The province of Lyubelsk and the greater part of Podlyasye were almost
completely in the hands of Poles, that is, of the confederates and
Sapyeha’s men. Since the King of Sweden remained in Prussia, where he
was treating with the elector, the Swedes, not feeling very powerful in
presence of the general uprising, which increased every day, dared not
come out of the towns and castles, and still less to cross to the
eastern side of the Vistula, where the Polish forces were greatest. In
those two provinces, therefore, the Poles were laboring to form a
considerable and well-ordered army, able to meet the regular soldiers
of Sweden. In the provincial towns they were training infantry, and
since the peasants in general had risen, there was no lack of
volunteers; it was only necessary to organize in bodies and regular
commands those chaotic masses of men frequently dangerous to their own
country.
The district captains betook themselves to this labor. Besides, the
king had issued a number of commissions to old and tried soldiers;
troops were enrolled in all provinces, and since there was no lack of
military people in those regions, squadrons of perfect cavalry were
formed. Some went west of the Vistula, others to Charnyetski, still
others to Sapyeha. Such multitudes had taken arms that Yan Kazimir’s
forces were already more numerous than those of the Swedes.
A country over whose weakness all Europe had recently wondered, gave
now an example of power unsuspected, not only by its enemies, but by
its own king, and even by those whose faithful hearts, a few months
before, had been rent by pain and despair. Money was found, as well as
enthusiasm and bravery; the most despairing souls were convinced that
there is no position, no fall, no weakness from which there may not be
a deliverance, and that when children are born consolation cannot die.
Kmita went on without hindrance, gathering on his road unquiet spirits,
who joined the chambul with readiness, hoping to find most blood and
plunder in company with the Tartars. These he changed easily into good
and prompt soldiers, for he had the gift to make his subordinates fear
and obey. He was greeted joyously on the road, and that by reason of
the Tartars; for the sight of them convinced men that the Khan was
indeed coming with succor to the Commonwealth. It was declaimed openly
that forty thousand chosen Tartar cavalry were marching to strengthen
Sapyeha. Wonders were told of the “modesty” of these allies,—how they
committed no violence or murder on the road. They were shown as an
example to the soldiers of the country.
Pan Sapyeha was quartered temporarily at Byala. His forces were
composed of about ten thousand regular troops, cavalry and infantry.
They were the remnants of the Lithuanian armies, increased by new men.
The cavalry, especially some of the squadrons, surpassed in valor and
training the Swedish horsemen; but the infantry were badly trained, and
lacked firearms, powder, and cannon. Sapyeha had thought to find these
in Tykotsin; but the Swedes, by blowing themselves up with the powder,
destroyed at the same time all the cannons of the castle.
Besides these forces there were in the neighborhood of Byala twelve
thousand general militia from all Lithuania, Mazovia, and Podlyasye;
but from few of these did the voevoda promise himself service,
especially since having an immense number of wagons they hindered
movement and turned the army into a clumsy, unwieldy multitude.
Kmita thought of one thing in entering Byala. There were under Sapyeha
so many nobles from Lithuania and so many of Radzivill’s officers, his
former acquaintances, that he feared they would recognize him and cut
him to pieces before he could cry, “Jesus! Mary!”
His name was detested in Sapyeha’s camp and in all Lithuania; for men
still preserved in vivid remembrance the fact that while serving Prince
Yanush, he had cut down those squadrons which, opposing the hetman, had
declared for the country.
Pan Andrei had changed much, and this gave him comfort. First, he had
become thin; second, he had the scar on his face from Boguslav’s
bullet; finally, he wore a beard, rather long, pointed in Swedish
fashion, and his mustache he combed upward, so that he was more like
some Erickson than a Polish noble.
“If there is not a tumult against me at once, men will judge me
differently after the first battle,” thought Kmita, when entering
Byala.
He arrived in the evening, announced who he was, whence he had come,
that he was bearing letters from the king, and asked a special audience
of the voevoda.
The voevoda received him graciously because of the warm recommendation
of the king, who wrote,—
“We send to you our most faithful servant, who is called the Hector of
Chenstohova, from the time of the siege of that glorious place; and he
has saved our freedom and life at the risk of his own during our
passage through the mountains. Have him in special care, so that no
injustice come to him from the soldiers. We know his real name, and the
reasons for which he serves under an assumed one; no man is to hold him
in suspicion because of this change, or suspect him of intrigues.”
“But is it not possible to know why you bear an assumed name?” asked
the voevoda.
“I am under sentence, and cannot make levies in my own name. The king
gave me a commission, and I can make levies as Babinich.”
“Why do you want levies if you have Tartars?”
