In the midst of feasting and the throng of new dignitaries, nobles, and
knights who were coming continually, the kindly king forgot not his
faithful servant who in the mountain-pass had exposed his breast to the
Swedish sword with such daring; and on the day following his arrival in
Lyubovlya he visited the wounded Pan Andrei. He found him conscious and
almost joyful, though pale as death; by a lucky fortune the young hero
had received no grievous wound, only blood had left him in large
quantities.
At sight of the king, Kmita even rose in the bed to a sitting position,
and though the king insisted that he should lie down again, he was
unwilling to do so.
“Gracious Lord,” said he, “in a couple of days I shall be on horseback,
and with your gracious permission will go farther, for I feel that
nothing is the matter with me.”
“Still they must have cut you terribly. It is an unheard of thing for
one to withstand such a number.”
“That has happened to me more than once, for I think that in an evil
juncture the sabre and courage are best. Ei, Gracious Lord, the number
of cuts that have healed on my skin you could not count on an ox-hide.
Such is my fortune.”
“Complain not of fortune, for it is evident that you go headlong to
places where not only blows but deaths are distributed. But how long do
you practise such tactics? Where have you fought before now?”
A passing blush covered the youthful face of Kmita.
“Gracious Lord, I attacked Hovanski when all dropped their hands, and a
price was set on my head.”
“But listen,” said the king, suddenly; “you told me a wonderful word in
that pass. I thought that delirium had seized you and unsettled your
reason. Now you say that you attacked Hovanski. Who are you? Are you
not really Babinich? We know who attacked Hovanski!”
A moment of silence followed; at last the young knight raised his pale
face, and said,—
“Not delirium spoke through me, but truth; it was I who battered
Hovanski, from which war my name was heard throughout the whole
Commonwealth. I am Andrei Kmita, the banneret of Orsha.”
Here Kmita closed his eyes and grew still paler; but when the
astonished king was silent, he began to speak farther,—
“I am, Gracious Lord, that outlaw, condemned by God and the judgments
of men for killing and violence. I served Radzivill, and together with
him I betrayed you and the country; but now, thrust with rapiers and
trampled with horses’ hoofs, unable to rise, I beat my breast,
repeating, _Mea culpa, mea culpa!_ (My fault, my fault!) and I implore
your fatherly mercy. Forgive me, for I have cursed my previous acts,
and have long since turned from that road which lies toward hell.”
Tears dropped from the eyes of the knight, and with trembling he began
to seek the hand of the king. Yan Kazimir, it is true, did not withdraw
his hand; but he grew gloomy, and said,—
“Whoso in this land wears a crown should be unceasingly ready to
pardon; therefore we are willing to forgive your offence, since on
Yasna Gora and on the road you have served us with faithfulness,
exposing your breast.”
“Then forgive them, Gracious Lord! Shorten my torment.”
“But one thing we cannot forget,—that in spite of the virtue of this
people you offered Prince Boguslav to raise hands on majesty, hitherto
inviolable, and bear us away living or dead, and deliver us into
Swedish hands.”
Kmita, though a moment before he had said himself that he was unable to
rise, sprang from the bed, seized the crucifix hanging above him, and
with the cuts on his face and fever in his flashing eyes, and breathing
quickly, began to speak thus,—
“By the salvation of my father and mother, by the wounds of the
Crucified, it is untrue! If I am guilty of that sin, may God punish me
at once with sudden death and with eternal fires. If you do not believe
me, I will tear these bandages, let out the remnant of the blood which
the Swedes did not shed. I never made the offer. Never was such a
thought in my head. For the kingdom of this world, I would not have
done such a deed. Amen! on this cross, amen, amen!” And he trembled
from feverish excitement.
“Then did the prince invent it?” asked the astonished king. “Why? for
what reason?”
“He did invent it. It was his hellish revenge on me for what I did to
him.”
“What did you do to him?”
“I carried him off from the middle of his court and of his whole army.
I wanted to cast him bound at the feet of your Royal Grace.”
