"I thought and am still of the opinion, that we shall not be able to

rescue her alive from the talons of those dog-brothers. But everything is

in God's hands. I must relate to you from the beginning. We arrived at

Szczytno. Well. Knight Macko showed Lichtenstein's letter to the bailiff,

who kissed the seal in our presence, and received us as guests. He did

not suspect us in the least and had full confidence in us, so that if we

had had a few of our men in the neighborhood we could easily have taken

possession of the castle. There was no hindrance to our interview with

the priest. We conversed for two nights; we informed ourselves of strange

things which the priest got from the executioner."

"But the executioner is dumb."

"He is, but the priest speaks to him by signs, and he understands him

perfectly well. They are strange things. It must have been the finger of

God. That executioner cut off Jurand's hand, tore out his tongue, and put

out his eyes. That executioner is such that where men are concerned he

would not shrink from inflicting any torture, even if he were ordered to

pull the teeth of the victim; but, where girls are concerned, he would

not lift up his hand to kill them, or to assist in torturing them. The

reason for this determination is, because he too had an only daughter

whom he loved dearly, and whom the Knights of the Cross have...."

Here Hlawa stopped; he knew not how to continue his narrative. This

Jagienka observed, and she said:

"What do I care about the executioner?"

"Because this is in order," he replied. "When our young master quartered

the knight Rotgier the old _comthur_ Zygfried almost raved. They said at

Szczytno that Rotgier was the _comthur's_ son. The priest confirmed the

story, that no father ever loved his son as much as Zygfried loved

Rotgier; for his thirst for vengeance he sold his soul to the devil. All

this the executioner saw. The _comthur_ talked with the slain Rotgier, as

I am talking to you, and the corpse smiled; then he gnashed his teeth,

and for joy he licked his livid lips with his black tongue when the old

_comthur_ promised him Zbyszko's head. But as he could not then get

Zbyszko, he ordered Jurand to be tortured in the meanwhile and then

placed Jurand's tongue and hand in Rotgier's coffin, who began to devour

it...."

"It is terrible to hear. In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost,

amen," said Jagienka. Then she got up and threw a log of wood on the fire

because it was night already.

"How," continued Hlawa, "how will it be in the day of judgment? Because

then everything belonging to Jurand must be restored to him. But that

surpasses human understanding. The executioner then saw everything.

Gorged with human flesh, the old _comthur_ went to take Jurand's

daughter, because the other, it seems, whispered to him that he wanted to

drink innocent human blood, after his meal. But the executioner, as I

have already told you, who did everything, but would not hurt or kill a

girl, placed himself upon the staircase.... The priest said that

otherwise the executioner is stupid and half a brute, but in that matter

he was wide awake, and when necessary he has no equal in cunning. He sat

on the stairs and waited, until the _comthur_ arrived and heard the

breathing of the executioner. He saw something shining and started back

for he thought it was the devil. The executioner struck him in the neck

with his fist, so that he thought the bones were completely shattered. He

did not die, but fainted, and became sick with fright. When he recovered,

he was afraid to repeat this attempt upon Jurandowna."

"But they have carried her off."

They have, but they have taken the executioner with her. The _comthur_

did not know that it was he who defended Jurandowna. He thought that some

supernatural power, good or evil, did it. He had taken the executioner

with him and would not leave him at Szczytno. He was afraid of his

testimony, for although dumb, he could in case of a trial testify by

signs that which he told the priest. Moreover, the priest finally told

Macko that old Zygfried no more threatens Jurandowna, because he is

afraid; and although he ordered somebody else to harm her, nothing will

happen to her as long as Diedrich lives; he will not permit it,

especially as he has already protected her once."

"But does the priest know where they have taken her?"

"Not exactly, but he heard them talk of a certain place called Ragniec,

which castle is situated not far from the Lithuanian or Zmudz frontiers."

"What did Macko say concerning that?"

"Pan Macko told me the following day: 'If it is so, then I can and will

find her, but I must hasten to Zbyszko, to see that he is not entrapped

by them through Jurandowna as they did with Jurand. They have only to

tell him that if he comes by himself they will give her up to him and he

would not hesitate to go; then old Zygfried would wreak his vengeance

upon him, for the death of Rotgier, in unheard-of tortures.'"

"True! It is true!" exclaimed Jagienka, alarmed. "If that is the reason

of his hurried departure, then he is right."

But after a moment she turned to Hlawa and said:

"Nevertheless he made a mistake in sending you here. There is no need to

guard us here. Old Tolima can do it as well. You, being strong and

intrepid, could be of much help to Zbyszko there."

"But who would guard you in case you were to go to Zgorzelice?"

"In such a case they would have to convey the news by somebody; they will

do it through you. You will precede them and take us home."

The Bohemian kissed her hand, and asked, with emotion:

"But during the time of your sojourn here?"

"God watches over orphans! I shall remain here."

"Will you not find it tedious? What will you do here?"

"I shall ask the Lord Jesus to restore happiness to Zbyszko and keep all

of you in good health."

Then she burst out weeping, and the armor-bearer bowed again at her feet,

and said:

"You are indeed like an angel in heaven."

CHAPTER VII.

But she wiped away her tears, took the armor-bearer with her and went to

Jurand to tell him the news. She found him in a bright room, the tame

she-wolf at his feet, sitting with Father Kaleb, old Tolima and

Sieciechowa. Supporting their heads with their hands, absorbed in

thought, and sorrowful, they were listening to a poem which the village

beadle, who was also the _rybalt_, accompanied by his lute, sang of

Jurand's former exploits against the "abominable Knights of the Cross."

The room was lit up by the moon. A very warm and quiet night followed a

scorching day. The windows were open, and beetles from the linden in the

courtyard, were seen crawling upon the floor. In front of the fireplace,

where there were yet glimmering a few embers, sat the servant sipping a

mixture of hot mead, wine and spices.

The _rybalt_, or beadle, and servant of Father Kaleb, was about to begin

another song, entitled "The Happy Encounter." "Jurand is riding, riding,

upon a chestnut-colored horse," when Jagienka entered and said:

"The Lord Jesus be praised!"

"Forever and ever," replied Father Kaleb. Jurand sat in an armchair, with

his elbows upon the arms, but when he heard her voice he immediately

turned toward her, and began to greet her, nodding his milk white head.

"Zbyszko's armor-bearer has arrived from Szczytno," said the girl, "and

has brought news from the priest. Macko will not return to this place. He

went to Prince Witold."

"Why will he not return here?" asked Father Kaleb.

Then she told all she had heard from the Bohemian. She related how

Zygfried avenged himself for Rotgier's death; how the old _comthur_

intended to destroy Danusia for Rotgier to drink her innocent blood; and

how the executioner defended her. She even told them of Macko's hopes to

find Danusia, with Zbyszko's assistance, rescue her, bring her to

Spychow; and for that very reason he had gone to Zbyszko and ordered her

to remain here.

Be it from grief or sorrow her voice trembled at the end. When she

finished, silence prevailed for a while in the room and only the chirping

of the crickets, from the linden in the courtyard, penetrated through the

open windows and sounded like a heavy rainfall. All eyes were directed

toward Jurand, who with closed eyelids and head bent backward, showed no

sign of life.

"Do you hear?" finally asked the priest.

But Jurand kept on bending his head, lifted up his left hand and pointed

toward the sky. The light of the moon fell directly upon his face, upon

the white hair, upon the blind eyes; and there was depicted in that face

such indescribable suffering, together with complete hope and resignation

in God's will, that it appeared to all present that he only saw with his

soul which was freed from the fetters of the body, and had renounced once

for all earthly life, in which nothing was left for him.

Silence again reigned and the noise of the crickets was still audible.

But almost with filial love, Jagienka was suddenly overcome with great

pity for the unhappy old man. At the first impulse she rushed to his

side, grasped his hand and covered it with kisses and tears.

"And I too am an orphan!" she exclaimed, with swelling heart. "I am not a

boy, but am Jagienka of Zgorzelice. Macko took me in order to protect me

from bad people. Now I shall remain with you until God restores Danusia

to you."

Jurand was not at all surprised; he seemed to know it already; he only

took hold of her and pressed her to his breast, and she continued to kiss

his hand and spoke in a broken and sobbing voice:

"I will remain with you. Danuska will return.... Then I shall return to

Zgorzelice. God protects the orphans! The Germans have also killed my

father. But your beloved one is alive and will return. Grant this, O most

merciful God! Grant this, O most holy and compassionate Mother!..." Then

Father Kaleb suddenly knelt and with a solemn voice began to pray:

"Lord have mercy upon us!"

"Christ have mercy upon us!" immediately responded the Bohemian and

Tolima. Then all knelt down, because it was the Litany, which is not only

said at the moment of death, but also for the delivery of dear and near

persons from the danger of death. Jagienka knelt; Jurand slipped down

from his seat and knelt, and all began to pray in chorus:

"Lord have mercy upon us!"

"Christ have mercy upon us!"

"O God the Father in Heaven, have mercy upon us!"

"Son of God, Redeemer of the world, have mercy upon us!"

Their praying voices, "Have mercy upon us!" were mingled with the

chirping of the crickets.

The tame she-wolf suddenly got up from the bearskin upon which she was

crouching, in front of Jurand, approached the open window, supported

herself upon the sill, turned her triangular jaws toward the moon and

howled in a low and plaintive voice.

END OF PART SIXTH.

PART SEVENTH

CHAPTER I.

To a certain extent the Bohemian adored Jagienka, but his love for the

charming Sieciechowna was on the increase, nevertheless his young and

brave heart caused him to be eager above all for war. He returned to

Spychow with Macko's message, in obedience to his master, and therefore

he felt a certain satisfaction that he would be protected by both

masters, but when Jagienka herself told him what was the truth, that

there was none to oppose him in Spychow and that his duty was to be with

Zbyszko, he gladly assented. Macko was not his immediate authority. It

was therefore an easy matter to justify himself before him, that he had

left Spychow at the command of his mistress to go to Zbyszko.

But Jagienka did it purposely, that the valiant and clever armor-bearer

might always be of assistance to Zbyszko and save him in many dangerous

situations. He had already shown his ability at the prince's hunting

party in which Zbyszko nearly perished from the attack of a urus; much

more so would he be useful in war, specially such as the present one on

the Zmudz frontier. Glowacz was so eager for the field, that when he left

Jurand with Jagienka he embraced her feet and said:

"I desire to kneel before you at once and beg you for a good word for my

journey."

"How is that?" asked Jagienka. "Do you want to go to-day?"

"Early to-morrow, so that the horses may rest during the night, for the

expedition to Zmudz is very far."

"Then go so that you may easily overtake Macko."

"It will be a hard task. The old gentleman is hardy in all kinds of toil,

and he is several days ahead of me. In order to shorten my way I shall

have to travel through Prussia, through pathless forests. Pan Macko has

letters from Lichtenstein which he can show when necessary; but I have

nothing to show, I shall therefore be obliged to make a free road for

myself."

Then he placed his hand upon his sword. At that Jagienka exclaimed:

"Be careful! It is necessary to travel as fast as possible, but on the

other hand you must be careful to avoid being caught and imprisoned by

the Knights of the Cross. Also be careful whilst you are in the wild

forests, for there are just now all kinds of gods whom the people of that

land who have not been converted to Christianity worship. I remember what

Macko and Zbyszko said about them in Zgorzelice."

"I too remember what they said about those gods, but I am not afraid of

them; they are puny things and no gods, and they have no power whatever.

I shall manage them as well as the Germans whom I shall meet in the field

and make it hot for them."

"But you can't kill gods! Tell me, what did you hear of them among the

Germans?"

Then the discreet Bohemian wrinkled his brow, stopped for a moment, and

said:

"Killing or no killing, we informed ourselves of everything, specially

Pan Macko, who is cunning and able to circumvent every German. He asks

for one thing or another, or pretends to salute, and says nothing that

might betray him, and whatever he says is to the point and draws his

information as the angler draws out the fish. If your grace will listen

patiently I will tell you: Some years ago, Prince Witold planned an

expedition against the Tartars, but wished to be at peace with the

Germans; he therefore ceded to them the province of Zmudz. Then there was

great friendship and peace. He allowed them to build castles. Bah, he

even assisted them. They, including the master, met at an island, where

they ate, drank and showed each other much friendship. They were even

permitted to hunt in those wild forests. When the poor people of Zmudz

rose in arms against the rule of the Order, Prince Witold helped the

Germans with his own soldiers. The people throughout Lithuania murmured

that the prince was against his own blood. All this the under-bailiff of

Szczytno related to us; he praised the courts of the Knights of the Cross

in Zmudz because they sent priests to that country to convert the people

to Christianity and feed them in time of dearth. Something of that kind

was done, for the grand master, who fears God more than the others,

ordered it. But instead of it, they gathered together the children and

sent them to Prussia, and they outraged the women in the presence of

their husbands and brothers; whoever dared to oppose it was hanged. This,

lady, is the cause of the present war."

"And Prince Witold?"

"The prince had his eyes shut for a long time to the wrongs of the

oppressed people of Zmudz, and he loved the Knights of the Cross. It is

not long since the princess, his wife, went to Prussia to visit Malborg.

They received her with great pomp, as though she were the queen of

Poland. That happened quite recently! They showered gifts upon her, and

gave numerous tourneys, feasts, and all kinds of fètes wherever she went.

The people thought that it would result in everlasting friendship between

the Knights of the Cross and Prince Witold. But suddenly his heart was

changed...."

