"Lady."

"What?"

"This ... as it were ... I want to say, as the old _pan_ of Bogdaniec

also said: 'That the lady there is lost forever, and that he will never

find her, even if the grand master himself assist him.'"

"Then she is his wife...."

The Bohemian nodded his head.

"Yes, she is his wife."

Jagienka made no reply to this, but at home, after supper, when Jasko and

the younger brother were put to bed, she ordered a pitcher of mead. Then

she turned to the Bohemian and asked:

"Perhaps you want to retire. I wish to continue our conversation."

The Bohemian, although tired, was ready to chatter even till morning. So

they began to talk, and he again related in general terms all that had

happened to Zbyszko, Jurand, Danusia and himself.

CHAPTER II.

Macko prepared for his journey, and Jagienka did not show herself at

Bogdaniec for two days after her consultation with the Bohemian. It was

only on the third day that the old knight met her on his way to church.

She was riding with her brother Jasiek to church at Krzesnia, and with

her was a considerable number of armed servants in order to protect her

from Cztan and Wilk, because she was not sure whether Cztan and Wilk were

still sick or were planning to harm her.

"Any way, I intended to call upon our own people at Bogdaniec," she said,

greeting Macko, "because I have to consult you about a very important

affair, but since you are here we can talk about it now."

Then she advanced in front of the retinue, obviously to prevent the

servants overhearing their conversation. When Macko was near her she

inquired:

"Are you surely going?"

"If God will, not later than to-morrow."

"Are you going to Malborg?"

"To Malborg, or any other place, according to circumstances."

"Now then listen to me. I have thought a long time about what I ought to

do. I want to ask your advice, too. You well know that as long as papa

was alive, and the abbot was powerful, it was quite different. Cztan and

Wilk also thought that I should choose one of them, so they kept their

temper. But now I stand alone without a protector; then either I shall

remain at Zgorzelice in a fortress, like a prisoner, or they will do us

some harm without fail. Is it not so?"

"Yes," said Macko, "I thought of it myself."

"And what did you devise?"

"I devised nothing, but I must tell you one thing, that we are in Poland

and the law of this country punishes severely those who are guilty of

acts of violence."

"Very well, but the transgressors have no difficulty in crossing the

frontier. Indeed, I know that Szlonsk is also in Poland, yet there the

princes themselves quarrel and attack each other. If it were not so, my

beloved father would still be alive. There are already Germans there and

the times are stormy; they are mischievous, so that if any one of them

wishes to conceal himself, he does. It would be easy for me to avoid

Cztan and Wilk, but it concerns my little brother. If I should be absent

there would be peace, but if I remained in Zgorzelice, God only knows

what ill luck might happen. There would be outrages and fights; and

Jasiek is already fourteen years old, and nobody, not even myself, can

detain him. Upon the last occasion when you came to our assistance he

flew to the front, and when Cztan used his club upon the crowd he nearly

hit him on the head. 'O,' Jasko said to the servants, 'those two I will

prosecute to the very end.' I tell you that there will not be a single

peaceful day and some evil might befall the youngster."

"Faith. Cztan and Wilk are dog-brothers," said Macko, "although they

would not dare lift up their hands against children. Bah! only a Knight

of the Cross would do that."

"They will not lift up their hands against children, but in case of

tumult, or, God forbid, in an incendiary fire, there will be no lack of

accidents. Why talk! I love the brother of old Sieciechowa as my own

parents, and protection for them from the dear old woman is not wanting,

yet, without me ... would they be safer without me?"

"May be," replied Macko.

Then he looked slyly at the girl.

"Then, what do you want?"

And she replied in a low tone:

"Take me with you."

Then Macko, although he easily understood the drift of the conversation,

was much surprised. He checked his horse, and exclaimed:

"Fear God, Jagienka."

But she dropped her head and replied bashfully and sadly:

"You may think so, but as far as myself is concerned, I would rather

speak out than be silent. Hlawa and yourself said that Zbyszko will never

find Danusia, and the Bohemian's hope of finding her is even less. God is

my witness that I do not wish her evil in the least. Let the mother of

God watch over that poor girl and keep her. Zbyszko loved her more than

myself. Well, I cannot help it. Such is my lot. But observe this, so long

as Zbyszko does not find her, or as you believe, he will never find her,

then, then ..."

"What then?" asked Macko, seeing that the girl was getting more and more

confused and stammering.

"Then I do not wish to be Madame Cztan, nor Madame Wilk, nor madame

anybody."

Macko breathed freely.

"I thought that you had already forgiven him."

But she, still in a sad tone, replied: "Ah!..."

"Then what are your wishes? How can we take you among the Knights of the

Cross?"

"Not exactly among the Knights of the Cross, I should like to be now with

the abbot who is confined in the hospital at Sieradz. He has not a single

friendly soul with him. The servants care more for the pitcher than they

do for him. Moreover, he is my godfather and benefactor. If he were well

I would have sought his protection all the same because the people fear

him."

"I shall not dispute that," said Macko, who as a matter of fact, would be

glad that Jagienka should not go with him, for he well knew the Knights

of the Cross, and he was thoroughly convinced that Danuska would never

come out alive from their hands. "But only this I tell you, that to

travel with a girl is very troublesome."

"May be with others, but not with me. Nothing has occurred to me so far,

but I am accustomed to go about with the bow and can endure hardship in

the chase. When it is necessary, it is necessary. Don't be afraid. I

shall take Jasiek's clothing and a net for my hair and I shall go.

Jasiek, although younger than I am, with the exception of his hair looks

exactly like myself, so much so that when we disguised ourselves last

carnival our departed father could not tell one from the other. Observe,

neither the abbot nor anybody else recognized me."

"Neither Zbyszko?"

"If I shall see him...."

Macko thought for a moment, then suddenly smiled and said:

"But Wilk of Brzozowa and Cztan of Rogow would be furious."

"Let them! It might be worse if they came after us."

"Well! Fear not. I am an old man, but let them beware of my fist. All the

Gradys are of the same mettle!... However, they have already tested

Zbyszko...."

Meanwhile they arrived at Krzesnia. Old Wilk of Brzozowa, who also

happened to be at church, from time to time cast gloomy glances at Macko,

but he did not mind it, and with a light heart he returned with Jagienka

immediately after mass.... Then they took leave of each other and parted.

When Macko was by himself at Bogdaniec, less happy thoughts passed

through his mind. He understood that neither the people at Zgorzelice nor

the relatives of Jagienka would really object to her departure. "But as

to the girl's admirers," he said to himself, "that is quite another

affair, but against the orphans and their property they would not dare to

lift up their hand, because they would cover themselves with excessive

infamy. Everybody would be against them as one is against a wolf. But

Bogdaniec is left to God's favor!... The quarries will be filled up, the

flocks will be seized, the peasants will be enticed away!... If God

permit me to return, then I will fight them. I shall send out bans, and

fight them not with the fist but with the law!... Only let me return, and

if I do?... They will combine against me, because I have spoiled their

love affair, and if she goes with me they will yet be more rancorous."

He was much grieved about his estate at Bogdaniec which he had improved.

Now he felt sure that on his return he would find it desolate and in

ruins.

"Now then, it is necessary to take counsel," he thought.

Accordingly, after dinner, he ordered his horse to be saddled and left

directly for Brzozowa.

It was already dark when he arrived. Old Wilk was sitting in the front

room drinking mead from a pitcher. Young Wilk, who was wounded by Cztan,

was lying on a skin-covered bench, and was also drinking mead. Macko

entered unexpectedly and remained standing upon the threshold with a

stern look on his face; tall, bony, armed only with a big sabre at his

side. They recognized him at once, because his face was lit up by the

bright flame of the fireplace, and at the first moment, both the father

and son jumped up, lightning-like, and running toward the wall seized the

first arms that were at hand.

But the old experienced Macko, well knowing the people and their customs,

did not interfere in the least, he did not even reach his hand to his

sword. He only put his hands on his hips, and said quietly in a somewhat

sarcastic voice:

"How is it? Is this the kind of hospitality which the nobles in Brzozowa

practice?"

These words had the desired effect; their hands fell, and in a moment the

old man let fall the sword with a clash, the young man dropped his pike,

and they stood with their necks craned toward Macko, their faces still

expressing hatred, but already amazed and ashamed of themselves.

Macko smiled and said:

"May the name of Christ be praised!"

"Forever and ever."

"And Saint Jerzy."

"We serve him."

"I come to visit my neighbors with good will."

"With good will we greet you, the guest of his holy person."

Then old Wilk rushed toward Macko, and with his son, both of them pressed

his right hand, they made him sit at a comfortable place at the table; in

a second they threw another log on the fireplace, spread the table and

put upon it a dish full of food, a jug of beer, a pitcher of mead, and

began to eat and drink. Young Wilk glanced now and then at Macko, which,

happily for the guest, contributed to lessen his hatred against him. But

he served him, however, so diligently that he became pale from fatigue,

because he was wounded and deprived of his wonted strength. The father

and son burned with curiosity to know the object of Macko's call. None,

however, asked him why, but waited for him to speak.

But Macko, as a man of manners, praised the meat, drink and hospitality.

Only when he had filled himself well, he looked up and spoke with

dignity:

"People often quarrel. But neighborly peace above all."

"There is not a better thing than peace," replied old Wilk, with equal

composure.

"It also often happens," said Macko, "when one wants to undertake a long

journey, he wants to make up and bid good-bye even to his adversaries."

"God reward you for your candid words."

"Not mere words, but deeds, for I actually came to wish you good-bye."

"From our soul we wish you might visit us daily."

"I wish I could feast you in Bogdaniec in a manner suitable to people who

are acquainted with knightly honor. But I am in a hurry to go."

"Is it to war, or to some holy place?"

"I should like to go to one of the two, but the place I am going to is

worse, for I am going among the Knights of the Cross."

"Among the Knights of the Cross," exclaimed both father and son.

"Yes!" replied Macko. "And one who is their enemy is going to them. It is

well for him to be reconciled with God and men, so that he may not

forfeit, not only his life, but everlasting salvation."

"It is wonderful," said old Wilk. "I have never yet seen any man who has

not suffered from their wrongs and oppression."

"So it is in the whole fatherland," added Macko. "Neither Lithuania

before its conversion to Christianity, nor even the Tartars were such a

burden to the Polish kingdom as those devilish monks."

"Quite true, but this you also know, they gathered and gathered. It is

time now to finish with them."

Then the old man spat in his hands, and young Wilk added:

"It cannot be otherwise now."

"It will come to pass, surely, but when? We cannot do it, it is the

king's affair. It may be soon or not ... God only knows. But meanwhile I

must go to them."

"Is it not with ransom for Zbyszko?"

As his father mentioned Zbyszko's name young Wilk's face became pale with

hatred.

But Macko replied quietly:

"May be with ransom but not for Zbyszko."

These words intensified the curiosity of both lords of Brzozowa. Old

Wilk, who could no more contain himself, said:

"Can you tell us, or not, the reason for your going there?"

"I will tell you! I will!" he said, nodding assent, "but first let me

tell you something else. Take notice then. After my departure Bogdaniec

will be under God's care.... When Zbyszko and myself were fighting under

Prince Witold, the abbot, also Zych of Zgorzelice, looked somewhat after

our small property. Now we shall miss even that little. It pains me

terribly to think that my endeavor and labor will be in vain.... You can

well form an idea how much this troubles me. They will entice away my

people, plough up the boundaries; they will take away my herds. Even

should God permit me to return, I shall find my property ruined.... There

is only one remedy, only one help ... good neighbor. For this reason I

came to ask you as a neighbor that you would take Bogdaniec under your

protection and see that no harm is done."

Listening to Macko's request, old Wilk and his son exchanged looks; both

of them were amazed beyond measure. They were silent for a moment, and

neither could muster courage enough to reply. But Macko lifted another

cup of mead to his mouth, drank it, then continued his conversation in as

quiet and confiding a manner as though the two had been his most intimate

friends for years.

"I have told you candidly from whom most damage is expected. It is from

no other quarter but from Cztan of Rogow. Although we were hostile to

each other, I fear nothing from you because you are noble people who

would face your adversaries, yet would not revenge yourselves by acting

meanly. You are quite different. A knight is always a knight. But Cztan

is a _prestak_ (churl). From such a fellow anything might be expected, as

you know. He is very bitter against me because I spoiled his game with

Jagienka."

"Whom you reserve for your nephew," burst out young Wilk.

