Kmita’s next report came from Sokolka, and was brief:
“The prince, to mislead our troops, has feigned a march toward
Shchuchyn, whither he has sent a party. He has gone himself with his
main force to Yanov, and has received there a reinforcement of
infantry, led by Captain Kyritz, eight hundred good men. From the place
where we are the prince’s fires are visible. In Yanov he intends to
rest one week. The prisoners say that he is ready for battle. The fever
is shaking him continually.”
On receipt of this statement Sapyeha, leaving the remainder of his
cannon and wagons, moved on with cavalry to Sokolka; and at last the
two armies stood eye to eye. It was foreseen too that a battle was
unavoidable; for on one side they could flee no longer, the others
pursuing. Meanwhile, like wrestlers who after a long chase are to seize
each other by the bodies, they lay opposite each other, catching breath
in their panting throats, and resting.
When the hetman saw Kmita he seized him by the shoulders, and said,—
“I was angry with you for not giving an account of yourself for so
long, but I see that you have accomplished more than I could hope for;
and if God gives victory, not mine but yours will be the merit. You
went like an angel guardian after Boguslav.”
An ill-omened light gleamed in Kmita’s eyes. “If I am his angel
guardian, I must be present at his death.”
“God will order that,” said the hetman, seriously; “but if you wish the
Lord to bless you, then pursue the enemy of the country, not your own.”
Kmita bowed in silence; but it could not be learned whether the
beautiful words of the hetman made any impression on him. His face
expressed implacable hatred, and was the more threatening that the toil
of pursuit after Boguslav had emaciated it still more. Formerly in that
countenance was depicted only daring and insolent wildness; now it had
become also stern and inexorable. You could easily see that he against
whom that man had recorded vengeance in his soul ought to guard
himself, even if he were Radzivill.
He had, in truth, avenged himself terribly. The services he had
rendered in that campaign were immense. By pushing himself in front of
Boguslav he had beaten him from the road, had made his reckoning false,
had fixed in him the conviction that he was surrounded, and had forced
him to retreat. Further he went before him night and day. He destroyed
scouting-parties; he was without mercy for prisoners. In Syemyatiche,
in Botski, in Orel and Byelsk he had fallen in the dark night on the
whole camp.
In Voishki, not far from Zabludovo, in a purely Radzivill country, he
had fallen like a blind hurricane on the quarters of the prince
himself, so that Boguslav, who had just sat down to dinner, almost fell
into his hands; and thanks to Sakovich alone, did he take out his head
alive.
At Byalystok Kmita seized the carriages and camp-chests of Boguslav. He
wearied, weakened, and inflicted hunger on Boguslav’s troops. The
choice German infantry and Swedish cavalry which the prince had brought
with him were like walking skeletons, from wandering, from surprises,
from sleeplessness. The mad howling of the Tartars and Kmita’s
volunteers was heard in front of them, at the flanks, and in the rear.
Scarcely had a wearied soldier closed his eyes when he had to seize his
weapons. The farther on, the worse the condition.
The small nobility inhabiting those neighborhoods joined with the
Tartars, partly through hatred of the Radzivills of Birji, partly
through fear of Kmita; for he punished beyond measure those who
resisted. His forces increased therefore; those of Boguslav melted.
Besides, Boguslav himself was really ill; and though in the heart of
that man care never had its nest long, and though the astrologers, whom
he believed blindly, had foretold him in Prussia that his person would
meet no harm in that expedition, his ambition suffered harshly more
than once. He, whose name had been repeated with admiration in the
Netherlands, on the Rhine, and in France, was beaten every day in those
deep forests by an unseen enemy, and overcome without a battle.
There was, besides, in that pursuit such uncommon stubbornness and
impetuosity passing the usual measure of war, that Boguslav with his
native quickness divined after a few days that some inexorable personal
enemy was following him. He learned the name Babinich easily, for the
whole neighborhood repeated it; but that name was strange to him. Not
less glad would he be to know the person; and on the road in times of
pursuit he arranged tens and hundreds of ambushes,—always in vain.
Babinich was able to avoid traps, and inflicted defeats where they were
least expected.
At last both armies came to the neighborhood of Sokolka. Boguslav found
there the reinforcement under Kyritz, who, not knowing hitherto where
the prince was, went to Yanov, where the fate of Boguslav’s expedition
was to be decided.
Kmita closed hermetically all the roads leading from Yanov to Sokolka,
Korychyn, Kuznitsa, and Suhovola. The neighboring forests, willow
woods, and thickets were occupied by the Tartars. Not a letter could
pass; no wagon with provisions could be brought in. Boguslav himself
was in a hurry for battle before his last biscuit in Yanov should be
eaten.
But as a man of quick wit, trained in every intrigue, he determined to
try negotiations first. He did not know yet that Sapyeha in this kind
of intrigue surpassed him greatly in reasoning and quickness. From
Sokolka then in Boguslav’s name came Pan Sakovich, under-chamberlain
and starosta of Oshmiana, the attendant and personal friend of Prince
Boguslav, with a letter and authority to conclude peace.