"This confirms what I heard from my lamented father and Macko more than

once, that the prince often changed his heart."

"Not often toward the upright, but frequently toward the Knights of the

Cross, owing to the very reason that they themselves keep no faith, and

are unreliable in everything. They asked him to give up deserters to

them. His reply was that he would give up only those of ill repute, but

free men he would not, because, as such, they were entitled to live

wherever they chose. Just now they are soured and engaged in writing

letters, complaining against each other. The people of Zmudz, now in

Germany, heard of it; they left the garrisons, stirred up the people in

the small castles, and now they make raids in Prussia itself and Prince

Witold not only does not hinder them any longer, but he also laughs at

the German trouble, and assists the Zmudzians secretly."

"I understand," said Jagienka. "But if he assists them secretly, open war

is not yet declared."

"There is open war with the Zmudz people, but as a matter of fact there

is also war against Prince Witold. Germans are coming from all parts of

the country to defend their strongholds on the frontier and are

contemplating a great expedition to invade Zmudz. But they cannot execute

it before the winter season arrives, because it is a swampy country and

impossible for them to fight in, and where a Zmudz warrior could pass, a

German knight would stick fast. Winter, therefore, would be favorable to

the Germans. As soon as it begins to freeze, the whole German forces will

move, but Prince Witold will come to the aid of the Zmudz people. He will

come with the permission of the king of Poland, since the king is the

head of all great princes and, above all, Lithuania."

"Then there will be war against the king?"

"The people here, as well as in Germany, say that there will be war. The

Knights of the Cross are probably now collecting forces in all courts,

with cowls upon their heads like thieves. For every Knight of the Cross

knows that the king's army is no joke, and, most likely, the Polish

knights would easily vanquish them."

Jagienka sighed, and said:

"A boy is always more happy than a girl is. Here is proof of what I say.

You will go to the war, as Zbyszko and Macko went, and we shall remain

here, in Spychow."

"How can it be otherwise, lady? It is true that you remain here, but

perfectly secure. The name of Jurand I have learned in Szczytno, is still

a terror to the Germans, and if they learn that he is now at Spychow they

will be terrified at once."

"We know that they will not dare to come here, because the swamps and old

Tolima defend this place, but it will be hard to sit here without news."

"I will let you know if anything occurs. Even before we departed for

Szczytno, two good young noblemen volunteered to start for the war.

Tolima was unable to prevent it, because they are noblemen and come from

Lenkawice. We shall now depart together and if anything occurs, one of

them will be sent to you with the news."

"May God reward you. I have always known that you are wise in any

adventure, but for your willingness and good heart toward me I shall

thank you as long as I live."

Then the Bohemian knelt upon one knee and said:

"I have had nothing but kindness from you. Pan Zych captured me near

Boleslawce, when I was a mere boy, and set me free without any ransom.

But I preferred captivity under you to freedom. God grant that I might

shed my blood for you, my lady."

"God lead you and bring you back!" replied Jagienka, holding out her hand

to him.

But he preferred to bow to her knees and kiss her feet to honor her the

more. Then he lifted up his head and said submissively and humbly:

"I am a simple boy, but I am a nobleman and your faithful servant. Give

me therefore some token of remembrance for my journey. Do not refuse me

this request; war time is approaching and I take Saint Jerzy to witness

that I shall always try to be one of those in front, but never in the

rear."

"What kind of souvenir do you ask for?"

"Girdle me with a strip of cloth for the road, so that if I fall in the

field my pain may be lessened in having, when dying, the belt you

fastened round my body."

Then he bowed again at her feet, folded his arms and gazed into her eyes

imploringly.

But Jagienka's face assumed a troubled look, and after a while she

replied as if with involuntary bitterness:

"O, my dear! Ask me not for that, my girdling will be of no use to you.

Whoever is happy can impart happiness to you. Only such an one can bring

you fortune. But I, surely, have nothing but sorrow! Alas! I can give

happiness neither to you nor others; for that which I do not possess

myself I cannot impart to others. I feel so, Hlawa. There is nothing,

now, for me in the world, so, so that...."

Then she suddenly ceased, because she knew that if she said another word

it would cause her to burst into tears, even so her eyes became clouded.

But the Bohemian was greatly moved, because he understood that it would

be equally bad for her, in case she had to return to Zgorzelice and be in

the neighborhood of the rapacious villains Cztan and Wilk: or to remain

in Spychow, where sooner or later Zbyszko might come with Danusia. Hlawa

seemed to understand Jagienka's troubles, but he had no remedy for them.

He therefore embraced her knees again and repeated.

"Oh! I will die for you! I will die!"

"Get up!" she said. "Let Sieciechowna gird you for the war, or let her

give you some other keepsake, because you have been friends for some time

past."

Then she began to call her, and Sieciechowna entered from the neighboring

room immediately. She had heard before she entered, but she dared not

enter although she burned with desire to take leave of the handsome

armor-bearer. She therefore was frightened and confused, and her heart

was beating violently when she entered; her eyes were glistening with

tears, and with lowered eyelashes she stood before him; she looked like

an apple blossom, and could not utter a single word.

Hlawa worshipped Jagienka, but with deepest respect, and he dared not

reach her even in mind. He often thought familiarly about Sieciechowna

because the blood in his veins coursed rapidly at the very sight of her

and he could not withstand the presence of her charms. But now his heart

was taken by her beauty, especially when he beheld her confusion and

tears, through which he saw affection as one sees the golden bed of a

crystal stream.

He therefore turned toward her and said:

"Do you know that I am going to war. Perchance I shall perish. Will you

be sorry for me?"

"I shall feel very sorry for you!" replied the girl, in soft tones. Then

she shed copious tears as she was always ready to do. The Bohemian was

moved and began to kiss her hands, smothering his desire for more

familiar kisses in the presence of Jagienka.

"Gird him or give him something else as a memento for the road, so that

he may fight under your colors and in your name."

But Sieciechowna had nothing to give him, because she was attired in

boy's clothes. She searched for something but found neither ribbon, nor

anything that could be fastened, because her women's dresses were still

packed up in the baskets, which had not been touched since they left

Zgorzelice. She was therefore greatly perplexed until Jagienka came to

her rescue by advising her to give him the little net upon her head.

"My God!" Hlawa joyously exclaimed, "let it be the net, attach it to the

helmet, and woe betide that German who attempts to reach it."

Then Sieciechowna took it down with both hands and immediately her bright

golden hair fell upon her shoulders and arms. At the sight of her

beautiful disheveled hair, Hlawa's face changed, his cheeks flamed and

then paled. He took the net, kissed it, and hid it in his breast. Then he

embraced Jagienka's feet once more, and did the same, though a little

more strongly than was necessary, to Sieciechowna. Then with the words:

"Let it be so," he left the house without another word.

Although he was about to travel and in want of rest, he did not go to

sleep. With his two companions who were to accompany him to Zmudz, he

drank throughout the whole night. But he was not intoxicated, and at the

first ray of light he was already in the courtyard where the horses were

ready for the journey.

From the membrane window above the carriage house two blue eyes were

looking upon the courtyard. When the Bohemian observed them, he wished to

approach and show the net which he had attached to his helmet, then wish

her good-bye once more, but Father Kaleb and old Tolima, who came to give

him advice for his journey, interrupted him.

"Go first to the court of Prince Janusz," said the priest. "Perhaps Pan

Macko stopped there. At all events, you will get there proper

information; you will find there numerous acquaintances. Also the road

there to Lithuania is known, and it is not difficult there to procure

guides for the wilderness. If you are indeed bent on seeing Pan Zbyszko,

then do not go directly to Zmudz, for there is the Prussian reservation,

but go via Lithuania. Remember that the Zmudzians themselves might kill

you even before you could shout to them who you were. But it is quite a

different matter in Lithuania in the direction where Prince Witold is.

Finally, may God bless you, and those two knights. May you return in good

health and bring the child with you. I shall daily lie prostrate before

the cross from vespers to the rising of the first star in prayer for this

cause."

"I thank you, father, for your blessing," replied Hlawa. "It is not an

easy task to rescue one alive from their devilish hands. But since

everything is in God's hands, it is better to hope than to sorrow."

"It is better to hope, for this reason I do not despair. Hope lives,

although the heart is full of anxiety.... The worst is, that Jurand

himself, when his daughter's name is mentioned, immediately points with

his finger toward heaven as though he already sees her there."

"How could he see her without eyes?"

The priest then replied, partly to himself and partly to Hlawa:

"Perchance he who has lost his bodily vision sees more with his spiritual

eyes.... It may be so. It may be! But this, that God should permit so

much wrong to be done to such an innocent lamb I do not understand

clearly. Why should she suffer so much, even if she had offended the

Knights of the Cross. But there was nothing against her and she was as

pure as the divine lily, loving to others and lovely as yonder little

free singing bird. God loves children, and is compassionate. Bah! If they

were to kill her, He is able to resuscitate her as He did Piotrowina, who

after having risen from the grave lived for many long years.... Depart in

peace, and may God's hand protect you all!"

Then he returned to the chapel to say early Mass. The Bohemian mounted

his horse, for it was already broad daylight, and bowed once more toward

the window and departed.

CHAPTER II.

Prince and Princess Janusz had left with part of the court for the spring

fishing at Czerska, of which sport he was extremely fond, and loved it

above all others. The Bohemian got much important information from

Mikolaj of Dlugolas, treating of private affairs as well as of the war.

First he learned that Macko had apparently given up his intended route to

Zmudz, the "Prussian enclosure," that a few days ago he had left for

Warsaw where he found the princely pair. As to the war, old Mikolaj

informed him all that he had already heard in Szczytno. All Zmudz, as one

man, had risen in arms against the Germans, and Prince Witold not only

had refused to help the Order against the unhappy Zmudzians, but had not

yet declared war against them, and was negotiating with them; but

meanwhile he supplied the Zmudzians with money, men, horses and corn.

Meanwhile, he, as well as the Knights of the Cross, sent ambassadors to

the pope, to the emperor, and to other Christian lords, accusing each

other of breach of faith, and treachery. The ambassador carrying the

letters of the prince was the clever Mikolaj of Rzeniewa, a man of great

ability who could unravel the thread which was woven by the artifice of

the Knights of the Cross, convincingly demonstrating the great wrongs

done to the lands of Lithuania and Zmudz.

Meantime when at the diet in Wilno the ties between the Poles and

Lithuanians were strengthened, it acted like poison in the hearts of the

Knights of the Cross. It was easy to foresee that Jagiello as the supreme

lord of all the lands under the command of Prince Witold, would stand at

his side in time of war. Count Jan Sayn, the _comthur_ of Grudzia, and

Count Schwartzburg of Danzig, went, at the request of the grand master,

to see the king and asked him what might be expected from him. Although

they brought him falcons and costly presents, he told them nothing. Then

they threatened him with war, without really intending it, because they

well knew that the grand master and the chapter were terribly afraid of

Jagiello's forces, and were anxious to avert the day of wrath and

calamity.

All their schemes were broken like cobwebs, especially with Prince

Witold. The evening after Hlawa's arrival, fresh news reached Warsaw.

Bronisz of Ciasnoc, courtier of Prince Janusz, whom the prince had

previously sent for information from Lithuania, arrived, and with him

were two important Lithuanian princes. They brought letters from Witold

and the Zmudzians. It was terrible news. The Order was preparing for war.

The fortresses were being strengthened, ammunition manufactured,

soldiers, (knechts) and knights were gathering at the frontier, and the

lighter bodies of cavalry and infantry had already crossed the frontier

near Ragnety, Gotteswerder and other border strongholds. The din of war

was already heard in the forests, fields and villages, and during the

night the woods were seen on fire along the dark sea. Witold finally

received Zmudz under his overt protection. He sent his governors, and

wagons with armed people he placed under the most famous warrior

Skirwoillo. He broke into Prussia, burned, destroyed and devastated. The

prince himself approached with his army toward Zmudz. Some fortresses he

provisioned; others, Kowno, for instance, he destroyed, so that the

Knights of the Cross might find no support. It was no more a secret, that

at the advent of winter, when the swamps should be frozen, or even

earlier than that, if the season was dry, a great war would break out,

which would embrace all the lands of Lithuania, Zmudz, and Prussia. But

should the king rush to the assistance of Witold then a day must follow

in which the flood would inundate the German or the other half of the

world, or would be forced back for long ages into its original river-bed.

But that was not to happen yet. Meanwhile, the sighs of the Zmudzians,

their despairing complaints of the wrongs done to them, and their appeals

for justice were heard everywhere. They also read letters concerning the

unfortunate people in Krakow, Prague, in the pope's court and in other

western countries. The nobleman brought an open letter to Prince Janusz,

from Bronisz of Ciasnoc. Many a Mazovian involuntarily laid his hand on

his sword at his side and considered seriously whether voluntarily to

enroll under the standard of Witold. It was known that the great prince

would be glad to have with him the valiant Polish nobles, who were as

valorous in battle as the Lithuanian and Zmudzian nobility, and better

disciplined and equipped than they. Others were also impelled by their

hatred toward the old enemies of the Polish race, whilst others wanted to

go out of compassion.

"Listen! Oh listen!" They appealed to the kings, princes and to the whole

Zmudzian nation. "We are people of noble blood and free, but the Order

wants to enslave us! They do not care for our souls, but they covet our

lands and wealth. Our need is already such that nothing remains for us

but to gather together, or kill ourselves! How can they wash us with

Christian water when they themselves have unclean hands. We wish to be

baptized, but not with blood and the sword. We want religion, but only

such as upright monarchs shall teach,--Jagiello and Witold.