Macko looked at him and held him under his cold gaze for a moment, then

he turned to the old man and said quietly:

"You know, my nephew married a rich Mazovian proprietress and took

considerable dower." Silence more profound than before again reigned for

a while. Both father and son gazed at Macko with their mouths wide open,

for some time.

Finally the old man said:

"O! how is that? Tell us...."

Macko appeared not to notice the question and continued:

"This is the very reason why I must go, and why I also ask you, as worthy

and upright neighbors, to take care of Bogdaniec when I go, and see to it

that nobody damages my property. Have your eye especially upon Cztan and

protect me against him."

During that time young Wilk, who was quick to understand, reflected that

since Zbyszko had got married it would be better to be in friendship with

Macko, because Jagienka confided in him, and did nothing without asking

his advice. Thus new prospects suddenly presented themselves before his

eyes. "It is not enough, we must not only not oppose Macko, but endeavor

to be reconciled with him," he said to himself. Therefore, although he

was somewhat under the influence of drink, he quickly stretched his hand

under the table and grasped his father's knee and pressed it vigorously

as a sign for his father to be careful in his speech, but said himself:

"Ay! we do not fear Cztan! Let him only try. He wounded me with the

platter, true, but I too have given him such a sound drubbing that his

own mother could not recognize him. Fear nothing! Be at your ease. Not

even one crow shall be lost at Bogdaniec!"

"I see you are upright people. Do you promise me?"

"We promise!" both exclaimed.

"Upon your knightly honor?"

"Upon knightly honor."

"And upon your escutcheon?"

"Upon the escutcheon; yea, upon the cross too. So help us God!"

Macko smiled with satisfaction, and said:

"Well, this is now with you, and I am confident you will do it. If so,

let me tell you something more. Zych, as you know, appointed me guardian

of his children. I have, therefore, spoiled both Cztan's incursions and

your young man at Zgorzelice. But now when I arrive at Malborg, or, God

knows where, what then will become of my guardianship?... It is true,

that God is a father of the fatherless; and woe to him who shall attempt

to harm her; not only will I chop off his head with an axe, but also

proclaim him an infamous scoundrel. Nevertheless I feel very sorry to

part, sorry indeed. Then promise me I pray, that you will not only

yourself not do any harm to Zych's orphans, but see too that others do

not harm them."

"We swear! We swear!"

"Upon your knightly honor and your escutcheon?"

"Upon knightly honor and escutcheon."

"Also upon the cross?"

"Upon the cross too."

"God hears it. Amen," concluded Macko, and he breathed deeply, because he

was sure that they would not break such an oath. Even if they were

provoked they would rather gnaw their fists with anger than perjure

themselves.

Then he began to take leave, but they insisted upon his remaining. He was

obliged to drink and fraternize with old Wilk. But young Wilk, contrary

to his custom to look for quarrels when drunk, this time limited his

anger to threats against Cztan, and ran around Macko so assiduously as

though he were to obtain Jagienka from Macko the following morning.

Toward midnight he fainted from over-exertion, and after they revived

him, he fell asleep like a log. Old Wilk followed the example of his son,

so that when Macko left them they were lying under the table like

corpses. Yet Macko himself had an extraordinary head and was not so much

affected by the drink, but was cheerful. When he returned home he

reflected with joy upon what he had accomplished.

"Well!" he said to himself, "Bogdaniec is safe and so is Zgorzelice. They

will be raging when they hear of Jagienka's departure. But she and my

property are safe. The Lord Jesus has endowed men with skill, so that

when one cannot make use of his fist, he uses his mind. The old man will

surely challenge me when I return home, but it is not worth while to

think about it.... Would to God that I might entrap the Knights of the

Cross in such manner.... But it will be a difficult task with them. With

us, even when one has an affair with a 'dog brother,' nevertheless if he

takes an oath on his knightly honor and escutcheon he will keep it. But

with them an oath has no value; it is like spitting upon the water. But

may the mother of Jesus assist me, that I may be as serviceable to

Zbyszko as I have been to Zychow's children, and Bogdaniec...."

Here, it crossed his mind, that perhaps it might be advisable not to take

Jagienka, because the two Wilks would care for her as the apple of their

eye. But the next moment he rejected that plan. "The Wilks might care for

her, true, but Cztan will persist in his attempts, and God knows who will

prevail. But it is a sure thing that there will be a succession of fights

and outrages from which Zgorzelice, Zych's orphans, and even the girl

might suffer. It will be an easy matter for Wilk to guard Bogdaniec. But

by all means it will be better for the girl to be as far away from the

two murderers as possible, and at the same time to be as near the rich

abbot as possible. Macko firmly believed that Danusia would never be

rescued from the Knights of the Cross, alive. And the hope that Zbyszko

would return home as a widower and most likely take to Jagienka, never

left him."

"Ah! Mighty God!" he said to himself. "In such a case he will be the

owner of Spychow, then he will get Jagienka and Moczydoly, and in

addition to it he will acquire that which the abbot will bequeath. I

would not even spare him wax for candles."

Occupied with such thoughts, the road from Brzozowa seemed to be

shortened, yet he arrived at Bogdaniec after nightfall, and was surprised

to see his windows brightly illuminated. The servants, too, were awake,

for he had scarcely entered the courtyard when the stable boy came

rushing to him.

"Are there some guests?" asked Macko, dismounting.

"There is the young gentleman of Zgorzelice with the Bohemian," replied

the stable boy.

This information astonished Macko, for Jagienka had promised to arrive

next day, very early, when they were to start immediately. Then, why had

Jasko come and that so late? It struck the old knight that something must

have occurred at Zgorzelice, and he entered his house with a certain

amount of anxiety. But within he found a bright fire burning in the large

clay oven in the centre of the room. And upon the table were two iron

cradles and two torches in them, by which light Macko observed Jasko, the

Bohemian, Hlawa, and another young servant with a face as red as an

apple.

"How are you, Jasko? and what is the matter with Jagienka?" asked the old

nobleman.

"Jagienka ordered me to tell you," he said, whilst kissing Macko's hand,

"that she has reconsidered the matter and she prefers to stay at home."

"For God's sake! What do you say? How? What has happened to her?"

But the boy looked at him with his beautiful blue eyes and smiled.

"What are you prating about?"

But at this moment, the Bohemian and the other boy also burst out

laughing.

"You see!" exclaimed the disguised boy. "Who could recognize me. You even

have failed to recognize me!"

Then Macko looked at the lovely figure carefully and exclaimed:

"In the name of the Father and Son! It is a true carnival! You also here,

croaking thing. Why?"

"Yes! Why? Those who are on the road have no time to lose."

"Is it not to-morrow at dawn, that you were to leave?"

"Certainly! to-morrow at dawn, so that all may know. To-morrow they will

think at Zgorzelice that I am your guest, and they will not notice it

till the day after to-morrow. Sieciechowa and Jasiek know it. But Jasko

promised, upon knightly honor, that he will tell only then, when the

people begin to be restless. How is it you did not recognize me?"

Now it was Macko's turn to laugh.

"Let me have a good look at you; you are an excessively fine boy!... and

singularly so. From such one might expect to raise a good breed.... I

justly declare, if this fellow were, (pointing at himself) were not

old,--well! But, even thus I tell you, keep off, girl, from creeping

under my eyes, stand back!..."

And he began to threaten her with his finger, but looked at her with much

pleasure. Because such a girl he never saw before. Upon her head she had

a silken red net, and a yellow jacket upon her body and the breeches

ample round her hips and tighter above them, of which one little leg was

of the same color as the cap (net) upon her head, the other had longwise

stripes, with a richly covered little sword at her side, smiling and

bright like the dawn. Her face was so exquisite that he could not take

his eyes off her.

"My God!" said the overjoyed Macko. "She looks like some marvelous young

lady or like a flower, or something else!"

"And this one here--I am sure it must also be somebody in disguise?"

"This is Sieciechowa," answered Jagienka. "It would be improper for me to

be alone among you. How could I? Therefore I have taken Anulka[111] with

me so that two courageous women will be of help and service. Her also,

nobody can recognize."

"There, old woman, you have a marriage feast. One is bad enough, now

there will be two."

"Don't tease."

"I am not teasing, but everybody will recognize you and her, in the

daytime."

"Pray, and why?"

"In order to go on their knees to you and to her also."

"O, give us peace!..."

"You shall have it, I am not in a hurry. But will Cztan or Wilk let you

have peace? God knows. Do you know, birdie, where I have just been? Why,

at Brzozowa."

"For God's sake! What are you saying?"

"It is true as truth itself that the Wilks protect Bogdaniec and

Zgorzelice against Cztan. Well, it is an easy matter to challenge an

enemy and fight him. But to make your enemy into a protector of your own

property is a very difficult task."

Then Macko related his adventures with the Wilks, how they had become

reconciled to each other. How he had got advantage over them; to this she

listened with the greatest wonder, and when he concluded she said:

"The Lord Jesus did not stint you in craftiness, and I observe that you

will always be successful in your undertakings."

But Macko shook his head, as though he felt sorry.

"Ay, daughter! If that were so, you would have long ago become the lady

of Bogdaniec!"

Upon hearing that, Jagienka looked at him with her lovely blue eyes for a

moment, then she approached him, and kissed his hand.

"Why do you kiss me?" inquired the old knight.

"Nothing.... I only wish to bid you goodnight, because it is getting late

and to-morrow we must get up early for our journey."

She then embraced Sieciechowa and left, and Macko led the Bohemian to his

room, where they stretched themselves upon aurochs' skins and both fell

sound asleep.

CHAPTER III.

After the destruction, conflagration and slaughter which the Knights of

the Cross had committed in 1331, at Sieradz, Casimir the Great rebuilt

the razed town. The place, however, was not exceedingly splendid and

could not keep pace with the other towns of the realm. But Jagienka, who

hitherto had spent her time among the people of Zgorzelice and Krzesnia,

was beside herself with admiration and astonishment at the sight of the

houses, towers, town hall, and especially the churches; the wooden

structure at Krzesnia could not be compared with them. At first she lost

her wonted resolution, so much so that she dared not talk aloud, and only

inquired of Macko in a whisper about those wonderful things which dazzled

her eyes. But when the old knight assured her that there was as much

difference between Sieradz and Krakow as there is between a firebrand and

the sun, she would not believe her own ears, because it appeared to her

an impossibility that another city could be found in the world which

could be equal to Sieradz.

They were received in the cloister by the same shriveled old prior, who

still remembered in his childhood the butchery by the Knights of the

Cross, and who had previously received Zbyszko. The news of the abbot

occasioned them sorrow and trouble; he lived in the cloister for a long

while, but he left a fortnight before their arrival to visit his friend,

the bishop of Plock. He was constantly ill. He was generally conscious in

the morning; but toward the evening he lost his head, he stormed and he

asked to put on a coat of mail, and challenged Prince John of Racibor.

The clergy were obliged to apply force to keep him in bed; that was not

accomplished without considerable trouble and even much risk. About a

fortnight ago he had entirely lost his reason, and in spite of his

serious illness, he had given orders to be taken to Plock immediately.

"He said that he confided in nobody so much as in the bishop of Plock,

and that he wished to receive the sacrament from him alone and leave his

testament with him. We opposed his journey as much as we could, for he

was very faint, and we feared that he would not survive even one mile's

journey. But to oppose him was not an easy task. So the attendants

prepared a wagon and carried him away. May God direct it to a happy

issue."

"If he had died somewhere near Sieradz you would have heard of it," said

Macko.

"We would have surely heard of it," replied the little old prior. "We

therefore are of opinion that he did not die, and we think that he had

not yet when he reached Lenczyca. What may have happened beyond that

place, we are unable to tell. You will get information on the road if you

go after him."

Macko felt uneasy when he received the tidings, and he went to take

counsel with Jagienka, who had already got information from the Bohemian

whither the abbot had gone.

"What is to be done?" he asked her; "and what are you going to do with

yourself?"

"Come to Plock, and I will go with you."

"To Plock!" repeated Sieciechowa, in a piping voice.

"Look how things go! Is it as easy for you to go to Flock as to handle

the sickle?"

"How can I and Sieciechowa return by ourselves? If I cannot continue my

journey with you, it would have been preferable to have remained at home.

Do you not think that Wilk and Cztan will be more obstinate in their

intrigues against me?"

"Wilk will protect you against Cztan."

"I fear Wilk's protection as much as Cztan's open violence. I see that

you too are opposing me; if it were only simple opposition I should not

mind it, but not when it is in earnest."

Indeed Macko's opposition was not in earnest; on the contrary he

preferred that Jagienka should accompany him, than return, so when he

heard her words, he smiled and said:

"She has got rid of her petticoats, and now she wants reason too."

