That same day Akbah Ulan beat with his forehead to the king, and
delivered to him letters of the Khan in which the latter repeated his
promise of moving with one hundred thousand of the horde against the
Swedes, when forty thousand thalers were paid him in advance, and when
the first grass was on the fields, without which, in a country so
ruined by war, it would be difficult to maintain such a great number of
horses. As to that small chambul, the Khan had sent it to his “dearest
brother” as a proof of his favor, so that the Cossacks, who were still
thinking of disobedience, might have an evident sign that this favor
endures steadily, and let but the first sound of rebellion reach the
ears of the Khan, his vengeful anger will fall on all Cossacks.
The king received Akbah Ulan affably, and presenting him with a
beautiful steed, said that he would send him soon to Pan Charnyetski in
the field, for he wished to convince the Swedes by facts, that the Khan
was giving aid to the Commonwealth. The eyes of the Tartar glittered
when he heard of service under Charnyetski; for knowing him from the
time of former wars in the Ukraine, he, in common with all the Agás,
admired him.
But he was less pleased with the part of the Khan’s letter which asked
the king to attach to the chambul an officer, who knew the country
well, who would lead the party and restrain the men, and also Akbah
Ulan himself from plunder and excesses. Akbah Ulan would have preferred
certainly not to have such a patron over him; but since the will of the
Khan and the king were explicit, he merely beat with his forehead once
more, hiding carefully his vexation, and perhaps promising in his soul
that not he would bow down before that patron, but the patron before
him.
Barely had the Tartar gone out, and the senators withdrawn, when Kmita,
who had an audience at once, fell at the feet of the king, and said,—
“Gracious Lord! I am not worthy of the favor for which I ask, but I set
as much by it as by life itself. Permit me to take command over these
Tartars and move to the field with them at once.”
“I do not refuse,” answered the astonished Yan Kazimir, “for a better
leader it would be difficult to find. A cavalier of great daring and
resolve is needed to hold them in check, or they will begin straightway
to burn and murder our people. To this only am I firmly opposed, that
you go tomorrow, before your flesh has healed from the wounds made by
Swedish rapiers.”
“I feel that as soon as the wind blows around me in the field, my
weakness will pass, and strength will enter me again; as to the
Tartars, I will manage them and bend them into soft wax.”
“But why in such haste? Whither are you going?”
“Against the Swedes, Gracious Lord; I have nothing to wait for here,
since what I wanted I have, that is your favor and pardon for my former
offences. I will go to Charnyetski with Volodyovski, or I will attack
the enemy separately, as I did once Hovanski, and I trust in God that I
shall have success.”
“It must be that something else is drawing you to the field.”
“I will confess as to a father, and open my whole soul. Prince
Boguslav, not content with the calumny which he cast on me, has taken
that maiden from Kyedani and confined her in Taurogi, or worse, for he
is attacking her honesty, her virtue, her honor as a woman. Gracious
Lord! the reason is confused in my head, when I think in what hands the
poor girl is at present. By the passion of the Lord! these wounds pain
less. That maiden thinks to this moment that I offered that damned
soul, that arch-cur to raise hands on your Royal Grace—and she holds me
the lowest of all the degenerate. I cannot endure, I am not able to
endure, till I find her, till I free her. Give me those Tartars and I
swear that I will not do my own work alone, but I will crush so many
Swedes that the court of this castle might be paved with their skulls.”
“Calm yourself,” said the king.
“If I had to leave service and the defence of majesty and the
Commonwealth for my own cause, it would be a shame for me to ask, but
here one unites with the other. The time has come to beat the Swedes, I
will do nothing else. The time has come to hunt a traitor; I will hunt
him to Livland, to Courland, and even as far as the Northerners, or
beyond the sea to Sweden, should he hide there.”
“We have information that Boguslav will move very soon with Karl, from
Elblang.”
“Then I will go to meet them.”
“With such a small chambul? They will cover you with a cap.”
“Hovanski, with eighty thousand, was covering me, but he did not
succeed.”
“All the loyal army is under Charnyetski. They will strike Charnyetski
first of all.”
“I will go to Charnyetski. It is needful to give him aid the more
quickly.”
“You will go to Charnyetski, but to Taurogi with such a small number
you cannot go. Radzivill delivered all the castles in Jmud to the
enemy, and Swedish garrisons are stationed everywhere; but Taurogi, it
seems to me, is somewhere on the boundary of Prussia?”