“For a greater force would not be in the way.”
“And why are you under sentence?”
“Under the command and protection of whomsoever I go, him I ought to
tell all as to a father. My real name is Kmita.”
The voevoda pushed back a couple of steps,—
“He who promised Boguslav to carry off our king, living or dead?”
Kmita related with all his energy how and what had happened,—how,
befogged by Prince Yanush, he had served the Radzivills; how he had
learned their real purposes from the mouth of Boguslav, and then
carried off the latter and thus incurred his implacable vengeance.
The voevoda believed, for he could not refuse belief, especially since
the king’s letter confirmed the truth of Kmita’s words. Besides, his
soul was so delighted in the voevoda that he would at that moment have
pressed his worst enemy to his heart and forgiven his greatest offence.
This delight was caused by the following passage in the king’s letter:—
“Though the grand baton of Lithuania, unused now after the death of the
voevoda of Vilna, can by usual procedure be given to a successor only
at the Diet, still in the present extraordinary circumstances,
disregarding the usual course, We give this baton to you, greatly
cherished by us, for the good of the Commonwealth and your memorable
services, thinking justly that, God giving peace, no voice at the
coming Diet will be raised against this our choice, and that our act
will find general approval.”
Pan Sapyeha, as was said then in the Commonwealth, “had pawned his coat
and sold his last silver spoon;” he had not served his country for
profit, nor for honors. But even the most disinterested man is glad to
see that his services are appreciated, that they are rewarded with
gratitude, that his virtue is recognized. Therefore Sapyeha’s serious
face was uncommonly radiant.
This act of the king adorned the house of Sapyeha with new splendor;
and to this no “kinglet” of that time was indifferent,—it were well had
there been none to strive for elevation _per nefas_ (through
injustice). Therefore Pan Sapyeha was ready to do for the king what was
in his power and what was out of his power.
“Since I am hetman,” said he to Kmita, “you come under my jurisdiction
and are under my guardianship. There is a multitude here of the general
militia, hence tumult is near; therefore do not show yourself over-much
till I warn the soldiers, and remove that calumny which Boguslav cast
on you.”
Kmita thanked him from his heart, and then spoke of Anusia, whom he had
brought to Byala. In answer the hetman fell to scolding, but being in
excellent humor he scolded joyously.
“You made a fool of Sobiepan, as God is dear to me! He sits there with
his sister inside the walls of Zamost, as with the Lord God, behind the
stove, and thinks that every one can do as he does,—raise the skirts of
his coat, turn to the fire, and warm his back. I know the Podbipientas,
for they are related to the Bjostovskis, and the Bjostovskis to me. The
fortune is a lordly one, that is not to be denied; but though war with
the Northerners has weakened it for a time, still people are alive yet
in those regions. Where can anything be found, where any courts, any
officers? Who will take the property and put the young lady in
possession? They have gone stark mad! Boguslav is sitting on my
shoulders; I have my duties in the army, but they would have me fill my
head with women.”
“She is not a woman, but a cherry,” said Kmita. “She is nothing however
to me. They asked me to bring her here; I have brought her. They asked
me to give her to you; I give her.”
The hetman then took Kmita by the ear and said: “But who knows,
protector, in what form you have brought her? God preserve us, people
may say that from the guardianship of Sapyeha she has suffered; and I,
old man, shall have to keep my eyes open. What did you do at the
stopping-places? Tell me right away, Pagan, did you not learn from your
Tartars some heathen customs?”
“At the stopping-places,” answered Kmita, jestingly, “I commanded my
attendants to plough my skin with discipline, so as to drive out the
less worthy motives, which have their seat under the skin, and which I
confess were plaguing me worse than horseflies.”
“Ah, you see— Is she a worthy maiden?”
“Really so; and terribly pretty.”
“And the Turk was at hand?”
“But she is as honest as a nun; that I must say for her. And as to
suffering I think that would come sooner from the Zamoyski guardianship
than from you.”
Here Kmita told what had taken place and how. Then the hetman fell to
clapping him on the shoulder and laughing,—
“Well, you are a crafty fellow! Not in vain do they tell so much of
Kmita. Have no fear! Pan Zamoyski is not a stubborn man, and he is my
friend. His first anger will pass, and he will even laugh at it himself
and reward you.”
“I need no reward!” interrupted Kmita.
“It is well that you have ambition and are not looking for favor. Only
serve me against Boguslav, and you will not need to think of past
outlawry.”
Sapyeha was astonished when he looked at the soldier’s face, which a
moment before was so open and joyous. Kmita at mention of Boguslav grew
pale in an instant, and his face took on wrinkles like the face of a
dog, when preparing to bite.