"Reason is only to be found in the head."

"But Plock is out of the way."

"The Bohemian said that it is not out of the way, but it is nearer to

Malborg."

"Then you have already consulted the Bohemian?"

"Surely; moreover, he said: 'If the young lord got into trouble at

Malborg, then we could get much help from Princess Alexandra, for she is

a relative of the king; besides that, being a personal friend of the

Knights of the Cross, she has great influence among them.'"

"It is true, as God is dear to me!" exclaimed Macko. "It is a fact well

known to all, that if she wished to give us a letter to the master we

could travel with perfect safety in all lands of the Knights of the

Cross. They love her because she loves them. That Bohemian boy is not a

fool, his advice is good."

"And how much so!" Sieciechowa exclaimed with warmth, lifting up her

little eyes.

Macko suddenly turned toward her and said:

"What do you want here?"

The girl became much confused, lowered her eyelashes and blushed like a

rose.

However, Macko saw that there was no other remedy but to continue his

journey and take both girls with him. This he much desired. The following

morning he took leave of the little old prior and then they continued

their journey. Owing to the thawing of the snow and inundations they

progressed with greater difficulty than before. On the road they inquired

after the abbot, and they found many courts, and parsonages, where there

were none of the former, even inns, where he had remained for a night's

lodging. It was quite easy to follow in his track, because he had

lavishly distributed alms, bought missals, contributed to church bells

and subscribed to funds for the repair of churches. Therefore every

beggar, sexton, yea even every priest they met remembered him with

gratitude. They generally said: "He traveled like an angel," and prayed

for his recovery, although here and there were heard more expressions of

apprehension that his everlasting rest was drawing nigh, than hopes of

temporary recovery. In some places he had taken supplies enough for two

or three days. It seemed to Macko that most likely he would be able to

overtake him.

Yet Macko was mistaken in his calculations. The overflow of the rivers

Ner and Bzur prevented them from arriving at Lenczyca. They were obliged

to take up their quarters for four days at a deserted inn, whose owner

apparently had fled on account of the threatening floods. The road

leading from the inn to the town which to a certain extent was repaired

with stumps of trees was submerged for a considerable stretch in the

muddy flood. Macko's servant, Wit, a native of that locality, had some

knowledge of the road leading through the woods, but he refused to act as

guide, because he knew that the marshes of Lenczyca were the rendezvous

of unclean spirits, especially the powerful Borut who delighted in

leading people to bottomless swamps, whence escape was only possible by

forfeiture of the soul. Even the inn itself was held in bad repute, so

that travelers used to provision themselves with victuals to avoid

hunger. Even old Macko was scared of this place. During the night they

heard skirmishing upon the roof of the inn; at times there were also

rappings at the door. Jagienka and Sieciechowa, who slept in the alcove

near the large room, also heard the sound of little footsteps upon the

ceiling and walls during the night-time. They were apparently not afraid

of it, because at Zgorzelice they were accustomed to croaking birds. Old

Zych, in his time, fed them, according to the then prevailing custom

there were not wanting those who would provide them with crusts, and they

were not mischievous. But on a certain night, from the neighboring

thickets resounded a dull ominous bellowing, and the following morning

they discovered huge cloven-foot traces upon the mud. They might have

been of aurochs or bison, but Wit was of opinion that the traces were

those of Borut, and although his outward appearance is that of a man,

even of a nobleman, he has cloven instead of human feet. But owing to

parsimony he takes off his boots when crossing the swamps. Macko was

informed that one could appease him with drink; he considered during the

whole day whether it would be sinful to gain the friendship of the evil

spirit. He even took counsel with Jagienka on the same subject.

"I should like to suspend upon the fence a bull's bladder full of wine or

mead," he said, "and if it were found that something of the drink were

missing, then it would be conclusive proof that the evil spirit was

present."

"But that might displease the heavenly powers," replied Jagienka, "of

whose blessing we stand in need to assist us in succoring Zbyszko

successfully."

"I, too, am afraid, but I think that a little mead is not the soul. I

shall not give him my soul. One bladder full of wine or mead, I think, is

of little significance in the eyes of the heavenly powers!"

Then he lowered his voice and added:

"One nobleman entertains another even if he is a useless fellow, and they

say he is a nobleman."

"Who?" asked Jagienka.

"I do not want to mention the name of the unclean spirit."

Nevertheless, Macko, with his own hands suspended the same evening a

large bull's bladder in which drink is usually carried, and it was found

empty the following morning.

When that was related to the Bohemian, he laughed heartily, but nobody

paid attention to it. Macko, however, was filled with joy, because he

expected that when he should attempt to cross the swamp no mishap would

occur on that account.

"Unless they told an untruth when they said that he knows honor," he said

to himself.

Above all things it was necessary to investigate if there was a passage

through the woods. It might have been so, because where the soil was made

firm by the roots of the trees and other growths, it did not easily

soften by the rains; although Wit, who belonged in the locality, could

best perform that service, he refused to go, and when his name was

suggested, he shouted: "Better kill me. I shall not go."

Then they explained to him that the unclean spirits are powerless during

the daytime. Macko himself was willing to go, but it was finally arranged

that Hlawa should venture, because he was a bold fellow, agreeable to

all, specially to the ladies. He put an axe in his belt, and in his hand

a scythe, and left.

He left early in the morning and was expected to return about noon, but

he did not, and they began to be alarmed. Later on, the servants were

watching at the edge of the forest, and in the afternoon Wit waved his

hand as a sign that Hlawa had not returned, and should he return the

danger is greater for us, for God knows whether, owing to a wolf's bite,

he is not transformed into a werewolf. Hearing this, all were frightened;

even Macko was not himself. Jagienka turned toward the forest and made

the sign of the cross. But Anulka searched in vain in her skirt and apron

for something with which to cover her eyes, but finding nothing she

covered them with her fingers, from between which tears began to trickle

in big drops.

However, toward evening time, just at the spot where the sun was about to

set, the Bohemian appeared, and that, not by himself, but accompanied by

a human figure whom he drove in front of him on a rope. All rushed out

toward him with shouts of joy. But at the sight of the figure they became

silent; it was dwarfed, monkey-like, hairy, black and dressed in wolf

skin.

"In the name of the Father and Son tell me; what is this figure you have

brought," shouted Macko.

"How do I know?" replied the Bohemian. "He said that he was a man and a

pitch-burner, but I don't know whether he told me the truth."

"Oh, he is not a man, no," said Wit.

But Macko ordered him to be quiet; then he looked carefully around him

and suddenly said:

"Cross yourself. We are accustomed to cross ourselves when with the

spirits...."

"Praised be Jesus Christ!" exclaimed the prisoner, and crossed himself as

fast as he could. He breathed deeply, looked with great confidence at the

group and said:

"Praised be Jesus Christ. I too, O Jesus, was uncertain whether I was in

Christian or in the devil's power."

"Fear not, you are among Christians, who attend the holy Mass. What are

you then?"

"I am a pitch-burner, sir, dwelling in a tent. There are seven of us who

dwell in tents with our families."

"How far are you from here?"

"Not quite ten furlongs."

"How do you get to town?"

"We have our private road along the 'Devil's Hollow.'"

"Along what? The Devil's?... then cross yourself again."

"In the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen."

"Very well. Is that road practicable for vehicles?"

"Now there is quagmire everywhere, although there is less near the Hollow

than upon the regular road; owing to the access of the wind the mud is

quickly dried up. But farther on to Buda the road is bad. But those who

know the track push through it slowly."

"Will you lead us for a florin or two?"

The pitch-burner accepted the offer willingly, but begged for half a loaf

of bread, which he said is very scarce in the woods and he had seen none

for some time past. It was arranged that they should start very early the

next morning, because it was "not good to travel in the evening," he

said. "There at Boruca ghosts storm terribly, but they do no harm. But

being jealous for the Lenczyca principality they chase away other devils

into the bushes. It is only bad to meet them during the night, especially

when a man is drunk, but the sober need not be afraid."

"You were afraid nevertheless," said Macko.

"Because that knight unexpectedly grasped me with such strength that I

took him for another being."

Then Jagienka smiled that all of them took the pitch-burner to be the

devil, and he thought them to be the same. Anulka and Sieciechowa laughed

at Macko's words, when he said:

"Your eyes are not yet dry from weeping for Hlawa; now you are laughing?"

The Bohemian looked at the girl, he observed her eyelids which were still

moist, then he asked:

"Did you cry for me?"

"Of course not," replied the girl. "I was only scared."

"You ought to be ashamed. Are you not a noblewoman, and a noblewoman like

your mistress is not afraid. Nothing evil could happen to you in the

middle of the day, and among people."

"Nothing to me, but to you."

"Yet you said that you did not cry for me."

"I insist, not for you."

"Then why did you cry?"

"From fear."

"You are not afraid now?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because you have returned."

Then the Bohemian looked at her with gratitude, smiled, and said:

"Bah! If we kept on talking in that manner we might have continued till

morning. What a smart woman you are!"

"Make no fun of me," quietly replied Sieciechowa. In fact she was as

smart as any woman; and Hlawa who was himself a cunning fellow understood

it well. He knew that the girl's attachment to him was daily increasing.

He loved Jagienka, but the love was that of a subject for his king's

daughter, and with great humility and reverence, and without any other

motive. Meanwhile the journey brought him in closer contact with

Sieciechowa. When on the march old Macko and Jagienka usually rode side

by side in front, while Hlawa and Sieciechowa were together in the rear.

He was as strong as a urus and hot-blooded, so that when looking straight

into her lovely bright eyes, at her flaxen locks which escaped from under

her bonnet, upon her whole slender and well-shaped figure, especially at

her admirably shaped limbs gripping the black pony, his whole frame

trembled. He could restrain himself no longer. The more he looked upon

those charms the more intense and longing his gaze became. He

involuntarily thought that if the devil were to assume the form of that

girl he would have no difficulty in leading one into temptation. She was

moreover of a sweet temperament, very obedient, and lively, like a

sparrow upon the roof. Sometimes strange thoughts crossed the Bohemian's

mind; once when he and Anulka remained somewhat in the rear near the

packhorses, he suddenly turned toward her and said:

"Do you know I shall devour you here as a wolf devours a lamb."

She heartily laughed, and showed her pretty little white teeth.

"Do you want to eat me?" she asked.

"Yes I even with the little bones."

And he cast such a look at her that she melted under his glances. Then

they lapsed into silence, only their hearts were beating intensely, his

with desire, and hers with pleasurable intoxication tinged with fear.

But the Bohemian's passion at first entirely prevailed over his

tenderness, and when he said that he looked at Anulka like a wolf at a

lamb, he told the truth. Only on that evening when he observed her

eyelids and cheeks moistened with tears, his heart became softened She

seemed to him as good, as though near to him and as though she were

already his own, and as he himself was upright by nature, and at the same

time a knight, he not only was elated with pride, and not hardened at the

sight of the sweet tears, but he courageously continued gazing at her.

His wonted gaiety of conversation left him, and although he continued to

jest in the evening with the timid girl, yet it was of a different

nature. He treated her as a knightly armor-bearer ought to treat a

noblewoman.

Old Macko was chiefly occupied in thinking of the journey, and the

crossing of the swamps, and he only praised him for his noble manners

which, as he observed, he must have learned when he was with Zbyszko at

the Mazovian court.

Then he turned to Jagienka and added:

"Hey! Zbyszko!... His deportment befits even a king's presence."

But his work was over in the evening, when it was time to retire. Hlawa,

after having kissed the hand of Jagienka, lifted in turn the hand of

Sieciechowa to his lips and said:

"Not only need you not fear me, but whilst you are with me you need fear

nothing, for I shall not give you to anybody."

Then the men went into the front room whilst Jagienka and Anulka retired

to the alcove and slept together in a wide and comfortable bed. Neither

fell asleep readily, especially Sieciechowa, who was restless and turned

from side to side. At length Jagienka moved her head toward Anulka and

whispered:

"Anulka?"

"What is it?"

"It seems to me that you are much taken with that Bohemian.... Is it so?"

Her question remained unanswered.

But Jagienka whispered again:

"I understand it all.... Tell me."

Sieciechowa did not reply, but instead, pressed her lips to the cheeks of

her mistress and showered kisses upon them.

At Anulka's kisses, poor Jagienka's breast heaved.

"Oh, I understand, I understand," she whispered, so low that Anulka's ear

scarcely caught her words.

CHAPTER IV.

