king who began to shout in an

angry voice, similar to the rattling of a carriage rolling over the

stones:

"Cut his head off! Cut his head off! Let the Krzyzak send it to Malborg

to the grand master!"

Then he cried to the young Lithuanian prince standing near.

"Hold him, Jamont!"

The frightened Jamont put his trembling hands on Zbyszko's shoulders.

But the white-bearded castellan of Krakow, Topor of Tenczyn, raised his

hand as a sign that he wished to speak; when everybody was quiet, he

said:

"Gracious king! Let this _comthur_ be convinced that not only your

impetuous anger, but our laws will punish with death any who insult an

envoy. Otherwise he will think that there are no Christian laws in this

country. To-morrow I will judge the offender."

The last words he said quietly and as though no one could change his

decision. Then he said to Jamont:

"Shut him in the tower. As for you, Pan of Taczew, you will be a

witness."

"I will tell about the offence of this lad," answered Powala, looking at

Lichtenstein.

"He is right!" immediately said some knights. "He is only a lad! Why

should the shame be put on us all!"

There was a moment of silence, and angry looks were cast at the Krzyzak.

In the meanwhile Jamont conducted Zbyszko to the court-yard of the castle

and intrusted him to the archers. In his young heart he pitied the

prisoner, and this pity was increased by his natural hatred of the

Germans. But he was a Lithuanian, accustomed to fulfill blindly the

orders of the grand duke; being himself afraid of the king's wrath, he

began to whisper to the young knight, with kindly persuasion:

"Do you know, what I would do if in your place? Hang myself! It will be

the best! The _korol_[52] is angry; they will cut off your head. Why

should you not make him joyful? Hang yourself, _druh_.[53] Such is the

custom in my country."

Zbyszko, half dazed with shame and fear, at first did not seem to

understand the words of the _kniazik_;[54] but finally he understood them

and then he was amazed:

"What do you say?"

"Hang yourself! Why should they judge you. You will only afford pleasure

for the king!" repeated Jamont.

"Hang your own self!" exclaimed the young _wlodyka_. "They have baptized

you but your heathen skin remains on you. Do you not know that it is a

sin for a Christian to kill himself?"

The _kniaz_ shrugged his shoulders:

"It will not be according to your will. They will cut off your head just

the same."

These words angered Zbyszko, and he wondered if it would be proper to

challenge the _bojarzynek_[55] for a fight either on horseback or on

foot, with swords or with axes; but he stifled this desire. He dropped

his head sadly and surrounded by the archers, went silently to the tower.

In the meanwhile everybody's attention in the dining hall was turned to

Danusia, who became pale with fright. She stood motionless like a wax

figure in a church. But when she heard that they were going to execute

Zbyszko, then she was seized with great fear; her mouth quivered and at

once she began to cry so loudly and so pitifully, that all faces turned

toward her and the king himself asked her:

"What is the matter with thee?"

"Gracious king!" said the Princess Anna, "she is the daughter of Jurand

of Spychow and this unhappy knight made a vow to her. He promised her to

tear three peacock tufts from the helmets of the Germans, and having

noticed such a tuft on the helmet of this _comthur_, he thought that God

himself had sent the Krzyzak. He did not attack him, lord, through

malice, but through stupidity; therefore be merciful and do not punish

him, we beseech you on our knees!"

Having said this she arose, seized Danusia by the hand, and rushed with

her toward the king, who seeing this began to retire. But both kneeled

before him and Danusia began to cry;

"Forgive Zbyszko, king, forgive Zbyszko!"

Because she was afraid, she hid her fair head between the folds of the

king's dress, kissed his knees and trembled like a leaf. Anna Ziemowitowa

kneeled on the other side and having clasped her hands, looked at the

king on whose face there was visible great perplexity. He retired toward

the chair, but did not push Danusia back, only waved his hands.

"Do not trouble me!" he cried. "The youth is guilty; he has brought

disgrace on the country! They must execute him!"

But the little hands clung closer and closer to his knees and the child

cried more and more pitifully:

"Forgive Zbyszko, king, forgive Zbyszko!"

Now the voices of some knights were heard to exclaim:

"Jurand of Spychow is a famous knight, and the cause of awe to the

Germans."

"And that youth fought bravely at Wilno!" added Powala.

But the king excused himself further, although he pitied Danusia.

"He is not guilty toward me and it is not I who can forgive him. Let the

envoy of the Order pardon him, then I will pardon him also; but if the

envoy will not, then he must die."

"Forgive him, sir!" exclaimed both of the princesses.

"Forgive, forgive!" repeated the voices of the knights.

Kuno closed his eyes and sat with uplifted forehead, as if he was

delighted to see both princesses and such famous knights entreating him.

Then his appearance changed; he dropped his head, crossed his hands on

his breast and from a proud man became a humble one, and said with a

soft, mild voice:

"Christ, our Saviour, forgave his enemies and even the malefactor on the

cross."

"He is a true knight!" said Bishop Wysz.

"He is, he is!"

"How can I refuse to forgive," continued Kuno, "being not only a

Christian, but also a monk? Therefore I forgive him with all my heart, as

Christ's servant and friar!"

"Honor to him!" shouted Powala of Taczew.

"Honor!" repeated the others.

"But," said the Krzyzak, "I am here among you as an envoy and I carry in

me the majesty of the whole Order which is Christ's Order. Whosoever

offends me, therefore, offends the Order; and whosoever offends the

Order, offends Christ himself; and such an offence, I, in the presence of

God and the people, cannot forgive; and if your law does not punish it,

let all Christian lords know."

After these words, there was a profound silence. Then after a while there

could be heard here and there the gnashing of teeth, the heavy breathing

of suppressed wrath and Danusia's sobbings.

By evening all hearts were in sympathy with Zbyszko. The same knights who

in the morning were ready to cut him into pieces, were now considering

how they could help him. The princesses determined to see the queen, and

beseech her to prevail upon Lichtenstein to withdraw his complaint; or if

necessary to write to the grand master of the Order, and ask him to

command Kuno to give up the case. This plan seemed to be the best because

Jadwiga was regarded with such unusual respect that if the grand master

refused her request, it would make the pope angry and also all Christian

lords. It was not likely that he would refuse because Konrad von

Jungingen was a peaceable man. Unfortunately Bishop Wysz of Krakow, who

was also the queen's physician, forbade them to mention even a word about

this affair to the queen. "She never likes to hear about death

sentences," he said, "and she takes even the question of a simple

robber's death too seriously; she will worry much more if she hear about

this young man who hopes to obtain mercy from her. But such anxiety will

make her seriously ill, and her health is worth more to the whole kingdom

than ten knightly heads." He finally said that if anyone should dare,

notwithstanding what he had said, to disturb the queen, on that one he

would cause the king's anger to rest and then he threatened such an one

with excommunication.

Both princesses were frightened at such menace and determined to be

silent before the queen; but instead to beseech the king until he showed

some mercy. The whole court and all the knights sympathized with Zbyszko.

Powala of Taczew declared that he would tell the whole truth; but that he

would also speak in favor of the young man, because the whole affair was

only an instance of childish impetuousness. But notwithstanding all this,

everybody could see, and the castellan, Jasko of Tenczyn made it known,

that if the Krzyzak was unrelenting, then the severe law must be

fulfilled.

Therefore the knights were still more indignant against Lichtenstein and

they all thought and even said frankly: "He is an envoy and cannot be

called to the lists; but when he returns to Malborg, God will not permit

that he die a natural death." They were not talking in vain, because a

knight who wore the girdle was not permitted to say even one word without

meaning it, and the knight who vowed anything, was obliged to accomplish

his vow or perish. Powala was the most implacably angry because he had a

beloved daughter of Danusia's age in Taczew, and Danusia's tears made his

heart tender.