“Would that the traitor were poisoned with his own spittle, if he could
only fall into my hands before his death!” said he, gloomily.
“I do not wonder at your venom. Have a care, though, that your anger
does not choke your adroitness, for you have to deal with no common
man. It is well that the king sent you hither. You will attack Boguslav
for me, as you once did Hovanski.”
“I will attack him better!” said Kmita, with the same gloom.
With this the conversation ended. Kmita went away to sleep in his
quarters, for he was wearied from the road.
Meanwhile the news spread through the army that the king had sent the
baton to their beloved chief. Joy burst out like a flame among
thousands of men. The officers of various squadrons hurried to the
quarters of the hetman. The sleeping town sprang up from its slumber.
Bonfires were kindled. Standard-bearers came with their standards.
Trumpets sounded and kettle-drums thundered; discharges from muskets
and cannon roared. Pan Sapyeha ordered a lordly feast, and they
applauded the whole night through, drinking to the health of the king,
the hetman, and to the coming victory over Boguslav.
Pan Andrei, as was agreed, was not present at the feast.
The hetman at the table began a conversation about Boguslav, and not
telling who that officer was who had come with the Tartars and brought
the baton, he spoke in general of the perversity of Boguslav.
“Both Radzivills,” said he, “were fond of intrigues, but Prince
Boguslav goes beyond his dead cousin. You remember, gentlemen, Kmita,
or at least you have heard of him. Now imagine to yourselves, what
Boguslav reported—that Kmita offered to raise his hand on the king our
lord—was not true.”
“Still Kmita helped Yanush to cut down good cavaliers.”
“It is true that he helped Yanush; but at last he saw what he was
doing, and then not only did he leave the service, but as you know,
being a man of daring, he attacked Boguslav. It was close work there
for the young prince, and he barely escaped with his life from Kmita’s
hands.”
“Kmita was a great soldier!” answered many voices.
“The prince through revenge invented against him a calumny at which the
soul shudders.”
“The devil could not have invented a keener!”
“Do you know that I have in my hands proofs in black and white that
that was revenge for the change in Kmita?”
“To put infamy in such a way on any one’s name! Only Boguslav could do
that! To sink such a soldier!”
“I have heard this,” continued the hetman: “Kmita, seeing that nothing
remained for him to do in this region, hurried off to Chenstohova,
rendered there famous services, and then defended the king with his own
breast.”
Hearing this, the same soldiers who would have cut Kmita to pieces with
their sabres began to speak of him more and more kindly.
“Kmita will not forgive the calumny, he is not such a man; he will fall
on Boguslav.”
“Boguslav has insulted all soldiers, by casting such infamy on one of
them.”
“Kmita was cruel and violent, but he was not a parricide.”
“He will have vengeance!”
“We will be first to take vengeance for him!”
“If you, serene great mighty hetman, guarantee this with your office,
it must have been so.”
“It was so!” said the hetman.
And they lacked little of drinking Kmita’s health. But in truth there
were very violent voices against this, especially among the former
officers of Radzivill. Hearing these, the hetman said,—
“And do you know, gentlemen, how this Kmita comes to my mind? Babinich,
the king’s courier, resembles him much. At the first moment I was
mistaken myself.”
Here Sapyeha began to look around with more severity and to speak with
greater seriousness,—
“Though Kmita were to come here himself, since he has changed, since he
has defended a holy place with immense bravery, I should defend him
with my office of hetman. I ask you therefore, gentlemen, to raise no
disturbance here by reason of this newly arrived. I ask you to remember
that he has come here by appointment of the king and the Khan. But
especially do I recommend this to you who are captains in the general
militia, for with you it is harder to preserve discipline.”
Whenever Sapyeha spoke thus, Zagloba alone dared to murmur, all others
would sit in obedience, and so they sat now; but when the hetman’s face
grew gladsome again, all rejoiced. The goblets moving swiftly filled
the measure of rejoicing, and the whole town was thundering till
morning, so that the walls of houses were shaking on their foundation,
and the smoke of salutes veiled them, as in time of battle.
Next morning Sapyeha sent Anusia to Grodno with Pan Kotchyts. In
Grodno, from which Hovanski had long since withdrawn, the voevoda’s
family was living.
Poor Anusia, whose head the handsome Babinich had turned somewhat, took
farewell of him very tenderly; but he was on his guard, and only at the
very parting did he say to her,—
“Were it not for one devil which sits in my heart like a thorn, I
should surely have fallen in love with you to kill.”
Anusia thought to herself that there is no splinter which may not be
picked out with patience and a needle; but she feared somewhat this
Babinich, therefore she said nothing, sighed quietly, and departed.