After a mild and foggy night, a windy and gloomy day came. At times the

sky was bright, at others it was covered with broken clouds which were

driven before the wind like flocks of sheep. Macko ordered the train to

move by daybreak. The pitch-burner, who was hired as guide to Buda,

affirmed that the horses could pass everywhere, but as to the wagons,

provisions and baggage, it would be necessary in some places to take them

apart and carry them piecemeal, and that could not be done without

tedious work. But people accustomed to hard labor preferred hardship to

lounging in the deserted inn. Therefore they moved on willingly. Even the

timid Wit was not scared by the words and presence of the pitch-burner.

They left the inn and entered at once between high-trunked forest trees,

free from undergrowth. They led their horses, and could pass along

without taking the wagons to pieces. Occasionally a storm arose, and at

times it increased to such extraordinary force that it struck the

branches of the bending pines as with gigantic wings, bending, twisting

and shaking and breaking them as it were with the fans of a windmill. The

forest bent under the unchained elements. Even in the intervals between

the gusts it did not cease to howl and thunder, as if angry with their

rest at the inn, and the forced march they had undertaken. Now and then

the clouds entirely obscured the daylight. Drenching rain mingled with

hail came down in torrents, and it became as dark as nightfall. Wit was

short of breath, and shouted that "evil was bent to do harm and is doing

it." But nobody paid attention to it, even the timid Anulka did not take

his words to heart because the Bohemian was so near that her stirrup

touched his, and he looked ahead with such a brave air that he seemed to

want to challenge the very devil.

Behind the tall pine trees where the undergrowth began, the thickets were

impassable. There they were obliged to take the wagons in sections; they

did it dexterously and quickly. The strong servants transported the

wheels, axle-tree, front of the wagon, packages and stores, upon their

shoulders. The bad road continued about three furlongs. However they

arrived at Buda about nightfall; there the pitch-burner received them as

his guests, and they were assured by him that along the Devil's Hollow,

correctly speaking, they could reach the town. These people, inhabitants

of the pathless forest seldom saw bread or flour, yet they were not

starving. Because all kinds of smoked meat, especially eels, which

abounded in all swamps and mud holes, they had in plenty. They treated

them liberally, in exchange, holding out greedy hands for the biscuits.

There were among them women and children, all blackened from the smoke.

There was also a peasant, more than one hundred years old, who remembered

the massacre of Lenczyca, which happened in 1331, and the complete

destruction of the town by the "Knights of the Cross." Although Macko,

the Bohemian, and the two girls, had already heard the narrative from the

prior of Sieradz, nevertheless they listened with much interest to the

tale of the old man who was sitting at the fireside scraping in the

cinders. It seemed as if he discovered among them the events of his

earlier days. At Lenczyca, as well as at Sieradz, they spared not even

the churches and clergy, and the knives of the conquerors were covered

with the blood of old men, women and children. Always the Knights of the

Cross, the everlasting Knights of the Cross! The thoughts of Macko and

Jagienka were constantly directed toward Zbyszko, who was living in the

very jaws of the wolves, in the midst of a hardened clan who knew neither

pity nor the laws of hospitality. Sieciechowa was faint at heart, because

she feared that their hunt after the abbot might lead them among those

terrible Knights of the Cross.

But the old man, to counteract the unfavorable impression which the

stories made upon the women, told them of the battle near Plowce, which

put an end to the incursions of the Knights of the Cross, and in which he

took part as a soldier in the infantry raised by the peasants, and armed

with an iron flail. In that battle perished almost the whole clan of the

Gradys; Macko knew all the particulars of it, nevertheless he listened

now as though it were a recital of a new terrible calamity caused by the

Germans, when like cornfields before the storm they were mowed down by

the sword in the hands of the Polish knighthood and the forces of King

Lokietek....

"Ha! I just recollect," said the old man, "when they invaded this

country, they burned the town and castles. Yes, they even massacred the

infants in the cradles, but their terrible end came. Hey! It was a fine

fight. I can see the battle now with my eyes closed...."

He closed his eyes and was silent, gently moving the ashes until

Jagienka, who could wait no longer, asked:

"How was it?"

"How was it?..." repeated the old man. "I remember the battlefield, it

seems that I am now looking at it; there were bushes, and patches of

stubble to the right. But after the battle nothing was visible but

swords, axes, pikes and fine armor, one upon another, as though the whole

blessed land was covered with them.... I have never seen so many slain in

one heap, and so much human blood shed...."

Macko's heart was strengthened anew by the recollection of these events,

then he said:

"True. Merciful Lord Jesus! They had then encompassed the kingdom like a

conflagration or like a plague. Not only Sieradz and Lenczyca, but they

destroyed many other towns. What now? Are not our people mighty and

indestructible? And although those dog-brothers, the Knights of the

Cross, were severely chastised, yet if you cannot crush them they will

attack you and break your teeth.... Only see, King Kazimierz rebuilt

Sieradz and Lenczyca so that they are better now than ever before, yet

the incursions occur there as of old, and the Knights of the Cross are

laid low and rot there as they were at the battle of Plowce. May God

always grant them such an end!"

When the old peasant heard these words he nodded assent; finally he said:

"Perhaps they don't lie and rot. We of the infantry were ordered by the

king, after the battle was over, to dig ditches; the peasants from the

neighborhood came to assist us in our labor. We worked industriously, so

that the spades groaned. Then we laid the Germans in trenches and covered

them well, to avoid pestilence. But they did not remain there."

"What happened? Why did they not remain there?"

"I did not see it, but the people said afterward that after the battle

there came a fierce storm which lasted about twelve weeks, but only at

night-time. The sun shone during the daytime, but at night the wind was

so fierce that it almost tore the hair from off the head. The devils,

like thick clouds, came down in great numbers, whirling like a hurricane;

every one of them held a pitchfork, and as soon as one of them reached

the earth he thrust the pitchfork into the ground and carried off one

Knight of the Cross to hell. At Plowce they heard a hurly-burly of human

voices which sounded like the howling of whole packs of dogs, but they

did not know what it all meant, whether it were the noise of the Germans,

who were howling with terror and pain, or the devils with joy. That

continued as long as the trenches were not consecrated by the priest, and

the ground was not frozen, so that there was no need even for

pitchforks."

Silence followed for a moment, then the old man added:

"But God grant, Sir Knight, such an end to them as you said, and although

I shall not live to see it, but such young lasses as these two will live,

but they shall not see what mine eyes have seen."

Then he turned his head, now looking at Jagienka, now at Sieciechowa,

wondering at their marvelous faces and shaking his head.

"Like poppies in corn," he said. "Such beautiful faces I have never

seen."

Thus they chattered during a part of the night. Then they went to sleep

in the shanties and lay down upon mosses as soft as down and covered

themselves with warm fur; then after a refreshing sleep, they arose early

in the morning and continued their journey. The road along the hollow was

not an easy passage, but it was not a very bad road. So that before

sunset they descried the castle of Lenczyca. The city had arisen from its

ashes, it was rebuilt; part of it was built of brick and part of stone,

its walls were high, the towers armed. The churches were even larger than

those of Sieradz. There they had no difficulty in getting information

from the Dominican friars concerning the abbot. He was there, he said

that he felt better, and he hoped to recover his health entirely; and

only a few days ago he left for his onward journey. Macko was not bent on

overtaking him on the road, so he had already procured conveyance for

both girls to Plock, where the abbot himself would have taken them. But

Macko was much concerned about Zbyszko, and other news distressed him.

The rivers had arisen after the departure of the abbot, and it was

impossible to continue the journey. Seeing that the knight was

accompanied by a considerable retinue and was proceeding to the court of

Prince Ziemowit, the Dominicans offered him their hospitality; they had

even provided him with an olive-wood tablet upon which there was

inscribed a Latin prayer to the angel Raphael, the patron of travelers.

Their compulsory sojourn at Lenczyca lasted a fortnight, during which

time a servant of the castle discovered that the two young pages

accompanying the knight were females in disguise, and at once fell deeply

in love with Jagienka. The Bohemian was about to challenge him at once,

but as it happened on the eve of their departure Macko dissuaded him from

taking such a step.

When they moved on toward Plock, the wind had already somewhat dried the

road, and although it rained often, yet the rainfall, as is usual in the

spring, consisted of larger drops, but warm, and of short duration. The

furrows upon the fields glistened with water. The moist, sweet smell from

the cultivated fields was wafted by the strong wind. The marshes were

covered with buttercups and the violets blossomed in the woods, and the

grasshoppers joyfully chirped among the branches. The hearts of the

travelers were also filled with new hope and longing, especially as they

were now progressing well. After sixteen days' travel they were at the

gates of Plock.

But they arrived at night, when the gates of the city were closed. They

were obliged to pass the night with a weaver outside the wall.

The girls retired late, and after the fatigue of the long journey they

fell sound asleep, but Macko, who was not troubled by fatigue, got up

early; he did not wish to wake them and he entered the town by himself at

the opening of the gates. He found the cathedral and the bishop's

residence without difficulty. There he was informed that the abbot had

died a week ago, but according to the prevailing custom they had

celebrated mass before the coffin from the sixth day, and the funeral was

to take place on the day of Macko's arrival, after which would be

obsequies and last honors in memory of the defunct.

Owing to intense grief, Macko did not even look about the town, but he

knew something already from that time when he had passed through that

city with a letter from the princess Alexandra to the grand master. He

returned to the weaver's place as fast as he could, and on his way home

he said to himself:

"Ha! He is dead. Eternal repose to him. There is nothing in the world to

remedy it. But now what shall I do with the girls?"

Then he reflected whether it were not better to leave them with the

princess Alexandra, or with the princess Anna Danuta, or to take them to

Spychow. It struck him more than once, that if Danuska were dead, it

would be advisable to have Jagienka close to Zbyszko at Spychow, since

Zbyszko, who loved Danuska above all other things would greatly mourn

after his beloved. He was also sure that Jagienka's presence at Zbyszko's

side would have the desired effect. He also remembered that Zbyszko in

his boyhood, although his heart was after the woods in Mazowsze, was

constantly longing for Jagienka. For these reasons, and fully believing

that Danusia was lost, he often thought that in case of the abbot's

demise, he would not send Jagienka to any other place; but as he was

greedy to acquire landed property, he was therefore concerned about the

property of the abbot. Surely, the abbot was displeased with them and

promised to bequeath nothing to them; but after that he must have felt

sorry and, before he died left something for Jagienka. He was sure that

the abbot had bequeathed something to her, because he frequently spoke

about it at Zgorzelice, and he would not overlook Zbyszko on account of

Jagienka. Macko was also thinking of remaining for sometime at Plock, so

as to investigate the will and attend to the matter, but other thoughts

crossed his mind, and he said: "Should I longer be here looking after

property, whilst my boy yonder is stretching out his hand and waiting for

my help from some Knight of the Cross dungeon?"

In truth, there was only one course, and that was: to leave Jagienka

under the care of the princess and the bishop, and beg them to look after

her interest. But that plan did not please Macko. The girl has already

considerable property of her own, and when her estate is increased by

that which the abbot has bequeathed her, then as sure as there is a God

some Mazur will take her, for she cannot hold out any longer. Zych, her

defunct father, used to say of her, that she was in danger[112] even

then. In such case, the old knight thought that both Danusia and Jagienka

might fail Zbyszko. That of course was not to be thought of.

He will take one of the two, whichever God had decreed. Finally that plan

to rescue Zbyszko he preferred to the others; and as to Jagienka, he

resolved either to leave her in the care of Princess Danuta, or at

Spychow, but not at the court at Plock where there was much glitter, and

which was filled with handsome knights.

Overwhelmed with these thoughts, he proceeded quickly to the dwelling of

the weaver, to inform Jagienka of the abbot's death. He was determined

not to break the news to her suddenly, as it might greatly endanger her

health. When he reached home both ladies were properly dressed and

appeared as gay as birds; he sat down and ordered the servants to bring

him a jug of brown beer; then he assumed a doleful air, and said:

"Do you hear the bells ringing in town? Guess, why are they ringing,

since to-day is not Sunday, and you slept during matins. Would you like

to see the abbot?"

"Surely! What a question?" answered Jagienka.

"Well, you shall see him as the king sees Cwiék."[113]

"Has he left the city?"

"He has left, but do you not hear the bells ringing?"

"Is he dead?" exclaimed Jagienka.

"Yes! say 'God rest his soul.' ..."