Consequently, that same day, he went to see Zbyszko, in his underground

cell, commanded him to have hope, and told him about the princesses'

prayers and about Danusia's tears. Zbyszko having learned that the girl

threw herself at the king's feet for his sake, was moved to tears, and

wishing to express his gratitude, said, wiping his tears with his hand:

"Hej! may God bless her, and permit me as soon as possible to engage in a

combat, either on horseback or on foot, for her sake! I did not promise

Germans enough to her! To such a lady, I ought to vow as many as she has

years. If the Lord Jesus will only release me from this tower, I will not

be niggardly with her!" He raised his eyes, full of gratitude.

"First promise something to some church," advised the _Pan_ of Taczew;

"if your promise is pleasing, you will surely soon be free. Now listen;

your uncle went to see Lichtenstein, and I will go see him also. It will

be no shame for you to ask his pardon, because you are guilty; and then

you do not ask for pardon of Lichtenstein, but an envoy. Are you ready?"

"As soon as such a knight as your grace tells me it is proper, I will do

it. But if he require me to ask him for pardon in the same way he asked

us to do it, on the road from Tyniec, then let them cut off my head. My

uncle will remain and he will avenge me when the envoy's mission is

ended."

"We shall hear first what he says to Macko," answered Powala.

And Macko really went to see the German; but he returned as gloomy as the

night and went directly to the king, to whom he was presented by the

castellan, himself. The king received Macko kindly because he had been

appeased; when Macko kneeled, he immediately told him to arise, asking

what he wished.

"Gracious lord," said Macko, "there was an offence, there must be a

punishment; otherwise, there would be no law in the world. But I am also

guilty because I did not try to restrain the natural impetuosity of that

youth; I even praised him for it. It is my fault, gracious king, because

I often told him: 'First cut, and then look to see whom you have hurt.'

That was right in war, but wrong at the court! But he is a man, pure as

gold, the last of our family!"

"He has brought shame upon me and upon my kingdom," said the king; "shall

I be gracious to him for that?"

Macko was silent, because when he thought about Zbyszko, grief

overpowered him; after a long silence, he began to talk in a broken

voice:

"I did not know that I loved him so well; I only know it now when

misfortune has come. I am old and he is last of the family. If he

perish--we perish! Merciful king and lord, have pity on our family!"

Here Macko kneeled again and having stretched out his arms wasted by war,

he spoke with tears:

"We defended Wilno; God gave us honest booty; to whom shall I leave it?

If the Krzyzak requires punishment, let punishment come; but permit me to

suffer it. What do I care for life without Zbyszko! He is young; let him

redeem the land and beget children, as God ordered man to do. The Krzyzak

will not ask whose head was cut off, if there is one cut. There will be

no shame on the family. It is difficult for a man to die; but it is

better that one man perish than that a family should be destroyed."

Speaking thus he clasped the king's legs; the king began to wink his

eyes, which was a sign of emotion with him; finally he said:

"It can not be! I cannot condemn to death a belted knight! It cannot be!

It cannot be!"

"And there would be no justice in it," added the castellan. "The law will

crush the guilty one; but it is not a monster, which does not look to see

whose blood is being shed. And you must consider what shame would fall on

your family, if your nephew agreed to your proposal. It would be

considered a disgrace, not only to him, but to his children also."

To this Macko replied:

"He would not agree. But if it were done without his knowledge, he would

avenge me, even as I also will avenge him."

"Ha!" said Tenczynski, "persuade the Krzyzak to withdraw the complaint."

"I have asked him."

"And what?" asked the king, stretching his neck; "what did he say?"

"He answered me thus: 'You ought to have asked me for pardon on the road

to Tyniec; you would not then; now I will not.'"

"And why didn't you do it?"

"Because he required us to dismount and apologize on foot."

The king having put his hair behind his ears, commenced to say something

when a courtier entered to announce that the Knight of Lichtenstein was

asking for an audience.

Having heard this, Jagiello looked at Jasko of Tenczyn, then at Macko. He

ordered them to remain, perhaps with the hope that he would be able to

take advantage of this opportunity and using his kingly authority, bring

the affair to an end.

Meanwhile the Krzyzak entered, bowed to the king, and said:

"Gracious lord! Here is the written complaint about the insult which I

suffered in your kingdom."

"Complain to him," answered the king, pointing to Jasko of Tenczyn.

The Krzyzak, looking directly into the king's face, said:

"I know neither your laws nor your courts; I only know, that an envoy of

the Order can complain only to the king."

Jagiello's small eyes flashed with impatience; he stretched out his hand

however, and accepted the complaint which he handed to Tenczynski.

The castellan unfolded it and began to read; but the further he read, the

more sorrowful and sad his face became.

"Sir," said he, finally, "you are seeking the life of that lad, as though

he were dangerous to the whole Order. Is it possible that the Knights of

the Cross are afraid even of the children?"

"The Knights of the Cross are not afraid of anyone," answered the

_comthur_, proudly.

And the old castellan added:

"And especially of God."

The next day Powala of Taczew testified to everything he could before the

court of the castellan, that would lessen the enormity of Zbyszko's

offence. But in vain did he attribute the deed to childishness and lack

of experience; in vain he said that even some one older, if he had made

the same vow, prayed for its fulfillment and then had suddenly perceived

in front of him such a crest, would also have believed that it was God's

providence. But one thing, the worthy knight could not deny; had it not

been for him, Zbyszko's spear would have pierced the Krzyzak's chest.

Kuno had brought to the court the armor which he wore that day; it

appeared that it was so thin that Zbyszko with his great strength, would

have pierced it and killed the envoy, if Powala of Taczew had not

prevented him. Then they asked Zbyszko if he intended to kill the

Krzyzak, and he could not deny it. "I warned him from afar," said he, "to

point his lance, and had he shouted in reply that he was an envoy, I

would not have attacked him."

These words pleased the knights who, on account of their sympathy for the

lad, were present in great numbers, and immediately numerous voices were

heard to say: "True! Why did he not reply!" But the castellan's face

remained gloomy and severe. Having ordered those present to be silent, he

meditated for a while, then looked sharply at Zbyszko, and asked:

"Can you swear by the Passion of our Lord that you saw neither the mantle

nor the cross?"

"No!" answered Zbyszko. "Had I not seen the cross, I would have thought

he was one of our knights, and I would not have attacked one of ours."

"And how was it possible to find any Krzyzak near Krakow, except an

envoy, or some one from his retinue?"

To this Zbyszko did not reply, because there was nothing to be said. To

everybody it was clear, that if the _Pan_ of Taczanow had not interposed,

at the present moment there would lie before them not the armor of the

envoy, but the envoy himself, with pierced breast--an eternal disgrace to

the Polish nation;--therefore even those who sympathized with Zbyszko,

with their whole souls, understood that he could not expect a mild

sentence.

In fact, after a while the castellan said:

"As you did not stop to think whom you were attacking, and you did it

without anger, therefore our Saviour will forgive you; but you had better

commit yourself to the care of the Most Holy Lady, because the law cannot

condone your offence."

Having heard this, Zbyszko, although he expected such words, became

somewhat pale; but he soon shook his long hair, made the sign of the

cross, and said:

"God's will! I cannot help it!"

Then he turned to Macko and looked expressively at Lichtenstein, as if to

recommend him to Macko's memory; his uncle nodded in return that he

understood and would remember. Lichtenstein also understood the look and

the nod, and although he was as courageous as implacable, a cold shiver

ran through him--so dreadful and ill-omened was the face of the old

warrior. The Krzyzak knew that between him and that knight it would be a

question of life or death. That even if he wanted to avoid the combat, he

could not do it; that when his mission was ended, they must meet, even at

Malborg.[56]

Meanwhile the castellan went to the adjoining room to dictate the

sentence to a secretary. Some of the knights during the interruption came

near the Krzyzak, saying:

"May they give you a more merciful sentence in the great day of

judgment!"

But Lichtenstein cared only for the opinion of Zawisza, because he was

noted all over the world for his knightly deeds, his knowledge of the

laws of chivalry and his great exactness in keeping them. In the most

entangled affairs in which there was any question about knightly honor,

they used to go to him even from distant lands. Nobody contradicted his

decisions, not only because there was no chance of victory in a contest

with him, but because they considered him "the mirror of honor." One word

of blame or praise from his mouth was quickly known by the knighthood of

Poland, Hungary, Bohemia (Czech) and Germany; and he could decide between

the good and evil actions of a knight.

