The next day Jurand did not avoid Zbyszko at all; and he did not prevent
him from performing for Danusia, during the journey, those different
services which, being her knight, he was obliged to render her. On the
contrary, Zbyszko noticed that the gloomy _Pan_ of Spychow looked at him
kindly, as if he were regretting that he had been obliged to refuse his
request. The young _wlodyka_ tried several times to have some
conversation with him. After they started from Krakow, there were plenty
of opportunities during the journey, because both accompanied the
princess on horseback; but as soon as Zbyszko endeavored to learn
something about the secret difficulties separating him from Danusia, the
conversation was suddenly ended.
Jurand's face became gloomy, and he looked at Zbyszko uneasily as if he
were afraid he would betray himself.
Zbyszko thought that perhaps the princess knew what the obstacle was; so
having an opportunity to speak to her privately, he inquired; but she
could not tell him anything.
"Certainly there is some secret," she said. "Jurand himself told me that;
but he begged me not to question him further, because he not only did not
wish to tell what it was, but he could not. Surely he must be bound by
some oath, as so often happens among the knights. But God will help us
and everything will turn out well."
"Without Danusia I will be as unhappy as a chained dog or a bear in a
ditch," answered Zbyszko. "There will be neither joy nor pleasure,
nothing but sorrow and sighing; I will go against the Tartars with Prince
Witold and may they kill me there. But first I must accompany uncle to
Bogdaniec, and then tear from German heads the peacock's tufts as I
promised. Perhaps the Germans will kill me; and I prefer such a death
rather than to live and see some one else take Danusia."
The princess looked at him with her kind blue eyes, and asked him, with a
certain degree of astonishment:
"Then you would permit it?"
"I? As long I have breath in my nostrils, it will not happen, unless my
hand be paralyzed, and I be unable to hold my axe!"
"Then you see!"
"Bah! But how can I take her against her father's will?"
To this the princess said, as to herself:
"Does it not happen that way sometimes?"
Then to Zbyszko:
"God's will is stronger than a father's will. What did Jurand say to you?
He said to me 'If it be God's will, then he will get her.'"
"He said the same to me!" exclaimed Zbyszko.
"Do you not see?"
"It is my only consolation, gracious lady."
"I will help you, and you can be sure of Danusia's constancy. Only
yesterday I said to her: 'Danusia, will you always love Zbyszko?' And she
answered: 'I will be Zbyszko's and no one else's.' She is still a green
berry, but when she promises anything, she keeps her word, because she is
the daughter of a knight. Her mother was like her."
"Thank God!" said Zbyszko.
"Only remember to be faithful to her also; man is inconstant; he promises
to love one faithfully, and afterward he promises another."
"May Lord Jesus punish me if I prove such!" exclaimed Zbyszko
energetically.
"Well, remember then. And after you have conveyed your uncle to
Bogdaniec, come to our court; there will be some opportunity then for you
to win your spurs; then we will see what can be done. In the meanwhile
Danusia will mature, and she will feel God's will; although she loves you
very much even now, it is not the same love a woman feels. Perhaps Jurand
will give his consent, because I see he likes you. You can go to Spychow
and from there can go with Jurand against the Germans; it may happen that
you will render him some great service and thus gain his affection."
"Gracious princess, I have thought the same; but with your sanction it
will be easier."
This conversation cheered Zbyszko. Meanwhile at the first baiting place,
old Macko became worse, and it was necessary to remain until he became
better. The good princess, Anna Danuta, left him all the medicine she had
with her; but she was obliged to continue her journey; therefore both
_wlodykas_ of Bogdaniec bid those belonging to the Mazovian court
farewell. Zbyszko prostrated himself at the princess' feet, then at
Danusia's; he promised her once more to be faithful and to meet her soon
at Ciechanow or at Warszawa; finally he seized her in his strong arms,
and having lifted her, he repeated with a voice full of emotion:
"Remember me, my sweetest flower! Remember me, my little golden fish!"
Danusia embraced him as though he were a beloved brother, put her little
cheek to his face and wept copiously.
"I do not want to go to Ciechanow without Zbyszko; I do not want to go to
Ciechanow!"
Jurand saw her grief, but he was not angry. On the contrary, he bid the
young man good-bye kindly; and after he had mounted, he turned toward him
once more, and said:
"God be with you; do not bear ill will toward me."