“On the very boundary of Electoral Prussia, but on our side, and twenty
miles from Tyltsa. Wherever I have to go, I will go, and not only will
I not lose men, but crowds of daring soldiers will gather to me on the
road. And consider this, Gracious Lord, that wherever I show myself the
whole neighborhood will mount against the Swedes. First, I will rouse
Jmud, if no one else does it. What place may not be reached now, when
the whole country is boiling like water in a pot? I am accustomed to be
in a boil.”
“But you do not think of this,—perhaps the Tartars will not like to go
so far with you.”
“Only let them not like! only let them try not to like,” said Kmita,
gritting his teeth at the very thought, “as there are four hundred, or
whatever number there is of them, I’ll have all four hundred
hanged—there will be no lack of trees! Just let them try to rebel
against me.”
“Yandrek!” cried the king, falling into good humor and pursing his
lips, “as God is dear to me, I cannot find a better shepherd for those
lambs! Take them and lead them wherever it pleases thee most.”
“I give thanks, Gracious Lord!” said the knight, pressing the knees of
the king.
“When do you wish to start?” asked Yan Kazimir.
“God willing, to-morrow.”
“Maybe Akbah Ulan will not be ready, because his horses are
road-weary.”
“Then I will have him lashed to a saddle with a lariat, and he will go
on foot if he spares his horse.”
“I see that you will get on with him. Still use mild measures while
possible. But now, Yendrek, it is late; to-morrow I wish to see you
again. Meanwhile take this ring, tell your royalist lady that you have
it from the king, and tell her that the king commands her to love
firmly his faithful servant and defender.”
“God grant me,” said the young hero, with tears in his eyes, “not to
die save in defence of your Royal Grace!”
Here the king withdrew, for it was already late; and Kmita went to his
own quarters to prepare for the road, and think what to begin, and
whither he ought to go first.
He remembered the words of Kharlamp, that should it appear that
Boguslav was not in Taurogi it would really be better to leave the
maiden there, for from Taurogi being near the boundary, it was easy to
take refuge in Tyltsa, under care of the elector. Moreover, though the
Swedes had abandoned in his last need the voevoda of Vilna, it was
reasonable to expect that they would have regard for his widow; hence,
if Olenka was under her care, no evil could meet her. If they had gone
to Courland, that was still better. “And to Courland I cannot go with
my Tartars,” said Kmita to himself, “for that is another State.”
He walked then, and worked with his head. Hour followed hour, but he
did not think yet of rest; and the thought of his new expedition so
cheered him, that though that day he was weak in the morning, he felt
now that his strength was returning, and he was ready to mount in a
moment.
The servants at last had finished tying the saddle-straps and were
preparing to sleep, when all at once some one began to scratch at the
door of the room.
“Who is there?” asked Kmita. Then to his attendant, “Go and see!”
He went, and after he had spoken to some one outside the door, he
returned.
“Some soldier wants to see your grace greatly. He says that his name is
Soroka.”
“By the dear God! let him in,” called Kmita. And without waiting for
the attendant to carry out the order, he sprang to the door. “Come in,
dear Soroka! come hither!”
The soldier entered the room, and with his first movement wished to
fall at the feet of his colonel, for he was a friend and a servant as
faithful as he was attached; but soldierly subordination carried the
day, therefore he stood erect and said,—
“At the orders of your grace!”
“Be greeted, dear comrade, be greeted!” said Kmita, with emotion. “I
thought they had cut you to pieces in Chenstohova.” And he pressed
Soroka’s head, then began to shake him, which he could do without
lowering himself too much, for Soroka was descended from village
nobility.
Then the old sergeant fell to embracing Kmita’s knees.
“Whence do you come?” asked Kmita.
“From Chenstohova.”
“And you were looking for me?”
“Yes.”
“And from whom did you learn that I was alive?”
“From Kuklinovski’s men. The prior, Kordetski, celebrated High Mass
from delight, in thanksgiving to God. Then there was a report that Pan
Babinich had conducted the king through the mountains; so I knew that
that was your grace, no one else.”
“And Father Kordetski is well?”
“Well; only it is unknown whether the angels will not take him alive to
heaven any day, for he is a saint.”
“Surely he is nothing else. Where did you discover that I came with the
king to Lvoff?”
“I thought, since you conducted the king you must be near him; but I
was afraid that your grace might move to the field and that I should be
late.”
“To-morrow I go with the Tartars.”