“It’s a wonder, it’s a wonder! I believe you, but I do not understand.
How was it? You were serving Yanush, and carried off Boguslav, who was
less guilty, and you wanted to bring him bound to me?”
Kmita wished to answer; but the king saw at that moment his pallor and
suffering, therefore he said,—
“Rest, and later tell me all from the beginning. I believe you; here is
our hand.”
Kmita pressed the king’s hand to his lips, and for some time was
silent, for breath failed him; he merely looked at the king’s face with
immeasurable affection; at last he collected his strength, and said,—
“I will tell all from the beginning. I warred against Hovanski, but I
was hard with my own people. In part I was forced to wrong them, and to
take what I needed; I did this partly from violence, for the blood was
storming within me. I had companions, good nobles, but no better than
I. Here and there a man was cut down, here and there a house was
burned, here and there some one was chased over the snow with sticks.
An outcry was raised. Where an enemy could not touch me, complaint was
made before a court. I lost cases by default. Sentences came one after
another, but I paid no heed; besides, the devil flattered me, and
whispered to surpass Pan Lashch, who had his cloak lined with
judgments; and still he was famous, and is famous till now.”
“For he did penance, and died piously,” remarked the king.
When he had rested somewhat, Kmita continued: “Meanwhile Colonel
Billevich—the Billeviches are a great family in Jmud—put off his
transitory form, and was taken to a better world; but he left me a
village and his granddaughter. I do not care for the village, for in
continual attacks on the enemy I have gathered no little property, and
not only have made good the fortune taken from me by the Northerners,
but have increased it. I have still in Chenstohova enough to buy two
such villages, and I need ask no one for bread. But when my party
separated I went to winter quarters in the Lauda region. There the
maiden, Billevich’s granddaughter, came so near my heart that I forgot
God’s world. The virtue and honesty in this lady were such that I grew
shamefaced in presence of my former deeds. She too, having an inborn
hatred of transgression, pressed me to leave my previous manner of
life, put an end to disturbances, repair wrongs, and live honestly.”
“Did you follow her advice?”
“How could I, Gracious Lord! I wished to do so, it is true,—God sees
that I wished; but old sins follow a man. First, my soldiers were
attacked in Upita, for which I burned some of the place.”
“In God’s name! that is a crime,” said the king.
“That is nothing yet. Later on, the nobles of Lauda slaughtered my
comrades, worthy cavaliers though violent. I was forced to avenge them.
I fell upon the village of the Butryms that very night, and took
vengeance, with fire and sword, for the murder. But they defeated me,
for a crowd of homespuns live in that neighborhood. I had to hide. The
maiden would not look at me, for those homespuns were made fathers and
guardians to her by the will. But my heart was so drawn to her that I
could not help myself. Unable to live without her, I collected a new
party and seized her with armed hand.”
“Why, the Tartars do not make love differently.”
“I own that it was a deed of violence. But God punished me through the
hands of Pan Volodyovski, and he cut me so that I barely escaped with
my life. It would have been a hundred times better for me if I had not
escaped, for I should not have joined the Radzivills to the injury of
the king and the country. But how could it be otherwise? A new suit was
begun against me for a capital offence; it was a question of life. I
knew not what to do, when suddenly the voevoda of Vilna came to me with
assistance.”
“Did he protect you?”
“He sent me a commission through this same Pan Volodyovski, and thereby
I went under the jurisdiction of the hetman, and was not afraid of the
courts. I clung to Radzivill as to a plank of salvation. Soon I put on
foot a squadron of men known as the greatest fighters in all Lithuania.
There were none better in the army. I led them to Kyedani. Radzivill
received me as a son, referred to our kinship through the Kishkis, and
promised to protect me. He had his object. He needed daring men ready
for all things, and I, simpleton, crawled as it were into bird-lime.