"How can I feel ill will toward you; you are Danusia's father!" answered
Zbyszko cordially; then he bent to his stirrup, and the old man shook
hands with him, and said:
"May God help you in everything! Understand?"
Then he rode away. But Zbyszko understood that in his last words, he
wished him success; and when he went back to the wagon on which Macko was
lying, he said:
"Do you know I believe he is willing; but something hinders him from
giving his consent. You were in Spychow and you have good common sense,
try to guess what it is."
But Macko was too ill. The fever increased so much toward evening, that
he became delirious. Therefore instead of answering Zbyszko, he looked at
him as if he were astonished; then he asked:
"Why do they ring the bells?"
Zbyszko was frightened. He feared that if the sick man heard the sound of
bells, it was a sign that death would soon come. He feared also that the
old man might die without a priest and without confession, and therefore
go, if not to hell, then at least for long centuries to purgatory;
therefore he determined to resume their journey, in order to reach, as
soon as possible, some parish in which Macko could receive the last
sacraments.
Consequently they started and traveled during the night. Zbyszko sat in
the wagon on the hay, beside the sick man and watched him till day-break.
From time to time he gave him wine to drink. Macko drank it eagerly,
because it relieved him greatly. After the second quart he recovered from
his delirium; and after the third, he fell asleep; he slept so well that
Zbyszko bent toward him from time to time, to ascertain if he was still
alive.
Until the time of his imprisonment in Krakow, he did not realize how
dearly he loved this uncle who replaced, for him, father and mother. But
now he realized it very well; and he felt that after his uncle's death,
life would be very lonesome for him, alone, without relatives, except the
abbot who held Bogdaniec in pledge, without friends and without anyone to
help him. The thought came to him that if Macko died, it would be one
more reason for vengeance on the Germans, by whose means he had nearly
lost his head, by whom all his forefathers had been killed, also
Danusia's mother and many other innocent people, whom he knew or about
whom he had heard from his acquaintances--and he began to say to himself:
"In this whole kingdom, there is no man who has not suffered some wrong
from them, and who would not like to avenge those wrongs." Here he
remembered the Germans with whom he fought at Wilno, and he knew that
even the Tartars were less cruel.
The coming dawn interrupted his thoughts. The day was bright but cold.
Evidently Macko felt better, because he was breathing more regularly and
more quietly. He did not awaken until the sun was quite warm; then he
opened his eyes and said:
"I am better. Where are we?"
"We are approaching Olkusk. You know, where they dig silver."
"If one could get that which is in the earth, then one could rebuild
Bogdaniec!"
"I see you are better," answered Zbyszko laughing. "Hej! it would be
enough even for a stone castle! We will go to the _fara_,[65] because
there the priests will offer us hospitality and you will be able to make
your confession. Everything is in God's hands; but it is better to have
one's conscience clear."
"I am a sinner and will willingly repent," answered Macko. "I dreamed
last night that the devils were taking my skin off. They were talking
German. Thanks be to God that I am better. Have you slept any?"
"How could I sleep, when I was watching you?"
"Then lie down for a while. When we arrive, I will awaken you."
"I cannot sleep!"
"What prevents you?"
Zbyszko looked at his uncle and said:
"What else can it be, if not love? I have pain in my heart; but I will
ride on horseback for a while, that will help me."
He got down from the wagon, and mounted the horse, which his servant
brought for him; meanwhile, Macko touched his sore side; but he was
evidently thinking about something else and not about his illness,
because he tossed his head, smacked his lips and finally said:
"I wonder and wonder, and I cannot wonder enough, why you are so eager
for love, because your father was not that way, and neither am I."
But Zbyszko, instead of answering, stretched himself on the saddle, put
his hands on his hips, gave his head a toss and sang:
"I cried the whole night, cried in the morning,
Where have you been, my sweet girl, my darling!
It will not help me, if I mourn for thee,
Because I am quite sure, you will not see me."
"Hej!"
This "hej" resounded in the forest, reverberated against the trunks of
the trees, finally reëchoed in the far distance and then was lost in the
thickets.
Again Macko felt his side, in which the German spearhead had lodged and
said, moaning a little:
"Formerly the people were wiser!"
Then he became thoughtful, as if recollecting the old times; and he
added:
"Although even then some of them were stupid also."