"Listen to us and help us, for we perish! The Order does not wish to

christen us for our enlightenment. They do not send us priests, but

executioners. Our beehives, our flocks, and all the products of our land

they have already carried away. We are not even allowed to fish or hunt

in the wilds.

"We pray you: Listen to us! They are just bending our necks under the

yoke and force us to work during the night in the castles. They have

carried off our children as hostages; our wives and daughters they ravish

in our presence. It behooves us to groan, but not to speak. Our fathers

they have burned at the stake; our lords have been carried off to

Prussia. Our great men, Korkucia, Wasigina, Swolka and Songajle, they

have destroyed."

"Oh listen! for we are not wild beasts but human beings. We earnestly

call upon the Holy Father to send us Polish bishops to baptize us, for we

thirst for baptism from the very depth of our heart. But baptism is

performed with water and not with shedding of human living blood."

This was the kind of complaint the Zmudzians made against the Knights of

the Cross, so that when they were heard by the Mazovian court, several

knights and courtiers immediately presented themselves ready to go and

help them; they understood that it was not even necessary to ask for

permission from Prince Janusz, even if only for the reason that the

princess was the sister of Prince Witold. They were specially enraged

when they learned from Bronisz and the noblemen, that many noble Zmudzian

young ladies, who were hostages in Prussia, but could not endure dishonor

and cruelty, had taken their own lives when the Knights of the Cross were

about to attack their honor.

Hlawa was very glad to learn of the desire of the Mazovian knights,

because he thought that the more men from Poland that joined Prince

Witold, the more intense would be the war, and the affair against the

Knights of the Cross would be more potent. He was also glad of his

chances of meeting Zbyszko, and the old knight Macko, to whom he was much

attached and whom, he believed, he was worthy to meet, and together see

new wild countries, hitherto unknown cities, and see knights and soldiers

never seen before, and, finally, that Prince Witold whose great fame

resounded then throughout the world.

Those thoughts decided him to undertake the long and hurried journey--not

stopping upon the road more than was necessary for the horses to rest.

The noblemen who arrived with Bronisz of Ciasnoc and other Lithuanians

who were present at the prince's court, and who were acquainted with the

roads and all passes, were to guide him and the Mazovian knights, from

hamlet to hamlet, from city to city and through the silent, immense, deep

wilderness which covered the greater part of Mazovia, Lithuania and

Zmudz.

CHAPTER III.

In the woods, about a mile to the east of Kowno, which Witold had

destroyed, were stationed the principal forces of Skirwoillo, extending

in time of need from point to point in the neighborhood. They made quick

expeditions sometimes to the Prussian frontier, and at others against the

castles and smaller fortified places which were still in the hands of the

Knights of the Cross, and filled the country with flame of war. There the

faithful armor-bearer found Zbyszko and Macko only two days after the

latter arrived. After greetings, the Bohemian slept like a rock the whole

night, only on the following evening he went out to greet the old knight

who looked fatigued and ill-humored and received him angrily, and asked

him why he had not remained at Spychow as ordered. Hlawa restrained

himself till Zbyszko had left the tent, when he justified his conduct,

which was owing to Jagienka's command.

He also said that apart from her order, and his natural inclination for

war, he was urged by the desire, in case of emergency, to carry the news

to Spychow at once. "The young lady," he said, "who has a soul like an

angel, is praying against her own interest for Jurandowna. But there must

be an end to everything. If Danusia is not alive, then let God give her

eternal glory, because she was an innocent lamb. But should she be found,

then it will be necessary to let Jagienka know it immediately, so that

she may at once leave Spychow, and not wait until the actual return of

Jurandowna, which would seem as though she were driven away in shame and

dishonor."

Macko listened unwillingly, repeating from time to time: "It is not your

business." But Hlawa had resolved to speak openly; he did not entirely

agree in this with Macko; at last he said:

"It would have been better if the young lady had been left at Zgorzelice.

This journey is in vain. We told the poor lady that Jurandowna was dead

and that something else might turn up."

"Nobody but you said that she was dead," exclaimed the knight, with

anger. "You ought to have held your tongue. I took her with me because I

was afraid of Cztan and Wilk."

"That was only a pretext," replied the armor-bearer. "She might have

safely remained at Zgorzelice, and those fellows would have hurt each

other. But, you feared, sir, that, in case of Jurandowna's death Jagienka

might escape Zbyszko. That is the reason why you took her with you."

"How dare you speak so? Are you a belted knight and not a servant?"

"I am a servant, but I serve my lady; that is the reason why I am

watching that no evil betide her."

Macko reflected gloomily, because he was not satisfied with himself. More

than once he had blamed himself for taking Jagienka with him, because he

felt that in any case, under such circumstances, it would be, to a

certain extent, to her disadvantage. He also felt that there was truth in

the Bohemian's bold words, that he had taken the girl with him in order

to preserve her for Zbyszko.

"It never entered my head," he said, nevertheless, to deceive the

Bohemian. "She was anxious to go herself."

"She persisted because we said that the other was no more in this world,

and that her brother would be safer without than with her; it was then

that she left."

"You persuaded her," shouted Macko.

"I did, and I confess my guilt. But now, sir, it is necessary to do

something; otherwise we shall perish."

"What can one do here?" said Macko, impatiently, "with such soldiers, in

such a war?... It will be somewhat better, but that cannot be before

July, because the Germans have two favorable seasons for war, viz: winter

when everything is frozen, and the dry season. Now it is only

smouldering, but does not burn. It seems that Prince Witold went to

Krakow to interview the king and ask his permission and help."

"But in the neighborhood are the fortresses of the Knights of the Cross.

If only two could be taken, we might find there Jurandowna, or hear of

her death."

"Or nothing."

"But Zygfried brought her to this part of the country. They told us so at

Szczytno, and everywhere, and we ourselves were of the same opinion."

"But did you observe these soldiers; go into the tents and look for

yourself. Some of them are armed with clubs, whilst others with

antiquated swords made of copper."

"Bah! As far as I have heard they are good fighters."

"But they cannot conquer castles with naked bodies, especially those of

the Knights of the Cross."

Further conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Zbyszko and

Skirwoillo, who was the leader of the Zmudzians. He was a small man and

looked like a boy, but broad shouldered and strong, his chest protuded so

much that it looked like a deformity, his hands were long, they almost

reached his knees. In general he resembled Zyndram of Maszkow, a famous

knight, whom Macko and Zbyszko had formerly known in Krakow, because he

also had a tremendous head and bowed legs. They said that he too

understood the art of war very well. He had spent a lifetime in fighting

the Tartars in Russia, and the Germans, whom he hated like the plague. In

those wars he had learned the Russian language, and later on, at the

court of Witold, he had learned some Polish. He knew German, at least he

repeated only the three words: "Fire, blood and death." His big head was

always filled with ideas and stratagems of war, which the Knights of the

Cross could neither foresee nor prevent. He was therefore banished from

the lands on the other side of the frontier.

"We were talking of an expedition," said Zbyszko to Macko, with unusual

animation, "and that is the reason why we came here so that we too might

learn your opinion."

Macko sat down with Skirwoilla upon a pine stump covered with a bear

skin. Then he ordered the servants to bring little tubs full of mead from

which the knights drew with tin cups and drank. Then after they had taken

refreshment, Macko asked:

"Do you want to undertake an expedition?"

"Burn the German castles...."

"Which?"

"Ragnety, or Nowe (new) Kowno."

"Ragnety," said Zbyszko. "We were three days in the neighborhood of Nowe

Kowno, and they beat us."

"Just so," said Skirwoilla.

"How so?"

"Well."

"Wait," said Macko, "I am a stranger here, and do not know where Nowe

Kowno and Ragnety are."

"From this place to Old Kowno is less then a mile,"[115] replied Zbyszko,

"and from that place to Nowe Kowno, is the same distance. The castle is

situated upon an island. We wanted to cross over yesterday, but we were

beaten in the attempt; they pursued us half the day, then we hid

ourselves in the woods. The soldiers scattered and only this morning some

of them returned."

"And Ragnety?"

Skirwoilla stretched his long arms, pointed toward the north, and said:

"Far! Far...."

"Just for the reason that it is distant," replied Zbyszko, "there is

quiet in the neighborhood, because all the soldiers were withdrawn from

there and sent to this place. The Germans there expect no attack; we

shall therefore fall upon those who think themselves secure."

"He speaks reasonably," said Skirwoilla.

Then Macko asked:

"Do you think that it will also be possible to storm the castle?"

Skirwoillo shook his head and Zbyszko replied:

"The castle is strong, therefore it can only be taken by storm. But we

shall devastate the country, burn the towns and villages, destroy

provisions, and above all take prisoners, among whom we may find

important personages, for whom the Knights of the Cross will eagerly give

ransom or exchange...."

Then he turned toward Skirwoillo and said:

"You yourself, prince, acknowledged that I am right, but now consider

that Nowe Kowno is upon an island, there we shall neither stir up the

people in the villages, drive off the herds of cattle, nor take

prisoners, the more so because they have repulsed us here. Ay! Let us

rather go where they do not expect us."

"Conquerors are those who least expect an attack," murmured Skirwoillo.

Here Macko interrupted and began to support Zbyszko's plans, because he

understood that the young man had more hope to hear something near

Ragnety than near Old Kowno, and that there were more chances to take

important hostages at Ragnety who might serve for exchange. He also

thought that it was better to go yonder at all events and attack an

unguarded land, than an island, which was a natural stronghold and in

addition was guarded by a strong castle and the customary garrison.

He spoke as a man experienced in war, he spoke in a clear manner, he

adduced such excellent reasons that convinced everybody. They listened to

him attentively. Skirwoillo raised his brows now and then as an

affirmative sign; at times he murmured: "Well spoken." Finally he moved

his big head between his broad shoulders so that he looked like a

hunchback, and was absorbed in thought.

Then he rose, said nothing, and began to take leave.

"How then will it be, prince?" inquired Macko. "Whither shall we move?"

But he replied briefly:

"To Nowe Kowno."

Then he left the tent.

Macko and the Bohemian looked at each other for some time in surprise;

then the old knight placed his hands upon his thighs and exclaimed:

"Phew! What a hard stump!... He listens, listens and yet keeps his mouth

shut."

"I heard before that he is such a man," replied Zbyszko. "To tell the

truth all people here are obstinate; like the little fellow, they listen

to the reasoning of others, then ... it is like blowing in the air."

"Then why does he consult us?"

"Because we are belted knights and he wants to hear the thing argued on

both sides. But he is not a fool."

"Also near Nowe Kowno we are least expected," observed the Bohemian, "for

the very reason that they have beaten you. In that he is right."

"Come, let us see the people whom I lead," said Zbyszko, "because the air

in the tent is too close. I want to tell them to be ready."

They went out. A cloudy and dark night had set in, the scene was only lit

up by the fire around which the Zmudzians were sitting.

CHAPTER IV.

Macko and Zbyszko had seen enough of Lithuanian and Zmudz warriors when

serving under Prince Witold. The sights of the encampment were nothing

new to them. But the Bohemian looked at them with curiosity. He pondered

both upon the possibility of their fighting qualities and compared them

with the Polish and German knights. The camp was situated on a plain

surrounded by forests and swamps, which rendered it impregnable, because

none could wade through that treacherous marsh land. Even the place where

the booths were situated was quaggy and muddy, but the soldiers had

covered it with a thick layer of chips and branches of fir and

pine-trees, which enabled them to camp upon it as upon perfectly dry

ground. For Prince Skirwoillo they had hastily constructed a Lithuanian

_numy_, constructed of earth and logs, and for the most important

personages scores of booths of twisted branches. But the common soldiers

were squatting in the open around the camp-fires, and for shelter against

bad weather they only had goatskin coats, and skins upon their naked

bodies. None had gone to sleep yet; they had nothing to do, after

yesterday's defeat, and had thrown up earthworks during the day. Some of

them were sitting or lying around the bright fire which they fed with dry

juniper branches. Others were scraping in the ashes and cinders from

which proceeded a smell of baked turnips, which form the ordinary food of

the Lithuanians, and the strong odor of burned meat. Between the

camp-fires were piles of arms; they were close at hand so that in case of

need it would be an easy matter for everybody to reach his own weapon.

Hlawa looked with curiosity upon the lances with narrow and long heads

made of tempered iron, and the handles of oak saplings, studded with

flint or nails, hatchets with short handles like the Polish axes used by

travelers, and others with handles almost as long as those of the

battle-axes used by the foot-soldiers. There were also among them some

bronze weapons from ancient times when iron was not yet employed in that

low country. Some swords were entirely made of bronze, but most of them

were of good steel of Novgorod. The Bohemian handled the spears, swords,

hatchets, axes and tarred bows, examining them closely by the light of

the camp-fires. There were a few horses near the fires, whilst the cattle

grazed at a distance in the forests and meadows, under the care of

vigilant ostlers; but the great nobles liked to have their chargers close

at hand, hence there were about twoscore horses within the camp, fed by

hand by the slaves of the noblemen in a space enclosed by stacked arms.

Hlawa was amazed at the sight of the extraordinarily small shaggy

chargers, with powerful necks, such strange brutes that the western

knights took them to be quite another species of wild beast, more like a

unicorn than a horse.