Therefore Lichtenstein approached him as if he would like to justify his

deadly grudge, and said:

"The grand master himself, with the chapter, could show him clemency; but

I cannot."

"Your grand master has nothing to do with our laws; our king can show

clemency to our people, not he," answered Zawisza.

"I as the envoy was obliged to insist upon punishment."

"Lichtenstein, you were first a knight, afterward an envoy!"

"Do you think that I acted against honor?"

"You know our books of chivalry, and you know that they order us to

imitate two animals, the lamb and the lion. Which of the two have you,

imitated in this case?"

"You are not my judge!"

"You asked me if you had committed an offence, and I answered as I

thought."

"You give me a hard answer, which I cannot swallow."

"You will be choked by your own malice, not by mine."

"But Christ will put to my account, the fact that I cared more about the

dignity of the Order, than about your praise."

"He will judge all of us."

Further conversation was interrupted by the reappearance of the castellan

and the secretary. They knew that the sentence would be a severe one, and

everyone waited silently. The castellan sat at the table, and, having

taken a crucifix in his hand, ordered Zbyszko to kneel.

The secretary began to read the sentence in Latin. It was a sentence of

death. When the reading was over, Zbyszko struck himself several times on

the chest, repeating; "God be merciful to me, a sinner!"

Then he arose and threw himself in Macko's arms, who began to kiss his

head and eyes.

In the evening of the same day, a herald announced at the four corners of

the market place with the sound of trumpets, to the knights, guests and

burghers assembled, that the noble Zbyszko of Bogdaniec was sentenced by

the castellan's court to be decapitated by the sword.

But Macko obtained a delay of the execution; this was readily granted,

because in those days they used to allow prisoners plenty of time to

dispose of their property, as well as to be reconciled to God.

Lichtenstein himself did not wish to insist upon an early execution of

the sentence, because he understood, that as long as he obtained

satisfaction for the offended majesty of the Order, it would be bad

policy to estrange the powerful monarch, to whom he was sent not only to

take part in the solemnity of the christening, but also to attend to the

negotiations about the province of Dobrzyn. But the chief reason for the

delay was the queen's health. Bishop Wysz did not wish even to hear about

the execution before her delivery, rightly thinking, that it would be

difficult to conceal such an affair from the lady. She would feel such

sorrow and distress that it would be very injurious to her health. For

these reasons, they granted Zbyszko several weeks, and perhaps more, of

life, to make his final arrangements and to bid his friends farewell.

Macko visited him every day and tried to console him. They spoke

sorrowfully about Zbyszko's inevitable death, and still more sorrowfully

about the fact that the family would become extinct.

"It cannot be otherwise, unless you marry," Zbyszko said once.

"I would prefer to find some distant relative," answered the sorrowful

Macko. "How can I think about women, when they are going to behead you.

And even if I am obliged to marry, I will not do it, until I send a

knightly challenge to Lichtenstein, and seek to avenge your death. Do not

fear!"

"God will reward you. I have at least that joy! But I know that you will

not forgive him. How will you avenge me?"

"When his duty as an envoy has ended, there may be a war! If there be

war, I will send him a challenge for single combat before the battle."

"On the leveled ground?"

"On the leveled ground, on horseback or on foot, but only for death, not

for captivity. If there be peace, then I will go to Malborg and will

strike the door of the castle gates with my spear, and will order the

trumpeter to proclaim that I challenge Kuno to fight until death. He

cannot avoid the contest!"

"Surely he will not refuse. And you will defeat him."

"Defeat? I could not defeat Zawisza, Paszko, nor Powala; but without

boasting, I can take care of two like him. That scoundrel Krzyzak shall

see! That Fryzjan knight, was he not stronger? And how I cut him through

the helmet, until the axe stopped! Did I not?"

Zbyszko breathed with relief and said:

"I will perish with some consolation."

They both began to sigh, and the old nobleman spoke with emotion:

"You mustn't break down with sorrow. Your bones will not search for one

another at the day of judgment. I have ordered an honest coffin of oak

planks for you. Even the canons of the church of Panna Marya could not

have any better. You will not perish like a peasant. I will not permit

them to decapitate you on the same cloth on which they behead burghers. I

have made an agreement with Amylej, that he furnish a new cloth, so

handsome that it would be good enough to cover king's fur. I will not be

miserly with prayers, either; don't be afraid!"

Zbyszko's heart rejoiced, and bending toward his uncle's hand, he

repeated:

"God will reward you!"

Sometimes, however, notwithstanding all this consolation he was seized

with a feeling of dreadful loneliness; therefore, another time when Macko

came to see him, as soon as he had welcomed him, he asked him, looking

through the grate in the wall:

"How is it outside?"

"Beautiful weather, like gold, and the sun warms so that all the world is

pleased."

Hearing this, Zbyszko put both his hands on his neck, and raising his

head, said:

"Hej, Mighty God! To have a horse and to ride on fields, on large ones!

It is dreadful for a young man to perish! It is dreadful!"

"People perish on horseback!" answered Macko.

"Bah! But how many they kill before!"

And he began to ask about the knights whom he had seen at the king's

court; about Zawisza, Farurej, Powala of Taczew, about Lis of Targowisko

and about all the others; what they were doing; how they amused

themselves; in what honest exercises they passed the time? And he

listened with avidity to Macko who told him that in the morning, the

knights dressed in their armor, jumped over horses, broke ropes, tried

one another's skill with swords and with axes having sharp ends made of

lead; finally, he told how they feasted and what songs they sang. Zbyszko

longed with heart and soul to be with them, and when he learned that

Zawisza, immediately after the christening, intended to go somewhere

beyond Hungary, against the Turks, he could not refrain from exclaiming:

"If they would only let me go! It would be better to perish among the

pagans!"

But this could not be done. In the meanwhile something else happened.

Both princesses of Mazowsze had not ceased to think about Zbyszko, who

had captivated them by his youth and beauty. Finally the Princess

Alexandra Ziemowitowna decided to send a letter to the grand master. It

was true that the grand master could not alter the sentence, pronounced

by the castellan; but he could intercede with the king in favor of the

youth. It was not right for Jagiello to show any clemency, because the

offence was an attempt on the life of the envoy; but if the grand master

besought the king, then the king would pardon the lad. Therefore hope

entered the hearts of both princesses. Princess Alexandra being fond of

the polished monk-knights, was a great favorite with them also. Very

often they sent her from Marienburg, rich presents and letters in which

the master called her venerable, pious benefactress and the particular

protectress of the Order. Her words could do much; it was probable that

her wishes would not be denied. The question now was to find a messenger,

who would be zealous enough to carry the letter as soon as possible and

return immediately with the answer. Having heard this, the old Macko

determined without any hesitation to do it.

The castellan promised to delay the execution. Full of hope, Macko set

himself to work the same day to prepare for the journey. Then he went to

see Zbyszko, to tell him the good news.

At first Zbyszko was filled with as great joy, as if they had already

opened the door of the tower for him. But afterward he became thoughtful

and gloomy, and said:

"Who can expect anything from the Germans! Lichtenstein also could ask

the king for clemency; and he could get some benefit from it because he

would thus avoid your vengeance; but he will not do anything."

"He is angry because we would not apologize on the road to Tyniec. The

people speak well about the master, Konrad. At any rate you will not lose

anything by it."

"Sure," said Zbyszko, "but do not bow too low to him."

"I shall not. I am going with the letter from Princess Alexandra; that is

all."

"Well, as you are so kind, may God help you!"

Suddenly he looked sharply at his uncle and said:

"But If the king pardon me, Lichtenstein shall be mine, not yours.

Remember!"

"You are not yet sure about your neck, therefore don't make any promises.

You have enough of those stupid vows!" said the angry old man.

Then they threw themselves into each other's arms. Zbyszko remained

alone. Hope and uncertainty tossed his soul by turns; but when night

came, and with it a storm, when the uncovered window was lighted by

ill-omened lightnings and the walls shook with the thunder, when finally

the whistling wind rushed into the tower, Zbyszko plunged, into darkness,

again lost confidence; all night he could not close his eyes.