But, in the meantime, they emerged from the forest, behind which they
perceived the miners' sheds, and further walls, built by King Kazimierz,
and the tower of the _fara_ erected by Wladyslaw Lokietek.
The canon of the _fara_ beard Macko's confession and offered them
hospitality; they remained there over night, and started the next
morning. Beyond Olkusk, they turned toward Szlonsk,[66] and on its
boundaries, they proposed to ride toward Wielkopolska. The road was laid
out through a large forest, in which there was heard toward sunset, the
roaring of the urus and of the bison, and during the night the eyes of
wolves were seen shining behind the thick hazelnut trees. But the
greatest danger which threatened the traveler on this road, was from the
German and Germanized knights of Szlonsk, whose castles were erected here
and there near the boundaries. It is true, that because of the war with
the Opolczyk, Naderspraw, whom the Silesians were helping against King
Wladyslaw, the majority of these castles had been destroyed by Polish
hands; it was necessary, however, to be watchful, and especially after
sunset, and to have one's weapons ready.
They were riding so quietly, however, that Zbyszko found the journey
tedious; when they were about one day's journey from Bogdaniec, they
heard the snorting and trampling of horses behind them.
"Some people are following us," said Zbyszko.
Macko, who was awake, looked at the stars and answered like an
experienced traveler:
"Day-break is near. Robbers do not attack toward the end of the night."
Zbyszko stopped the wagon; however, placed the men across the road,
facing the advancing horses, and waited.
In fact, after a certain time he perceived in the dusk, several horsemen.
One of them was riding ahead, and it was evident that he did not wish to
hide, because he was singing. Zbyszko could not hear the words of the
song; but the gay "hoc! hoc!" with which the stranger ended each refrain,
reached his ears.
"Our people!" he said to himself.
After a while he shouted, however:
"Stop!"
"And you sit down!" answered a joyous voice.
"Who are you?"
"And you?"
"Why do you follow us?"
"And why do you obstruct the road?"
"Answer, our crossbows are bent."
"And ours,--thrust out,--aimed!"
"Answer like a man, otherwise woe to you!"
To this a merry song was given, as an answer to Zbyszko.
"One misery with another
They are dancing on the crossway.
Hoc! Hoc! Hoc!
What use have they of dancing?
It's a good thing, anyhow.
Hoc! Hoc! Hoc!"
Zbyszko was amazed at hearing such an answer; meantime, the song stopped
and the same voice asked:
"And how is the old man Macko? Does he still breathe?"
Macko rose in the wagon and said:
"For God's sake, they are some of our people!"
Zbyszko rushed forward.
"Who asks about Macko?"
"A neighbor. Zych of Zgorzelice. I have looked for you for a week and
inquired about you from all on the road."
"_Rety!_[67] Uncle! Zych of Zgorzelice is here!" shouted Zbyszko.
They began to greet each other joyfully because Zych was really their
neighbor, and also a good man of whom everybody was very fond on account
of his mirth.
"Well, how are you?" asked he, shaking hands with Macko. "Still _hoc_, or
no more _hoc_!"[68]
"Hej, no more _hoc_!" answered Macko. "But I see you gladly. Gracious
God, it is as if I were already in Bogdaniec."
"What is the matter with you; I heard that the Germans had wounded you?"
"They did, dog-brothers! I A head of a spear stuck between my ribs."
"You see!" said Zbyszko, "everybody advises the grease of a bear. As soon
as we reach Bogdaniec, I will go with an axe to the _barcie_."[69]
"Perhaps Jagienka has some."
"What Jagienka? Your wife's name was Malgochna," said Macko.
"O! Malgochna is no more! It will be three years on St. Michael's day
since Malgochna was buried in the priests' field. She was a sturdy woman;
may the Lord make his face shine upon her soul! Jagienka is exactly like
her, only younger."
"Behind a ravine, there is a mount,
As was mother, such is daughter.
Hoc! Hoc!"
"I told Malgochna not to climb the pine tree because she was no longer
young. But she would climb it. The branch broke; she fell and was badly
hurt; within three days, she died."
"Lord, make your face shine upon her soul!" said Macko. "I remember, I
remember! When she was angry, the farm boys used to hide in the hay. But
she was clever. So she fell from a pine tree!"