"Big battle horses are of no use here," said the experienced Macko,

recollecting his former service under Witold, "because large horses would

at once stick in the mire, but the native nag goes everywhere, like the

men."

"But in the field," replied the Bohemian, "the native horse could not

withstand that of the German."

"True, he may not be able to withstand, but, on the other hand, the

German could not run away from the Zmudzian, neither could he catch him;

they are very swift, swifter than those of the Tartars."

"Nevertheless I wonder; because when I saw the Tartar captives whom Lord

Zych brought to Zgorzelice, they were small and matched their horses; but

these are big men."

The men were tall indeed; their broad chests and strong arms could be

seen under their goatskin coats; they were not stout, but bony and

sinewy, and as a rule they excelled the inhabitants of other parts of

Lithuania, because they lived in better and more productive lands, and

were seldom subject to the dearth which often afflicted Lithuania. On the

other hand they were wilder than the other Lithuanians. The court of the

chief prince was at Wilno, whither the princes from the east and west,

and ambassadors and foreign merchants came, and that contributed somewhat

to lessen the roughness of the inhabitants of the city and neighborhood.

There the stranger only appeared in the form of a Knight of the Cross or

a sworded cavalier, carrying to the settlements in the deep forests fire,

slavery and baptism of blood. That was the reason that the people in that

part of the country were very coarse and rude, more like those of ancient

times, and very much opposed to everything new, the oldest custom and the

oldest warrior clan were theirs, and the reason that paganism was

supported was that the worship of the cross did not bring the

announcement of good tidings with apostolic love, but armed German monks

instead, possessing souls of executioners.

Skirwoilla and the most notable princes and nobles were already

Christians, because they followed the example of Jagiello and Witold.

Others even among the common and uncivilized warriors felt in their

hearts that the death-knell of the old world and religion had sounded.

They were ready to bend their heads to the cross, but not to that cross

which the Germans carried, not to the hand of the enemy. "We ask

baptism," they proclaimed to all princes and nations, "but bear in mind

that we are human beings, not beasts, that can be given away, bought or

sold." Meanwhile, when their old faith was extinguished, as a fire goes

out for lack of fuel, their hearts were again turned away simply because

the religion was forced upon them by the Germans, and there was a general

sense of deep sorrow for the future.

The Bohemian, who had been accustomed from his infancy to hear the jovial

noise of the soldiers, and had grown up among songs and music, observed

for the first time the unusual quiet and gloom in the Lithuanian camp.

Here and there, far away from the camp-fires of Skirwoilla, the sound of

a whistle or fife was heard, or the suppressed notes of the song of the

_burtenikas_, to which the soldiers listened with bent heads and eyes

fixed on the glowing fire. Some crouched around the fire with their

elbows upon their knees and their faces hidden in their hands, and

covered with skins, which made them look like wild beasts of the forest.

But when they turned their heads toward the approaching knights, one saw

from their mild expression and blue pupils that they were not at all

savage or austere, but looked more like sorrowful and wronged children.

At the outskirts of the camp the wounded of the last battle lay upon

moss. _Labdarysi_ and _Sextonowi,_ conjurers and soothsayers, muttered

exorcisms over them or attended to their wounds, to which they applied

certain healing herbs; the wounded lay quietly, patiently suffering pain

and torture. From the depth of the forest, across the marshes and lakes,

came the whistling of the ostlers; now and then the wind arose, driving

the smoke of the camp-fires and making the dark forest resound. The night

was already far advanced and the camp-fires began to burn down and

extinguish, which increased the dominating silence and intensified the

impression of sadness, almost to a crushing extent.

Zbyszko gave orders to the people he led, who easily understood him

because there were a few Poles among them. Then he turned to his

armor-bearer and said:

"You have seen enough, now it is time to return to the tent."

"I have seen," replied Hlawa, "but I am not satisfied with what I have

observed, for it is obvious that they are a defeated people."

"Twice,--four days in front of the castle, and the day before yesterday

at the crossing. Now Skirwoilla wants to go a third time to experience

another rout."

"How is it that he does not see that he cannot fight the Germans with

such soldiers? Pan Macko told me the same thing, and now I observe myself

that they are a poor lot, and that they must be boys in battle."

"You are mistaken in that, because they are a brave people and have few

equals, but they fight in disordered crowds, whilst the Germans fight in

battle array. If the Zmudzians succeed in breaking the German ranks, then

the Germans suffer more than themselves. Bah, but the latter know this

and close their ranks in such a manner that they stand like a wall."

"We must not even think about capturing the castles," said Hlawa.

"Because there are no engines of war whatever to attempt it," replied

Zbyszko. "Prince Witold has them, but as long as he does not arrive I am

unable to capture them, unless by accident or treachery."

Then they reached the tent, in front of which burned a huge fire, and

within they found smoking dishes of meat, which the servants had prepared

for them. It was cold and damp in the tent, therefore the knights and

Hlawa lay down upon skins in front of the fire.

When they had fortified themselves, they tried to sleep, but they could

not; Macko turned from side to side, and when he observed Zbyszko sitting

near the fire covering his knees with twigs, he asked:

"Listen! Why did you give advice to go as far as Ragnety against

Gotteswerder, and not near here? What do you profit by it?"

"Because there is a voice within me which tells me that Danuska is at

Ragnety, and they are guarded less than they are here."

"There was no time to continue the conversation then, for I too was

fatigued and the people after the defeat gathered in the woods. But now,

tell me, how is it? Do you mean to search for the girl forever?"

"I say that she is not a girl, but my wife," replied Zbyszko.

There was silence, for Macko well understood that there was no answer to

that. If Danuska were still Jurandowna (Miss Jurand) Macko might have

advised his nephew to abandon her: but in the presence of the Holy

Sacrament, his search for her was his simple duty. Macko would not have

put the question to him if he had been present.

Not having been there he always spoke of her at the betrothal or marriage

as a girl.

"Very well," he said, after a while. "But to all my questions during the

last two days, you replied that you knew nothing."

"Because I do know nothing, except that the wrath of God is probably upon

me."

Then Hlawa lifted up his head from the bearskin, sat up and listened with

curiosity and attention.

And Macko said:

"As long as sleep does not overpower you, tell me what have you seen,

what have you done, and what success have you had at Malborg?"

Zbyszko stroked his long, untrimmed hair from his brow, remained silent

for a moment, and then said:

"Would to God that I knew as much of Danuska as I do of Malborg. You ask

me what I have seen there? I have seen the immense power of the Knights

of the Cross; it is supported by all kings and nations, and I do not know

any one who could measure himself with it. I have seen their castles,

which even Caesar of Rome does not possess. I have seen inexhaustible

treasures, I have seen arms, I have seen swarms of armed monks, knights,

and common soldiers,--and as many relics as one sees with the Holy Father

in Rome, and I tell you that my soul trembled within me at the thought of

the possibility of fighting them. Who can prevail against them? Who can

oppose them and break their power?"

"We must destroy them," exclaimed the Bohemian, who could restrain

himself no longer.

Zbyszko's words appeared strange also to Macko, and although he was

anxious to hear all the adventures of the young man, nevertheless, he

interrupted him and said:

"Have you forgotten Wilno? How many times we threw ourselves against

them, shield against shield, head against head! You have also seen that,

how slow they were against us; and, at our hardiness, they exclaimed that

it was not enough to let the horses sweat and break the lances, but it

was necessary to take the strangers by the throat or offer their own.

Surely there were also guests who challenged us. But all of them went

away with shame. What has caused you to change?"

"I am not changed, for I fought at Malborg where also they tilted with

sharp weapons. But you don't know their whole strength."

But the old knight got angry and said:

"Do you know the whole strength of Poland? Did you see all the regiments

together? Well, you did not. But their strength consists in the people's

wrongs and treachery; there, they do not even possess one span of land.

They received our princes there in the same manner as a beggar receives

in his house, and they presented gifts, but they have grown powerful,

they have bitten the hand which fed them, like abominable mad dogs. They

seized the lands and treacherously captured the city; that is their

strength. The day of judgment and vengeance is at hand."

"You requested me to tell you what I have seen, and now you get angry; I

prefer to tell no more," said Zbyszko.

But Macko breathed angrily for a while, then he quieted down and said:

"But this time, thus it will be: You see a tremendous tower-like

pine-tree in the forest; it seems as it will stand there forever; but

strike it fairly with your axe and it will reveal hollowness and punk

will come out. So is it with the strength of the Knights of the Cross.

But I commanded you to tell me what you have done and what you have

accomplished there. Let me see, you said you fought there with weapons,

did you not?"

"I did. They received me at first in an ungrateful and arrogant manner;

they knew of my fight with Rotgier. Perhaps they had planned some evil

against me. But I came provided with letters from the prince; and de

Lorche, whom they honor, protected me from their evil designs. Then came

feasts and tourneys in which the Lord Jesus helped me. You have already

heard how Ulrych, the brother of the grand master, loved me, and obtained

an order from the master himself to surrender Danuska to me."

"We were told," said Macko, "that when his saddle-girdle broke, you would

not attack him."

"I helped him up with my lance, and from that moment he became fond of

me. Hey! Good God! They furnished me with such strong letters, that

enabled me to travel from castle to castle and search. I thought then

that my sufferings were at an end, but now I am sitting here, in a wild

country, without any help, in sorrow and perplexity, and it is getting

worse daily."

He remained silent for a moment, then he forcibly threw a chip into the

fire which scattered sparks among the burning brands, and said:

"If that poor child is suffering in a castle, somewhere in this

neighborhood, and thinks that I don't care for her, then let sudden death

overtake me!"

His heart was evidently so full of pain and impatience that he began

again to throw chips into the fire, as though carried away by a sudden

and blind pain; but they were greatly astonished because they had not

realized that he loved Danusia so much.

"Restrain yourself," exclaimed Macko. "How did you fare with those

letters of safe conduct. Did the _comthurs_ pay no attention to the

master's command?"

"Restrain yourself, sir," said Hlawa. "God will comfort you; perhaps very

soon."

Tears glistened in Zbyszko's eyes, but he controlled himself, and said:

"They opened different castles and prisons. I have been everywhere; I

searched up to the breaking out of this war. At Gierdaw I was told by the

magistrate, von Heideck, that the laws of war differ from those in time

of peace, and that my safe conduct was of no avail. I challenged him at

once, but he did not accept, and he ordered me to quit the castle."

"What happened in other places?" inquired Macko.

"It was the same everywhere. The Count Könizsberg, who is the chief

magistrate of Gierdaw, even refused to read the letter of the master,

saying that 'war is war,' and told me to carry my head--while it was

intact--out of the place. It was everywhere the same."

"Now I understand," said the old knight, "seeing that you got nothing,

you came here at least to avenge yourself."

"Exactly so," replied Zbyszko. "I also thought that we should take

prisoners, and also invest some castles. But those fellows could not

conquer castles."

"Hey! It will be otherwise when Prince Witold himself comes."

"May God grant it!"

"He will come; I heard at the Mazovian court that he will come, and

perhaps the king and all the forces of Poland will come with him."

Further conversation was interrupted by the appearance of Skirwoilla who

unexpectedly appeared from the shadow, and said:

"We must be on the march."

Hearing that, the knights got up with alacrity. Skirwoilla approached his

tremendous head to their faces, and said in low tones:

"There is news: A relief train is moving toward New Kowno. Two knights

are at the head of the soldiers, cattle and provisions. Let us capture

them."

"Shall we cross the Niemen," inquired Zbyszko.

"Yes! I know a ford."

"Do they know at the castle of the relief train?"

"They know and will come to meet them, but we shall pounce upon them

too."

Then he instructed them where they were to lie in ambush, so as to

attack, unexpectedly, those hurrying from the castle. His intentions were

to engage the enemy in two battles at the same time, and avenge himself

for the last defeat, which could easily be effected, considering that

owing to their last victory the enemy considered himself perfectly safe

from an attack. Therefore Skirwoilla appointed the place and time where

they should meet; as for the rest, he left it with them, for he relied

upon their courage and resource. They were very glad at heart because

they appreciated the fact that an experienced and skilful warrior was

speaking to them. Then he ordered them to start, and he went to his

_numy_ where the princes and captains were already waiting. There he

repeated his orders, gave new ones, and finally put to his lips a pipe,

carved out of a wolf's bone, and whistled shrilly, which was heard from

one end of the camp to the other.

At the sound of the whistle they gathered around the extinguished

camp-fires; here and there sparks shot up, then little flames which

increased momentarily, and wild figures of warriors were visible

gathering around the stands of arms. The forest throbbed and moved. In a

moment there were heard the voices of the ostlers chasing the herd toward

the camp.

CHAPTER V.

They arrived very early at Niewiazy where they crossed the river, some on

horseback, some upon bundles of osier. Everything went with such dispatch

that Macko, Zbyszko, Hlawa and the Mazovian volunteers were astonished at

the skilfulness of the people; only then they understood why neither

woods, nor swamps, nor rivers could prevent Lithuanian expeditions. When

they emerged from the river none had taken off his wet clothing, not even

the sheep and wolfskin coats, but exposed themselves to the rays of the

sun until they steamed like pitch-burners, and after a short rest they

marched hastily toward the north. At nightfall they arrived at the

Niemen.