“Then it has happened well, for I bring your grace two full belts, one
which I wore and the other you carried, and besides, those precious
stones which we took from the caps of boyars, and those which your
grace took when we seized the treasury of Hovanski.”
“Those were good times when we gathered in wealth; but there cannot be
much of it now, for I left a good bit with Father Kordetski.”
“I do not know how much, but the prior himself said that two good
villages might be bought with it.”
Then Soroka drew near the table, and began to remove the belts from his
body. “And the stones are in this canteen,” added he, putting the
canteen near the belts.
Kmita made no reply, but shook in his hand some gold ducats without
counting them, and said to the sergeant,—
“Take these!”
“I fall at the feet of your grace. Ei, if I had had on the road one
such ducat!”
“How is that?”
“Because I am terribly weak. There are few places now where they will
give one morsel of bread to a man, for all are afraid; and at last I
barely dragged my feet forward from hunger.”
“By the dear God! but you had all this with you!”
“I dared not use it without leave.”
“Take this!” said Kmita, giving him another handful. Then he cried to
the servants,—
“Now, scoundrels, give him to eat in less time than a man might say
‘Our Father,’ or I’ll take your heads!”
They sprang one in front of another, and in little while there was an
enormous dish of smoked sausage before Soroka, and a flask of vodka.
The soldier fastened his eyes greedily on the food, and his lips and
mustaches were quivering; but he dared not sit in presence of the
colonel.
“Sit down, eat!” commanded Kmita.
Kmita had barely spoken when a dry sausage was crunching between the
powerful jaws of Soroka. The two attendants looked on him with
protruding eyes.
“Be off!” cried Kmita.
They sprang out with all breath through the door; out the knight walked
with hasty steps up and down the room, not wishing to interrupt his
faithful servant. But he, as often as he poured out a glass of vodka,
looked sidewise at the colonel, fearing to find a frown; then he
emptied the glass and turned toward the wall.
Kmita walked, walked; at last he began to speak to himself. “It cannot
be otherwise!” muttered he; “it is needful to send him. I will give
orders to tell her—No use, she will not believe! She will not read a
letter, for she holds me a traitor and a dog. Let him not come in her
way, but let him see and tell me what is taking place there.”
Then he said on a sudden: “Soroka!”
The soldier sprang up so quickly that he came near overturning the
table, and straightened as straight as a string.
“According to order!”
“You are an honest man, and in need you are cunning. You will go on a
long road, but not on a hungry one.”
“According to order!”
“To Tyltsa, on the Prussian border. There Panna Billevich is living in
the castle of Boguslav Radzivill. You will learn if the prince is
there, and have an eye on everything. Do not try to see Panna
Billevich, but should a meeting happen of itself, tell her, and swear
that I brought the king through the mountains, and that I am near his
person. She will surely not give you credit; for the prince has defamed
me, saying that I wished to attempt the life of the king,—which is a
lie befitting a dog.”
“According to order!”
“Do not try to see her, as I have said, for she will not believe you.
But if you meet by chance, tell her what you know. Look at every thing,
and listen! But take care of yourself, for if the prince is there and
recognizes you, or if any one from his court recognizes you, you will
be impaled on a stake. I would send old Kyemlich, but he is in the
other world, slain in the pass, and his sons are too dull. They will go
with me. Have you been in Tyltsa?”
“I have not, your grace.”
“You will go to Shchuchyn, thence along the Prussian boundary to
Tyltsa. Taurogi is twenty miles distant from Tyltsa and opposite, on
our side. Stay in Taurogi till you have seen everything, then come to
me. You will find me where I shall be. Ask for the Tartars and Pan
Babinich. And now go to sleep with the Kyemliches. To-morrow for the
road.”
After these words, Soroka went out. Kmita did not lie down to sleep for
a long time, but at last weariness overcame him; then he threw himself
on the bed, and slept a stone sleep.
Next morning he rose greatly refreshed and stronger than the day
before. The whole court was already on foot, and the usual activity had
begun. Kmita went first to the chancellery, for his commission and
safe-conduct; he visited Suba Gazi Bey, chief of the Khan’s embassy in
Lvoff, and had a long conversation with him.
During that conversation Pan Andrei put his hand twice in his purse; so
that when he was going out Suba Gazi Bey changed caps with him, gave
him a baton of green feathers and some yards of an equally green cord
of silk.
Armed in this fashion, Pan Andrei returned to the king, who had just
come from Mass; then the young man fell once more at the knees of the
sovereign; after that he went, together with the Kyemliches and his
attendants, directly to the place where Akbah Ulan was quartered with
his chambul.
