After these solemnities various tidings flew into Lvoff like winged
birds. There were older and fresh tidings more or less favorable, but
all increased courage. First the confederation of Tyshovtsi grew like a
conflagration; every one living joined it, nobles as well as peasants.
Towns furnished wagons, firearms, and infantry; the Jews money. No one
dared to oppose the manifestoes; the most indolent mounted. There came
also a terrible manifesto from Wittemberg, turned against the
confederation. Fire and sword were to punish those who joined it. This
manifesto produced the same effect as if a man tried to quench flames
with powder. The manifesto, with the knowledge assuredly of the king,
and to rouse hatred more thoroughly against the Swedes, was scattered
through Lvoff in great numbers, and it is not becoming to state what
common people did with the copies; it suffices to say that the wind
bore them terribly dishonored through the streets of the city, and the
students showed, to the delight of crowds, “Wittemberg’s Confusion,”
singing at the same time the song beginning with these words,—
“O Wittemberg, poor man, Race across over the sea,
Like a hare!
But when thy buttons are lost
Thou wilt drop down thy trousers,
While racing away!”
And Wittemberg, as if making the words of the song true, gave up his
command in Cracow to the valiant Wirtz, and betook himself hurriedly to
Elblang, where the King of Sweden was sojourning with the queen,
spending his time at feasts, and rejoicing in his heart that he had
become the lord of such an illustrious kingdom.
Accounts came also to Lvoff of the fall of Tykotsin, and minds were
gladdened. It was strange that men had begun to speak of that event
before a courier had come; only they did not say whether Radzivill had
died or was in captivity. It was asserted, however, that Sapyeha, at
the head of a considerable force, had gone from Podlyasye to Lyubelsk
to join the hetmans; that on the road he was beating the Swedes and
growing in power every day.
At last envoys came from Sapyeha himself in a considerable number, for
the voevoda had sent neither less nor more than one whole squadron to
be at the disposal of the king, desiring in this way to show honor to
the sovereign, to secure his person from every possible accident, and
perhaps specially to increase his significance.
The squadron was brought by Volodyovski, well known to the king; so Yan
Kazimir gave command that he should stand at once in his presence, and
taking Pan Michael’s head between his hands, he said,—
“I greet thee, famous soldier! Much water has flowed down since we lost
sight of thee. I think that we saw thee last at Berestechko, all
covered with blood.”
Pan Michael bent to the knees of the king, and said,—
“It was later, in Warsaw, Gracious Lord; also in the castle with the
present castellan of Kieff, Pan Charnyetski.”
“But are you serving all the time? Had you no desire to enjoy leisure
at home?”
“No; for the Commonwealth was in need, and besides, in these public
commotions my property has been lost. I have no place in which to put
my head, Gracious Lord; but I am not sorry for myself, thinking that
the first duty of a soldier is to the king and the country.”
“Ah, would there were more such! The enemy would not be so rich. God
grant the time for rewards will come; but now tell me what you have
done with the voevoda of Vilna?”
“The voevoda of Vilna is before the judgment of God. The soul went out
of him just as we were going to the final storm.”
“How was that?”
“Here is Pan Sapyeha’s report,” said Volodyovski.
The king took Sapyeha’s letter and began to read; he had barely begun
when he stopped.
“Pan Sapyeha is mistaken,” said he, “when he writes that the grand
baton of Lithuania is unoccupied; it is not, for I give it to him.”
“There is no one more worthy,” said Pan Michael, “and to your Royal
Grace the whole army will be grateful till death for this deed.”
The king smiled at the simple soldierly confidence, and read on. After
a while he sighed, and said,—
“Radzivill might have been the first pearl in this glorious kingdom, if
pride and the errors which he committed had not withered his soul. It
is accomplished! Inscrutable are the decisions of God! Radzivill and
Opalinski—almost in the same hour! Judge them, O Lord, not according to
their sins, but according to Thy mercy.”
Silence followed; then the king again began to read.
“We are thankful to the voevoda,” said he, when he had finished, “for
sending a whole squadron and under the greatest cavalier, as he writes.