Both ladies knelt down and began to chant: "God rest his soul," in a

bell-like voice. Then tears streamed down Jagienka's cheeks, for she was

very fond of the abbot, who, though of a violent temper, never harmed

anybody, but did much good; he specially loved Jagienka, for he was her

godfather, he loved her as one loves his own daughter. Macko remembered

that the abbot was related to him and Zbyszko; he was also moved to tears

and even cried. After his grief had subsided a little, he took the ladies

and the Bohemian with him and went to the funeral services in the church.

It was a magnificent funeral. The bishop himself, Jacob of Kurdwanow,

conducted it. There were present all the priests and monks of the diocese

of Plock, all the bells were ringing, and prayers were said which none

else but the clergy understood, for they were said in the Latin. Then the

clergy and the laity went to the banquet at the bishop's palace.

Macko and his two girls (disguised as boys) also went to the banquet; he,

as a relative of the deceased, and known to the bishop, was fully

entitled to be present. The bishop also willingly received him as such,

but immediately after the invitation he said to Macko:

"There is here a bequest of some forests for the Gradys of Bogdaniec. The

rest he did not bequeath to the abbey and the cloister, but to his

goddaughter, a certain Jagienka of Zgorzelice."

Macko, who did not expect much, was glad for the woodlands. The bishop

did not observe that one of the youths accompanying the old knight at the

mentioning of the name of Jagienka of Zgorzelice lifted up her tearful

eyes, and said:

"May God recompense him, but I wish he were alive."

Macko turned and said angrily:

"Be silent, otherwise you will shame yourself."

But he suddenly stopped, his eyes glistened with amazement, then his face

assumed wolfish fierceness, when at a distance from him opposite the

door, through which the princess Alexandra had just entered, he observed

the figure, dressed in court uniform, of Kuno of Lichtenstein, the very

man by whom Zbyszko had nearly lost his life in Krakow.

Jagienka had never seen Macko in such a condition. His face was

contracted like the jaws of a fierce dog, his teeth glistened beneath his

moustache, and in a moment he tightened his belt and moved toward the

hateful Knight of the Cross.

But when about midway he checked himself and began to pass his broad

hands through his hair; he reflected in time, that Lichtenstein might

only be a guest in the court of Plock, or an envoy, therefore, if he were

to strike him without apparent reason, the very thing which happened to

Zbyszko on his way from Tyniec to Krakow might be repeated here.

Thus possessing more reason than Zbyszko, he restrained himself, adjusted

the belt to its previous place, relaxed the muscles of his face and

waited, and when the princess, after greeting Lichtenstein, entered into

a conversation with the bishop, Macko approached her and bowed deeply. He

reminded her who he was, and that he had been once engaged in the service

of his benefactress as the carrier of letters.

The princess did not recognize him at first, but she remembered the

letters and the whole affair. She also was acquainted with the

occurrences in the neighboring Mazovian court. She had heard of Jurand,

of the imprisonment of his daughter, of Zbyszko's marriage, and of his

deadly fight with Rotgier. These things interested her greatly, so much

so that it seemed to her one of those knight-errant stories or one of the

minstrel songs in Germany, and the _rybalt_ songs in Mazowsze. Indeed,

the Knights of the Cross were not inimical to her, as they were to

princess Anna Danuta, the wife of Prince Janusz, more especially because

they wished to get her on their side, they strove to outvie each other in

rendering her homage and adulation, and overwhelmed her with munificent

gifts, but in the present case her heart beat for her favorite, whom she

was ready to help; above all, she was glad that she had before her a man

who could give her an accurate account of the events.

But Macko, who had already resolved to obtain, by whatever means

possible, the protection and the princely influence, seeing that she was

listening attentively, told her Zbyszko's and Danusia's ill luck. The

narrative brought tears to her eyes, specially when she felt more than

anybody the misfortune of her niece, and from her very soul she pitied

her.

"I have never heard a more woeful story," said the princess, at last,

"the greatest sorrow to my mind is, that he has married her, that she was

already his, yet he knew no happiness. However, are you sure that he knew

her not."

"Hey! Almighty God!" exclaimed Macko. "If he only knew her, he was

bed-ridden when he married her in the evening, and the following morning

she was carried off."

"And, do you think that the Knights of the Cross did it? It was said

here, that those who actually did it were robbers, and the Knights of the

Cross recaptured her, but it turned out to be another girl. They also

spoke of a letter which Jurand had written...."

"Human justice did not decide it, but divine. That was a great thing,

that knight Rotgier, who conquered the strongest, fell by the hand of a

comparative child."

"Well, a fine child he is," said the princess, with a smile, "his valor

is a safeguard in his travels. It is a grievance, true, and your

complaints are just, but three out of those four opponents are dead, and

the remaining old one has also, according to the information I have

received, been nearly killed."

"And Danuska? And Jurand?" replied Macko. "Where are they? God only knows

whether something ill has happened to Zbyszko, who was on the road to

Malborg."

"I know, but the Knights of the Cross are not such out-and-out

dog-brothers as you think them to be. In Malborg nothing evil can happen

to your nephew, whilst he is at the side of the grand master and his

brother Ulrych, who is an honorable knight. Your nephew undoubtedly is

provided with letters from Prince Janusz. Unless whilst there he

challenged one of the knights and succumbed. At Malborg there are always

present a great number of the most valorous knights from all parts of the

world."

"Ay! My nephew does not fear them much," said the old knight. "If they

only did not cast him in prison, or kill him treacherously, as long as he

has an iron weapon in his hand he is not afraid of them. Only once he

found himself facing one stronger than himself, but he stretched him in

the lists, and that was the Mazovian Prince Henryk who was bishop here

and who was enamored of the handsome Ryngalla. But Zbyszko was then a

mere youth. For this reason he would be the only one, as sure as amen in

prayer, to challenge this one whom I also have vowed to challenge and who

is present here."

Saying this, he glanced in the direction of Lichtenstein, who was

conversing with the governor (Waywode) of Plock.

But the princess wrinkled her brow and said in stern and dry tones, as

she always did when in an angry mood:

"Whether you vowed or not, you must remember that he is our guest and

whosoever wishes to be our guest must observe decorum."

"I know, most gracious lady," replied Macko. "For that reason when I

adjusted my belt and went to meet him, I restrained myself and thought of

obedience."

"He will obey. He is important among his own people, even the master

builds upon his counsel and nothing is denied to him. May God grant that

your nephew does not meet him at Malborg, especially as Lichtenstein is a

determined and revengeful person."

"He could not well recognize me because he did not see me often. We had

helmets on when we were at Tyniec, after that I went only once to see him

in the Zbyszko affair and that was in the evening. I observed just now

that he looked at me, but seeing that I was engaged in a lengthy

conversation with Your Grace, he turned his eyes in an opposite

direction. He would have recognized Zbyszko, but he only looked at me and

very likely he did not hear of my vow, and has to think of more important

challenges."

"How so?"

"Because it may be that other powerful knights challenged him, such as

Zawisza of Garbow, Powala of Taczew, Marcin of Wrocimowice, Paszko

Zlodziej, and Lis of Targowisko. Every one of those, gracious lady, and

ten like them. So much the more so if they are numerous. It would be

better for him not to have been born, than to have one of those swords

over his head. I shall not only try to forget the challenge, but I have

resolved to endeavor to go with him."

"Why?"

Macko's face assumed a cunning expression like that of a fox.

"That he might give me a safe conduct to travel through the country

belonging to the Knights of the Cross, that will enable me to render

assistance to Zbyszko in case of need."

"Does such proceeding deserve praise?" inquired the princess with a

smile.

"Yes! It does," replied Macko. "If for instance in time of war I were to

attack him from the rear without warning him to face me I should disgrace

myself; but in time of peace if one hangs the enemy upon a hook no knight

need be reproached for such an act."

"Then I will introduce you," replied the princess. She beckoned to

Lichtenstein and introduced Macko; she was of opinion that even if

Lichtenstein should recognize Macko nothing serious would result.

But Lichtenstein did not recognize him, because when he had seen him at

Tyniec he had his helmet on, and after that he had spoken to Macko only

once, and that in the evening, when Macko had begged him to forgive

Zbyszko.

However he bowed proudly, the more so because when he saw the two

exquisitely dressed youths, he thought that they were not Macko's, his

face brightened up a little and he assumed a haughty demeanor as he

always did when he spoke to inferiors.

Then the princess pointing at Macko, said: "This knight is going to

Malborg. I have given him a recommendation to the grand master, but he

heard of your great influence in the Order; he would also like to have a

note from you."

Then she went to the bishop, but Lichtenstein fixed his cold, steely eyes

upon Macko, and asked:

"What motive induces you, sir, to visit our religious and sober capital?"

"An upright and pious motive," replied Macko, looking at Lichtenstein.

"If it were otherwise the gracious princess would not have vouched for

me. But apart from pious vows, I wish also to know your grand master, who

causes peace in the land and who is the most celebrated knight in the

world."

"Those whom your gracious and beneficent princess recommends will not

complain of our poor hospitality. Nevertheless, as far as your wishes to

know the master is concerned, it is not an easy matter. About a mouth

ago, he left for Danzig, thence he was to go to Königsberg, and from that

place proceed to the frontier, where, although a lover of peace, he is

obliged to defend the property of the Order against the violence of the

treacherous Witold."

Hearing this, Macko was apparently so much grieved, that Lichtenstein,

who noticed it, said:

"I see that you were quite as anxious to see the grand master as to

fulfil your religious vows."

"Yes! I am, I am," replied Macko. "Is war against Witold a sure thing?"

"He, himself, began it; he has sworn to help the rebels."

There was silence for a moment.

"Ha! May God help the Order as it deserves!" said Macko. "I see I cannot

make the grand master's acquaintance; let me at least fulfil my vow."

But in spite of these words, he did not know what to do, and with deep

grief he asked himself:

"Where shall I look for Zbyszko, and where shall I find him?"

It was easy to foresee that if the grand master had left Malborg and gone

to war, it was useless to look for Zbyszko there. In any case it was

necessary to get the most accurate information of his whereabouts. Old

Macko was very anxious about it, but he was a man of ready resource, and

he resolved to lose no time, but continue his march next morning. Having

obtained a letter from Lichtenstein with the aid of Princess Alexandra in

whom the _comthur_ had boundless confidence, it was not a difficult task

to obtain. He therefore received a recommendation to the _starosta_ of

Brodnic, and to the Grand Szpitalnik of Malborg, for which he presented a

silver goblet to Lichtenstein, a treasure procured in Breslau, like that

which the knights were accustomed to have near their beds filled with

wine, so that in case of sleeplessness they might have at hand a remedy

for sleep and at the same time pleasure. This act of Macko's liberality

somewhat astonished the Bohemian, who knew that the old knight was not

too eager to lavish presents on anybody, especially on Germans, but Macko

said:

"I did it because I have vowed, and must fight him, and by no means could

I do it to one who has done me some service. To recompense good with evil

is not our custom."

"But such a magnificent goblet! It is a pity," replied the Bohemian,

apparently vexed.

"Don't fear. I do nothing without premeditation," said Macko; "for if the

Lord enables me to overthrow (kill) that German, I shall get back not

only the goblet, but a great many good things I shall acquire with it."

Then they, including Jagienka, began to take counsel among themselves

concerning further action. Macko thought of leaving Jagienka and

Sieciechowa with Princess Alexandra at Plock, owing to the abbot's will,

which was in the possession of the bishop. But Jagienka was entirely

opposed to it; she was even determined to travel by herself; there was no

necessity to have a separate room for night quarters, neither to observe

politeness, nor safety, and various other causes. "Surely I did not leave

Zgorzelice to rusticate at Plock. The will is at the bishop's and cannot

be lost, and as far as they are concerned, when it will be shown that

there is need to remain on the road, it will be of greater advantage to

be left in the care of Princess Anna, than with Princess Alexandra,

because at the former court the Knights of the Cross are not frequent

visitors, and Zbyszko is more appreciated there." Upon that Macko truly

observed that reason does not belong to women, and that it is unbecoming

for a girl "to command" as though she possessed reason. Nevertheless he

did not persist in his opposition, and relented entirely when Jagienka

had taken him aside and, with tears in her eyes, said:

"You know!... God sees my heart, that every morning and evening I pray

for that young lady, Danuska, and for Zbyszko's welfare. God in heaven

knows it best. But you and Hlawa said that she had perished already, that

she would never escape the hands of the Knights of the Cross alive.

Therefore if this has to be so, then I...."

Here she somewhat hesitated and tears streamed down her cheeks and she

became silent.

"Then I want to be near Zbyszko...."