At sight of him the old Tartar put his hand to his forehead, his mouth,
and his breast; but learning who Kmita was and why he had come, he grew
severe at once; his face became gloomy, and was veiled with
haughtiness.
“And the king has sent you to me as a guide,” said he to Kmita, in
broken Russian; “you will show me the road, though I should be able to
go myself wherever it is needed, and you are young and inexperienced.”
“He indicates in advance what I am to be,” thought Kmita, “but I will
be polite to him as long as I can.” Then he said aloud: “Akbah Ulan,
the king has sent me here as a chief, not as a guide. And I tell you
this, that you will do better not to oppose the will of his grace.”
“The Khan makes appointments over the Tartars, not the king,” answered
Akbah Ulan.
“Akbah Ulan,” repeated Kmita, with emphasis, “the Khan has made a
present of thee to the king, as he would a dog or a falcon; therefore
show no disrespect to him, lest thou be tied like a dog with a rope.”
“Allah!” cried the astonished Tartar.
“Hei! have a care that thou anger me not!” said Kmita.
Akbah Ulan’s eyes became bloodshot. For a time he could not utter a
word; the veins on his neck were swollen, his hands sought his dagger.
“I’ll bite, I’ll bite!” said he, with stifled voice.
But Pan Andrei, though he had promised to be polite, had had enough,
for by nature he was very excitable. In one moment therefore something
struck him as if a serpent had stung; he seized the Tartar by the thin
beard with his whole hand, and pushing back his head as if he wished to
show him something on the ceiling, he began to talk through his set
teeth.
“Hear me, son of a goat! Thou wouldst like to have no one above thee,
so as to burn, rob, and slaughter! Thou wouldst have me as guide! Here
is thy guide! thou hast a guide!” And thrusting him to the wall, he
began to pound his head against a corner of it.
He let him go at last, completely stunned, but not looking for his
knife now. Kmita, following the impulse of his hot blood, discovered
the best method of convincing Oriental people accustomed to slavery;
for in the pounded head of the Tartar, in spite of all the rage which
was stifling him, the thought gleamed at once how powerful and
commanding must that knight be who could act in this manner with him,
Akbah Ulan; and with his bloody lips he repeated three times,—
“Bagadyr (hero), Bagadyr, Bagadyr!”
Kmita meanwhile placed on his own head the cap of Suba Grazi, drew
forth the green baton, which he had kept behind his belt of purpose
till that moment, and said,—
“Look at these, slave! and these!”
“Allah!” exclaimed the astonished Ulan.
“And here!” added Kmita, taking the cord from his pocket.
But Akbah Ulan was already lying at his feet, and striking the floor
with his forehead.
An hour later the Tartars were marching out in a long line over the
road from Lvoff to Vyelki Ochi; and Kmita, sitting on a valiant
chestnut steed which the king had given him, drove along the chambul as
a shepherd dog drives sheep. Akbah Ulan looked at the young hero with
wonder and fear.
The Tartars, who were judges of warriors, divined at the first glance
that under that leader there would be no lack of blood and plunder, and
went willingly with singing and music.
And Kmita’s heart swelled within him when he looked at those forms,
resembling beasts of the wilderness; for they were dressed in sheepskin
and camel-skin coats with the wool outside. The wave of wild heads
shook with the movements of the horses; he counted them, and was
thinking how much he could undertake with that force.
“It is a peculiar body,” thought he, “and it seems to me as if I were
leading a pack of wolves; and with such men precisely would it be
possible to run through the whole Commonwealth, and trample all
Prussia. Wait awhile, Prince Boguslav!”
Here boastful thoughts began to flow into his head, for he was inclined
greatly to boastfulness.
“God has given man adroitness,” said he to himself; “yesterday I had
only the two Kyemliches, but to-day four hundred horses are clattering
behind me. Only let the dance begin; I shall have a thousand or two of
such roisterers as my old comrades would not be ashamed of. Wait a
while, Boguslav!”
But after a moment he added, to quiet his own conscience: “And I shall
serve also the king and the country.”
He fell into excellent humor. This too pleased him greatly, that
nobles, Jews, peasants, even large crowds of general militia, could not
guard themselves from fear in the first moment at sight of his Tartars.
And there was a fog, for the thaw had filled the air with a vapor. It
happened then every little while that some one rode up near, and seeing
all at once whom they had before them, cried out,—
“The word is made flesh!”