The crossing of the great river at that place, swollen in the spring, was

not an easy matter. The ford, which was known to Skuwoilla, changed in

places into deep water, so that the horses had to swim more than a

quarter of a furlong. Two men were carried away quite near Zbyszko, and

Hlawa tried to rescue them, but in vain; owing to the darkness and the

rushing water they lost sight of them. The drowning men did not dare to

shout for help, because the leader had previously ordered that the

crossing should be effected in the most quiet manner possible.

Nevertheless all the others fortunately succeeded in reaching the other

side of the river, where they remained without fires till the morning.

At dawn, the whole army was divided into two divisions. Skirwoilla at the

head of one went toward the interior to encounter the knights at the head

of the relief train for Gotteswerder. The second division was led back by

Zbyszko, toward the island, in order to attack the people coming from the

castle to meet the expedition, upon the elevated ground.

It was a mild and bright morning, but down in the woods the marshes and

bushes were covered with a thick white steam which entirely obscured the

distance. That was just a desirable condition for Zbyszko, because the

Germans coming from the castle would not be able to see them in time to

retreat. The young knight was exceedingly glad of it, and said to Macko:

"Let us get to our position instead of contemplating the mist yonder. God

grant that it is not dissipated before noon."

Then he hurried to the front to give orders to the _setniks_,[116] and

immediately returned and said:

"We shall soon meet them upon the road coming from the ferry of the

island toward the interior. There we shall hide ourselves in the thicket

and watch for them."

"How do you know about that road?" asked Macko.

"We got the information from the local peasants, of whom we have quite a

number among our people who will guide us everywhere."

"At what distance from the castle do you intend to attack?"

"About one mile from it."

"Very well; because if it were nearer, the soldiers from the castle might

hurry to the rescue, but now they will not only not be able to arrive in

time, but will be beyond hearing distance."

"You see I thought about that."

"You thought about one thing, think also about another: if they are

reliable peasants, send two or three of them in front, so as to signal

when they descry the Germans coming."

"Bah! That also has been attended to."

"Then, I have yet something else to tell you; order one or two hundred

men, as soon as the battle begins, not to take part in the fight, but

hasten to the rear and cut off their retreat to the island."

"That is the first thing," replied Zbyszko. "Those orders have been

given. The Germans will fall into a trap and be snared."

Hearing this, Macko looked approvingly at his nephew; he was pleased that

in spite of his youth, he understood much of warfare; therefore he smiled

and murmured:

"Our true blood!"

But Hlawa, the shield-bearer, was more glad than Macko, because there was

nothing he loved more than war.

"I don't know the fighting capacity of our people," he said, "but they

march quietly, they are dexterous, and they seem to be eager. And if

Skirwoilla yonder has well devised his plans, then not a single foot

shall escape."

"God grant that only a few may escape," replied Zbyszko. "But I have

given orders to capture as many prisoners as possible; and if there

should happen to be a knight or a religious brother among them, he must

absolutely not be killed."

"Why not, sir?" inquired the Bohemian.

"You also take care," Zbyszko replied, "that it be so. If there be a

knight among them, he must possess much information, owing to his

wanderings in many cities and castles, seeing, and hearing much; much

more so if he is a religious member of the Order. Therefore I owe to God

my coming to this place so that I might learn something about Danusia,

and exchange prisoners. If there be any, this is the only measure left

for me."

Then he urged his horse and galloped again to the front to give his final

orders and at the same time to get rid of his sad thoughts; there was no

time to be lost, because the spot where they were to lie in ambush was

very near.

"Why does the young lord think that his little wife is alive, and that

she is somewhere in this neighborhood?" asked the Bohemian.

"Because if Zygfried, at the first impulse, did not kill her at

Szczytno," replied Macko, "then one may rightly conclude that she is

still alive. The priest of Szczytno would not have told us what he did,

in the presence of Zbyszko, if she had been killed. It is a very

difficult matter; even the most cruel man would not lift up his hand

against a defenceless woman. Bah! Against an innocent child."

"It is a hard thing, but not with the Knights of the Cross. And the

children of Prince Witold?"

"It is quite true, they have wolfish hearts. Nevertheless, it is true

that they did not kill her at Szczytno, and Zygfried himself left for

this part of the country; it is therefore possible that he had hid her in

some castle."

"Hey! If it turns out so, then I shall take this island and the castle."

"Only look at this people," said Macko.

"Surely, surely; but I have an idea that I will communicate to the young

lord."

"Even if you have ten ideas, I do not care. You cannot overthrow the

walls with pikes."

Macko pointed toward the lines of pikes, with which most of the warriors

were provided; then he asked:

"Did you ever see such soldiers?"

As a matter of fact, the Bohemian had never seen the like. There was a

dense crowd in front of them marching irregularly. Cavalry and infantry

were mixed up and could not keep proper steps while marching through the

undergrowth in the woods. In order to keep pace with the cavalry the

infantry held on to the horses' manes, saddles and tails. The warriors'

shoulders were covered with wolf, lynx and bearskins; some had attached

to their heads boars' tusks, others antlers of deer, and others still had

shaggy ears attached, so that, were it not for the protruding weapons

above their heads, and the dingy bows and arrows at their backs, they

would have looked from the rear and specially in the mist like a moving

body of wild beasts proceeding from the depths of the forest, driven by

the desire for blood or hunger, in search of prey. There was something

terrible and at the same time extraordinary in it: it had the appearance

of that wonder called _gnomon_, when, according to popular belief, wild

beasts and even stones and bushes were moving in front of them.

It was at that sight that one of the young nobles from Lenkawice, who

accompanied the Bohemian, approached him, crossed himself, and said:

"In the name of the Father and Son! I say I am marching with a pack of

wolves, and not with men."

But Hlawa, although he had never before seen such a sight, replied like

an experienced man who knows all about it and is not surprised at

anything.

"Wolves roam in packs during the winter season, but the dog-blood of the

Knights of the Cross they also taste in the spring."

It was spring indeed, the month of May; the hazel-trees which filled the

woods were covered with a bright green. Among the moss, upon which the

soldiers stepped noiselessly, appeared white and blue anemones as well as

young berries and dentillated ferns. Softened by abundant rains, the bark

of the trees produced an agreeable odor, and from the forest under foot,

consisting of pine-needles and punk, proceeded a pungent smell. The sun

displayed a rainbow in the drops upon the leaves and branches of the

trees, and above it the birds sang joyfully.

They accelerated their pace, because Zbyszko urged them on. At times

Zbyszko rode again in the rear of the division with Macko, the Bohemian

and the Mazovian volunteers. The prospect of a good battle apparently

elated him considerably, for his customary sad expression had

disappeared, and his eyes had regained their wonted brightness.

"Cheer up!" he exclaimed. "We must now place ourselves in the front--not

behind the line."

He led them to the front of the division.

"Listen," he added. "It may be that we shall catch the Germans

unexpectedly, but should they make a stand and succeed in falling in

line, then we must be the first to attack them, because our armor is

superior, and our swords are better."

"Let it be so," said Macko.

The others settled themselves in their saddles, as if they were to attack

at once. They took a long breath, and felt for their swords to see

whether they could be unsheathed with ease.

Zbyszko repeated his orders once more, that if they found among the

infantry any knights with white mantles over the armor, they were not to

kill but capture them alive; then he galloped to the guides, and halted

the division for a while.

They arrived at the highway which from the landing opposite the island

extended to the interior. Strictly speaking, there was no proper road

yet, but in reality the edge of the wood had been recently sawed through

and leveled only at the rear so much as to enable soldiers or wagons to

pass over them. On both sides of the road rose the high trunked trees,

and the old pines cut for the widening of the road. The hazelnut growths

were so thick in some places that they overran the whole forest. Zbyszko

had therefore chosen a place at the turning, so that the advancing party

would neither be able to see far, nor retreat, nor have time enough to

form themselves in battle array. It was there that he occupied both sides

of the lane and gave commands to await the enemy.

Accustomed to forest life and war, the Zmudzians took advantage of the

logs, cuts and clumps of young hazelnut growths, and fir saplings--so

that it seemed as if the earth had swallowed them up. No one spoke,

neither did the horses snort. Now and then, big and little forest animals

passed those lying in wait and came upon them before seeing them and were

frightened and rushed wildly away. At times the wind arose and filled the

forest with a solemn, rushing sound, and then again silence fell and only

the distant notes of the cuckoo and the woodpecker were audible.

The Zmudzians were glad to hear those sounds, because the woodpecker was

a special harbinger of good fortune. There were many of those birds in

that forest, and the pecking sound was heard on all sides persistent and

rapid, like human labor. One would be inclined to say, that each of those

birds had its own blacksmith's forge where it went to active labor very

early. It appeared to Macko and the Mazovians that they heard the noise

of carpenters fixing roofs upon new houses, and it reminded them of home.

But the time passed and grew tedious; nothing was heard but the noise of

the trees and the voice of birds. The mist hovering upon the plain was

lifting. The sun was quite high and it was getting hot, but they still

lay in wait. Finally Hlawa who was impatient at the silence and delay,

bent toward Zbyszko's ear and whispered:

"Sir, if God will grant, none of the dog-brothers shall escape alive. May

we not be able to reach the castle and capture it by surprise?"

"Do you suppose that the boats there are not watching, and have no

watchwords?"

"They have watchmen," replied the Bohemian, in a whisper, "but prisoners

when threatened with the knife will give up the watchword. Bah! they will

even reply in the German language. If we reach the island, then the

castle itself...."

Here he stopped, because Zbyszko put his hand upon his mouth, because

from the roadside came the croak of a raven.

"Hush!" he said. "That is a signal."

About two "paters" later, there appeared at the border a Zmudzian, riding

upon a little shaggy pony, whose hoofs were enveloped in sheepskin to

avoid the clatter and traces of horses' hoofs in the mud. The rider

looked sharply from side to side and, suddenly hearing from the thicket

an answer to the croaking, dived into the forest, and in a moment he was

near Zbyszko.

"They are coming!" ... he said.

CHAPTER VI.

Zbyszko inquired hurriedly, how many horsemen and infantry were among

them, in what manner they were advancing, and above all the exact

distance; and he learned from the Zmudzian that their number did not

exceed one hundred and fifty warriors and that about fifty of that number

were horsemen led by a Knight of the Cross, who appears to be of the

secular knights; that they were marching in ranks and had empty wagons

with a supply of wheels upon them; and that at a distance in front of the

detachment were bodies of archers composed of eight men who frequently

left the road and searched the woods and thickets, and finally that the

detachment was about one quarter of a mile distant.

Zbyszko was not particularly pleased with the information of the manner

of their advancing in battle array. He knew by experience how difficult

it was to break the ordered German ranks, and how such a crowd could

retreat and fight in the same manner as a wild-boar that defends itself

when brought to bay by dogs. On the other hand, he was glad of the news

that they were only a quarter of a mile distant, because he calculated

that the people who were detached to cut off their retreat had already

done so,--and, in case of the Germans being routed, not a single soul

could escape. As to the outpost at the head of the detachment he did not

care much, because he knew from the first that such would be the case and

was prepared for them; he had given orders to his men to allow them to

advance, and if they were engaged in searching the thickets to capture

them quietly one by one.

But the last order seemed unnecessary; the scouts advanced without delay.

The Zmudzians who were hidden in the growths near the highway had a

perfect view of the advancing party when they halted at the turning and

took counsel. The chief, a powerful red-bearded German, who signalled to

them to keep silence, began to listen. It was visible for a moment that

he hesitated whether to penetrate the forest or not. At last, as there

was only audible the hammering of the woodpeckers, and he apparently

thought that the birds would not be working so freely if people were

hidden among the trees. Therefore he waved his hand for the detachment to

go forward.

Zbyszko waited until they were near the second turning, then he

approached the road, at the head of his well-armed men, including Macko,

the Bohemian, and the two noble volunteers from Lenkawice, and three

young knights from Ciechanow, and a dozen of the better armed Zmudzian

nobles. Further concealment was not necessary. Nothing remained for

Zbyszko but to station himself in the middle of the road and, as soon as

the Germans appeared, to fall upon them, and break their ranks. If that

might be accomplished, he was sure that his Zmudzians would take care of

the Germans.

There was silence for a little while, which was only disturbed by the

usual forest noises, but soon there were heard the voices of people

proceeding from the east side; they were yet a considerable distance away

but the voices grew little by little more distinct as they approached.

Without losing a moment's time, Zbyszko and his men placed themselves in

the form of a wedge in the middle of the road. Zbyszko himself formed the

sharp end and directly behind him were Macko and the Bohemian, in the row

behind them were three men, behind those were four; all of them were well

armed. Nothing was wanting but the "wooden" lances of the knights which

could greatly impede the advance of the enemy in forest marches, instead

of those long handled lances; theirs were shorter and lighter. Zmudzian

weapons were well adapted for the first attack, and the swords and axes

at their saddles were handy for combat at close quarters.

Hlawa was wide awake and listening; then he whispered to Macko:

"They are singing, they shall be destroyed."

"But what surprises me is that the woods obscure them from our sight,"

replied Macko.

Then Zbyszko, who considered further hiding and silence unnecessary,

replied:

"Because the road leads along the stream; that is the reason for its

frequent windings."

"But how merrily they are singing!" repeated the Bohemian.

One could judge from the melody that the Germans were singing profane

songs indeed. It could also be distinguished that the singers were not

more than about a dozen, and that they all repeated only one burden which

resounded far and wide in the forest, like a thunderstorm.

Thus they went to death, rejoicing and lusty.

"We shall soon see them," said Macko.