Macko was moved by the tears and words, yet he replied:

"If Danusia is lost, Zbyszko will be so much grieved, that he will care

for none else."

"I don't wish that he should care for me, but I would like to be near

him."

"You know well that I should like to be myself near him as well as you

do, but he would in the first instance be unmindful of you."

"Let him be unmindful. But he will not be," she replied, with a smile,

"for he will not know that it was myself."

"He will recognize you."

"He will not know me. You did not recognize me. You will tell him too

that it was not I but Jasko, and Jasko is exactly like myself. You will

tell him that I have grown up and it will never occur to him that it is

anybody else but Jasko...."

Then the old knight remembered somebody upon his knees before him and

that kneeling one had the appearance of a boy; then there was no harm in

it, specially that Jasko really had exactly the same face, and his hair

after the last cutting had again grown up and he carried it in a net just

as other noble young knights. For this reason Macko gave way, and the

conversation turned to matters concerning the journey. They were to start

on the following day. Macko decided to enter into the country of the

Knights of the Cross, to draw near to Brodnic to get information there,

and if the grand master was still, in spite of Lichtenstein's opinion, at

Malborg, to proceed there, and if not there, to push on along the

frontiers of the country of the Knights of the Cross in the direction of

Spychow, inquiring along the road about the Polish knight and his suit.

The old knight even expected that he would easily get more information of

Zbyszko at Spychow, or at the court of Prince Janusz of Warsaw, than

elsewhere.

Accordingly, they moved on the following day. Spring was fully ushered

in, so that the floods of the Skrwy and Drwency obstructed the way, so

much so that it took them ten days to travel from Plock to Brodnic. The

little town was orderly and clean. But one could see at a glance the

German barbarity by the enormously constructed gallows,[114] which was

erected out of town on the road to Gorczenice, and which was occupied by

the hanging corpses of the executed, one of which was the body of a

woman. Upon the watch-tower and upon the castle floated the flag with the

red hand on a white field. The travelers did not find the count at home,

because he was at the head of the garrison which was drafted of the

neighboring noblemen, at Malborg. That information Macko got from a blind

old Knight of the Cross, who was formerly the count of Brodnic, but later

on he attached himself to the place and castle, and he was the last of

his line. When the chaplain of the place read Lichtenstein's letter to

the count, he invited Macko as his guest; he was very familiar with the

Polish language, because he lived in the midst of a Polish population,

and they easily carried on their conversation in that language. In the

course of their conversation Macko was informed that the count had left

for Malborg six weeks before, being summoned as an experienced knight to

a council of war. Moreover he knew what happened in the capital. When he

was asked about the young Polish knight, he had heard of such a one, he

said, who at first had roused admiration because, in spite of his

youthful appearance, he already appeared as a belted knight. Then he was

successful at a tourney which, according to custom, the grand master

ordained, for foreign guests, before his departure for the war. Little by

little he even remembered that the manly and noble, yet violent brother

of the master, Ulrych von Jungingen, had become very fond of the young

knight and had taken him under his care, provided him with "iron

letters," after which the young knight apparently departed toward the

east. Macko was overjoyed at the news, because he had not the slightest

doubt that the young knight was Zbyszko. It was therefore useless to go

to Malborg, for although the grand master, as well as other officials of

the Order, and knights who remained at Malborg might furnish more

accurate information, they could by no means tell where Zbyszko actually

was. On the other hand Macko himself knew better where Zbyszko might be

found, and it was not difficult to suppose that he was at that moment

somewhere in the neighborhood of Szczytno; or in case he had not found

Danusia there, he was making research in distant eastern castles and

county seats.

Without losing any more time, they also moved toward the east and

Szczytno. They progressed well on the road, the towns and villages were

connected by highways which the Knights of the Cross, or rather the

merchants of the towns, kept in good condition, and which were as good as

the Polish roads, which were under the care of the thrifty and energetic

King Kazimierz. The weather was excellent, the nights were serene, the

days bright, and about noon a dry and warm zephyr-like wind blew which

filled the human breast with health-giving air. The cornfields assumed a

green hue, the meadows were covered with abundant flowers, and the pine

forests began to emit a smell of rosin. Throughout the whole journey to

Lidzbark, thence to Dzialdowa, and further on to Niedzborz, they did not

see a single cloud. But at Niedzborz they encountered a thunderstorm at

night, which was the first one of the spring, but it lasted only a short

time, and in the morning it cleared up and the horizon was brightened

with rosy golden hues. It was so brilliant that the land, as far as the

eye could reach, appeared like one carpet brocaded with jewels. It seemed

as though the whole country smiled back to the sky and rejoiced because

of abundant life.

In such a pleasant morning they wended their course from Niedzborz to

Szczytno. It was not far from the Mazovian frontier. It was an easy

matter to return to Spychow. There was a moment when Macko wanted to do

it, but considering the whole matter he desired to push onward toward the

terrible nest of the Knights of the Cross, in which Zbyszko's loss was

terribly guarded. He then engaged a guide and ordered him to lead them

directly to Szczytno; although there was no need of a guide, because the

road from Niedzborz was a straight one, marked with white milestones.

The guide was a few steps in advance. Behind him were Macko and Jagienka

on horseback; some distance behind them were the Bohemian and

Sieciechowa, and farther back were the wagons surrounded by armed men. It

was an exquisite morning. The rosy glow had not yet disappeared from the

horizon, although the sun had already risen and changed into opals the

dewdrops upon the trees and grasses.

"Are you not afraid to go to Szczytno?" asked Macko.

"I am not afraid," replied Jagienka, "God is with me, because I am an

orphan."

"There is no faith there. The worst dog was Danveld whom Jurand killed

together with Godfried.... The Bohemian told me so. The second after

Danveld, was Rotgier, who succumbed by Zbyszko's axe, but the old man is

a ruthless tyrant, and is sold to the devil.... They know not kindness.

However, I am of opinion that if Danuska has perished she did so by his

own hands. They also say that something happened to her. But the princess

said in Plock that she extricated herself. It is with him that we shall

have to contend at Szczytno.... It is well that we have a letter from

Lichtenstein, and as it appears they, the dog-brothers, are afraid of him

more than they are of the master himself.... They say that he has great

authority and is particularly strict, and is very revengeful, he never

forgives even the slightest offence.... Without this safe conduct I would

not travel so peacefully to Szczytno...."

"What is his name?"

"Zygfried von Löve."

"God grant that we may manage him too."

"God grant it!"

Macko smiled for a moment and then said:

"The princess also told me in Plock: 'Ye grieve and complain like lambs

against wolves, but in this instance three of the wolves are dead,

because the innocent lambs strangled them.' She spoke the truth; it is

actually so."

"What about Danuska and her father?"

"I told the princess the very same thing. But I am really glad, since it

is demonstrated that it is not safe to harm us. We know already how to

handle the helve of an axe, and fight with it. As to Danuska and Jurand,

it is true, I think, and so does the Bohemian, that they are no more in

this world, but in reality nobody can tell. I am very sorry for Jurand,

for he grieved very much for his daughter, and if he perished, it was a

hard death."

"If such a thing is mentioned to me," said Jagienka, "I always think of

papa, who also is no more."

Then she lifted up her eyes and Macko nodded his head and said:

"He rests with God in everlasting bliss, for there is not a better man

than he was in our whole kingdom...."

"Oh there was none like him, none!" sighed Jagienka.

Further conversation was interrupted by the guide, who suddenly checked

his stallion, turned and galloped toward Macko and shouted in a strange

and frightened voice:

"O, for God's sake! Look there, Sir Knight; who is there on the hillside

advancing toward us?"

"Who? Where?" asked Macko.

"Look there! A giant or something of that kind...."

Macko and Jagienka reined in their horses, looked in the direction

indicated by the guide, and they indeed descried, about the middle of the

hill, a figure, which appeared to be of more than human proportions.

"To tell the truth the man seems to be huge," murmured Macko.

Then he frowned, and suddenly spat and said:

"Let the evil charm be upon the dog."

"Why are you conjuring?" asked Jagienka.

"Because I remember that it was on just such a fine morning when Zbyszko

and I were on the road from Tyniec to Krakow we saw such a giant. They

said then that it was Walgierz Wdaly. Bah! It was shown afterward that it

was the lord of Taczew. Still, nothing good resulted from it. Let the

evil charm be upon the dog."

"This one is not a knight, because he is not on horseback," said

Jagienka, straining her eyes. "I even see that he is not armed, but holds

a staff in his left hand...."

"And he is groping in front of him, as though it were night."

"And can hardly move; surely he must be blind?"

"As sure as I live, he is blind--blind!"

They urged their horses forward, and in a little while they halted in

front of the beggar who was slowly coming down the hill and feeling his

way with his staff. He was indeed an immense old man, and appeared to

them, even when they were near him, a giant. They were convinced that he

was stone blind. Instead of eyes he had two red hollows. His right hand

was wanting; instead of it he carried a bandage of dirty rags. His hair

was white and falling down upon his shoulders, and his beard reached his

belt.

"He has neither food, nor companion, not even a dog, but is feeling the

way by himself," exclaimed Jagienka. "For God's sake, we cannot leave him

here without assistance. I do not know whether he will understand me, but

I shall try to talk to him in Polish."

Then she jumped from her horse and approached the beggar, and began to

look for some money in her leather pouch which was suspended from her

belt.

The beggar, when he heard the noise and tramping of the horses, stretched

his staff in front of him and lifted up his head as blind men do.

"Praised be Jesus Christ," said the girl. "Do you understand, little

grandfather, in the Christian fashion?"

But on hearing her sweet, young voice, he trembled; a strange flush

appeared on his face as though from tender emotion; he covered his hollow

orbits with his eyebrows, and suddenly threw down his staff and fell on

his knees, with outstretched arms, in front of her.

"Get up! I will assist you. What ails you?" asked Jagienka in

astonishment.

But he did not reply, but tears rolled down his cheeks, and he groaned:

"A!--a!--a!..."

"For the love of God--Can you not say something?"

"A!--a!"

Then he lifted up his hand, with which he made first the sign of the

cross, then passed his left hand over his mouth.

Jagienka understood it not, and she looked at Macko, who said:

"He seems to indicate that his tongue has been torn out."

"Did they tear out your tongue?" asked the girl.

"A! a! a! a!" repeated the beggar several times, nodding his head.

Then he pointed with his fingers to his eyes; then he moved his left hand

across his maimed right, showing that it was cut off.

Then both understood him.

"Who did it?" inquired Jagienka.

The beggar again made signs of the cross repeatedly in the air.

"The Knights of the Cross," shouted Macko.

As a sign of affirmation the old man let his head drop upon his chest

again.

There was silence for a moment. Macko and Jagienka looked at each other

with alarm, because they had now before them sufficient proof of their

cruelty and the lack of means to chastise those knights who style

themselves "the Knights of the Cross."

"Cruel justice!" said Macko, finally. "They punished him grievously, and

God knows whether deservedly. If I only knew where he belongs, I would

lead him there, for surely he must be from this neighborhood. He

understands our language, for the common people here are the same as in

Mazowsze."

"Did you understand what we said?" asked Jagienka.

The beggar nodded his head.

"Are you of this neighborhood?"

"No!" The beggar shook his head.

"Perhaps he comes from Mazowsze?"

"Yes!" he nodded.

"Under Prince Janusz?"

"Yes!"

"But what were you doing among the Knights of the Cross?"

The old man could give no answer, but his face assumed an air of intense

suffering, so much so that Jagienka's heart beat with greater force out

of sympathy. Even Macko who was not subject to emotion, said:

"I am sure the dog-brothers have wronged him. May be he is innocent."

Jagienka meanwhile put some small change in the beggar's hand.

"Listen," she said, "we will not abandon you. Come with us to Mazowsze,

and in every village we will ask you whether it is yours. May be we shall

guess it. Meanwhile, get up, for we are no saints."

But he did not get up, nay, he even bowed lower and embraced her feet as

much as to place himself under her protection and show his gratitude. Yet

there were marks of certain astonishment, yea even disappointment on his

face. May be that from the voice he thought he was in the presence of a

young woman; but his hand happened to touch the cowskin gaiters which the

knights and armor-bearers were accustomed to wear.

But she said:

"It shall be so; our wagons will soon be here, then you will rest and

refresh yourself. But we are not going to take you now to Mazowsze

because we must first go to Szczytno."

When the old man heard this, he jumped straight up, terror and amazement

were depicted on his face. He opened his arms as though desiring to

obstruct their way, and strange, wild ejaculations proceeded from his

throat, full of terror and dismay.