"She fell down like a cone. Do you know, after the funeral I was so
stupefied with grief, that for three days they could not arouse me. They
thought I was dead. Afterward, I wept for a long time. But Jagienka is
also clever. She takes care of everything."
"I can scarcely remember her. She was not as large as the helve of an axe
when I went away. She could pass under a horse without touching its body.
Bah! that is a long time ago, and she must have grown."
"She was fifteen the day of St. Agnes; but I have not seen her for more
than a year."
"Why have you not seen her? Where have you been?"
"To the war. I do not need to stay home; Jagienka takes care of
everything."
Macko, although ill, began to listen attentively when the war was
mentioned, and asked:
"Perhaps you were with _Kniaz_ Witold at Worskla?"
"Yes, I was there," answered Zych of Zgorzelice gaily. "Well, the Lord
God did not send him good luck; we were dreadfully defeated by Edyga.
First they killed our horses. A Tartar will not attack you openly like a
Christian knight, but throws his arrows from afar. You attack him and he
flees, and then again throws his arrows. What can you do with such a man?
In our army the knights boasted and said: 'We do not need to lower our
spears, nor draw our swords; we will crush the vermin under our horses'
feet.' So they boasted; but when the arrows began to twange, it grew dark
they were so numerous, and the battle was soon over. Hardly one out of
ten survived. Will you believe it? More than half of the army were slain;
seventy Lithuanian and Russian princes lay dead on the battlefield; and
one could not count in two weeks' time, the _bojars_ and other courtiers,
whom they call _otroks_, that were killed."
"I heard about it," interrupted Macko. "Many of our knights perished
also."
"Bah! even ten Knights of the Cross were killed, because they were
obliged to serve in Witold's army. Many of our people perished, because
they, you know, never run away. _Kniaz_ Witold had the greatest
confidence in our knights and he wanted a guard of them round him during
the battle, exclusively Poles. Hi! Hi! Great havoc was made among them;
but he was not touched! _Pan_ Spytko of Mielsztyn was killed, also the
sword bearer, Bernat, Judge Mikolaj, Prokop, Przeclaw, Dobrogost, Jasko
of Lazewice, Pilik Mazur, Warsz of Michow, _Wojewoda_ Socha, Jasko of
Dombrowa, Pietrko of Miloslaw, Szczepiecki, Oderski and Tomko Lagoda. Who
can enumerate all of them! Some of them had been hit with so many arrows,
that after death they looked like porcupines; it was awful to look at
them!"
Here he laughed as if he were telling a most amusing story, and at once
he began to sing:
"You have learned what is a Tartar,
When he beat you and flew afar!"
"Well, and what then?" asked Zbyszko.
"Then the grand duke escaped; but he was as courageous as he usually is.
The more you press him, the farther he jumps, like a hazelnut stick. We
rushed to the Tavanian ford to defend those crossing over. There were
with us a few knights from Poland. The second day, Edyga came with a
swarm of Tartars; but he could not do a thing. Hej! When he wanted to
pass the ford, we fought him so hard he could not do it. We killed and
caught many of them. I myself caught five Tartars, and I sent them to
Zgorzelice. You will see what dogheads they have."
"In Krakow, they say that the war may reach Poland also."
"Do they think Edyga is a fool! He knows well what kind of knights we
have; and he also knows that the greatest knights remained home, because
the queen was not pleased when Witold began the war on his own authority.
Ej, he is cunning, that old Edyga! He understood at Tavania that the
prince's army had increased and had gone far beyond the tenth-land!"
"But you returned?"
"Yes, I returned. There is nothing to do there. In Krakow I heard about
you, and that you had started a little ahead of me."
Here he turned to Zbyszko:
"Hej! my lord, the last time I saw you, you were a small boy; and now,
although there is no light, I suppose you are large like an urus. And you
had your crossbows ready! One can see you have been in the war."
"War has nurtured me since childhood. Let my uncle tell you if I am
lacking in experience."
"It is not necessary for your uncle to tell me anything; in Krakow, I saw
the _Pan_ of Taczew who told me about you. But I understand that the
Mazur does not want to give you his daughter. I have nothing against you;
but I like you. You will forget about that one when you see my Jagienka.
She is a wonder!"
"I shall not forget, even if I see ten such as your Jagna."
"She will get the estate of Moczydoly for her dowry. Many will ask me for
Jagna, do not fear?"