Then his face suddenly darkened and assumed a wolf-like and savage

expression. He had a grudge against the knights for the shots which he

had received at the time when he went to Zbyszko's rescue, on that

occasion when he was the carrier of letters from Prince Witold's sister

to the grand master. Therefore his blood began to boil, and a desire for

vengeance overflowed his soul.

The fellow who first attacks will not fare well, thought Hlawa, as he

looked at the old knight.

Meanwhile the wind carried the sound of the phrase which the singers

repeated:

"Tandaradei! Tandaradei!" The Bohemian at once recognized the song known

to him:

"Bi den rôsen er wol mac

Tandaradei!

Merken wa mir'z houlet lac...."

Then the song was interrupted, because upon both sides of the road was

heard such a croaking noise that it seemed as if the crows were holding

parliament in that corner of the forest. The Germans were wondering

whence so many crows came, and why they proceeded from the ground and not

from the tops of the trees. In fact the first line of the soldiers

appeared at the turning and halted as though nailed to the spot, when

they observed unknown horsemen facing them.

At the same moment Zbyszko sat down in his saddle, spurred his horse, and

rushed forward, crying:

"At them!"

The others galloped with him. The terrible shouting of the Zmudzian

warriors was heard from the woods. Only a space of about two hundred feet

separated Zbyszko from the enemy, who, in the twinkling of an eye,

lowered a forest of lances toward Zbyszko's horsemen; the remaining lines

placed themselves with the utmost dispatch on both sides to protect

themselves against an attack from the direction of the forest. The Polish

knights might have admired the dexterity of the German tactics, but there

was no time for contemplation, owing to the great speed and impetus of

their horses in their charge upon the close phalanx of the Germans.

Happily for Zbyszko, the German cavalry were in the rear of the division

near the wagon train; in fact, they hastened at once to their assistance,

but they could neither reach them in time nor pass beyond them so as to

be of any assistance at the first attack. The Zmudzians, pouring from the

thickets, surrounded them like a swarm of poisonous wasps upon whose nest

a careless traveler had trod. Meanwhile Zbyszko and his men threw

themselves upon the infantry.

The attack was without effect. The Germans planted the ends of their

heavy lances and battle-axes in the ground, held them fast and even so

that the Zmudzian light horses could not break the wall. Macko's horse,

which received a blow from a battle-axe in the shin, reared and stood up

on his hind legs, then fell forward burying his nostrils in the ground.

For a while death was hovering above the old knight; but he was

experienced and had seen many battles, and was full of resources in

accidents. So he freed his legs from the stirrups, and grasped with his

powerful hand the sharp end of the pike which was ready to strike him,

and instead of penetrating his chest it served him as a support. Then he

freed himself, and, springing among the horsemen, he obtained a sword and

fell upon the pikes and battle-axes with such fury as an eagle swoops

upon a flock of long-beaked cranes.

At the moment of attack Zbyszko sat back on his horse, charged with his

spear--and broke it; then he also got a sword. The Bohemian, who, above

all, believed in the efficacy of an axe, threw it in the midst of the

Germans. For a while he remained without arms. One of two _wlodykas_ who

accompanied him was slain in the onset; at the sight of that, the other

lost his reason and raved so that he began to howl like a wolf, stood up

upon his blood-covered horse and charged blindly into the midst of the

throng. The Zmudzian noblemen cut with their sharp blades the spearheads

and wooden handles, behind which they observed the faces of the _knechts_

(common soldiers) upon which was depicted alarm, and at the same time

they were frowning with determination and stubbornness. But the ranks

remained unbroken. Also the Zmudzians, who made a flank attack, quickly

retreated from before the Germans, as one runs away from a venomous

snake. Indeed they returned immediately with yet greater impetuosity, but

they did not succeed. Some of them climbed up the trees in the twinkling

of an eye and directed their arrows into the midst of the _knechts_, but

when their leader saw this he ordered the soldiers to retreat toward the

cavalry. The German ranks also began to shoot, and from time to time a

Zmudzian would fall down and tear the moss in agony, or wriggle like a

fish drawn from the water. The Germans, indeed, could not count upon a

victory, but they knew the efficacy of defending themselves, so that, if

possible, a small number, at least, might manage to escape disaster and

reach the shore.

Nobody thought of surrendering, because they did not spare prisoners,

they knew that they could not count upon mercy from people who were

driven to despair and rebellion. They therefore retreated in silence, in

close rank, shoulder to shoulder, now raising, now lowering their

javelins and broad axes, hewing, shooting with their crossbows as much as

the confusion of the fighting permitted them, and continuing to retreat

slowly toward their horsemen, who were engaged in life and death battle

with another section of the enemy.

Meanwhile something strange occurred which decided the fortune of the

stubborn fight. It was caused by the young _wlodyka_ of Lenkawice, who

became mad at the death of his companion; he did not dismount, but bent

down and lifted up the body of his companion with the object of

depositing it in a safe place to save it from mutilation, and so that he

might find it after the battle was over. But at that very moment a fresh

wave of madness came over him and he entirely lost his mind, so that

instead of leaving the road, he rushed toward the German soldiers and

threw the body upon the points of their pikes, which penetrated the

corpse in various parts, and the weight caused them to bend, and before

the Germans were able to withdraw their weapons, the raving man fell in,

breaking the ranks and overturning the men like a tempest.

In the twinkling of an eye, half a score of hands were extended toward

him and as many pikes penetrated the flanks of his horse, but the ranks

were thrown into disorder, and one Zmudz noble who was near, rushed

through and immediately after him came Zbyszko, then the Bohemian, and

the terrible confusion increased every moment. Other _bojars_ followed

the example, seized corpses and thrust them against the enemies' arms,

whilst the Zmudzians again attacked the flanks. The order which had

hitherto reigned in the German ranks wavered; it began to shake like a

house whose walls are cracked; it was cleft like a log by a wedge, and

finally it burst open.

In a moment the fighting turned to slaughter, the long German pikes and

broad axes were of no use at close quarters. Instead of it the swords of

the horsemen fell upon helmet and neck. The horses pressed into the midst

of the throng, upsetting and trampling the unfortunate Germans. It was

easy for the horsemen to strike from above and they took advantage of the

opportunity and ceaselessly cut the enemy. From the woods on both sides

continually arrived wild warriors, clothed in wolves' skins, and with a

wolfish desire for blood in their hearts. Their howling drowned the

voices praying for mercy and those of the dying. The conquered threw away

their arms; some tried to escape into the forest, others feigned death

and fell to the earth, others stood erect, their faces white as snow, and

bloodshot eyes, whilst others prayed. One of them, apparently demented,

began to play the pipe, then looked upward and smiled, until a Zmudzian

crushed his head with a club. The forest ceased to rustle and death

dominated it.

Finally the small army of the Knights of the Cross melted away; only at

times there were heard voices of small bands fighting in the woods, or a

terrible cry of despair. Zbyszko, Macko and all their horsemen now

galloped toward the cavalry. They were still defending themselves,

placing themselves in the form of a wedge. The Germans were always

accustomed to adopt that manoeuvre when surrounded by an overwhelming

force of the enemy. The cavalry were mounted upon good horses and were

better armed than the infantry; they fought manfully and obstinately and

deserved admiration. There was none with a white mantle among them, but

they were of the middle classes and small nobility of the Germans who

were obliged to go to war when called upon by the Order. Most of their

horses were also armed, some had body armor; but all had iron head covers

with a spike of steel protruding from the centre. Their leader was a

tall, sturdy knight; he wore a dark blue coat of mail and a helmet of the

same color, with a lowered steel visor.

A rain of arrows was showered upon them from the depths of the forest.

But they did but little harm. The Zmudzian infantry and cavalry came

nearer and surrounded them like a wall, but they defended themselves,

cutting and thrusting with their long swords so furiously that in front

of the horses' hoofs lay a ring of corpses. The first lines of the

attackers wanted to retire, but they were unable to do so. There was a

press and confusion all around. The eyes became dazzled by the glint of

the spears and the flash of the swords. The horses began to neigh, bite,

rear and kick. Then the Zmudz noblemen charged down; Zbyszko, Hlawa and

the Mazovians fell upon them. By dint of the press, the German throng

began to waver, and swayed like trees before a storm, but they hewed like

choppers of firewood in the forest thickets, and advanced slowly amidst

fatigue and excessive heat.

But Macko ordered his men to gather together the long-handled German

battle-axes from the battlefield, and armed with them thirty of his wild

warriors pressed on eagerly toward the Germans. "Strike the horses'

legs!" he shouted. A terrible effect was soon apparent. The German

knights were unable to reach the Zmudzians with their swords, at the same

time the battle-axes were crushing the horses' legs. It was then that the

blue knight recognized that the end of the battle was at hand, and that

he had only two resources left--either to fight his way through the army

and retreat, or to remain and perish.

He chose the first plan, and in a moment his knights turned their faces

in the direction whence they came. The Zmudzians fell upon their rear.

Nevertheless the Germans threw their shields upon their shoulders and cut

in front and to the sides, and broke through the ranks of the attacking

party, and hurricane-like, fled toward the east. But that division which

had been despatched for that purpose, rushed to meet them; but by dint of

superior fighting and the greater weight of the horses, they fell in a

moment like flax before a storm. The road to the castle was open, but

escape thither was insecure and too far away, because the Zmudzian horses

were fleeter than those of the Germans. The blue knight was quite aware

of it.

"Woe!" he said to himself. "Here none will escape; perhaps I may purchase

their salvation with my own blood."

Then he shouted to his men to halt, and himself turned around toward the

foe, not caring whether any one overheard his command.

Zbyszko galloped up to him first, the German struck him upon the visor,

but without breaking it or harming Zbyszko. At the same time, Zbyszko,

instead of giving stroke for stroke, grasped the knight by the middle,

but, in the attempt to take him alive, engaged in a close struggle,

during which the girth of his horse gave way from the intense strain of

the contest, and both fell to the ground. For a while they wrestled; but

the extraordinary strength of the young man soon prevailed against his

antagonist; he pressed his knees against his stomach, holding him down as

a wolf does a dog who dares to oppose him in the woods.

But there was no need to hold him, because the German fainted. Meanwhile

Macko and the Bohemian arrived at a gallop. Zbyszko shouted: "Quick,

here! A rope!"

The Bohemian dismounted, but seeing the helplessness of the German, he

did not bind him, but disarmed him and unbuckled his armlets and his

belt, and with the attached "_misericordia_," (dagger of mercy) cut the

gorget, and lastly he unscrewed the helmet.

But he had scarcely glanced in the face of the knight, when he started

back and exclaimed:

"Master! master! please only look here!"

"De Lorche!" shouted Zbyszko.

And there lay de Lorche pale and motionless as a corpse, with closed eyes

and face covered with perspiration.

CHAPTER VII.

Zbyszko gave orders for him to be laid upon one of the captured wagons

which were laden with spare wheels and axles for the expedition coming to

relieve the castle. He mounted another horse, and with Macko they

continued the pursuit of the fleeing Germans. It was not a difficult

pursuit, because the German horses were not speedy enough, particularly

upon the ground softened by the spring rains, more especially for Macko,

who had with him a light and fleet mare which belonged to the deceased

_wlodyka_ of Lenkawice. After a distance of several furlongs he passed

almost all the Zmudzians. He soon reached the first German trooper, whom

he at once challenged according to the then prevailing custom among the

knights, to surrender or fight. But the German feigned deafness. He even

threw away his shield to relieve the horse, and bent in the saddle and

spurred his horse. The old knight struck him with his broad axe between

the shoulder-blades, and he fell to the ground.

Thus Macko avenged himself upon the fleeing Germans for the treacherous

shot he had once received. They ran before him like a herd of frightened

deer. They had no thought of continuing the fight or defending

themselves, but of fleeing before that terrible man. Some dashed into the

forest, but one stuck fast near the stream: him the Zmudzians strangled

with a halter. Then a hunt as if after wild beasts began after the crowd

of fugitives which sprang into the woods.

The depths of the forests rang with the shouts of the hunters and the

shrieks of the hunted until the latter were exterminated. Then the old

knight, accompanied by Zbyszko and the Bohemian, returned to the

battlefield upon which lay the hacked bodies of the German infantry. They

were already stripped naked. Some were mutilated by the revengeful

Zmudzians. It was an important victory, and the soldiers were drunk with

joy. After the last defeat suffered by Skirwoilla near Gotteswerder, a

sort of apathy had seized the Zmudzians, more especially because the

promised relief from Prince Witold had not yet arrived as quickly as

expected. However, now hope revived and the fire was kindled anew as when

wood is thrown upon glowing embers. The number of slain Germans, as well

as Zmudzians to be buried, was very great, but Zbyszko ordered a special

grave to be dug for the _wlodykas_ of Lenkawice, who contributed so much

toward the victory. They were buried there among the pine-trees, and

Zbyszko cut a cross with his sword upon the bark. Then he ordered the

Bohemian to keep watch over de Lorche who was still unconscious; he

stirred up the people and hurried on along the road toward Skirwoilla to

lend him affective assistance in case of emergency.

But after a long march he came across a deserted battlefield that

resembled the former, being covered with German and Zmudzian corpses. It

was easy for Zbyszko to conclude that the terrible Skirwoilla had also

gained an equally important victory over the enemy, because if he had

been defeated, Zbyszko would have met the victorious Germans marching to

the castle. But the victory must have been a bloody one, because for some

distance a great number of dead were met with. The experienced Macko was

able to deduce from this that some Germans had even succeeded in

retreating from the defeat.