"What is the matter with you?" exclaimed Jagienka, much frightened.

But the Bohemian, who had already arrived with Sieciechowa, and for some

time had his eyes riveted upon the old beggar, suddenly turned to Macko,

and with a countenance changed, and in a strange voice, said:

"For God's sake, permit me, sir, to speak to him, for you do not know who

he may be."

After this he begged for no further permission, but rushed toward the old

man, placed his hands upon his shoulders, and asked him:

"Do you come from Szczytno?"

The old man appeared to be struck by the sound of his voice, quieted

himself and nodded affirmatively.

"Did you not look there for your child? ..."

A deep groan was the only reply to this question.

Then the Bohemian's face paled a little, he looked sharply for a moment

at the outlines of the old man's face, then he said slowly and

composedly:

"Then you are Jurand of Spychow."

"Jurand!" shouted Macko.

But Jurand was overcome at that moment and fainted. Protracted torture,

want of nourishment, fatigue of the road, swept him from his feet. The

tenth day had now passed since he left, groping his way, erring and

feeling his way with his stick, hungry, fatigued and not knowing where he

was going, unable to ask the way, during the daytime he turned toward the

warm rays of the sun, the night he passed in the ditches along the road.

When he happened to pass through a village, or hamlet, or accidentally

encountered people on the road, he only could beg with his hand and

voice, but seldom a compassionate hand helped him, because as a rule he

was taken for a criminal whom law and justice had chastised. For two days

he had lived on bark and leaves of trees; he was already giving up all

hope of reaching Mazowsze, when suddenly compassionate voices and hearts

of his own countrymen surrounded him; one of whom reminded him of the

sweet voice of his own daughter; and, when at last his own name was

mentioned, he was greatly agitated and unable to bear it any longer; his

heart broke. His thoughts whirled through his head; and, were it not for

the strong arms of the Bohemian which supported him, he would have fallen

with his face in the dust of the road.

Macko dismounted, then both took hold of him, and carried him to the

wagons and laid him upon the soft hay. There, Jagienka and Sieciechowa

nursed him. Jagienka observed that he could not carry the cup of wine to

his lips by himself so she helped him. Immediately after this he fell

into a profound sleep, from which he did not awake till the third day.

Meanwhile they sat down to deliberate.

"To be brief," said Jagienka, "we must go now to Spychow instead of

Szczytno, so that by all means we place him in security among his own

people."

"Look, how can that be carried out," replied Macko. "It is true that we

must send him to Spychow, but there is no necessity for all of us to

accompany him, one wagon is enough to carry him there."

"I do not order it, I only think so, because there we might get much

information from him about Zbyszko, and Danusia."

"But how can you procure information from one who has no tongue?"

"But the very information that he has no tongue, we got from himself. Do

you not see that even without speech we got all that information

necessary. How much more shall we derive when we communicate with him by

motions of the head and hands? Ask him, for instance, whether Zbyszko has

returned from Malborg to Szczytno. You will then see that he will either

nod assent, or deny it."

"It is true," said the Bohemian.

"I too do not dispute it," said Macko. "I know it myself, but I am

accustomed to think first and then talk."

Then he ordered the train to return to the Mazovian frontier. On the way

Jagienka visited now and then the wagon where Jurand slept, fearing that

death might ensue.

"I did not recognize him," said Macko, "but it is no wonder. He was as

strong as an auroch! They said of him that he was among those who could

fight with Zawisza, and now he is reduced to a skeleton."

"We are accustomed to hear all sorts of things," said the Bohemian, "but

nobody would believe it if they were told that Christians had acted thus

with a belted knight, whose patron is also Saint Jerzy."

"God grant that Zbyszko may at least avenge part of his wrongs. Now, look

what a difference there is between them and us. It is true, that three

out of those four dog-brothers are dead, but they died in fight, and none

of them had his tongue or his eyes plucked out in captivity."

"God will punish them," said Jagienka.

But Macko turned to the Bohemian and said:

"How did you recognize him?"

"I did not recognize him at first, although I saw him later than you did.

But it struck me, and the more I looked at him the more so.... Though

when I first saw him he had neither beard nor white hair; he was then a

very powerful lord. How then could I recognize him in the old beggar. But

when the young lady said that we were going to Szczytno, and he began to

howl my eyes were opened at once."

Macko was absorbed in thought, then he said:

"From Spychow, it is necessary to take him to the prince, who will not

leave the wrong perpetrated on such an important person, unpunished."

"They will excuse themselves. They treacherously abducted his child and

they defended themselves. And as to the lord of Spychow they will say

that he lost his tongue, eyes and hand in the fight."

"You are right," said Macko. "They once carried off the prince himself.

He cannot fight them, because he is no match for them; perhaps our king

will assist him. The people talk and talk of a great war, but here we

don't even have a little one."

"He is with Prince Witold."

"Thank God, that at least he thinks that they are worthless. Hey! Prince

Witold is my prince! In craftiness he is unsurpassable. He is more crafty

than all of them together. Those dog-brothers had him cornered once, the

sword was over his head and he was about to perish, but, like a serpent,

he slipped from their hands and bit them.... Be on your guard when he

strikes, but be exceedingly careful when he is patting you."

"Is he so with everybody?"

"He is only so with the Knights of the Cross, but he is a kind and

liberal prince with everybody else."

At this Macko pondered, as though making an effort to recall Prince

Witold.

"He is an entirely different man to the prince here," he said, suddenly.

"Zbyszko ought to have joined him, for under him and through him, one

might achieve the most against the Knights of the Cross."

Then he added:

"Both of us might be found there. Who can tell? For it is there where we

can revenge ourselves most properly."

Then he spoke of Jurand, of his misfortunes and of the unheard of

injuries, inflicted upon him by the Knights of the Cross, who first,

without any cause, murdered his beloved wife, then, revenge for revenge,

they carried off his child, and then mangled him in such a cruel manner,

that even the Tartars could not invent worse torture. Macko and the

Bohemian gnashed their teeth at the thought that even when they set him

free it was with malicious intent of inflicting additional cruelty in

order to frustrate the old knight's intention, who most likely promised

himself that when he was free he would take proper steps to make an

inquest and get information of the whole affair, and then pay them out

with interest.

On the journey to Spychow they passed their time in such dialogues and

thoughts. The clear fine day was succeeded by a quiet starry night; they

therefore did not halt for night quarters, but stopped thrice to feed the

horses. It was yet dark when they passed the frontier, and in the

morning, led by the hired guide, they arrived upon the land of Spychow.

There Tolima apparently held everything with an iron hand, for no sooner

did they enter the forest of Spychow, than two armed men advanced against

them. These, seeing that the newcomers were not soldiers, but a simple

train, not only let them pass without questioning, but placed themselves

in front to show the way, which was inaccessible to those unacquainted

with the moats and marshes.

Tolima and the priest Kaleb received the guests when they arrived in

town. The news that the lord had arrived, and was brought back by pious

people spread like lightning through the garrison. But when they saw him

in the condition as he looked when he left the Knights of the Cross,

there was such an outburst of raging and wild threatening that if there

had yet been any Knights of the Cross confined in the prison of Spychow,

no human power would have been able to save them from a terrible death.

The retainers wished to mount their horses at once and start to the

frontier to capture any Germans and cut off their heads and throw them

under the feet of the master. But Macko restrained them because he knew

that the Germans lived in the towns and cities, whilst the country people

were of the same blood, but lived against their own will under foreign

superior force. But neither the din and noise nor the creaking of the

well-sweeps could awake Jurand, who was carried upon a bearskin into his

own house and put to bed. Father Kaleb was Jurand's intimate friend; they

grew up together and loved each other like brothers; he remained with

him, and prayed that the Redeemer of the world might restore to the

unfortunate Jurand, his eyes, tongue, and hand.

The fatigued travelers went to bed also. Macko who awoke about noon,

ordered Tolima to be called.

He knew from the Bohemian that Jurand, before his departure, had ordered

all his servants to obey their young master, Zbyszko, and that the priest

had informed him of his ownership of Spychow. Macko therefore spoke to

the old man with the voice of a superior:

"I am the uncle of your young master, and as long as he is away, I am the

commander here."

Tolima bowed his grey head, which had something wolfish, and surrounding

his ear with his hand, asked:

"Then you are, sir, the noble knight from Bogdaniec?"

"Yes!" replied Macko. "How do you know it?"

"Because the young master Zbyszko expected and inquired after you here."

Hearing this, Macko stood up straight, and forgetting his dignified

manner, he exclaimed:

"What, Zbyszko in Spychow?"

"Yes, he was here, sir; only two days ago since he left."

"For the love of God! Whence did he come and where did he go?"

"He came from Malborg, and on the road he was at Szczytno. He did not say

where he was going."

"He did not say, eh?"

"May be he told the priest Kaleb."

"Hey! Mighty God, then we crossed each other on the road," he said,

putting his hands on his ribs.

But Tolima put his hand to the other ear:

"What did you say, sir?"

"Where is Father Kaleb?"

"He is at the bedside of the old master."

"Call him, but stop ... I will go myself to see him."

"I will call him," said Tolima, and he left. But before he brought the

priest, Jagienka entered.

"Come here," said Macko. "Do you know the news? Zbyszko was here only two

days ago."

Her face changed in a moment and she almost tottered.

"He was, and left?" she asked, with quickly beating heart. "Where to?"

"It is only two days since he left, but where to I do not know. May be

the priest knows."

"We must go after him," she said, peremptorily.

After a while Father Kaleb entered. Thinking that Macko wanted him for

information concerning Jurand, he anticipated his question by saying:

"He is still asleep."

"I heard that Zbyszko was here?" said Macko.

"He was, but he left two days ago."

"Where to?"

"He did not know himself.... Searching.... He left for the frontier of

Zmudz, where there is war now."

"For the love of God, tell us, father, what you know about him!"

"I only know what I heard from himself. He was at Malborg. May be he

obtained protection there. Because with the order of the master's

brother, who is the first among the knights, Zbyszko could search in all

castles."

"For Jurand and Danuska?"

"Yes; but he does not search for Jurand, because he was told that he was

dead."

"Tell us from the beginning."

"Immediately, but let me first catch breath and regain presence of mind,

for I come from another world."

"How so?"

"From that world which cannot be reached on horseback, but through

prayer.... I prayed at the feet of the Lord Jesus that He may have mercy

upon Jurand."

"You have asked for a miracle. Have you that power?" asked Macko, with

great curiosity.

"I have no power whatever, but I have a Saviour, who, if He wished, could

restore to Jurand his eyes, tongue and hand...."

"If He only wanted to do so He could," replied Macko. "Nevertheless you

asked for an impossible thing."

Father Kaleb did not reply; possibly because he did not hear it; his eyes

were still closed, as if absent-minded, and in reality it was obvious

that he was meditating on his prayer.

Then he covered his eyes with his hands and remained so for a while in

silence. Finally he shook himself, rubbed his eyes with his hands, and

said:

"Now, ask."

"In what manner did Zbyszko attack the Justice of Sambinsk?"

"He is no more the Justice of Sambinsk...."

"Never mind that.... You understand what I am asking; tell me what you

know about it."

"He fought at a tourney. Ulrych liked to fight in the arena. There were

many knights, guests at Malborg, and the master ordered public games.

Whilst Ulrych was on horseback the strap of the saddle broke and it would

have been an easy matter for Zbyszko to throw him from his horse; but he

lowered his spear to the ground and even assisted him."

"Hey! You see!" exclaimed Macko, turning toward Jagienka. "Is this why

Ulrych likes him?"

"This is the reason of his love for Zbyszko. He refused to tilt against

him with sharp weapons, neither with the lance, and has taken a liking to

him. Zbyszko related his trouble to him, and he, being zealous of his

knightly honor, fell into a great passion and led Zbyszko to his brother,

the master, to lodge a complaint. May God grant him redemption for this

deed, for there are not many among them who love justice. Zbyszko also

told me that de Lorche, owing to his position and wealth, was of much

help to him, and testified for him in everything."

"What was the result of that testimony?"

"It resulted in the vigorous order of the grand master to the _comthur_

of Szczytno, to send at once to Malborg all the prisoners who were

confined in Szczytno, including even Jurand. Concerning Jurand, the

_comthur_ replied that he had died from his wounds and was buried there

in the church-yard. He sent the other prisoners, including a milkmaid,

but our Danusia was not among them."