This Pan Sakovich was a wealthy man, who reached senatorial dignity
later in life, for he became voevoda of Smolensk and treasurer of the
Grand Principality; he was at that time one of the most noted cavaliers
in Lithuania, famed equally for bravery and beauty. Pan Sakovich was of
medium stature; the hair of his head and brows was black as a raven’s
wing, but he had pale blue eyes which gazed with marvellous and
unspeakable insolence, so that Boguslav said of him that he stunned
with his eyes as with the back of an axe. He wore foreign garments
which he brought from journeys made with Boguslav; he spoke nearly all
languages; in battle he rushed into the greatest whirl so madly that
among his enemies he was called “the doomed man.” But, thanks to his
uncommon strength and presence of mind, he always came out unharmed. It
was said that he had strength to stop a carriage in its course by
seizing the hind wheel; he could drink beyond measure, could toss off a
quart of cream in vodka, and be as sober as if he had taken nothing in
his mouth. With men he was morose, haughty, offensive; in Boguslav’s
hand he was as soft as wax. His manners were polished, and though in
the king’s chambers he knew how to bear himself, he had a certain
wildness in his spirit which burst forth at times like a flame.
Pan Sakovich was rather a companion than a servant of Boguslav.
Boguslav, who in truth had never loved any one in his life, had an
unconquerable weakness for this man. By nature exceedingly sordid, he
was generous to Sakovich alone. By his influence he raised him to be
under-chamberlain, and had him endowed with the starostaship of
Oshmiana. After every battle Boguslav’s first question was: “Where is
Sakovich? has he met with no harm?” The prince depended greatly on the
starosta’s counsels, and employed him in war and in negotiations in
which the courage and impudence of Sakovich were very effective.
This time he sent him to Sapyeha. But the mission was difficult,—first,
because the suspicion might easily fall on the starosta that he had
come only to spy out and discover Sapyeha’s strength; second, because
the envoy had much to ask and nothing to offer.
Happily, Pan Sakovich did not trouble himself with anything. He entered
as a victor who comes to dictate terms to the vanquished, and struck
Sapyeha with his pale eyes.
Sapyeha smiled when he saw that pride, but half of his smile was
compassion. Every man may impose much with daring and impudence, but on
people of a certain measure; the hetman was above the measure of
Sakovich.
“My master, prince in Birji and Dubinki, commander-in-chief of the
armies of his princely highness the elector,” said Sakovich, “has sent
me with a greeting, and to ask about the health of your worthiness.”
“Thank the prince, and say that you saw me well.”
Sapyeha took the letter, opened it carelessly enough, read it, and
said,—
“Too bad to lose time. I cannot see what the prince wants. Do you
surrender, or do you wish to try your fortune?”
Sakovich feigned astonishment.
“Whether we surrender? I think that the prince proposes specially in
this letter that you surrender; at least my instructions—”
“Of your instructions we will speak later, my dear Pan Sakovich. We
have chased you nearly a hundred and fifty miles, as a hound does a
hare. Have you ever heard of a hare proposing to a hound to surrender?”
“We have received reinforcements.”
“Von Kyritz, with eight hundred men, and so tired that they will lay
down their arms before battle. I will give you Hmelnitski’s saying
‘There is no time to talk!’”
“The elector with all his power is with us.”
“That is well,—I shall not have far to seek him; for I wish to ask him
by what right he sends troops into the Commonwealth, of which he is a
vassal, and to which he is bound in loyalty.”
“The right of the strongest.”
“Maybe in Prussia such a right exists, but not with us. But if you are
the stronger, take the field.”
“The prince would long since have attacked you, were it not for kindred
blood.”
“I wonder if that is the only hindrance!”
“The prince wonders at the animosity of the Sapyehas against the house
of Radzivill, and that your worthiness for private revenge hesitates
not to spill the blood of the country.”
“Tfu!” cried Kmita, listening behind the hetman’s armchair to the
conversation.
Pan Sakovich rose, went to Kmita, and struck him with his eyes. But he
met his own, or better; and in the eyes of Pan Andrei the starosta
found such an answer that he dropped his glance to the floor.
The hetman frowned. “Take your seat, Pan Sakovich. And do you preserve
calm” (turning to Kmita). Then he said to Sakovich,—
“Conscience speaks only the truth, but mouths chew it and spit it into
the world as calumny. He who with foreign troops attacks a country,
inflicts wrong on him who defends it. God hears this, and the heavenly
chronicler will inscribe.”
“Through hatred of the Sapyehas to the Radzivills was the prince
voevoda of Vilna consumed.”
“I hate traitors, not the Radzivills; and the best proof of this is
that Prince Michael Radzivill is in my camp now. Tell me what is your
wish?”
“Your worthiness, I will tell what I have in my heart; he hates who
sends secret assassins.”
Pan Sapyeha was astonished in his turn.
“I send assassins against Prince Boguslav?”
“That is the case!”
“You have gone mad!”
“The other day they caught, beyond Yanov, a murderer who once made an
attack on the life of the prince. Tortures brought him to tell who sent
him.”