It was difficult to tell whether Skirwoilla was pursuing them or not,

because the tracks were mingled and confused. He also concluded that the

battle had taken place quite early, perhaps earlier than Zbyszko's fight,

for the corpses were livid and swollen, and some of them torn by wolves,

that scattered in the thickets at the approach of armed men.

In face of these circumstances Zbyszko resolved not to wait for

Skirwoilla, but to return to the original safe camp. He arrived there

late at night and found the leader of the Zmudzians who had arrived

somewhat early. His face, which usually wore a sullen expression, was now

lighted with fiendish joy. He asked at once about the result of the

fight, and when he was told of the victory he said in tones that sounded

like the croaking of a crow:

"I am glad of your victory, and I am glad of mine. They will send no more

relief expeditions for some time, and when the great prince arrives there

will be more joy, for the castle will be ours."

"Have you taken any prisoners?" inquired Zbyszko.

"Only small fry, no pike. There was one, there were two but they got

away. They were pikes with sharp teeth! They cut the people and escaped."

"God granted me one." replied the young knight. "He is a powerful and

renowned knight, although a Swede--a guest!"

The terrible Zmudzian raised his hands to his neck and with the right

hand made a gesture like the up-jerk of a halter:

"This shall happen to him," he said, "to him as well as to the other

prisoners ... this!"

Then Zbyszko's brow furrowed.

"Listen, Skirwoilla," he said. "Nothing will happen to him, neither

_this_ nor _that_ because he is my prisoner and my friend. Prince Janusz

knighted both of us. I will not even permit you to cut off one finger

from his hand."

"You will not permit?"

"No, I will not."

Then they glared fiercely into each other's eyes. Skirwoilla's face was

so much wrinkled that it had the appearance of a bird of prey. It

appeared as if both were about to burst out. But Zbyszko did not want any

trouble with the old leader, whom he prized and respected; moreover his

heart was greatly agitated with the events of the day. He fell suddenly

upon his neck, pressed him to his breast and exclaimed:

"Do you really desire to tear him from me, and with him my last hope? Why

do you wrong me?"

Skirwoilla did not repel the embrace. Finally, withdrawing his head from

Zbyszko's arm, he looked at him benignantly, breathing heavily.

"Well," he said, after a moment's silence. "Well, to-morrow I will give

orders for the prisoners to be hanged, but if you want any one of them, I

will give him to you."

Then they embraced each other again and parted on good terms--to the

great satisfaction of Macko, who said:

"It is obvious that you will never be able to do anything with him by

anger, but with kindness you can knead him like wax."

"Such is the whole nation," replied Zbyszko; "but the Germans do not know

it."

Then he gave orders for de Lorche, who had taken rest in the booth, to be

brought to the camp-fire. A moment later the Bohemian brought him in; he

was unarmed and without a helmet, having only his leather jacket upon

which the marks of the coat of mail were visible. He had a red cap on his

head. De Lorche had already been informed by Hlawa that he was a prisoner

and therefore he came in looking cool and haughty, and the light of the

flames revealed defiance and contempt in his countenance.

"Thank God," Zbyszko said, "that He delivered you in my hands, because

nothing evil shall happen to you by me."

Then he extended a friendly hand; but de Lorche did not even move.

"I decline to give my hand to knights who outrage knightly honor, by

joining pagans in fighting Christian knights."

One of the Mazovians present, who could not restrain himself, owing to

Zbyszko's importance, on hearing this became excited and his blood

boiled.

"Fool!" he shouted and involuntarily grasped the handle of his

"_misericordia_."

But de Lorche lifted up his head.

"Kill me," he said. "I know that you do not spare prisoners."

"But, do you spare prisoners?" the Mazur who could not restrain himself,

exclaimed: "Did you not hang on the shore of the island all the prisoners

you took in the last fight? That is the reason why Skirwoilla will hang

all his prisoners."

"Yes! they did hang them, but they were pagans."

There was a certain sense of shame in his reply; it could easily be seen

that he did not entirely approve of such deeds.

Meanwhile, Zbyszko controlled himself, and in a quiet and dignified

manner said:

"De Lorche, you and I received our belts and spurs from the same hand,

you also know well that knightly honor is dearer to me than life and

fortune. Listen, therefore, to my words which I say under oath to Saint

Jerzy: There are many among this people whose Christianity does not date

from yesterday, and those who have not yet been converted stretch out

their hands toward the Cross for salvation. But, do you know who hinder

them and prevent their salvation and baptism?"

The Mazur translated all Zbyszko's words to de Lorche, who looked into

the young knight's face questioningly.

"The Germans!" said Zbyszko.

"Impossible," shouted de Lorche.

"By the spear and spurs of Saint Jerzy, the Germans! Because if the

religion of the Cross were to be propagated here, they would lose a

pretext for incursions, and domination and oppression of this unhappy

people. You are well acquainted with these facts, de Lorche! You are best

informed whether their dealings are upright or not."

"But I think that in fighting with the pagans they are only banishing

them to prepare them for baptism."

"They are baptizing them with the sword and blood, not with water that

saves. Read this letter, I pray, and you will be convinced that you

yourself are the wrongdoer, plunderer and the hell-_starosta_ of those

who fight religion and Christian love."

Then he handed him the letter which the Zmudzians had written to the

kings and princes, which was distributed everywhere; de Lorche took it

and perused it rapidly by the light of the fire. He was greatly

surprised, and said;

"Can all that be true?"

"May God, who sees best, so help you and me that I am not only speaking

the truth but I also serve justice."

De Lorche was silent for a moment and then said:

"I am your prisoner."

"Give me your hand," replied Zbyszko. "You are my brother, not my

prisoner."

Then they clasped hands and sat down in company to supper, which the

Bohemian ordered the servant to prepare.

De Lorche was greatly surprised when he was informed on the road that

Zbyszko, in spite of his letters, had not got Danusia, and that the

_comthurs_ had refused important and safe conduct on account of the

outbreak of the war.

"Now I understand why you are here," he said to Zbyszko, "and I thank God

that He delivered me into your hands, because I think that through me the

Knights of the Order will surrender to you what you wish. Otherwise there

will be a great outcry in the West, because I am a knight of importance

and come from a powerful family...."

Then he suddenly threw down his cap and exclaimed:

"By all the relics of Akwizgran! Then those who were at the head of the

relief train to Gotteswerder, were Arnold von Baden and old Zygfried von

Löve. That we learned from the letters which were sent to the castle.

Were they taken prisoners?"

"No!" said Zbyszko, excitedly. "None of the most important! But, by God!

The news you tell me is important. For God's sake, tell me, are there

other prisoners from whom I can learn whether there were any women with

Zygfried?"

Then he called the men to bring him lit resinous chips and he hastened to

where the prisoners were gathered by order of Skirwoilla. De Lorche,

Macko and the Bohemian ran with him.

"Listen," said de Lorche to Zbyszko, on the way. "If you will let me free

on parole I will run and seek her throughout the whole of Prussia, and

when I find her, I will return to you and you will exchange me for her."

"If she lives! If she lives!" replied Zbyszko.

Meanwhile they reached the place where Skirwoilla's prisoners were. Some

were lying upon their backs, others stood near the stumps of trees to

which they were cruelly fastened with fibre. The bright flame of the

chips illuminated Zbyszko's face. Therefore all the prisoners' looks were

directed toward him.

Then from the depths of the road there was heard a loud and terrible

voice:

"My lord and protector! Oh, save me!"

Zbyszko snatched from the hands of the servant a couple of burning chips

and ran into the forest toward the direction whence the voice proceeded,

holding aloft the burning chips, and cried:

"Sanderus!"

"Sanderus!" repeated the Bohemian, in astonishment.

But Sanderus, whose hands were bound to the tree, stretched his neck and

began to shout again.

"Mercy!... I know where Jurand's daughter is!... Save me."

CHAPTER VIII.

The soldiers unbound him at once, but his limbs were benumbed and he

fell; when they lifted him up he was seized with successive fainting

fits. In spite of Zbyszko's orders for him to be taken to the fire and

given food and drink, and rubbed over with fat and then covered with

warmed skins, Sanderus did not recover consciousness, but lapsed into a

very deep sleep, which continued until noon of the following day when the

Bohemian succeeded in awakening him.

Zbyszko, who was burning with fiery impatience, immediately went to him,

but at first he could get no information from him, because either from

his terrible experiences or from the relaxation which usually overpowers

weak natures when the threatening danger has passed, Sanderus burst into

long and uncontrollable weeping, so that for some time he could give no

answer to the questions put to him. He was choked with sobs, his lips

trembled, and tears flowed down his cheeks so copiously that it seemed as

though his very life was flowing out with them.

Finally he succeeded to some extent in controlling himself, and he

strengthened himself a little with mares' milk, which mode of refreshing

themselves the Lithunians learned from the Tartars. He began to complain

that the "sons of Belial" had thrust him with their pikes against a wild

apple-tree; that they had taken away his horse which was laden with

relics of priceless virtue; and finally when they had bound him to the

tree, the ants had attacked his feet and body so that he expected to die

from it, if not to-day, to-morrow.

Zbyszko's anger overcame him and he could restrain himself no longer, and

he interrupted Sanderus and said:

"You vagabond, answer the questions I am going to put to you and take

care that you tell the truth, or you will fare worse."

"There are red ants yonder," said the Bohemian, "order them to be pat

upon him, and he will soon find a tongue in his mouth."

Hlawa did not say this seriously; he even smiled as he spoke, for his

heart was well inclined toward Sanderus. The latter, however, was

terror-stricken, and shouted.

"Mercy! Mercy! Give me some more of that pagan drink and I will tell you

all that I have and that I have not seen."

"If you tell lies, even one word that is not true, I will drive a wedge

between your teeth," said the Bohemian.

They brought him another skin full of mares' milk; he grasped it and

fastened his lips to it with the avidity that a child does to its

mother's breast, and began to gulp it down, alternatively opening and

closing his eyes. When he had drank from it about half a gallon or more,

he shook himself, placed the skin upon his knees, and as if submitting

himself to the inevitable, he said:

"Vile stuff!..." Then he turned toward Zbyszko. "Now, deliverer! ask."

"Was my wife in that division with you?"

Sanderus' face assumed a certain air of surprise. In fact he had heard

that Danusia was Zbyszko's wife, but it had been a secret marriage, and

immediately afterward she had been abducted, and he had always thought of

her as Jurandowna, (Miss Jurand).

He replied quickly:

"Yes, _voyevode!_ She was! But Zygfried von Löve and Arnold von Baden

broke through the enemy's ranks and escaped."

"Did you see her?" asked Zbyszko, with beating heart.

"I did not see her face, sir, but I saw a closed litter made of

brushwood, suspended between two horses, in which there was somebody, led

by that very lizard, the same servant of the Order who came from Danveld

to the Forest Court. I also heard sad singing proceeding from the

litter...."

Zbyszko grew pale with emotion; he sat down on the stump and was unable

to ask another question for a while. Macko and the Bohemian were also

much moved at this great and important news. The latter, probably,

thought about his beloved lady who remained at Spychow, and upon whom

this news would fall like a doom.

There was silence for a moment. Finally, the shrewd Macko who did not

know Sanderus, and who had scarcely heard of him previously, looked at

him with suspicion, and asked:

"Who are you and what were you doing among the Knights of the Cross?"

"Who am I, powerful knight?" replied Sanderus. "Let this valiant prince

answer for me," (here he pointed toward Zbyszko), "and this manly

Bohemian noble who has known me long."

The effect of the kumys (mares' milk) upon Sanderus apparently began to

show itself, for he grew lively, and turning to Zbyszko he spoke in a

loud voice and showed no trace of his previous feeble condition.

"Sir, you have saved my life twice. If it were not for you, the wolves

would have devoured me, or the punishment of the bishops who were

misguided by my enemies. (Oh, what a wicked world this is!) They issued

an order to hunt me for selling relics which they thought were not

genuine, simply because they took me for one of your people. But you, O

lord, protected me, and thanks to you I was not destroyed by the wolves,

nor shall their persecution harm me. Food and drink was never lacking

whilst I was with you--better than the mares' milk here which makes me

sick, but I drink it in order to show how a poor but pious pilgrim can

stand all kinds of privations."

"Speak, you bear-trainer; tell us quickly what you know, and do not play

the fool," exclaimed Macko.

But he lifted the skin to his mouth again and entirely emptied it;

apparently not hearing Macko's words, he turned again to Zbyszko: "This

is another reason why I love you. The saints, as it is written in the

Scriptures, sinned nine times an hour, consequently, sometimes also

Sanderus transgresses, but Sanderus never was nor shall be ungrateful.

Therefore, when misfortune came upon you, you remember, sir, what I told

you; I said, 'I will go from castle to castle, and, instructing the

people along the road, I will search for your lost one.' Whom did I not

ask? Where did I not go?--It would take me a long time to tell you.--But,

suffice it to say, I found her; and from that moment on, burrs do not

cling as tenaciously to the cloak as I attached myself to old Zygfried. I

became his servant, and from castle to castle, from one _comthur_ to

another, from town to town I went with him without intermission until

this last battle."

Zybszko meanwhile mastered his emotion and said:

"I am very thankful to you and I shall surely reward you. But now, answer

my questions. Will you swear, by the salvation of your soul, that she is

alive?"

"I swear by the salvation of my soul that she is alive," replied

Sanderus, with a serious air.

"Why did Zygfried leave Szczytno?"