Zbyszko wanted to answer: "But not I!" But Zych of Zgorzelice began to
sing:
"I will bend to your knees
And you for that, will give me the girl,
Give me the girl!"
"You are always happy and singing," said Macko.
"Well, and what do the blessed do in heaven."
"They sing."
"Well, then! And the damned cry. I prefer to go to those who sing rather
than to those who cry; and St. Peter will say thus: 'We must let him into
paradise; otherwise he will sing in hell, and that will not be right.'
Look, the day breaks!"
In fact, daylight was coming. After awhile they arrived at a large glade.
By the lake covering the greater part of the glade, some people were
fishing; but seeing the armed men, they left their nets and immediately
seized their picks and staffs and stood ready for battle.
"They thought we were robbers," said Zych, laughing. "Hej, fishermen! To
whom do you belong?"
They stood for a while silently, looking distrustfully; but finally one
of them having recognized that they were knights, answered:
"To the _ksiondz_, the abbot of Tulcza."
"Our relative," said Macko, "the same who holds Bogdaniec in pledge.
These must be his forests; but he must have purchased them a short time
ago."
"He did not buy them," answered Zych. "He was fighting about them with
Wilk of Brzozowa and it seems that the abbot defeated Wilk. A year ago
they were going to fight on horseback with spears and long swords for
this part of the forest; but I do not know how it ended because I went
away."
"Well, we are relatives," said Macko, "he will not quarrel with us."
"Perhaps; he is a chivalrous abbot who knows how to wear a helmet; but he
is pious and he sings the mass beautifully. Don't you remember? When he
shouts at mass, the swallows nested under the ceiling, fall from their
nests. In that way God's glory increases."
"Certainly I remember! At ten steps he could blow the candles at the
altar out. Has he been in Bogdaniec?"
"Yes, he was there. He settled five peasants on the land. He has also
been at my house at Zgorzelice, because, as you know, he baptized
Jagienka, of whom he is very fond and calls her little daughter."
"God will bless him if he be willing to leave me the peasants," said
Macko.
"_Owa!_ what will five peasants amount to! Then Jagienka will ask him and
he will not refuse her."
Here the conversation stopped for a while, because over the dark forest
and from the pink down, the bright sun had risen and lighted the
environs. The knights greeted it with the customary: "May it be blessed!"
and then having made the sign of the cross, they began their morning
prayers.
Zych finished first and said to his companions:
"I hope to see you well soon. Hej! you have both changed. You, Macko,
must regain your health. Jagienka will take care of you, because there is
no woman in your house. One can see that you have a piece of iron between
your ribs."
Here he turned toward Zbyszko:
"Show yourself also. Well, mighty God! I remember you when you were small
and used to climb on the colts by the help of their tails; and now, what
a knight! The face looks like that of a little lord; but the body like
that of a sturdy man. Such can wrestle even with a bear."
"A bear is nothing for him!" said Macko. "He was younger than he is
to-day, when that Fryzjan called him a beardless youth; and he resenting
it, immediately pulled out the Fryzjan's mustaches."
"I know," interrupted Zych, "and you fought afterward, and captured their
retinue. _Pan_ of Taczew told me all about it:"
"There came a German very proud,
He was buried with sore snout;
Hoc! Hoc!"
Zbyszko wondered at Zych's long thin figure, at his thin face with its
enormous nose and at his laughing round eyes.
"O!" said he, "with such a neighbor there will be no sadness, if God only
restore my uncle's health."
"It is good to have a joyful neighbor, because with a jolly fellow there
will be no quarrel," answered Zych. "Now listen to what I tell you. You
have been away from home a long time, and you will not find much comfort
in Bogdaniec. I do not say in the farming, because the abbot has taken
care of that; he dug up a large piece of the forest and settled new
peasants. But as he went there very often, you will find the larder
empty; even in the house, there is hardly a bench or a bunch of straw to
sleep on; and a sick man needs some comforts. You had better come with me
to Zgorzelice. I will be glad to have you stay a month or two. During
that time, Jagienka will take care of Bogdaniec. Rely on her and do not
bother yourselves with anything. Zbyszko can go there, from time to time,
to inspect the farming; I will bring the abbot to Zgorzelice, and you can
settle your account with him. The girl will take good care of you, as of
a father, and during illness, a woman's care is the best. Well, my dear
friends, will you do as I ask you?"