A moment of silence followed; but in that silence Pan Sapyeha heard how
Kmita, standing behind him, repeated twice through his set lips, “Woe,
woe!”
“God is my judge,” answered the hetman, with real senatorial dignity,
“that neither to you nor your prince shall I ever justify myself; for
you were not made to be my judges. But do you, instead of loitering,
tell directly what you have come for, and what conditions your prince
offers.”
“The prince, my lord, has destroyed Horotkyevich, has defeated Pan
Krishtof Sapyeha, taken Tykotsin; therefore he can justly call himself
victor, and ask for considerable advantages. But regretting the loss of
Christian blood, he desires to return in quiet to Prussia, requiring
nothing more than the freedom of leaving his garrisons in the castles.
We have also taken prisoners not a few, among whom are distinguished
officers, not counting Panna Anusia Borzobogati, who has been sent
already to Taurogi. These may be exchanged on equal terms.”
“Do not boast of your victories, for my advance guard, led by Pan
Babinich here present, pressed you for a hundred and fifty miles; you
retreated before it, lost twice as many prisoners as you took
previously; you lost wagons, cannon, camp-chests. Your army is
fatigued, dropping from hunger, has nothing to eat; you know not
whither to turn. You have seen my army; I did not ask to have your eyes
bound purposely, that you might know whether you are able to measure
forces with us. As to that young lady, she is not under my
guardianship, but that of Pan Zamoyski and Princess Griselda
Vishnyevetski. The prince will reckon with them if he does her any
injustice. But speak with wisdom; otherwise I shall order Pan Babinich
to march at once.”
Sakovich, instead of answering, turned to Kmita: “Then you are the man
who made such onsets on the road? You must have learned your murderous
trade under Kmita—”
“Learn on your own skin whether I practised well!”
The hetman again frowned. “You have nothing to do here,” said he to
Sakovich; “you may go.”
“Your worthiness, give me at least a letter.”
“Let it be so. Wait at Pan Oskyerko’s quarters for a letter.”
Hearing this, Pan Oskyerko conducted Sakovich at once to his quarters.
The hetman waved his hand as a parting; then he turned to Pan Andrei.
“Why did you say ‘Woe,’ when he spoke of that man whom they seized?”
asked he, looking quickly and severely into the eyes of the knight.
“Has hatred so deadened your conscience that you really sent a murderer
to the prince?”
“By the Most Holy Lady whom I defended, no!” answered Kmita; “not
through strange hands did I wish to reach his throat.”
“Why did you say ‘Woe’? Do you know that man?”
“I know him,” answered Kmita, growing pale from emotion and rage. “I
sent him from Lvoff to Taurogi—Prince Boguslav took Panna Billevich to
Taurogi—I love that lady. We were to marry—I sent that man to get me
news of her. She was in such hands—”
“Calm yourself!” said the hetman. “Have you given him any letters?”
“No; she would not read them.”
“Why?”
“Boguslav told her that I offered to carry away the king.”
“Great are your reasons for hating him.”
“True, your worthiness, true.”
“Does the prince know that man?”
“He knows him. That is the sergeant Soroka. He helped me to carry off
Boguslav.”
“I understand,” said the hetman; “the vengeance of the prince is
awaiting him.”
A moment of silence followed.
“The prince is in a trap,” said the hetman, after a while; “maybe he
will consent to give him up.”
“Let your worthiness,” said Kmita, “detain Sakovich, and send me to the
prince. Perhaps I may rescue Soroka.”
“Is his fate such a great question for you?”
“An old soldier, an old servant; he carried me in his arms. A multitude
of times he has saved my life. God would punish me were I to abandon
him in such straits.” And Kmita began to tremble from pity and anxiety.
But the hetman said: “It is no wonder to me that the soldiers love you,
for you love them. I will do what I can. I will write to the prince
that I will free for him whomsoever he wishes for that soldier, who
besides at your command has acted as an innocent agent.”
Kmita seized his head: “What does he care for prisoners? he will not
let him go for thirty of them.”
“Then he will not give him to you; he will even attempt your life.”
“He would give him for one,—for Sakovich.”
“I cannot imprison Sakovich; he is an envoy.”
“Detain him, and I will go with a letter to the prince. Perhaps I shall
succeed—God be with him! I will abandon my revenge, if he will give me
that soldier.”
“Wait,” said the hetman; “I can detain Sakovich. Besides that I will
write to the prince to send me a safe-conduct without a name.”
The hetman began to write at once. An hour later a Cossack was
galloping with a letter to Yanov, and toward evening he returned with
Boguslav’s answer:—
“I send according to request the safe-conduct with which every envoy
may return unharmed, though it is a wonder to me that your worthiness
should ask for a conduct while you have such a hostage as my servant
and friend Pan Sakovich, for whom I have so much love that I would give
all the officers in my army for him. It is known also that envoys are
not killed, but are usually respected even by wild Tartars with whom
your worthiness is making war against my Christian army. Now,
guaranteeing the safety of your envoy by my personal princely word, I
subscribe myself, etc.”
That same evening Kmita took the safe-conduct and went with the two
Kyemliches. Pan Sakovich remained in Sokolka as a hostage.