Before his plans had come to the surface, he commanded me to swear on a
crucifix that I would not abandon him in any straits. Thinking it a
question of war with the Swedes or the Northerners, I took the oath
willingly. Then came that terrible feast at which the Kyedani treaty
was read. The treason was published. Other colonels threw their batons
at the feet of the hetman, but the oath held me as a chain holds a dog,
and I could not leave him.”
“But did not all those who deserted us later swear loyalty?” asked the
king, sadly.
“I, too, though I did not throw down my baton, had no wish to steep my
hands in treason. What I suffered, Gracious Lord, God alone knows. I
was writhing from pain, as if men were burning me alive with fire; and
my maiden, though even after the seizure the agreement between us
remained still unbroken, now proclaimed me a traitor, and despised me
as a vile reptile. But I had taken oath not to abandon Radzivill. She,
though a woman, would shame a man with her wit, and lets no one surpass
her in loyalty to your Royal Grace.”
“God bless her!” said the king. “I respect her for that.”
“She thought to reform me into a partisan of the king and the country;
and when that came to naught, she grew so steadfast against me that her
hatred became as great as her love had been once. At that juncture
Radzivill called me before him, and began to convince me. He explained,
as two and two form four, that in this way alone could he save the
falling country. I cannot, indeed, repeat his arguments, they were so
great, and promised such happiness to the land. He would have convinced
a man a hundred times wiser, much less me, a simple soldier, he such a
statesman! Then, I say, your Royal Grace, that I held to him with both
hands and my heart, for I thought that all others were blind; only he
saw the truth, all others were sinning, only he was the just man. And I
would have sprung into fire for him, as now I would for your Royal
Grace, for I know not how to serve or to love with half a heart.”
“I see that, this is true!” said Yan Kazimir.
“I rendered him signal service,” continued Kmita, gloomily, “and I can
say that had it not been for me his treason could not have yielded any
poisonous fruits, for his own troops would have cut him to pieces with
sabres. They were all ready for that. The dragoons, the Hungarian
infantry and the light squadrons were already slaying his Scots, when I
sprang in with my men and rubbed them out in one twinkle. But there
were other squadrons at various quarters; these I dispersed. Pan
Volodyovski alone, who had come out from prison, led his Lauda men to
Podlyasye by a wonder and by superhuman resolve, so as to join with
Sapyeha. Those who escaped me assembled in Podlyasye in considerable
numbers, but before they could do that many good soldiers perished
through me. God alone can count them. I acknowledge the truth as if at
confession. Pan Volodyovski, on his way to Podlyasye, seized me, and
did not wish to let me live; but I escaped because of letters which
they found on my person, and from which it transpired that when
Volodyovski was in prison and Radzivill was going to shoot him, I
interceded persistently and saved him. He let me go free then; I
returned to Radzivill and served longer. But the service was bitter for
me, the soul began to revolt within me at certain deeds of the prince,
for there is not in him either faith, honesty, or conscience, and from
his own words it comes out that he works as much for himself as for the
King of Sweden. I began then to spring at his eyes. He grew enraged at
my boldness, and at last sent me off with letters.”
“It is wonderful what important things you tell,” said the king. “At
least we know from an eyewitness who _pars magna fuit_ (took a great
part) in affairs, how things happened there.”
“It is true that _pars magna fui_ (I took a great part),” answered
Kmita. “I set out with the letters willingly, for I could not remain in
that place. In Pilvishki I met Prince Boguslav. May God give him into
my hands, to which end I shall use all my power, so that my vengeance
may not miss him for that slander. Not only did I not promise him
anything, Gracious Lord, not only is that a shameless lie, but it was
just there in Pilvishki that I became converted when I saw all the
naked deceit of those heretics.”
“Tell quickly how it was, for we were told that Boguslav aided his
cousin only through constraint.”
