The horses bore Kmita and the Kyemliches swiftly toward the Silesian
boundary. They advanced with caution to avoid meeting Swedish scouts,
for though the cunning Kyemliches had “passes,” given by Kuklinovski
and signed by Miller, still soldiers, though furnished with such
documents, were usually subjected to examination, and examination might
have an evil issue for Pan Andrei and his comrades. They rode,
therefore, swiftly, so as to pass the boundary in all haste and push
into the depth of the Emperor’s territory. The boundaries themselves
were not free from Swedish ravagers, and frequently whole parties of
horsemen rode into Silesia to seize those who were going to Yan
Kazimir. But the Kyemliches, during their stay at Chenstohova, occupied
continually with hunting individual Swedes, had learned through and
through the whole region, all the boundary roads, passages, and paths
where the chase was most abundant, and were as if in their own land.
Along the road old Kyemlich told Pan Andrei what was to be heard in the
Commonwealth; and Pan Andrei, having been confined so long in the
fortress, forgetting his own pain, listened to the news eagerly, for it
was very unfavorable to the Swedes, and heralded a near end to their
domination in Poland.
“The army is sick of Swedish fortune and Swedish company,” said old
Kyemlich; “and as some time ago the soldiers threatened the hetmans
with their lives if they would not join the Swedes, so now the same men
entreat Pototski and send deputations asking him to save the
Commonwealth from oppression, swearing to stand by him to the death.
Some colonels also have begun to attack the Swedes on their own
responsibility.”
“Who began first?”
“Jegotski, the starosta of Babimost, and Pan Kulesha. These began in
Great Poland, and annoy the Swedes notably. There are many small
divisions in the whole country, but it is difficult to learn the names
of the leaders, for they conceal them to save their own families and
property from Swedish vengeance. Of the army that regiment rose first
which is commanded by Pan Voynillovich.”
“Gabryel? He is my relative, though I do not know him.”
“A genuine soldier. He is the man who rubbed out Pratski’s party, which
was serving the Swedes, and shot Pratski himself; but now he has gone
to the rough mountains beyond Cracow; there he cut up a Swedish
division, and secured the mountaineers from oppression.”
“Are the mountaineers fighting with the Swedes already?”
“They were the first to rise; but as they are stupid peasants, they
wanted to rescue Cracow straightway with axes. General Douglas
scattered them, for they knew nothing of the level country; but of the
parties sent to pursue them in the mountains, not a man has returned.
Pan Voynillovich has helped those peasants, and now has gone himself to
the marshal at Lyubovlya, and joined his forces.”
“Is Pan Lyubomirski, the marshal, opposed to the Swedes?”
“Reports disagreed. They said that he favored this side and that; but
when men began to mount their horses throughout the whole country he
went against the Swedes. He is a powerful man, and can do them a great
deal of harm. He alone might war with the King of Sweden. People say
too that before spring there will not be one Swede in the
Commonwealth.”
“God grant that!”
“How can it be otherwise, your grace, since for the siege of
Chenstohova all are enraged against them? The army is rising, the
nobles are fighting already wherever they can, the peasants are
collecting in crowds, and besides, the Tartars are marching; the Khan,
who defeated Hmelnitski and the Cossacks, and promised to destroy them
completely unless they would march against the Swedes, is coming in
person.”
“But the Swedes have still much support among magnates and nobles?”
“Only those take their part who must, and even they are merely waiting
for a chance. The prince voevoda of Vilna is the only man who has
joined them sincerely, and that act has turned out ill for him.”
Kmita stopped his horse, and at the same time caught his side, for
terrible pain had shot through him.
“In God’s name!” cried he, suppressing a groan, “tell me what is taking
place with Radzivill. Is he all the time in Kyedani?”
“O Ivory Gate!” said the old man; “I know as much as people say, and
God knows what they do not say. Some report that the prince voevoda is
living no longer; others that he is still defending himself against Pan
Sapyeha, but is barely breathing. It is likely that they are struggling
with each other in Podlyasye, and that Pan Sapyeha has the upper hand,
for the Swedes could not save the prince voevoda. Now they say that,
besieged in Tykotsin by Sapyeha, it is all over with him.”
“Praise be to God! The honest are conquering traitors! Praise be to
God! Praise be to God!”
Kyemlich looked from under his brows at Kmita, and knew not himself
what to think, for it was known in the whole Commonwealth that if
Radzivill had triumphed in the beginning over his own troops and the
nobles who did not wish Swedish rule, it happened, mainly, thanks to
Kmita and his men. But old Kyemlich did not let that thought be known
to his colonel, and rode farther in silence.
“But what has happened to Prince Boguslav?” asked Pan Andrei, at last.