"I do not know, sir. But I surmise that as he was never the _starosta_ of

Szczytno, he left it; perhaps he feared the grand master's orders, which

were, they say, to give up the little lamb to the Mazovian court. Perhaps

that very letter was the cause of his flight, because his soul burned

within him with pain and vengeance for Rotgier who, they say now, was

Zygfried's own son. I cannot tell what happened there, but this I do

know, that something turned his head and he raved, and determined not to

surrender Jurand's daughter--I meant to say, the young lady--as long as

he lives."

"All this seems to me very strange," suddenly interrupted Macko. "If that

old dog thirsts so much for the blood of all who belong to Jurand, he

would have killed Danuska."

"He wanted to do so," replied Sanderus, "but something happened to him

and he became very sick, and was at the point of death. His people

whisper much over that affair. Some say that upon a certain night when he

went to the tower intending to kill the young lady he met the Evil

Spirit--some say it was an angel whom he met--well--they found him lying

upon the snow in front of the tower wholly lifeless. Now, when he thinks

about it, his hair stands up upon his head like oak-trees; this is the

reason why he does not himself dare to lift up his hand against her, he

even fears to order others to do it. He has with him the dumb executioner

of Szczytno, but it is not known why, because the executioner as well as

others, are equally afraid to harm her."

These words made a great impression. Zbyszko, Macko and the Bohemian came

near Sanderus, who crossed himself and then continued:

"It was not well to be among them. More than once I heard and saw things

that made my flesh creep. I have told your lordship already that

something was wrong with the old _comthur's_ head. Bah! How could it be

otherwise, when spirits from the other world visit him. He would have

remained there, but some presence is always near him which sounds like

one who is breathless. And that is that very Danveld, whom the terrible

lord of Spychow killed. Then Zygfried says to him: 'What shall I do? I

cannot avenge you on anything; what profit will you get?' But the other

(the ghost) gnashes his teeth and then pants again. Very often Rotgier

appears, and the odor of sulphur is noticeable, and the _comthur_ has a

lengthy conversation with him. 'I cannot,' he says to him. 'I cannot.

When I come myself then I will do it, but now I cannot.' I also heard the

old man asking: 'Will that comfort you, dear son,' and other expressions

of the same character. When this happens, the old _comthur_ speaks to

nobody for two or three days in succession, and his face seems as if he

is suffering intense pain. He and the woman servant of the Order watch

the litter carefully, so that the young lady is always unable to see

anybody."

"Do they not torture her?" asked Zbyszko, in hollow tones.

"I will tell your lordship the candid truth, that I did not hear any

beating or crying; the only thing I heard proceeding from the litter was

sad melodies; sometimes it seemed to me like sweet, sad warblings of a

bird...."

"That is terrible," exclaimed Zbyszko, his voice hissing between his set

teeth.

But Macko interrupted further questioning.

"That is enough," he said. "Speak now of the battle. Did you see how they

departed and what became of them?"

"I saw and will give a faithful account. At first they fought terribly.

But when they saw that they were surrounded on all sides, then only they

thought of escape. Sir Arnold, who is quite a giant, was the first to

break the ring, and opened such a road, that he, the old _comthur_ and

some people with the horse-litter succeeded in passing through it."

"How is it that they were not pursued?"

"They were pursued, but nothing could be done, because when they came too

near them, then Sir Arnold faced the pursuers and fought them all. God

protect those who meet him, because he possesses such extraordinary

strength; he considers it a trifle to fight against a hundred. Thrice he

thus turned, thrice he kept the pursuers in check. All the people who

were with him perished. It seems to me that he too was wounded, and so

was his horse, but he escaped, and meanwhile the old _comthur_ succeeded

in making good his escape."

When Macko heard the story he thought that Sanderus was telling the

truth, for he recollected that when he entered the field where Skirwoilla

had given battle, the whole stretch of the road on the line of the

Germans' retreat, was covered with dead Zmudzians, so terribly hacked as

though it had been done by giant hands.

"Nevertheless, how could you observe all that?" he asked Sanderus.

"I saw it," replied the vagabond, "because I grasped the tail of one of

the horses which carried the litter, and held on until I received a kick

in my stomach. Then I fainted, and that was the reason that you captured

me."

"That might happen," said Hlawa, "but take care, if anything you say

turns out to be false; in such case you shall fare badly."

"There is another proof," replied Sanderus; "let one who wishes take a

note of it; yet it is better to believe a man's word than to condemn him

as one who does not tell the truth."

"Although you sometimes unwillingly tell the truth, you will howl for

simony."

And they began to tease each other as they formerly did, but Zbyszko

interrupted their chatter.

"You have passed through that region, then you must be acquainted with

the localities in the neighborhood of the castles; where do you suppose

Zygfried and Arnold hide themselves?"

"There are no strongholds whatever in that neighborhood; all is one

wilderness, through which a road was recently cut. There are neither

villages nor farms. The Germans burned those that were there, for the

reason that the inhabitants of those places who are also Zmudzians, had

also risen in arms against the Knights of the Cross with their brethren

here. I think, sir, that Zygfried and Arnold are now wandering about the

woods; either they are trying to return to the place whence they came, or

attempting furtively to reach that fortress whither we were going to

before that unfortunate battle."

"I am sure that it is so," said Zbyszko. He became absorbed in thought so

that he contracted his brows; he was obviously trying to find some plan,

but it did not last long. After a while he lifted up his head and said:

"Hlawa! See that the horses and men get ready; we must move at once."

The Bohemian, whose custom was never to ask for reasons when commanded,

without saying a single word, got up and ran toward the horses; then

Macko opened wide his eyes at his nephew and said with surprise:

"And ... Zbyszko? Hey! Where are you going? What?... How?..."

But he answered his questions with another:

"And what do you think? Is it not my duty?"

The old knight had nothing to say. His looks of astonishment disappeared

little by little from his face; he shook his head once or twice and

finally drew a deep breath and said as though replying to himself:

"Well! there you are.... There is no other remedy!"

And he also went to the horses, but Zbyszko returned to de Lorche, and by

means of a Mazovian interpreter spoke to him thus:

"I cannot ask you to go with me against the people with whom you served.

You are therefore free and you may go wherever you please."

"I cannot serve you now with my sword against my knightly honor," replied

de Lorche; "but as to your granting me my freedom, I cannot accept that

either. I remain your prisoner on parole and shall be at your command

whithersoever you send me. And in case you want to exchange prisoners,

remember that the Order will exchange for me any prisoner, because I am

not only a powerful knight, but I am a descendant of a line of Knights of

the Cross of great merit."

Then they embraced each other according to custom, placing their hands on

each other's arms and kissing each other on the cheeks, and de Lorche

said:

"I will go to Malborg or to the Mazovian court, so that you may know if I

am not in one place you can find me in the other. Thy messenger need only

tell me the two words, '_Lotaryngia-Geldria_'"

"Well," said Zbyszko, "still I will go to Skirwoilla to obtain a pass for

you which the Zmudzians will respect."

Then he called upon Skirwoilla; the old leader gave the pass for his

departure without any difficulty, for he knew all about the affair and

loved Zbyszko; he was grateful to him for his bravery in the last battle,

and for this very reason he made no objection whatever to the departure

of the knight who belonged to another country and came on his own

account. Then, thanking Zbyszko for the great services which he had

rendered, he looked at him in surprise at his courage in undertaking a

journey in the wild lands; he bid him good-bye, expressing his wishes to

meet him again in some greater and more conclusive affair against the

Knights of the Cross.

But Zbyszko was in a great hurry, for he was consumed as with a fever.

When he arrived at the post he found everybody ready, and his uncle,

Macko, on horseback, among them; he was armed and had on his coat of mail

and his helmet upon his head. Zbyszko approached him and said:

"Then you too go with me!"

"But what else could I do?" replied Macko, a little testily.

Zbyszko did not reply, but kissed the right hand of his uncle, then

mounted his horse and proceeded.

Sanderus went with them. They knew the road as far as the battlefield

very well, but beyond that he was to guide them. They also counted upon

the local inhabitants whom they might meet in the woods; who, out of

hatred of their masters, the Knights of the Cross, would aid them in

tracking the old _comthur_ and the knight, Arnold von Baden, to whom

Sanderus attributed such superhuman strength and bravery.

CHAPTER IX.

The road to the battlefield where Skirwoilla had routed the Germans was

easy, because they knew it, and so they soon reached it. Owing to the

insufferable stench arising from the unburied dead, they crossed it in a

hurry. As they did so, they drove away wolves, and large flights of

crows, ravens and jackdaws. Then they began to look for traces along the

road. Although a whole division had passed over it on the previous day,

nevertheless, the experienced Macko found upon the trampled road without

trouble, the imprint of gigantic hoofs leading in an opposite direction.

Then he explained to the younger and less experienced companions-in-arms:

"It is fortunate that there has been no rainfall since the battle. Only

look here. Arnold's horse carrying an unusually big man must also be

exceedingly large; this too is easily observed, that the imprint of the

horse's feet on this side of the road is much deeper, owing to the

galloping in his flight; whilst the tracks marking the previous march on

the other side of the road are not so deep, because the horse walked

slowly. Let those who have eyes look how the marks of the horseshoes are

visible. God grant that we may track those dog-brothers successfully,

provided they have not already found shelter somewhere behind walls!"

"Sanderus said," replied Zbyszko, "that there are no forts in this

neighborhood, and it is actually so; because the Knights of the Cross

have only recently taken possession of this region and have not had

enough time to build in it. Then where can they hide themselves? All the

peasants who dwelt in these lands joined Skirwoilla, because they belong

to the same stock as the Zmudzians.... The villages, Sanderus said, these

same Germans destroyed by fire and the women and children are hidden in

the thick forest. Provided we do not spare our horses we shall yet

overtake them."

"We must spare the horses, for even if we overtake them our safety

afterward depends upon our horses," said Macko.

"Sir Arnold," interrupted Sanderus, "received a blow between his

shoulder-blades in battle. He took no notice of it at first, but kept on

fighting and slaying, but they were obliged to dress it afterward; as is

always the case, at first one does not feel the blows but they pain later

on. For this reason he cannot exert himself too much to run fast and it

may be that he is even obliged to rest himself."

"You said that there are no other people with them?" inquired Macko.

"There are two who lead the litter, the _comthur_ and Sir Arnold. There

were quite a number of men with them, but the Zmudzians killed them."

"Let our men lay hold of the two fellows who are with the litter," said

Zbyszko. "You, uncle, manage old Zygfried, and I will pounce upon

Arnold."

"Well," replied Macko, "I shall be able to manage Zygfried, because,

thank God, there is still strength in these bones. But as far as your

task is concerned, I should say, do not be so self-confident, for that

knight seems to be a giant."

"O well! We shall see," replied Zbyszko.

"You are strong, that I don't dispute, but there are stronger men than

you are. Did you observe our own knights whom we met at Krakow? Could you

conquer Pan Powala of Taczew, Paszko Zlodziej of Biskupice, and Zawisza

Czarny, eh? Don't be too rash, but consider the facts."

"Rotgier also was a strong man," murmured Zbyszko.

"Will there be any work for myself?" asked the Bohemian. But he received

no reply, because Macko was thinking about something else.

"If God blesses us we shall be able to reach the Mazowiecki wilderness.

We shall be safe there, and all trouble will be at an end."

But after a while he sighed when he reflected that even there affairs

would not be entirely ended, there would yet be something to attend to

for the unfortunate Jagienka.

"Hey!" he murmured, "God's decrees are wonderful. I had often thought

about it. Why did it not occur to you to get married quietly, and let me

live with you peacefully. That would have been the most happy course. But

now we are the only ones among the noblemen of the kingdom, who are

wandering in various regions and wilds, instead of attending to our homes

as God commands."

"Well, that is true, but it is God's will," replied Zbyszko.

Then they proceeded on their journey for a while in silence. The old

knight turned again to his nephew:

"Do you rely on that vagabond? Who is he?"

"He is a fickle man and perhaps he is a rogue, but he wishes me well, and

I am not afraid of treachery from him."

"If so let him ride in front, for if he overtakes them he will not be

scared. Let him tell them that he is fleeing from captivity, and they

will easily believe him. This is the best way, because if they chanced to

see us they might evade us and hide themselves, or have time enough to

prepare for defence."

"He is afraid and will not travel by himself at night," replied Zbyszko.

"But during the daytime I am sure that that plan is the best one to

adopt. I will tell him to stop and wait for us three times during the

day. If we do not find him at the appointed places then it will be a sign

that he is already with them, and following up his tracks we will fall

upon them unexpectedly."

"But will he not warn them?"

"No. He is more friendly to me than to them. I will also tell him that

when we surprise them we will also bind him, so that he may escape their

revenge later on. Let him not recognize us at all...."

"Do you intend to preserve those fellows alive?"

"How else should it be?" replied Zbyszko, somewhat anxiously. "You

see.... If it were in our country, at home in Mazowsze, we would

challenge them, as I challenged Rotgier, to mortal combat; but this

cannot be here in their own country.... What concerns us here is Danuska

and speed. In order to avoid trouble all must be done quietly afterward

we will do as you said and push on as fast as our horses can go, to the

wilds of Mazowsze. But attacking them unexpectedly we might find them

unarmed, yes, even without their swords. Then how could we kill them? I

am afraid of reproach. We are now both of us, belted knights, so are

they...."

"It is so," said Macko. "Yet it may lead to an encounter."