"I shall not escape death," he thought; "nothing can help me!"

But the next day, the worthy Princess Anna Januszowna came to see him,

and brought Danusia who wore her little lute at her belt. Zbyszko fell at

their feet; then, although he was in great distress, after a sleepless

night, in woe and uncertainty, he did not forget his duty as a knight and

expressed his surprise about Danusia's beauty.

But the princess looked at him sadly and said:

"You must not wonder at her; if Macko does not bring a favorable answer,

or if he does not return at all, you will wonder at better things in

heaven!"

Then she began to weep as she thought of the uncertain future of the

little knight. Danusia wept also. Zbyszko kneeled again at their feet,

because his heart became soft like heated wax in the presence of such

grief. He did not love Danusia as a man loves a woman; but he felt that

he loved her dearly. The sight of her had such an effect on him that he

became like another man, less severe, less impetuous, less warlike.

Finally great grief filled him because he must leave her before he could

accomplish the vow which he had made to her.

"Poor child, I cannot put at your feet those peacock crests," said he.

"But when I stand in the presence of God, I will say: 'Lord, forgive me

my sins, and give _Panna_ Jurandowna of Spychow all riches on earth.'"

"You met only a short time ago," said the princess. "God will not grant

it!"

Zbyszko began to recollect the incident which occurred in Tyniec and his

heart was melted. Finally he asked Danusia to sing for him the same song

which she was singing when he seized her from the falling bench and

carried her to the princess.

Therefore Danusia, although she did not feel like singing, raised her

closed eyes toward the vault and began:

"If I only could get

The wings like a birdie,

I would fly quickly

To my dearest Jasiek!

I would then be seated

On the high enclosure:

Look my dear Jasiulku----"

But suddenly the tears began to flow down her face, and she was unable to

sing any more. Zbyszko seized her in his arms, as he had done in the inn

at Tyniec and began to walk with her around the room, repeating in

ecstasy:

"If God release me from this prison, when you grow up, if your father

give his consent, I will take you for my wife! Hej!"

Danusia embraced him and hid her face on his shoulder. His grief which

became greater and greater, flowed from a rustic Slavonic nature, and

changed in that simple soul almost to a rustic song:

"I will take you, girl!

I will take you!"

CHAPTER VI.

An event now happened, compared with which all other affairs lost their

importance. Toward evening of the twenty-first of June, the news of the

queen's sudden illness spread throughout the castle. Bishop Wysz and the

other doctors remained in her room the whole night. It was known that the

queen was threatened with premature confinement. The castellan of Krakow,

Jasko Topor of Tenczyn, sent a messenger to the absent king that same

night. The next day the news spread throughout the entire city and its

environs. It was Sunday, therefore the churches were crowded. All doubt

ceased. After mass the guests and the knights, who had come to be present

at the festivals, the nobles and the burghers, went to the castle; the

guilds and the fraternities came out with their banners. From noontide

numberless crowds of people surrounded Wawel, but order was kept by the

king's archers. The city was almost deserted; crowds of peasants moved

toward the castle to learn some news about the health of their beloved

queen. Finally there appeared in the principal gate, the bishops and the

castellan, and with them other canons, king's counselors and knights.

They mingled with the people telling them the news, but forbidding any

loud manifestation of joy, because it would be injurious to the sick

queen. They announced to all, that the queen was delivered of a daughter.

This news filled the hearts of all with joy, especially when they

learned, that, although the confinement was premature, there was now no

danger, neither for the mother nor for the child. The people began to

disperse because it was forbidden to shout near the castle and everybody

wished to manifest his joy. Therefore, the streets of the city were

filled immediately, and exulting songs and exclamations resounded in

every corner. They were not disappointed because a girl had been born.

"Was it unfortunate that King Louis had no sons and that Jadwiga became

our queen? By her marriage with Jagiello, the strength of the kingdom was

doubled. The same will happen again. Where can one find a richer heiress

than our queen. Neither the Roman emperor nor any king possesses such

dominion, nor so numerous a knighthood! There will be great competition

among the monarchs for her hand; the most powerful of them will bow to

our king and queen; they will come to Krakow, and we merchants will

profit by it; perhaps some new domains, Bohemian or Hungarian, will be

added to our kingdom."

Thus spoke the merchants among themselves, and their joy increased every

moment. They feasted in the private houses and in the inns. The market

place was filled with lanterns and torches. Almost till daybreak, there

was great life and animation throughout the city.

During the morning, they heard more news from the castle.

They heard that the _ksiondz_ Bishop Peter, had baptized the child during

the night. On account of this, they feared that the little girl was not

very strong. But the experienced townswomen quoted some similar cases, in

which the infants had grown stronger immediately after baptism. Therefore

they comforted themselves with this hope; their confidence was greatly

increased by the name given to the princess.

"Neither Bonifacius nor Bonifacia can die immediately after baptism; the

child so named is destined to accomplish something great," they said.

"During the first years, especially during the first weeks, the child

cannot do anything good or bad."

The next day, however, there came bad news from the castle concerning the

infant and the mother, and the city was excited. During the whole day,

the churches were as crowded as they were during the time of absolution.

Votive offerings were very numerous for the queen's and princess' health.

One could see poor peasants offering some grain, lambs, chickens, ropes

of dried mushrooms or baskets of nuts. There came rich offerings from the

knights, from the merchants and from the artisans. They sent messengers

to the places where miracles were performed. Astrologers consulted the

stars. In Krakow itself, they ordered numerous processions. All guilds

and fraternities took part in them. There was also a children's

procession because the people thought that these innocent beings would be

more apt to obtain God's favor. Through the gates new crowds were coming.

Thus day after day passed, with continual ringing of bells, with the

noise of the crowds in the churches, with processions and with prayers.

But when at the end of a week, the beloved queen and the child were still

living, hope began to enter the hearts of the people. It seemed to them

impossible, that God would take from the kingdom the queen who, having

done so much for it, would thus be obliged to leave so much unfinished.

The scholars told how much she had done for the schools; the clergy, how

much for God's glory; the statesmen, how much for peace among Christian

monarchs; the jurisconsults, how much for justice; the poor people, how

much for poverty. None of them could believe that the life so necessary

to the kingdom and to the whole world, would be ended prematurely.

In the meanwhile on July thirteenth, the tolling bells announced the

death of the child. The people again swarmed through the streets of the

city, and uneasiness seized them. The crowd surrounded Wawel again,

inquiring about the queen's health. But now nobody came out with good

news. On the contrary, the faces of the lords entering the castle, or

returning to the city, were gloomy, and every day became sadder. They

said that the _ksiondz_ Stanislaw of Skarbimierz, the master of liberal

sciences in Krakow, did not leave the queen, who every day received holy

communion. They said also, that after every communion, her room was

filled with celestial light. Some had seen it through the windows; but

such a sight frightened the hearts devoted to the lady; they feared that

it was a sign that celestial life had already begun for her.

But everybody did not believe that such a dreadful thing could happen;

they reassured themselves with the hope that the justice of heaven would

be satisfied with one victim. But on Friday morning, July seventeenth,

the news spread among the people that the queen was in agony. Everybody

rushed toward Wawel. The city was deserted; even mothers with their

infants rushed toward the gates of the castle. The stores were closed;

they did not cook any food. All business was suspended; but around Wawel,

there was a sea of uneasy, frightened but silent people.

At last at the thirteenth hour from noontime, the bell on the tower of

the cathedral resounded. They did not immediately understand what it

meant; but the people became uneasy. All heads and all eyes turned toward

the tower in which was hung the tolling bell; its mournful tones were

soon repeated by other bells in the city: by those at Franciscans, at

Trinity, and at Panna Marya. Finally the people understood; then their

souls were filled with dread and with great grief. At last a large black

flag embroidered with a death's head, appeared on the tower. Then all

doubt vanished: the queen had rendered her soul to God.