“I have heard nothing of him, your grace,” answered Kyemlich. “Maybe he
is in Tykotsin, and maybe with the elector. War is there at present,
and the King of Sweden has gone to Prussia; but we meanwhile are
waiting for our own king. God give him! for let him only show himself,
all to a man will rise, and the troops will leave the Swedes
straightway.”
“Is that certain?”
“Your grace, I know only what those soldiers said who had to be with
the Swedes at Chenstohova. They are very fine cavalry, some thousands
strong, under Zbrojek, Kalinski, and other colonels. I may tell your
grace that no man serves there of his own will, except Kuklinovski’s
ravagers; they wanted to get the treasures of Yasna Gora. But all
honorable soldiers did nothing but lament, and one quicker than another
complained: ‘We have enough of this Jew’s service! Only let our king
put a foot over the boundary, we will turn our sabres at once on the
Swedes; but while he is not here, how can we begin, whither can we go?’
So they complain; and in the other regiments which are under the
hetmans it is still worse. This I know certainly, for deputations came
from them to Pan Zbrojek with arguments, and they had secret talks
there at night; this Miller did not know, though he felt that there was
evil about him.”
“But is the prince voevoda of Vilna besieged in Tykotsin?” asked Pan
Andrei.
Kyemlich looked again unquietly on Kmita, for he thought that surely a
fever was seizing him if he asked to have the same information
repeated; still he answered,—
“Besieged by Pan Sapyeha.”
“Just are Thy judgments, God!” said Kmita. “He who might compare in
power with kings! Has no one remained with him?”
“In Tykotsin there is a Swedish garrison. But with the prince only some
of his trustiest attendants have remained.”
Kmita’s breast was filled with delight. He had feared the vengeance of
the terrible magnate on Olenka, and though it seemed to him that he had
prevented that vengeance with his threats, still he was tormented by
the thought that it would be better and safer for Olenka and all the
Billeviches to live in a lion’s den than in Kyedani, under the hand of
the prince, who never forgave any man. But now when he had fallen his
opponents must triumph by the event; now when he was deprived of power
and significance, when he was lord of only one poor castle, in which he
defended his own life and freedom, he could not think of vengeance; his
hand had ceased to weigh on his enemies.
“Praise be to God! praise be to God!” repeated Kmita.
He had his head so filled with the change in Radzivill’s fortunes, so
occupied with that which had happened during his stay in Chenstohova,
and with the question where was she whom his heart loved, and what had
become of her, that a third time he asked Kyemlich: “You say that the
prince is broken?”
“Broken completely,” answered the old man. “But are you not sick?”
“My side is burned. That is nothing!” answered Kmita.
Again they rode on in silence. The tired horses lessened their speed by
degrees, till at last they were going at a walk. That monotonous
movement lulled to sleep Pan Andrei, who was mortally wearied, and he
slept long, nodding in the saddle. He was roused only by the white
light of day. He looked around with amazement, for in the first moment
it seemed to him that everything through which he had passed in that
night was merely a dream; at last he inquired,—
“Is that you, Kyemlich? Are we riding from Chenstohova?”
“Of course, your grace.”
“But where are we?”
“Oho, in Silesia already. Here the Swedes will not get us.”
“That is well!” said Kmita, coming to his senses completely. “But where
is our gracious king living?”
“At Glogov.”
“We will go there then to bow down to our lord, and offer him service.
But listen, old man, to me.”
“I am listening, your grace.”
Kmita fell to thinking, however, and did not speak at once. He was
evidently combining something in his head; he hesitated, considered,
and at last said: “It cannot be otherwise!”
“I am listening, your grace,” repeated Kyemlich.
“Neither to the king nor to any man at the court must you mutter who I
am. I call myself Babinich, I am faring from Chenstohova. Of the great
gun and of Kuklinovski you may talk, so that my intentions be not
misconstrued, and I be considered a traitor, for in my blindness I
aided and served Prince Radzivill; of this they may have heard at the
court.”
“I may speak of what your grace did at Chenstohova—”
“But who will show that ’tis true till the siege is over?”
“I will act at your command.”
“The day will come for truth to appear at the top,” added Kmita, as it
were to himself, “but first our gracious lord must convince himself.
Later he also will give me his witness.”
Here the conversation was broken. By this time it had become perfect
day. Old Kyemlich began to sing matins, and Kosma and Damian
accompanied him with bass voices. The road was difficult, for the frost
was cutting, and besides, the travellers were stopped continually and
asked for news, especially if Chenstohova was resisting yet. Kmita
answered that it was resisting, and would take care of itself; but
there was no end to questions. The roads were swarming with travellers,
the inns everywhere filled. Some people were seeking refuge in the
depth of the country from the neighboring parts of the Commonwealth
before Swedish oppression; others were pushing toward the boundary for
news. From time to time appeared nobles, who, having had enough of the
Swedes, were going, like Kmita, to offer their services to the fugitive
king. There were seen, also, attendants of private persons; at times
smaller or larger parties of soldiers, from armies, which either
voluntarily or in virtue of treaties with the Swedes had passed the
boundaries,—such, for instance, as the troops of Stefan Charnyetski.