“Jesus! Mary! Joseph!”
“The Tartars! the horde!”
But the Tartars passed peacefully the equipages, loaded wagons, herds
of horses and travellers. It would have been different had the leader
permitted, but they dared not undertake anything of their own will, for
they had seen how at starting Akbah Ulan had held the stirrup of that
leader.
Now Lvoff had vanished in the distance beyond the mist. The Tartars had
ceased to sing, and the chambul moved slowly amid the clouds of steam
rising from the horses. All at once the tramp of a horse was heard
behind. In a moment two horsemen appeared. One of them was Pan Michael,
the other was the tenant of Vansosh; both, passing the chambul, pushed
straight to Kmita.
“Stop! stop!” cried the little knight.
Kmita held in his horse. “Is that you?”
Pan Michael reined in his horse. “With the forehead!” said he, “letters
from the king: one to you, the other to the voevoda of Vityebsk.”
“I am going to Pan Charnyetski, not to Sapyeha.”
“But read the letter.”
Kmita broke the seal and read as follows:—
We learn through a courier just arrived from the voevoda of Vityebsk
that he cannot march hither to Little Poland, and is turning back again
to Podlyasye, because Prince Boguslav, who is not with the King of
Sweden, has planned to fall upon Tykotsin and Pan Sapyeha. And since he
must leave a great part of his troops in garrisons, we order you to go
to his assistance with that Tartar chambul. And since your own wish is
thus gratified, we need not urge you to hasten. The other letter you
will give to the voevoda; in it we commend Pan Babinich, our faithful
servant, to the good will of the voevoda, and above all to the
protection of God.
Yan Kazimir, _King_.
“By the dear God! by the dear God! This is happy news for me!” cried
Kmita. “I know not how to thank the king and you for it.”
“I offered myself to come,” said the little knight, “out of compassion,
for I saw your pain; I came so that the letters might reach you
surely.”
“When did the courier arrive?”
“We were with the king at dinner,—I, Pan Yan, Pan Stanislav, Kharlamp,
and Zagloba. You cannot imagine what Zagloba told there about the
carelessness of Sapyeha, and his own services. It is enough that the
king cried from continual laughter, and both hetmans were holding their
sides all the time. At last the chamber servant came with a letter;
when the king burst out, ‘Go to the hangman, maybe evil news will spoil
my fun!’ When he learned that it was from Pan Sapyeha, he began to read
it. Indeed he read evil news, for that was confirmed which had long
been discussed; the elector had broken all his oaths, and against his
own rightful sovereign had joined the King of Sweden at last.”
“Another enemy, as if there were few of them hitherto!” cried Kmita;
and he folded his hands. “Great God! only let Pan Sapyeha send me for a
week to Prussia, and God the Merciful grant that ten generations will
remember me and my Tartars.”
“Perhaps you will go there,” said Pan Michael; “but first you must
defeat Boguslav, for as a result of that treason of the elector is he
furnished with men and permitted to go to Podlyasye.”
“Then we shall meet, as to-day is to-day; as God is in heaven, so shall
we meet,” cried Kmita, with flashing eyes. “If you had brought me the
appointment of voevoda of Vilna, it would not have given me more
pleasure.”
“The king too cried at once: ‘There is an expedition ready for Yendrek,
from which the soul will rejoice in him.’ He wanted to send his servant
after you, but I said I will go myself, I will take farewell of him
once more.”
Kmita bent on his horse, and seized the little knight in his embrace.
“A brother would not have done for me what you have done! God grant me
to thank you in some way.”
“Tfu! Did not I want to shoot you?”
“I deserved nothing better. Never mind! May I be slain in the first
battle if in all knighthood I love a man more than I love you.”
Then they began to embrace again at parting, and Volodyovski said,—
“Be careful with Boguslav, be careful, for it is no easy matter with
him.”
“For one of us death is written. Ei! if you who are a genius at the
sabre could discover your secrets to me. But there is no time. As it
is, may the angels help me; and I will see his blood, or my eyes will
close forever on the light of day.”
“God aid you! A lucky journey, and give angelica to those traitors of
Prussians!” said Volodyovski.
“Be sure on that point. The disgusting Lutherans!”
Here Volodyovski nodded to Jendzian, who during this time was talking
to Akbah Ulan, explaining the former successes of Kmita over Hovanski.
And both rode back to Lvoff.
Then Kmita turned his chambul on the spot, as a driver turns his wagon,
and went straight toward the north.