Beneath the castle walls resounded the roar and the cries of a hundred

thousand people and mingled with the gloomy voices of the bells. Some of

the people threw themselves on the ground; others tore their clothing or

lacerated their faces; while others looked at the walls with silent

stupefaction. Some of them were moaning; some, stretching their hands

toward the church and toward the queen's room, asked for a miracle and

God's mercy. But there were also heard some angry voices, which on

account of despair were verging toward blasphemy:

"Why have they taken our dear queen? For what then were our processions,

our prayers and our entreaties? Our gold and silver offerings were

accepted and we have nothing in return for them! They took but they gave

us nothing in return!" Many others weeping, repeated: "Jesus! Jesus!

Jesus!" The crowds wanted to enter the castle, to look once more on the

face of their queen.

This they were not permitted to do; but were promised that the body would

soon be placed in the church where everyone would be allowed to view it

and to pray beside it. Consequently toward evening, the sorrowing people

began to return to the city, talking about the queen's last moments,

about the future funeral and the miracles, which would be performed near

her body and around her tomb. Some also said that immediately after her

burial, the queen would be canonized, and when others said that they

doubted if it could be done, many began to be angry and to threaten to go

to the pope in Avignon.

A gloomy sorrow fell upon the city, and upon the whole country, not only

on the common people, but on everybody; the lucky star of the kingdom was

extinguished. Even to many among the lords, everything looked black. They

began to ask themselves and others, what would happen now? whether the

king had the right to remain after the queen's death and rule over the

country; or whether he would return to Lithuania and be satisfied with

the throne of the viceroy? Some of them supposed--and the future proved

that they thought correctly--that the king himself would be willing to

withdraw; and that, in such an event the large provinces would separate

from the crown, and the Lithuanians would again begin their attacks

against the inhabitants of the kingdom. The Knights of the Cross would

become stronger; mightier would become the Roman emperor and the

Hungarian king; and the Polish kingdom, one of the mightiest until

yesterday, would be ruined and disgraced.

The merchants, for whom waste territories in Lithuania and in Russia had

been opened, forseeing great losses, made pious vows, hoping that

Jagiello might remain on the throne. But in that event, they predicted a

war with the Order. It was known that the queen only could restrain his

anger. The people recollected a previous occasion, when being indignant

at the avidity and rapacity of the Knights of the Cross, she spoke to

them in a prophetic vision: "As long as I live, I will restrain my

husband's hand and his righteous anger; but remember that after my death,

there will fall upon you the punishment for your sins."

In their pride and folly, they were not afraid of a war, calculating,

that after the queen's death, the charm of her piety would no longer

restrain the wish for affluence of volunteers from eastern countries, and

that then thousands of warriors from Germany, Burgundia, France and other

countries, would join the Knights of the Cross.

The death of Jadwiga was an event of such importance, that the envoy

Lichtenstein, could wait no longer for the answer of the absent king; but

started immediately for Marienburg, in order to communicate as soon as

possible to the grand master and to the chapter the important, and in

some ways, threatening news.

The Hungarian, the Austrian and the Bohemian envoys followed him or sent

messengers to their monarchs. Jagiello returned to Krakow in great

despair. At first he declared to the lords, that he did not wish to rule

without the queen and that he would return to Litwa. Afterward, on

account of his grief, he fell into such a stupor, that he could not

attend to any affairs of state, and could not answer any questions.

Sometimes he was very angry with himself, because he had gone away, and

had not been present at the queen's death to bid her farewell and to hear

her last words and wishes. In vain Stanislaw of Skarbimierz and Bishop

Wysz explained to him that the queen's illness came suddenly, and that

according to human calculations he would have had plenty of time to go

and return if the confinement had occurred at the expected time. These

words did not bring him any consolation; did not assuage his grief. "I am

no king without her," he answered the bishop; "only a repentant sinner,

who can receive no consolation!" After that he looked at the ground and

no one could induce him to speak even one word.

Meanwhile preparations for the queen's funeral occupied all minds. From

all over the country, great crowds of lords, nobles and peasants were

going to Krakow. The body of the queen was placed in the cathedral on an

elevation, so arranged that the end of the coffin in which the queen's

head rested, was much higher than the other end. It was so arranged

purposely, to enable the people to see the queen's face. In the cathedral

continual prayers were offered; around the catafalque thousands of wax

candles were burning. In the glare of the candles and among the flowers,

she lay quiet and smiling, looking like a mystic rose. The people saw in

her a saint; they brought to her those possessed with devils, the

crippled and the sick children. From time to time there was heard in the

church, the exclamation of some mother who perceived the color return to

the face of her sick child; or the joyful voice of some paralytic man who

at once was cured. Then human hearts trembled and the news spread

throughout the church, the castle, and the city, and attracted more and

more of such human wretchedness as only from a miracle could expect help.

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, he cried suddenly in a heartbroken voice:

"Zbyszku!"

CHAPTER VIII.

The next day, the court servants began to make preparations in the market

square, to build the scaffold which was to be erected opposite the

principal gate of the city hall.

The princess, however, was still consulting with Wojciech Jastrzembiec,

Stanislaw of Skarbimierz and other learned canons, who were familiar with

the written laws and also with the laws sanctioned by custom.

She was encouraged in these efforts by the castellan's words, when he

said, that if they showed him "law or pretext," he would free Zbyszko.

Therefore they consulted earnestly, to ascertain if there were any law or

custom that would do. Although the _ksiondz_ Stanislaw, had prepared

Zbyszko for death and administered the last sacraments, he went directly

from the prison to the consultation, which lasted almost till daybreak.

The day of execution arrived. From early morning, crowds of people had

begun to gather on the market square, because the decapitation of a

nobleman excited more curiosity than that of a common criminal. The

weather was beautiful. News of the youth and great beauty of the

sentenced man, spread among the women. Therefore the whole road leading

to the castle, was filled with crowds of townswomen, dressed in their

best; in the windows on the market square, and on the balconies, could be

seen velvet bonnets, or the fair heads of young girls, ornamented only

with wreaths of lilies and roses. The city councilors, although the

affair did not belong in their jurisdiction, all appeared, in order to

show their importance and placed themselves near the scaffold. The

knights, wishing to show their sympathy for the young man, gathered in

great numbers around the elevation. Behind them swarmed the gayly dressed

crowd, composed of small merchants and artisans dressed in their guild

costumes. Over this compact mass of human heads, one could see the

scaffold which was covered with new broadcloth. On the elevation stood

the executioner, a German, with broad shoulders, dressed in a red

_kubrak_ and on his head a cowl of the same color; he carried a heavy

two-edged sword; with him were two of his assistants with naked arms and

ropes at their girdles. There were also a block and a coffin covered with

broadcloth. In Panna Maryia's tower, the bells were ringing, filling the

town with metallic sounds and scaring the flocks of doves and jackdaws.

The people looked at the scaffold, and at the executioner's sword

protruding from it and shining in the sun. They also looked at the

knights, on whom the burghers always gazed with respect and eagerness.

This time it was worth while looking at them. The most famous knights

were standing round the elevation. They admired the broad shoulders and

dark hair, falling in abundant curls of Zawisza Czarny; they admired the

short square figure of Zyndram of Maszkow as well as the gigantic stature

of Paszko Zlodziej of Biskupice; the threatening face of Wojciech of

Wodzinek and the great beauty of Dobko of Olesnica, who at the tournament

in Torun had defeated twelve knights; they looked admiringly at Zygmunt

of Bobowa, who became equally famous in Koszyce in a fight with the

Hungarians, at Krzon of Kozieglowy, at Lis of Targowisko, who was

victorious in duels, and at Staszko of Charbimowice who was able to catch

a running horse.

General attention was also attracted by the pale face of Macko of

Bogdanice; he was supported by Floryan of Korytnica and Marcin of

Wrocimowice. It was generally thought that he was the sentenced man's

father.