News from the Commonwealth had roused the hope of those “exiles,” and
many of them were making ready to come home in arms. In all Silesia,
and particularly in the provinces of Ratibor and Opol, it was boiling
as in a pot; messengers were flying with letters to the king and from
the king; they were flying with letters to Charnyetski, to the primate,
to Pan Korytsinski, the chancellor; to Pan Varshytski, the castellan of
Cracow, the first senator of the Commonwealth, who had not deserted the
cause of Yan Kazimir for an instant.
These lords, in agreement with the great queen, who was unshaken in
misfortune, were coming to an understanding with one another, with the
country, and with the foremost men in it, of whom it was known that
they would gladly resume allegiance to their legal lord. Messengers
were sent independently by the marshal of the kingdom, the hetmans, the
army, and the nobles, who were making ready to take up arms.
It was the eve of a general war, which in some places had broken out
already. The Swedes put down these local outbursts either with arms or
with the executioner’s axe, but the fire quenched in one place flamed
up at once in another. An awful storm was hanging over the heads of the
Scandinavian invaders; the ground itself, though covered with snow,
began to burn their feet; threats and vengeance surrounded them on all
sides; their own shadows alarmed them.
They went around like men astray. The recent songs of triumph died on
their lips, and they asked one another in the greatest amazement, “Are
these the same people who yesterday left their own king, and gave up
without fighting a battle?” Yes, lords, nobles, army,—an example
unheard of in history,—passed over to the conqueror; towns and castles
threw open their gates; the country was occupied. Never had a conquest
cost fewer exertions, less blood. The Swedes themselves, wondering at
the ease with which they had occupied a mighty Commonwealth, could not
conceal their contempt for the conquered, who at the first gleam of a
Swedish sword rejected their own king, their country, provided that
they could enjoy life and goods in peace, or acquire new goods in the
confusion. What in his time Count Veyhard had told the emperor’s envoy,
Lisola, the king himself, and all the Swedish generals repeated: “There
is no manhood in this nation, there is no stability, there is no order,
no faith, no patriotism! It must perish.”
They forgot that that nation had still one feeling, specially that one
whose earthly expression was Yasna Gora. And in that feeling was
rebirth.
Therefore the thunder of cannon which was heard under the sacred
retreat found an echo at once in the hearts of all magnates, nobles,
town-dwellers, and peasants. An outcry of awe was heard from the
Carpathians to the Baltic, and the giant was roused from his torpor.
“That is another people!” said the amazed Swedish generals.
And all, from Arwid Wittemberg to the commandants of single castles,
sent to Karl Gustav in Prussia tidings filled with terror.
The earth was pushing from under their feet; instead of recent friends,
they met enemies on all sides; instead of submission, hostility;
instead of fear, a wild daring ready for everything; instead of
mildness, ferocity; instead of long-suffering, vengeance.
Meanwhile from hand to hand were flying in thousands throughout the
whole Commonwealth the manifestoes of Yan Kazimir, which, issued at
first in Silesia, had found no immediate echo. Now, on the contrary,
they were seen in castles still free of the enemy. Wherever the Swedish
hand was not weighing, the nobles assembled in crowds large and small,
and beat their breasts, listening to the lofty words of the fugitive
king, who, recounting faults and sins, urged them not to lose hope, but
hasten to the rescue of the fallen Commonwealth.
“Though the enemy have already advanced far, it is not too late,” wrote
Yan Kazimir, “for us to recover the lost provinces and towns, give due
praise to God, satisfy the profaned churches with the blood of the
enemy, and restore the former liberties, laws, and ancient enactments
of Poland to their usual circuit; if only there is a return of that
ancient Polish virtue, and that devotion and love of God peculiar to
your ancestors, virtues for which our great-grandfather, Sigismund I.,
honored them before many nations. A return to virtue has already
diminished these recent transgressions. Let those of you to whom God
and His holy faith are dearer than aught else rise against the Swedish
enemy. Do not wait for leaders or voevodas, or for such an order of
things as is described in public law. At present the enemy have brought
all these things to confusion among you; but do you join, the first man
to a second, a third to these two, a fourth to the three, a fifth to
the four, and thus farther, so that each one with his own subjects may
come, and when it is possible try resistance. Afterward you will select
a leader. Join yourselves one party to another, and you will form an
army. When the army is formed and you have chosen a known chief over
it, wait for our person, not neglecting an occasion wherever it comes
to defeat the enemy. If we hear of the occasion, and your readiness and
inclination, we will come at once and lay down our life wherever the
defence of the country requires it.”