But I am safe here; and cavaliers, especially such as you, are more
needed in the field. Rest a little, and then I will send you to assist
Charnyetski, for on him evidently the greatest pressure will be
turned.”
“We have rested enough already at Tykotsin, Gracious Lord,” said the
little knight, with enthusiasm; “if our horses were fed a little, we
might move to-day, for with Charnyetski there will be unspeakable
delights. It is a great happiness to look on the face of our gracious
lord, but we are anxious to see the Swedes.”
The king grew radiant. A fatherly kindness appeared on his face, and he
said, looking with pleasure on the sulphurous figure of the little
knight,—
“You were the first little soldier to throw the baton of a colonel at
the feet of the late prince voevoda.”
“Not the first, your Royal Grace; but it was the first, and God grant
the last, time for me to act against military discipline.” Pan Michael
stopped, and after a while added, “It was impossible to do otherwise.”
“Certainly,” said the king. “That was a grievous hour for those who
understood military duty; but obedience must have its limits, beyond
which guilt begins. Did many officers remain in with Radzivill?”
“In Tykotsin we found only one officer, Pan Kharlamp, who did not leave
the prince at once, and who did not wish afterward to desert him in
misery. Compassion alone kept Kharlamp with Radzivill, for natural
affection drew him to us. We were barely able to restore him to health,
such hunger had there been in Tykotsin, and he took the food from his
own mouth to nourish the prince. He has come here to Lvoff to implore
pardon of your Royal Grace, and I too fall at your feet for him; he is
a tried and good soldier.”
“Let him come hither,” said the king.
“He has also something important to tell, which he heard in Kyedani
from the mouth of Prince Boguslav, and which relates to the person of
your Royal Grace, which is sacred to us.”
“Is this about Kmita?”
“Yes, Gracious Lord.”
“Did you know Kmita?”
“I knew him and fought with him; but where he is now, I know not.”
“What do you think of him?”
“Gracious Lord, since he undertook such a deed there are no torments of
which he is not worthy, for he is an abortion of hell.”
“That story is untrue,” said the king; “it is all an invention of
Prince Boguslav. But putting that affair aside, what do you know of
Kmita in times previous?”
“He was always a great soldier, and in military affairs incomparable.
He used to steal up to Hovanski so that with a few hundred people he
brought the whole force of the enemy to misery; no other man could have
done that. It is a miracle that the skin was not torn from him and
stretched over a drum. If at that time some one had placed Prince
Radzivill himself in the hands of Hovanski, he would not have given him
so much pleasure as he would had he made him a present of Kmita. Why!
it went so far that Kmita ate out of Hovanski’s camp-chests, slept on
his rugs, rode in his sleighs and on his horse. But he was an
infliction on his own people too, terribly self-willed; like Pan
Lashch, he might have lined his cloak with sentences, and in Kyedani he
was lost altogether.”
Here Volodyovski related in detail all that had happened in Kyedani.
Yan Kazimir listened eagerly, and when at last Pan Michael told how
Zagloba had freed first himself and then all his comrades from
Radzivill’s captivity, the king held his sides from laughter.
“_Vir incomparabilis! vir incomparabilis_ (an incomparable man)!” he
repeated. “But is he here with you?”
“At the command of your Royal Grace!” answered Volodyovski.
“That noble surpasses Ulysses! Bring him to me to dinner for a pleasant
hour, and also the Skshetuskis; and now toll me what you know more of
Kmita.”
“From letters found on Roh Kovalski we learned that we were sent to
Birji to die. The prince pursued us afterward and tried to surround us,
but he did not take us. We escaped luckily. And that was not all, for
not far from Kyedani we caught Kmita, whom I sent at once to be shot.”
“Oh!” said the king, “I see that you had sharp work there in
Lithuania.”
“But first Pan Zagloba had him searched to find letters on his person.
In fact, a letter from the hetman was found, in which we learned that
had it not been for Kmita we should not have been taken to Birji, but
would have been shot without delay in Kyedani.”
“But you see!” said the king.