But the greatest curiosity was aroused by Powala of Taczew who, standing

in front, was holding Danusia, dressed in white, with a wreath of green

rue resting on her fair hair. The people did not understand what it

meant, nor why this young girl was present to look at the execution. Some

of them thought she was a sister; others, that she was the knight's lady;

but none were able to explain the meaning of her dress or of her presence

at the scaffold. The sight of her fair face covered with tears, aroused

commiseration and emotion. The people began to criticise the castellan's

stubbornness, and the severity of the laws. Those criticisms gradually

changed to threats. Finally, here and there, some voices were heard to

say, that if the scaffold were destroyed, then the execution would be

postponed.

The crowd became eager and excited. They said that if the king were

present, he would surely pardon the youth.

But all became quiet when distant shoutings announced the approach of the

king's archers, escorting the prisoner. The procession soon appeared in

the market square. It was preceded by a funeral fraternity, the members

of which were dressed in long black cloaks, and were covered with veils

of the same color, which had openings cut for the eyes. The people were

afraid of these gloomy figures and became silent. They were followed by a

detachment of soldiers, armed with crossbows, and dressed in elk-skin

jerkins; these were the king's Lithuanian guards. Behind them one could

see the halberds of another detachment of soldiers. In the centre,

between the clerk of the court, who was going to read the sentence, and

the _ksiondz_ Stanislaw of Skarbimierz who was carrying a crucifix,

walked Zbyszko.

All eyes now turned toward him, and at all the windows and from all the

balconies, women's heads protruded. Zbyszko was dressed in his white

"_jaka_," embroidered with golden griffins and ornamented with gold

galoon; in these magnificent clothes he looked like a young prince, or

the page of a wealthy court. His broad shoulders and chest and his

powerful haunches indicated that he was already a full-grown man; but

above that strong figure of a man, appeared a childish face with down on

the upper lip. It was a beautiful face like that of a king's page, with

golden hair cut evenly over the eyebrows and falling on the shoulders. He

walked erect, but was very pale. From time to time he looked at the crowd

as if he was dreaming; he looked at the church towers, toward the flocks

of jackdaws, and at the bells, ringing his last hour; then his face

expressed amazement when he realized that the sobbing of the women, and

all this solemnity was for him. Finally, he perceived the scaffold and

the executioner's red figure standing on it. Then he shivered and made

the sign of the Cross; the priest gave him the crucifix to kiss. A few

steps further, a bouquet of roses thrown by a young girl, fell at his

feet. Zbyszko stooped, picked up the bouquet and smiled at the girl who

began to cry. But evidently he thought that, amidst these crowds and in

the presence of these women, waving their kerchiefs from the windows, he

must die courageously and at least leave behind him the reputation of "a

brave man;" therefore he strained his courage and will to the utmost.

With a sudden movement, he threw his hair back, raised his head still

higher and walked proudly, almost like a conqueror, whom, according to

knightly custom, they conduct to get the prize. The procession advanced

slowly, because the crowd was dense and unwillingly made way. In vain the

Lithuanian guard, marching in front, shouted: "_Eyk szalin! Eyk szalin!_

go away!" The people did not wish to understand these words, and

surrounded the soldiers more closely. Although about one-third of the

burghers of Krakow were Germans, still there were heard on all sides,

threats against the Knights of the Cross: "Shame! Shame! May they perish,

those wolves! Must they cut off children's heads for them! Shame on the

king and on the kingdom!" The Lithuanians seeing the resistance, took

their crossbows from their shoulders, and menaced the crowd; but they did

not dare to attack without orders. The captain sent some men to open the

way with their halberds and in that manner they reached the knights

standing around the scaffold.

They stepped aside without any resistance. The men with halberds entered

first, and were followed by Zbyszko, accompanied by the priest and the

clerk of the court. At that moment something happened which nobody had

expected. From among the knights, Powala stepped forward with Danusia in

his arms and shouted: "Stop!" with such a powerful voice, that the

retinue stopped at once, as if rooted to the ground. Neither the captain,

nor any of the soldiers dared to oppose the lord and knight, whom they

were accustomed to see every day in the castle and often in confidential

conversation with the king. Finally, other knights, equally

distinguished, also began to shout with commanding voices:

"Stop! Stop!" In the meantime, the _Pan_ of Taczew approached Zbyszko and

handed Danusia to him.

Zbyszko caught her in his arms and pressed her to his chest, bidding her

farewell; but Danusia instead of nestling to him and embracing him,

immediately took her white veil from her head and wrapped it around

Zbyszko's head, and began to cry in her tearful, childish voice:

"He is mine! He is mine!"

"He is hers!" shouted the powerful voices of the knights. "To the

castellan!"

A shout, like the roar of thunder, answered: "To the castellan! To the

castellan!" The priest raised his eyes, the clerk looked confused, the

captain and his soldiers dropped their arms; everybody understood what

had happened.

There was an old Polish and Slavonic custom, as strong as the law, known

in Podhale, around Krakow, and even further. If a young girl threw her

veil on a man conducted to death, as a sign that she wished to marry him,

by so doing she saved his life. The knights, farmers, villagers and

townsmen all knew this custom; and the Germans living in the old cities

and towns, had heard about it. The old man, Macko, almost fainted with

emotion; the knights having pushed away the guards, surrounded Zbyszko

and Danusia; the joyful people shouted again and again: "To the

castellan! To the castellan!"

The crowd moved suddenly, like the waves of the sea. The executioner and

his assistants rushed down from the scaffold. Everybody understood that

if Jasko of Tenczyn resisted the custom, there would be a riot in the

city. In fact the people now rushed to the scaffold. In the twinkling of

an eye, they pulled off the cloth and tore it into pieces; then the beams

and planks, pulled by strong arms, or cut with axes, began to crack, then

a crash, and a few moments later there was not a trace left of the

scaffold.

Zbyszko, holding Danusia in his arms, was going to the castle, but this

time like a true victor,--triumphant. With him were marching joyfully the

most noted knights in the kingdom; thousands of men, women and children

were shouting and singing, stretching their arms toward Danusia and

praising the beauty and courage of both. At the windows the townswomen

were clasping their hands, and everywhere one could see faces covered

with tears of joy. A shower of roses, lilies, ribbons and even gold rings

were thrown to the lucky youth; he, beaming like the sun, with his heart

full of gratitude, embraced his sweet lady from time to time and

sometimes kissed her hands. This sight made the townswomen feel so

tender, that some of them threw themselves into the arms of their lovers,

telling them that if they encountered death, they also would be freed.

Zbyszko and Danusia became the beloved children of the knights, burghers

and common people. Macko, whom Floryan of Korytnica and Marcin of

Wrocimowice were assisting to walk, was almost beside himself with joy.

He wondered why he had not even thought about this means of assistance.

Amidst the general bustle, Powala of Taczew told the knights that this

remedy had been discovered by Wojciech Jastrzembiec and Stanislaw of

Skarbimierz, both experts in the written laws and customs. The knights

were all amazed at its simplicity, saying among themselves, that nobody

else would have thought about that custom, because the city was inhabited

by Germans, and it had not been used for a long time.

Everything, however, still depended on the castellan. The knights and the

people went to the castle, which was occupied by _Pan_ Krakowski during

the king's absence. The clerk of the court, the _ksiondz_ Stanislaw of

Skarbimierz, Zawisza, Farurej, Zyndram of Maszkow and Powala of Taczew

explained to him the power of the custom and reminded him of what he had

said himself, that if he found "law or pretext," then he would release

the prisoner immediately. And could there be any better law, than the old

custom which had never been abolished?

The _Pan_ of Tenczyn answered that this custom applied more to the common

people and to robbers, than to the nobles; but he knew the law very well,

and could not deny its validity. Meanwhile he covered his silvery beard

with his hand and smiled, because he was very much pleased. Finally he

went to the low portico, accompanied by Princess Anna Danuta, a few

priests and the knights.

Zbyszko having perceived him, lifted Danusia again; the old castellan

placed his hand on her golden hair, and gravely and benevolently inclined

his hoary head. The assembled people understood this sign and shouted so

that the walls of the castle were shaken: "May God preserve you! Long

life, just lord! Live and judge us!"