"I know from the armor-bearer Hlawa," said Macko, "that Rotgier, whom

Zbyszko killed whilst at the court of Prince Janusz, also spoke in the

same manner about a certain milkmaid whom they captured whom they took

for Jurand's daughter, but when the princess asked: 'How could they

mistake Danusia for a common girl, since they knew and had seen the true

one, Danusia?'" "You are right," he replied, "but I thought they had

forgotten the real Danusia." "This same thing the _comthur_ had written

to the master that that girl was not a prisoner but she was under their

care, that they had at first rescued her from the robbers, who had sworn

that she was Jurand's daughter, but transformed."

"Did the master believe it?"

"He did not know whether to believe or not, but Ulrych was more incensed

than ever, and influenced his brother to send an official of the Order

with Zbyszko to Szczytno, which was done. When they arrived at Szczytno,

they did not find the old _comthur_, because he had departed to the

eastern strongholds against Witold, to the war; but a subordinate, whom

the magistrate ordered to open all prisons and underground dungeons. They

searched and searched, but found nothing. They even detained people for

information. One of them told Zbyszko that he could get much information

from the chaplain, because the chaplain understood the dumb executioner.

But the old _comthur_ had taken the executioner with him, and the

chaplain left for Königsberg to attend a religious gathering.... They met

there often in order to lodge complaints against the Knights of the Cross

to the pope, because even the poor priests were oppressed by them...."

"I am only surprised that they did not find Jurand," observed Macko.

"It is obvious that the old _comthur_ let him go. There was more

wickedness in that than if they had cut his throat. They wished that he

should suffer excruciatingly more than a man of his standing could

endure.--Blind, dumb and maimed.--For God's sake!... He could neither

find his home, nor the road, not even ask for a morsel of bread.... They

thought that he would die somewhere behind a fence from hunger, or be

drowned in some river.... What did they leave him? Nothing, but the means

of discerning the different degrees of misery. And this meant torture

upon torture.... He might have been sitting somewhere near the church, or

along the road, and Zbyszko passed by without recognizing him. May be he

even heard Zbyszko's voice, but he could not hail him.... Hey!... I

cannot keep myself from weeping!... God wrought a miracle, and that is

the reason why I think that He will do a great deal more, although this

prayer proceeds from my sinful lips."

"What else did Zbyszko say? Where did he go to?" asked Macko.

"He said: 'I know that Danuska was at Szczytno, but they have carried her

off, or starved her. Old von Löve did it, and so help me God, I will not

rest until I get him.'"

"Did he say so? Then it is sure that the _comthur_ left for the east, but

now there is war."

"He knew that there was a war, and that is the cause why he left for the

camp of Prince Witold. He also said, he would succeed sooner in scoring a

point against the Knights of the Cross through him, than through the

king."

"So, to Prince Witold!" exclaimed Macko.

Then he turned to Jagienka.

"Did I not tell you the very same thing. As I live, I said: 'that we

should also have to go to Witold.' ..."

"Zbyszko hoped," said Father Kaleb, "that Prince Witold would make an

inroad into Prussia and take some of the castles there."

"If time were given to him, he would not delay," replied Macko. "Praise

God now, we know at least where to look for Zbyszko."

"We must press on at once," said Jagienka.

"Silence!" said Macko. "It is not becoming for a boy to interrupt the

council."

Then he stared at her, as though to remind her that she was a boy; she

remembered and was silent.

Macko thought for awhile, and said:

"Now we shall surely find Zbyszko, for he is not moving aimlessly; he is

at the side of Prince Witold. But it is necessary to know whether he is

still searching for something in this world, besides the heads of the

Knights of the Cross which he vowed to get."

"How can that be ascertained?" asked Father Kaleb.

"If we knew that the priest of Szczytno had already returned from the

synod. I should like to see him," said Macko. "I have letters from

Lichtenstein to Szczytno and I can go there without fear."

"It was not a synod gathering, but a congress," replied Father Kaleb,

"and the chaplain must have returned long ago."

"Very well. Everything is upon my own shoulders. I shall take Hlawa with

me, and two servants, with proper horses and go."

"Then to Zbyszko?" asked Jagienka.

"Then to Zbyszko," replied Macko. "But you must wait for me here until I

return. I also think that I shall not be detained there for more than

three or four days. I am accustomed to mosquitoes and fatigue. Therefore,

I ask you, Father Kaleb, to give me a letter to the chaplain of Szczytno.

He will believe me without hesitation if I show your letter, for there is

always great confidence among the clergy."

"The people speak well of that priest," said Father Kaleb, "and if there

is one who knows something, it is he."

He prepared a letter in the evening, and in the morning, before sunrise,

old Macko left Spychow.

CHAPTER V.

Jurand awoke from his long sleep in the presence of the priest; he forgot

what had happened to him and where he was; he began to feel around in bed

and at the wall. The priest caught him in his arms and wept, tenderly

kissing him, and said:

"It is I! You are at Spychow! Brother Jurand!... God tried you.... But

you are now among your own.... Good people brought you here. Brother,

dear brother, Jurand."

Then he repeatedly pressed him to his breast, kissed his brow and his

hollow eyes; but Jurand appeared to be stupefied and unconscious. At last

he moved his left hand toward his head and brow as though wishing to

dispel the cloud of sleep and stupor from his mind.

"Do you hear and understand me?" asked Father Kaleb.

Jurand moved his head affirmatively. Then he stretched his hand toward

the silver crucifix on the wall which he had once taken from the neck of

a powerful German knight, pressed it to his lips and heart and then gave

it to Father Kaleb.

"I understand you, brother!" said the priest. "He remained with you. He

is able to restore to you all you lost, just as He delivered you from

captivity."

Jurand pointed with his hand heavenward, a sign that all will there be

returned to him. Then his hollow eyes were filled with tears, and an

indescribable pain was depicted upon his tortured face.

Father Kaleb having observed his painful emotion concluded that Danuska

was dead. He therefore knelt at the bedside and said:

"O Lord! Grant her eternal rest in peace, and everlasting bliss be hers.

Amen."

Then Jurand lifted himself up and began to twist his head and move his

hand as though wishing to check the priest, but the priest did not

understand. At that moment old Tolima entered, and with him were the

garrison of the town, the former and present elders of the peasants of

Spychow, foresters, fishermen, etc., because the news of Jurand's return

had rapidly spread throughout Spychow. They embraced his feet, kissed his

hand and bitterly wept when they saw the old and maimed cripple who

looked like another being, not in the least the once invincible knight,

the terror of the Knights of the Cross. But some of them, especially

those who used to accompany him on his expeditions, were enraged; their

faces grew pale and determined. After a while they crowded together and

whispered, pulled, and pushed each other. Finally, a certain Sucharz, a

member of the garrison and village blacksmith, approached Jurand, clasped

his feet and said:

"We intended to go to Szczytno, as soon as they brought you here, but

that knight, who brought you, hindered us. Permit us, sir, now. We cannot

leave them unpunished. Let it be now as it was long ago. They shall not

disgrace us and remain scathless. We used to fight them under your

command. Now we will march under Tolima, or without him. We must conquer

Szczytno and shed the dog-blood. So help us God!"

"So help us God!" repeated several voices.

"To Szczytno!"

"We must have blood!"

Forthwith a burning fire took hold of the inflammable Mazur hearts, their

brows began to wrinkle, their eyes to glisten. Here and there was heard

the sound of gnashing teeth. But in a moment the noise ceased, and all

eyes were turned toward Jurand, whose cheeks reddened and he assumed his

wonted warlike appearance. He rose and again felt for the crucifix upon

the wall. The people thought that he was looking for a sword. He found it

and took it down. His face paled, he turned toward the people, lifted his

hollow eyes heavenward and moved the crucifix in front of him.

Silence reigned. It was beginning to get dark; the twittering of birds

retiring upon the roofs and trees of the village, penetrated through the

open windows. The last red rays of the setting sun penetrated into the

room and fell upon the raised cross and upon Jurand's white hair.

Sucharz, the blacksmith, looked at Jurand, glanced at his comrades and

looked again at Jurand. Finally, he bid them good-bye and left the room

on tiptoe. The others followed suit. When they reached the courtyard they

halted, and the following whispered conversation ensued:

"What now?"

"We are not going. How then?"

"He did not permit."

"Leave vengeance with God. It is obvious that even his soul has undergone

a change."

It was so indeed.

Those who remained were Father Kaleb and old Tolima. Jagienka with

Sieciechowa, who were attracted by the armed crowd in the courtyard, came

to learn what was the matter.

Jagienka, who was more daring and sure of herself than her companion,

approached Jurand.

"God help you, Knight Jurand," she said. "We are those who brought you

here from Prussia."

His face brightened at the sound of her young voice. It was obvious that

it brought back to his mind in proper order all the events which had

happened upon the road from Szczytno, because he showed his thankfulness

by inclining his head and placing his hand upon his chest several times.

Then she related to him how they first met him, how Hlawa, the Bohemian,

who was Zbyszko's armor-bearer, recognized him, and finally how they

brought him to Spychow. She also told him about herself, that she and her

companion bore a sword, helmet and shield for the knight Macko of

Bogdaniec, the uncle of Zbyszko, who left Bogdaniec to find his nephew,

and now he had left for Szczytno and would return to Spychow within three

or four days.

At the mention of Szczytno, Jurand did not fall down nor was he overcome

as he was when upon the road to that place, but great trouble was

depicted upon his face. But Jagienka assured him that Macko was as clever

as he was manly, and would not let himself be fooled by anybody. Besides

that, he possessed letters from Lichtenstein, which enabled him to travel

in safety everywhere.

These words quieted him considerably. It was obvious that he wished to

get information about many other things. But as he was unable to do it,

he suffered in his soul. This the clever girl at once observed and said;

"We shall often, talk about things. Then everything will be told."

Then he smiled and stretched out his hand and placed it upon her head for

a while; it seemed he was blessing her. He thanked her indeed very much,

but as a matter of fact he was touched by the youthful voice like the

warbling of a bird.

When he was not engaged in prayer, as he was almost all day, or asleep,

he wished to have her near him, and when she was not there, he yearned to

hear her speak, and endeavored by all means in his power to call the

attention of the priest and Tolima that he wished to have that delightful

boy near him.

She came often, because her tender heart sincerely pitied him. Besides

that, she passed the time in waiting for Macko, whose stay at Szcytno

seemed to her uncommonly long.

He was to return within three days, and now the fourth and fifth have

passed by and it is already the evening of the sixth, and he has not yet

returned. The alarmed girl was ready to ask Tolima to send a searching

party, when suddenly the guard upon the watch-oak signalled the approach

of some horsemen, and in a few moments was heard the tramp of the horses

upon the drawbridge, and Hlawa accompanied by a courier appeared in the

courtyard. Jagienka who had left her room, to watch in the courtyard

before their arrival, rushed toward Hlawa before he dismounted.

"Where is Macko?" she asked, with beating heart and alarmed.

"He went to Prince Witold, and he ordered you to stay here."

CHAPTER VI.

When Jagienka realized the import of Macko's message, that she was to

remain at Spychow, she was almost stunned. Grief and anger rendered her

speechless for a while, and with wide opened eyes she stared at the

Bohemian, which told him how unwelcome was the information he brought

her. He therefore said:

"I should also like to inform you, what we heard at Szczytno. There is

much and important news."

"Is it from Zbyszko?"

"No, from Szczytno. You know...."

"Let the servant unsaddle the horses, and you come with me."

The order was executed and they went into her room.

"Why does Macko leave us here? Why must we remain at Spychow, and why did

you return here?" she asked in one breath.

"I returned," replied Hlawa, "because the knight Macko ordered me. I

wished to go to the war, but an order is an order. Knight Macko told me

thus: 'Return, take care of the lady of Zgorzelice, and wait for news

from me. You may have to escort her to Zgorzelice, since she cannot go

there by herself.'"

"For the love of God, tell me what happened! Did they find Jurand's

daughter? Has Macko gone there to search for Zbyszko? Did you see her?

Have you spoken to her? Why have you not brought her with you? Where is

she now?"

Hearing such an avalanche of questions, the Bohemian bowed to the girl's

feet and said:

"Let it not displease your grace if I do not reply to all questions at

once, for it is impossible for me to do so, but, I shall if nothing

hinders, endeavor to answer them one by one in the order according as

they were put."

"Well, did they find her?"

"No, but there is sure information that she was at Szczytno, and that she

was probably removed to a distant castle in the east."

"But why must we remain at Spychow?"

"Bah! If she were found?... It is true, as your grace is aware.... There

would be no reason for remaining here...."

Jagienka was silent, only her cheeks reddened. But the Bohemian said;