"We know that you are a good man and you always were," answered Macko
with emotion; "but don't you see, if I must die on account of this wound,
I prefer to die in my own home. Then when one is home, although he is
old, he can inquire about different things, can inspect and do many other
things. If God order me to go to the other world, well, then I cannot
help it! I cannot escape it even with better care. As for inconvenience,
we are accustomed to that at the war. Even a bunch of straw is pleasant
to that one who, during several years, has slept on the bare ground. But
I thank you for your kind heart and if I be not able to show you my
gratitude, God will permit Zbyszko to do it."
Zych of Zgorzelice, who was noted for his kind heart and readiness to
oblige, began to insist: but Macko was firm: "If I must die, it will be
better to die in my own courtyard!"
He had longed to see Bogdaniec for several years, therefore now, when he
was so near it, he must go there, even if it were his last night. God was
merciful, having permitted him who was so ill, to reach here.
He brushed away the tears gathered under his eyelids, with his hand,
looked around and said:
"If these are the woods of Wilk of Bizozowa we will be home this
afternoon."
"They do not belong to Wilk of Bizozowa any longer; but to the abbot,"
said Zych.
Macko smiled and said after awhile:
"If they belong to the abbot, then sometime, they may belong to us."
"Bah! awhile ago you were talking about death," said Zych joyfully, "and
now you wish to outlive the abbot."
"No, I will not outlive him; but Zbyszko may."
Further conversation was interrupted by the sound of horns in the forest.
Zych stopped his horse and began to listen.
"Somebody is hunting," said he. "Wait."
"Perhaps it is the abbot. It would be pleasant to meet him here."
"Keep quiet!"
Here he turned to his retinue.
"Stop!"
They halted. The horns resounded nearer, and soon afterward the baying of
dogs was heard.
"Stop!" repeated Zych. "They are coming toward us."
Zbyszko jumped from his horse and began to shout:
"Give me the crossbow! The beast may attack us! Hasten! Hasten!"
Having seized the crossbow from the servant's hands, he rested it against
the ground, pressed it against his abdomen, bent, stretched his back like
a bow, and having seized the string with the fingers of both hands, he
pulled it on to the iron hook; then placed an arrow and sprang into the
woods.
"He stretched it without a crank!" whispered Zych, astonished at such
great strength.
"Ho, he is a strong boy!" answered Macko, proudly.
Meanwhile, the sound of horns and the barking of dogs stole nearer; all
at once, at the right side of the forest, a heavy trampling resounded,
accompanied by the crackling of broken branches and bushes--then out of
the thicket rushed an old bearded urus, with his gigantic head lowered,
with bloody eyes and panting tongue, breathless and terrible. Coming to a
small ravine, he leaped it, but fell on his forelegs; but immediately he
arose, and a few seconds later he would have disappeared in the thicket
on the other side of the road, when the string of the crossbow twanged,
the whistling of the arrow resounded, the beast reared, turned, roared
dreadfully and fell on the ground as if he were struck by a thunderbolt.
Zbyszko leaped from behind a tree, again stretched the crossbow, and
approached the bull who was pawing the ground with his hind feet.
But having glanced at it, he turned quietly toward the retinue, and began
to shout from afar:
"I hit him so hard that he is severely wounded!"
"You are a strong boy!" said Zych, riding toward him, "with one arrow
only!"
"Bah, it was near, and the speed was great. Come and see; not only the
iron, but even the shaft has disappeared under the left shoulder bone."
"The huntsmen must be near; they will claim the beast."
"I will not give it to them!" answered Zbyszko. "It was killed on the
road, and the road is not private property."
"But if it belong to the abbot?"
"Well, then he may have it."
Meanwhile, several dogs came out of the forest. Having perceived the
animal, they rushed on him.
"Soon the huntsmen will appear," said Zych. "Look! There they are, but
they do not see the beast yet. Stop! Stop! Here, here! Killed! Killed!"
Then he became silent, and sheltered his eyes with one hand; after a
while, he said:
"For God's sake! what has happened? Have I become blind, or does it only
seem so to me?"
"There is some one on a piebald horse in the front," said Zbyszko.
Then Zych exclaimed at once:
"Dear Jesus! It must be Jagienka!"