Then the people cheered Zbyszko and Danusia when a moment later, they

both went to the portico, fell at the feet of the good Princess Anna

Danuta, who had saved Zbyszko's life, because she, together with the

scholars, had found the remedy and had taught Danusia how to act.

"Long life to the young couple!" shouted Powala of Taczew.

"Long life!" repeated the others. The castellan, hoary with age, turned

toward the princess and said:

"Gracious princess, the betrothal must be performed immediately, because

the custom requires it!"

"The betrothal will take place immediately," answered the good lady,

whose face was irradiated with joy; "but for the wedding, they must have

the consent of Jurand of Spychow."

END OF PART FIRST.

PART SECOND.

CHAPTER I.

In merchant Amylej's house, Macko and Zbyszko were deliberating what to

do. The old knight expected to die soon, and Father Cybek, a Franciscan

friar who had experience in treating wounds, predicted the same;

therefore he wanted to return to Bogdaniec to die and be buried beside

his forefathers in the cemetery in Ostrow.

But not all of his forefathers were buried there. In days of yore it had

been a numerous family of _wlodykas_. During the war their cry was:

"Grady!" On their shields, because they claimed to be better _wlodykas_

than the others who had no right to a coat of arms, they had emblazoned a

Tempa Podkowa. In 1331, in the battle of Plowce, seventy warriors from

Bogdaniec were killed in the marshes by German archers. Only one

Wojciech, called Tur, escaped. After this defeat by the Germans, the

king, Wladyslaw Lokietek, granted him a coat of arms and the estate of

Bogdaniec as a special privilege. Wojciech returned home, only to

discover the complete annihilation of his family.

While the men of Bogdaniec were perishing from German arrows, the

_Raubritters_ of Szlonsk fell upon their homes, burned their buildings,

and slaughtered or took into slavery the peasants. Wojciech remained

alone, the heir of a large but devastated tract of land, which formerly

belonged to the whole family of _wlodykas_. Five years afterward he

married and he begot two sons, Jasko and Macko. Afterward he was killed

in a forest by an urus.[58]

The sons grew up under the mother's care. Her maiden name was Kachna of

Spalenica. She was so brave that she conducted two successful expeditions

against the Germans of Szlonsk to avenge former wrongs; but in the third

expedition she was killed. Before that, however, she built with the help

of the slaves, a _grodek_[59] in Bogdaniec; on account of that, Jasko and

Macko, although from their former estates of _wlodykas_ were called

_wlodykas_, now became men of importance. When Jasko became of age, he

married Jagienka of Mocarzew, and begot Zbyszko; Macko remained

unmarried. He took care of his nephew's property as far as his war

expeditions permitted.

But when during the civil war between Grzymalits and Nalenczs, Bogdaniec

was again burned and the peasants scattered, Macko could not restore it,

although he toiled for several years. Finally he pledged the land to his

relative, the abbot, and with Zbyszko who was small, he went to Lithuania

to fight against the Germans.

But he had never forgotten about Bogdaniec. He went to Litwa hoping to

become rich from booty so as to return to Bogdaniec, redeem the land from

his pledge, colonize it with slaves, rebuild the _grodek_ and settle

Zbyszko on it. Therefore now, after Zbyszko's lucky deliverance, they

were discussing this matter at the house of the merchant, Amylej.

They had money enough to redeem the land they possessed quite a fortune

gathered from the booty, from the ransoms paid by the knights captured by

them, and from Witold's presents. They had received great benefit from

that fight with the two Fryzjan knights. The suits of armor alone, were

worth what was considered in those times quite a fortune; beside the

armor, they had captured wagons, people, clothes, money and rich

implements of war. The merchant Amylej had just purchased many of these

things, and among them two pieces of beautiful Flemish broadcloth. Macko

sold the splendid armor, because he thought that he would have no use for

it. The merchant sold it the next day to Marcin of Wrocimowice, whose

coat of arms was Polkoza. He sold it for a large sum, because in those

times the suits of armor made in Milan were considered the best in the

world and were expensive. Zbyszko regretted very much that they sold it.

"If God give you back your health," said he, to his uncle, "where will

you find another like it?"

"There, where I found this one; on some German," answered Macko. "But I

shall not escape death. The head of the spear will not come out from my

body. When I tried to pull it out with my hands, I pushed it in further.

And now there is no help."

"You must drink two or three pots of bear's grease."

"Bah! Father Cybek also said that would be a good thing. But where can I

get it here? In Bogdaniec one could very easily kill a bear!"

"Then we must go to Bogdaniec! Only you must not die on the road."

Old Macko looked at his nephew with tenderness.

"I know where you would like to go; to the Prince Janusz's court, or to

Jurand of Spychow, and fight the Germans of Chelminsko."

"I will not deny it. I would be glad to go to Warszawa with the princess'

court, or to go to Ciechanow; and I would remain as long as possible with

Danusia, because now she is not only my lady, but my love also. I tremble

when I think of her! I shall follow her even to the end of the world; but

now you are first. You did not desert me, therefore I will never abandon

you. We must go to Bogdaniec."

"You are a good man," said Macko.

"God would punish me, if I were not mindful of you. Look, they are

getting ready! I ordered one wagon to be filled with hay. Amylejowna has

made us a present of a feather bed, but I am afraid it will be too warm

for you. We will travel slowly, in company with the princess' court, so

that you may have good care. When they turn toward Mazowsze, we will turn

toward home; may God help us!"

"If I can only live long enough to rebuild the _grodek_!" exclaimed

Macko. "I know that after my death, you will not think anything more

about Bogdaniec."

"Why will I not?"

"Because your head will be filled with thoughts of battles and of love."

"Did you not think yourself about war? I have planned what I must do; in

the first place, I will rebuild the _grodek_."

"Do you mean to do that?" asked Macko, "Well, and when the _grodek_ is

finished?"

"When the _grodek_ is rebuilt, then I will go to Warszawa to the prince's

court, or to Ciechanow."

"After my death?"

"If you die soon, then after your death; but before I go, I will bury you

properly; if the Lord Jesus restore your health, then you will remain in

Bogdaniec. The princess promised me that I should receive my knightly

girdle from the prince. Otherwise Lichtenstein will not fight with me."

"Then afterward you will go to Marienburg?"

"To Marienburg, or even to the end of the world to reach Lichtenstein."

"I do not blame you for it! Either he or you must die!"

"I will bring his girdle and his gloves to Bogdaniec; do not be

frightened!"

"You must look out for treachery. There is plenty among them."

"I will bow to Prince Janusz and ask him to send to the grand master for

a safe conduct. There is peace now. I will go to Marienburg, where there

are always many knights. Then you know? In the first place, Lichtenstein;

then I will look for those who wear peacock's tufts, and I will challenge

them in turn. If the Lord Jesus grant me victory, then I will fulfill my

vow."

Speaking thus, Zbyszko smiled at his own thoughts; his face was like that

of a lad who tells what knightly deeds he will perform when he is a man.

"Hej!" said Macko; "if you defeat three knights belonging to great

families, then you will not only fulfill your vow, but you will bring

some booty!"

"Three!" exclaimed Zbyszko. "In the prison I promised myself, that I

would not be selfish with Danusia. As many knights as I have fingers on

both hands!"

Macko shrugged his shoulders.

"Are you surprised?" said Zbyszko. "From Marienburg I shall go to Jurand

of Spychow. Why should I not bow to him, he is Danusia's father? With him

I shall attack the Germans of Chelminsko. You told me yourself that in

the whole of Mazowsze there was no greater ware-wolf against the

Germans."

"And if he will not give you Danusia?"

"Why not? He is seeking his vengeance. I am searching for mine. Can he

find a better man? And then, the princess has given her consent for the

betrothal; he will not refuse."

"I see one thing," said Macko, "you will take all the people from

Bogdaniec in order to have a retinue, as is proper for a knight, and the

land will remain without hands to till it. As long as I live, I will not

let you do it; but after my death, I see, you will take them."

"The Lord God will help me to get a retinue; Janko of Tulcza is a

relation of ours and he will help me also."