“In view of that we could not take his life. We let him go. What he did
further I know not, but he did not leave Radzivill at that time. God
knows what kind of man he is. It is easier to form an opinion of any
one else than of such a whirlwind. He remained with Radzivill and then
went somewhere. Later he warned us that the prince was marching from
Kyedani. It is hard to belittle the notable service he did us, for had
it not been for that warning Radzivill would have fallen on unprepared
troops, and destroyed the squadrons one after the other. I know not
myself, Gracious Lord, what to think,—whether that was a calumny which
Prince Boguslav uttered.”
“That will appear at once,” said the king; and he clapped his hands.
“Call hither Pan Babinich!” said he to a page who appeared on the
threshold.
The page vanished, and soon the door of the king’s chamber opened, and
in it stood Pan Andrei. Volodyovski did not know him at once, for he
had changed greatly and grown pale, as he had not recovered from the
struggle in the pass. Pan Michael therefore looked at him without
recognition.
“It is a wonder,” said he at last; “were it not for the thinness of
lips and because your Royal Grace gives another name, I should say this
is Pan Kmita.”
The king smiled and said,—
“This little knight has just told me of a terrible disturber of that
name, but I explained as on my palm that he was deceived in his
judgment, and I am sure that Pan Babinich will confirm what I say.”
“Gracious Lord,” answered Babinich, quickly, “one word from your grace
will clear that disturber more than my greatest oath.”
“And the voice is the same,” said Pan Michael, with growing
astonishment; “but that wound across the mouth was not there.”
“Worthy sir,” answered Kmita, “the head of a noble is a register on
which sometimes a man’s hand writes with a sabre. And here is your
note; recognize it.”
He bowed his head, shaven at the sides, and pointed at the long whitish
scar.
“My hand!” cried Volodyovski.
“But I say that you do not know Kmita,” put in the king.
“How is that, Gracious Lord?”
“For you know a great soldier, but a self-willed one, an associate in
the treason of Radzivill. But here stands the Hector of Chenstohova, to
whom, next to Kordetski, Yasna Gora owes most; here stands the defender
of the country and my faithful servant, who covered me with his own
breast and saved my life when in the pass I had fallen among the Swedes
as among wolves. Such is this new Kmita. Know him and love him, for he
deserves it.”
Volodyovski began to move his yellow mustaches, not knowing what to
say; and the king added,—
“And know that not only did he promise Prince Boguslav nothing, but he
began on him the punishment for Radzivill intrigues, for he seized him
and intended to give him into your hands.”
“And he warned us against Prince Yanush!” cried Volodyovski. “What
angel converted you?”
“Embrace each other!” said the king.
“I loved you at once!” said Kmita to Volodyovski.
Then they fell into each other’s embraces, and the king looked on them
and pursed out his lips with delight, time after time, as was his
habit. But Kmita embraced the little knight with such feeling that he
raised him as he would a cat, and not soon did he place him back on his
feet.
Then the king went to the daily council, for the two hetmans of the
kingdom had come to Lvoff, they were to form the army there, and lead
it later to the aid of Charnyetski, and the confederate divisions
marching, under various leaders, throughout the country.
The knights were alone.
“Come to my quarters,” said Volodyovski; “you will find there Pan Yan,
Pan Stanislav, and Zagloba, who will be glad to hear what the king has
told me. There too is Kharlamp.”
But Kmita approached the little knight with great disquiet on his face.
“Did you find many people with Radzivill?” asked he.
“Of officers, Kharlamp alone was there.”
“I do not ask about the military, but about women.”
“I know what you mean,” answered Pan Michael, flushing somewhat.
“Prince Boguslav took Panna Billevich to Taurogi.”
Kmita’s face changed at once; first it was pale as a parchment, then
purple, and again whiter than before. He did not find words at once;
but his nostrils quivered while he was catching breath, which
apparently failed in his breast. Then he seized his temples with both
hands, and running through the room like a madman, began to repeat,—
“Woe to me, woe, woe!”
“Come! Kharlamp will tell you better, for he was present,” said
Volodyovski.