“He? He is worse than Prince Yanush, and in his head was the treason
first hatched. Did he not tempt the hetman first, pointing out a crown
to him? God will decide at the judgment. Yanush at least simulated and
shielded himself with _bono publico_ (public good); but Boguslav,
taking me for an arch scoundrel, revealed his whole soul to me. It is a
terror to repeat what he said. ‘The devils,’ said he, ‘must take your
Commonwealth, it is a piece of red cloth, and we not only will not
raise a hand to save it, but will pull besides, so that the largest
piece may come to us. Lithuania,’ said he, ‘must remain to us, and
after Yanush I will put on the cap of Grand Prince, and marry his
daughter.’”
The king covered his eyes with his hands. “O passion of our Lord!” said
he. “The Radzivills, Radzeyovski, Opalinski—how could that which
happened not happen!—they must have crowns, even through rending what
the Lord had united.”
“I grew numb, Gracious Lord, I had water poured on my head so as not to
go mad. The soul changed in me in one moment, as if a thunderbolt had
shaken it. I was terrified at my own work. I knew not what to do,
whether to thrust a knife into Boguslav or into myself. I bellowed like
a wild beast, they had driven me into such a trap. I wanted service no
longer with the Radzivills, but vengeance. God gave me a sudden
thought: I went with a few men to the quarters of Prince Boguslav, I
brought him out beyond the town, I carried him off and wanted to bring
him to the confederates so as to buy myself into their company and into
the service of your Royal Grace at the price of his head.”
“I forgive you all!” cried the king, “for they led you astray; but you
have repaid them! Kmita alone could have done that, no man besides. I
overlook all and forgive you from my heart! But tell me quickly, for
curiosity is burning me, did he escape?”
“At the first station he snatched the pistol from my belt and shot me
in the mouth,—here is the scar. He killed my men and escaped. He is a
famous knight, it would be hard to deny that; but we shall meet again,
though that were to be my last hour.”
Here Kmita began to tear at the blanket with which he was covered, but
the king interrupted him quickly,—
“And through revenge he invented that letter against you?”
“And through revenge he sent that letter. I recovered from the wound,
in the forest, but my soul was suffering more and more. To Volodyovski,
to the confederates I could not go, for the Lauda men would have cut me
to pieces with their sabres. Still, knowing that the hetman was about
to march against them, I forewarned them to collect in a body. And that
was my first good deed, for without that Radzivill would have crushed
them out, squadron after squadron; but now they have overcome him and,
as I hear, are besieging him. May God aid them and send punishment to
Radzivill, amen!”
“That may have happened already; and if not it will happen surely,”
said the king. “What did you do further?”
“I made up my mind that, not being able to serve with the confederate
troops of your Royal Grace, I would go to your person and there atone
for my former offences with loyalty. But how was I to go? Who would
receive Kmita, who would believe him, who would not proclaim him a
traitor? Therefore I assumed the name Babinich, and passing through the
whole Commonwealth, I reached Chenstohova. Whether I have rendered any
services there, let Father Kordetski give witness. Day and night I was
thinking only how to repair the injuries to the country, how to spill
my blood for it, how to restore myself to repute and to honesty. The
rest, Gracious Lord, you know already, for you have seen it. And if a
fatherly kind heart incline you, if this new service has outweighed my
old sins, or even equalled them, then receive me to your favor and your
heart, for all have deserted me, no one comforts me save you. You alone
see my sorrow and tears,—I am an outcast, a traitor, an oath-breaker,
and still I love this country and your Royal Grace. God sees that I
wish to serve both.”
Here hot tears dropped from the eyes of the young man till he was
carried away with weeping; but the king, like a loving father, seizing
him by the head began to kiss his forehead and comfort him.
“Yendrek! you are as dear to me as if you were my own son. What have I
said to you? That you sinned through blindness; and how many sin from
calculation? From my heart I forgive you all, for you have wiped away
your faults. More than one would be glad to boast of such services as
yours. I forgive you and the country forgives; and besides, we are
indebted to you. Put an end to your grieving.”
“God give your Royal Grace everything good for this sympathy,” said the
knight, with tears. “But as it is I must do penance yet in the world
for that oath to Radzivill; for though I knew not to what I was
swearing, still an oath is an oath.”