At that moment the door opened, and as though to prove that the Lord God

would help Zbyszko get a retinue, two men entered. They were

dark-complexioned, short, dressed in Jewish-like yellow caftans, red caps

and very wide trousers. They stopped in the doorway and touched their

fingers to their foreheads, to their mouths, and then to their chests;

then they bowed to the ground.

"Who are these devils?" asked Macko. "Who are you?"

"Your slaves," answered the newcomers in broken Polish.

"For what reason? Where from? Who sent you here?"

"_Pan_ Zawisza sent us here as a present to the young knight, to be his

slaves."

"O for God's sake! two men more!" exclaimed Macko, joyfully.

"Of what nationality are you?"

"We are Turks!"

"Turks?" repeated Zbyszko. "I shall have two Turks in my retinue. Have

you ever seen Turks?"

And having jumped toward them, he began to turn them around and to look

at them curiously. Macko said:

"I have never seen them; but I have heard, that the _Pan_ of Garbow has

Turks in his service whom he captured while fighting on the Danube with

the Roman emperor, Zygmunt. How is it? Are you heathens, your

dog-brothers?"

"The lord ordered us to be baptized," said one of the slaves.

"Did you have no money for ransom?"

"We are from far lands, from Asiatic shores, from Brussa."

Zbyszko, who always listened gladly to war stories, and especially when

there was anything told about the deeds of the famous Zawisza of Garbow,

began to inquire how they were captured. But there was nothing

extraordinary in their narration; Zawisza attacked them in a ravine, part

of them perished and part were captured; and he sent the prisoners as

presents to his different friends. Zbyszko and Macko's hearts were

throbing at the sight of such a noble gift, especially as it was

difficult to get men in those days and the possession of them constituted

true wealth.

In the meanwhile, Zawisza himself accompanied by Powala and Paszko

Zlodzie; of Biskupice arrived. As they had all worked hard to free

Zbyszko, they were pleased when they succeeded; therefore everyone of

them gave him some present as a souvenir. The liberal _Pan_ of Taczew

gave him a beautiful large caparison embroidered with gold; Paszko, a

Hungarian sword and ten _grzywiens_.[60] Then came Lis of Targowisko,

Farurej and Krzon of Kozieglowy, with Marcin of Wrocimowice and finally

Zyndram of Maszkow; everyone brought rich presents.

Zbyszko welcomed them with a joyful heart, feeling very happy on account

of the presents and because the most famous knights in the kingdom were

showing him their friendship. They asked him about his departure and

Macko's health, recommending to the latter, different remedies which

would miraculously heal wounds.

But Macko recommended Zbyszko to their care, being ready himself for the

other world. He said that it was impossible to live with an iron spear

head between the ribs. He complained also that he spit blood and could

not eat. A quart of shelled nuts, a sausage two spans long and a dish of

boiled eggs were all he could eat at once. Father Cybek had bled him

several times, hoping in that way to draw out the fever from around his

heart, and restore his appetite; but it had not helped him any.

But he was so pleased with the presents given to his nephew, that at that

moment he was feeling better, and when the merchant, Amylej, ordered a

barrel of wine brought in honor of such famous guests, Macko drank with

them. They began to talk about Zbyszko's deliverance and about his

betrothal with Danusia. The knights did not doubt that Jurand of Spychow

would give his consent, especially if Zbyszko avenged the death of

Danusia's mother and captured the peacock tufts.

"But as for Lichtenstein," said Zawisza, "I do not think he will accept

your challenge, because he is a friar, and also one of the officers in

the Order. Bah! The people of his retinue told me that perhaps he would

be elected grand master!"

"If he refuse to fight, he will lose his honor," said Lis of Targowisko.

"No," answered Zawisza, "because he is not a lay knight; and a friar is

not permitted to fight in single combat."

"But it often happens that they do fight."

"Because the Order has become corrupt. The knights make different vows;

but they often break them, thus setting a bad example to the whole

Christian world. But a Krzyzak, especially a _comthur_, is not obliged to

accept a challenge."

"Ha! Then only in war can you reach him."

"But they say, that there will be no war," said Zbyszko, "because the

Knights of the Cross are afraid of our nation."

To this Zyndram of Maszkow said:

"This peace will not last long. There cannot be a good understanding with

the wolf, because he must live on the goods of others."

"In the meantime, perhaps we will be obliged to fight with Tymur the

Lame," said Powala. "Prince Witold was defeated by Edyga; that is

certain."

"Certain. _Wojewoda_ Spytko will not return," said Paszko Zlodziej of

Biskupice.

"The late queen prophesied it would be so," said the _Pan_ of Taczew.

"Ha! Then perhaps we will be obliged to go against Tymur."

Here the conversation was tunned to the Lithuanian expedition against the

Tartars. There was no doubt that Prince Witold, that able commander being

rather impetuous, had been badly defeated at Worskla, where a great

number of the Lithuanian _bojars_ and also a few Polish knights were

killed. The knights now gathered in Amylej's house, pitied especially

Spytek of Melsztyn, the greatest lord in the kingdom, who went with the

expedition as a volunteer; and after the battle he was lost--nobody knew

where. They praised his chivalrous deed, and told how he, having received

from the commander of the enemy a protective _kolpak_,[61] would not wear

it during the battle, preferring honorable death to life granted him by

the ruler of a heathen nation. But it was not certain yet, whether he had

perished, or was in captivity. If he were a prisoner, he could pay his

ransom himself, because his riches were enormous, and he also held in

fief the whole Podole from King Wladyslaw.

But the defeat of Witold's army might prove ruinous to the whole of

Jagiello's empire. Nobody knew when the Tartars, encouraged by the

victory over Witold, might now invade the lands and cities belonging to

the grand dukedom. In that case the kingdom of Poland would be involved

in a war. Therefore many knights, who like Zawisza, Farurej, Dobko and

even Powala, were accustomed to seek adventures and fights in foreign

countries, remained in Krakow not knowing what might soon happen. In case

Tamerlan, who was the ruler of twenty-seven states, moved the whole

Mongolian world, then the peril to the kingdom would be great.

"If it be necessary, then we will measure our swords with the Lame. With

us it will not be such an easy matter as it was with those other nations,

which he conquered and exterminated. Then the other Christian princes

will help us."

To this Zyndram of Maszkow, who especially hated the Order, said

bitterly:

"I do not know about the princes; but the Knights of the Cross are ready

to become friends even with the Tartars and attack us from the other

side."

"Then we shall have a war!" exclaimed Zbyszko. "I am against the

Krzyzaks!"

But the other knights began to contradict Zyndram. "The Knights of the

Cross have no fear of God, and they seek only their own advantage; but

they will not help the pagans against Christian people. And then Tymur is

at war somewhere in Asia, and the commander of the Tartars, Edyga, lost

so heavily in the battle, that he is afraid even of victory. Prince

Witold is a man full of expedients, and you may be sure he took

precautions; and even if this time the Lithuanians were not successful,

at any rate it is not a new thing for them to overcome the Tartars."

"We have to fight for life and death; not with the Tartars but with the

Germans," said Zyndram of Maszkow, "and if we do not crush them, our

peril will come from them."

Then he turned toward Zbyszko:

"And in the first place Mazowsze will perish. You will always find plenty

to do there; be not afraid!"

"Hej! if my uncle were well, I would go there immediately."

"God help you!" said Powala, raising a glass.

"Yours and Danusia's health!"

"To the destruction of the Germans!" added Zyndram of Maszkow.

Then they began to say farewell. At that moment one of the princess'

courtiers entered with a falcon on his arm; and having bowed to the

knights who were present, he turned with a peculiar smile to Zbyszko:

"The lady princess wished me to tell you," said he, "that she will stay

in Krakow over night, and will start on the journey to-morrow."

"That is well," said Zbyszko; "but why? Is anybody sick?"

"No. But the princess has a visitor from Mazowsze."

"The prince himself?"

"Not the prince, but Jurand of Spychow," answered the courtier.

Having heard this, Zbyszko became very much confused, and his heart began

to throb as it did when they read the sentence of death to him.