This manifesto was read even in the camp of Karl Gustav, in castles
having Swedish garrisons, in all places wherever Polish squadrons were
found. The nobles shed tears at every word of the king their kind lord,
and took an oath on crosses, on pictures of the Most Holy Lady, and on
scapulars to please him. To give a proof of their readiness, while
ardor was in their hearts and their tears were not dry, they mounted
here and there without hesitation, and moved on while hot against the
Swedes.
In this way the smaller Swedish parties began to melt and to vanish.
This was done in Lithuania, Mazovia, Great and Little Poland. More than
once nobles who had assembled at a neighbor’s house for a christening,
a name’s day, a wedding or a dance, without any thought of war,
finished the entertainment with this, that after they had taken a good
share of drink they struck like a thunderbolt and cut to pieces the
nearest Swedish command. Then, amid songs and shouts, they assembled
for the road. Those who wished to “hunt” rode farther, changed into a
crowd greedy for blood, from a crowd into a “party” which began steady
war. Subject peasants and house-servants joined the amusement in
throngs; others gave information about single Swedes or small squads
disposed incautiously through the villages. And the number of “balls”
and “masquerades” increased with each day. Joyousness and daring
personal to the people were bound up with these bloody amusements.
They disguised themselves gladly as Tartars, the very name of which
filled the Swedes with alarm; for among them were current marvellous
accounts and fables touching the ferocity, the terrible and savage
bravery of those sons of the Crimean steppes, with whom the
Scandinavians had never met hitherto. Besides, it was known universally
that the Khan with about a hundred thousand of the horde was marching
to succor Yan Kazimir; and the nobles made a great uproar while
attacking Swedish commands, from which wonderful disorder resulted.
The Swedish colonels and commandants in many places were really
convinced that Tartars were present, and retreated in haste to larger
fortresses and camps, spreading everywhere erroneous reports and alarm.
Meanwhile the neighborhoods which were freed in this manner from the
enemy were able to defend themselves, and change an unruly rabble into
the most disciplined of armies.
But more terrible for the Swedes than “masquerades” of nobles, or than
the Tartars themselves, were the movements of the peasants. Excitement
among the people began with the first day of the siege of Chenstohova;
and ploughmen hitherto silent and patient began here and there to offer
resistance, here and there to take scythes and flails and help nobles.
The most brilliant Swedish generals looked with the greatest alarm at
these crowds, which might at any moment turn into a genuine deluge and
overwhelm beyond rescue the invaders.
Terror seemed to them the most appropriate means by which to crush in
the beginning this dreadful danger. Karl Gustav cajoled still, and
retained with words of kindness those Polish squadrons which had
followed him to Prussia. He had not spared flattery on Konyetspolski,
the celebrated commander from Zbaraj. This commander stood at his side
with six thousand cavalry, which at the first hostile meeting with the
elector spread such terror and destruction among the Prussians that the
elector abandoning the fight agreed as quickly as possible to the
conditions.
The King of Sweden sent letters also to the hetmans, the magnates, and
the nobles, full of graciousness, promises, and encouragement to
preserve loyalty to him. But at the same time he issued commands to his
generals and commandants to destroy with fire and sword every
opposition within the country, and especially to cut to pieces peasant
parties. Then began a period of iron military rule. The Swedes cast
aside the semblance of friendship. The sword, fire, pillage,
oppression, took the place of the former pretended good will. From the
castles they sent strong detachments of cavalry and infantry in pursuit
of the “masqueraders.” Whole villages, with churches and priests’
dwellings, were levelled to the earth. Nobles taken prisoners, were
delivered to the executioner; the right hands were cut from captured
peasants, then they were sent home.
These Swedish detachments were specially savage in Great Poland, which,
as it was the first to surrender, was also the first to rise against
foreign dominion. Commandant Stein gave orders on a certain occasion to
cut the hands from more than three hundred peasants. In towns they
built permanent gibbets, which every day were adorned with new victims.
Pontus de la Gardie did the same in Lithuania and Jmud, where the noble
villages took up arms first, and after them the peasants. Because in
general it was difficult for the Swedes in the disturbance to
distinguish their friends from their enemies, no one was spared.
But the fire put down in blood, instead of dying, grew without ceasing,
and a war began which was not on either side a question merely of
victory, castles, towns, or provinces, but of life or death. Cruelty
increased hatred, and they began not to struggle, but to exterminate
each the other without mercy.