“God will not condemn you for that,” said the king. “He would have to
send half this Commonwealth to hell; namely, all those who broke faith
with us.”
“I think myself, Gracious King, that I shall not go to hell, for
Kordetski assured me of that, though he was not certain that purgatory
would miss me. It is a hard thing to roast for a hundred of years. But
it is well even to go there! A man can endure much when the hope of
salvation is lighting him; and besides prayers can help somewhat and
shorten the torment.”
“Do not grieve,” said Yan Kazimir, “I will prevail on the nuncio
himself to say Mass for your intention. With such assistance you will
not suffer great harm. Trust in the mercy of God.”
Kmita smiled through his tears. “Besides,” said he, “God give me to
return to strength, then I will shell the soul out of more than one
Swede, and through that there will be not only merit in heaven, but it
will repair my earthly repute.”
“Be of good cheer and do not be troubled about earthly glory. I
guarantee that what belongs to you will not miss you. More peaceful
times will come; I myself will declare your services, which are not
small, and surely they will be greater; and at the Diet, with God’s
help, I will have this question raised, and you will be restored soon
to honor.”
“Let that, Gracious Lord, give some comfort; but before then the courts
will attack me, from which even the influence of your Royal Grace
cannot shield me. But never mind! I will not yield while there is
breath in my nostrils, and a sabre in my hand. I am anxious concerning
the maiden. Olenka is her name, Gracious Lord; I have not seen her this
long time, and I have suffered, oh, I have suffered a world without her
and because of her; and though at times I might wish to drive her out
of my heart and wrestle with love as with a bear, it’s of no use, for
such a fellow as he will not let a man go.”
Yan Kazimir smiled good-naturedly and kindly: “How can I help you here,
my poor man?”
“Who can help me if not your grace? That maiden is an inveterate
royalist, and she will never forgive me my deeds at Kyedani, unless
your Royal Grace will make intercession, and give witness how I changed
and returned to the service of the king and my country, not from
constraint, not for profit, but through my own will and repentance.”
“If that is the question I will make the intercession; and if she is
such a royalist as you say, the intercession should be effectual,—if
the girl is only free, and if some mishap has not met her such as are
frequent in war-time.”
“May angels protect her!”
“She deserves it. So that the courts may not trouble you, act thus
wise: Levies will be made now in haste. Since, as you say, outlawry
weighs on you, I cannot give you a commission as Kmita, but I will give
you one as Babinich; you will make a levy which will be for the good of
the country, for you are clearly a mettlesome soldier with experience.
You will take the field under Stefan Charnyetski; under him death is
easiest, but the chances of glory are easiest. And if need comes you
will attack the Swedes of yourself as you did Hovanski. Your conversion
and good deeds commenced with the day when you called yourself
Babinich; call yourself Babinich still further, and the courts will
leave you at rest. When you will be as bright as the sun, when the
report of your services will be heard through the Commonwealth, let men
discover who this great cavalier is. This and that kind of man will be
ashamed to summon such a knight to a court. At that time some will have
died, you will satisfy others. Not a few decisions will be lost, and I
promise to exalt your services to the skies, and will present them to
the Diet for reward, for in my eyes they deserve it.”
“Gracious Lord! how have I earned such favors?”
“Better than many who think they have a right to them. Well, well! be
not grieved, dear royalist, for I trust that the royalist maiden will
not be lost to you, and God grant you to assemble for me more royalists
soon.”
Kmita, though sick, sprang quickly from the bed and fell his whole
length at the feet of the king.
“In God’s name! what are you doing?” cried the king. “The blood will
leave you! Yendrek! Hither, some one!”
In came the marshal himself, who had long been looking for the king
through the castle.
“Holy Yerzy! my patron, what do I see?” cried he, when he saw the king
raising Kmita with his own hands.
“This is Babinich, my most beloved soldier and most faithful servant,
who saved my life yesterday,” said the king. “Help, Lord Marshal, to
raise him to the couch.”