And he began to shout:
"Jagna! Jagna!"
Then he rushed forward; but before he could make his horse gallop,
Zbyszko perceived a most wonderful spectacle; he beheld a girl sitting
like a man, on a swift piebald horse, rushing toward them; she had a
crossbow in one hand and a boar-spear on her shoulders. Her floating hair
was full of hop strobiles; her face was bright like the dawn. Her shirt
was opened on the bosom, and she wore a _serdak_.[70] Having reached
them, she reined in her horse; for a while, her face expressed surprise,
hesitation, joy; finally, being scarcely able to believe her own eyes,
she began to cry in a childish voice:
"_Tatulo_,[71] _tatus_[71] dearest!"
In the twinkling of an eye, she jumped from her horse, and Zych
dismounted also to welcome her; she threw her arms around his neck. Fora
long time, Zbyszko heard only the sounds of kisses and these two words:
"_Tatulo!_ Jagula! _Tatulo!_ Jagula!" repeated in a joyful outburst.
Both retinues now approached, and Macko arrived also; they continued to
repeat: "_Tatulo!_ Jagula!" and still kissed each other. Finally Jagienka
asked:
"Then you decided to return from the war? Are you well?"
"From the war. Why should I not be well? And you? And the boys? Are they
well also? Yes, otherwise you would not run in the forest. But, my girl,
what are you doing here?"
"Don't you see that I am hunting?" answered Jagienka, laughing.
"In somebody else's woods?"
"The abbot gave me permission. He even sent me experienced huntsmen and a
pack of hounds."
Here she turned to the servants:
"Chase the dogs away, they will tear the skin!"
Then to Zych:
"Oj, how glad I am to see you!" And they again kissed each other. When
they were through, Jagna said:
"We are far from home; we followed the beast. I am sure it must be more
than ten miles; the horses are exhausted. What a large urus! Did you
notice? He must have at least three of my arrows in him; the last one
killed him."
"He was killed by the last, but it was not yours; this knight killed
him."
Jagienka threw her hair back and looked at Zbyszko sharply, but not very
friendly.
"Do you know who he is?" asked Zych.
"I do not know."
"No wonder you do not recognize him, because he has grown. Perhaps you
will recognize old Macko of Bogdaniec?"
"For God's sake! is that Macko of Bogdaniec?" exclaimed Jagienka.
Having approached the wagon, she kissed Macko's hand.
"It is you?"
"Yes, it is I; but I am obliged to ride in the wagon, because the Germans
wounded me."
"What Germans? The war was with the Tartars?"
"There was a war with the Tartars, but we were not in that war; we fought
in the war in Lithuania, Zbyszko and I."
"Where is Zbyszko?"
"Then you did not recognize Zbyszko?" said Macko smiling.
"Is that man Zbyszko?" exclaimed the girl, looking again at the young
knight.
"Yes, it is he."
"You must give him a kiss, because he is an old acquaintance of yours,"
said Zych, mirthfully.
Jagienka turned gaily toward Zbyszko; but suddenly she retreated, and
having covered her eyes with her hand, she said:
"I am bashful."
"But we have known each other since we were children," said Zbyszko.
"Aha! we know each other well. I remember when you made us a visit with
Macko about eight years ago, and my _matula_[72] gave us some nuts with
honey; you being the elder, struck me with your fist and then ate all the
nuts yourself."
"He will not act like that now!" said Macko. "He has been with _Kniaz_
Witold, and with the court in Krakow, and he has learned courtly
manners."
But Jagienka was now thinking about something else; turning toward
Zbyszko, she asked:
"Then you killed the urus?"
"Yes."
"We must see where the arrow is."
"You cannot see it; it disappeared under the shoulder bone."
"Be quiet; do not dispute," said Zych. "We all saw him shoot the urus,
and we saw something still better; he bent the bow without a crank."
Jagienka looked at Zbyszko for the third time, but now with astonishment.
"You bent the crossbow without a crank?"
Zbyszko, detecting some doubt in her voice, rested the crossbow on the
ground, and bent it in the twinkling of an eye; then wishing to show that
he was familiar with knightly manners, he kneeled on one knee and handed
the bow to Jagienka. But the girl, instead of taking it from him,
suddenly blushed--she did not know why herself, and began to fasten the
shirt, which, during the swift riding, had become opened on her bosom.