The spring of that year approached with wonderful roads; for while in
the north of the Commonwealth snow was already thawing, the stiffened
rivers were set free, and the whole country was filled with March
water, in the south the icy breath of winter was still descending from
the mountains to the fields, woods, and forests. In the forests lay
snow-drifts, in the open country frozen roads sounded under the hoofs
of horses; the days were dry, the sunsets red, the nights starry and
frosty. The people living on the rich clay, on the black soil, and in
the woods of Little Poland comforted themselves with the continuance of
the cold, stating that the field-mice and the Swedes would perish from
it. But inasmuch as the spring came late, it came as swiftly as an
armored squadron advancing to the attack of an enemy. The sun shot down
living fire from heaven, and at once the crust of winter burst; from
the Hungarian steppes flew a strong warm wind, and began to blow on the
fields and wild places. Straightway in the midst of shining ponds
arable ground became dark, a green fleece shot up on the low
river-lands, and the forests began to shed tears from bursting buds on
their branches.
In the heavens continually fair were seen, daily, rows of cranes, wild
ducks, teal, and geese. Storks flew to their places of the past year,
and the roofs were swarming with swallows; the twitter of birds was
heard in the villages, their noise in the woods and ponds, and in the
evening the whole country was ringing with the croaking and singing of
frogs, which swam with delight in the waters.
Then came great rains, which were as if they had been warmed; they fell
in the daytime, they fell in the night, without interruption.
The fields were turned into lakes, the rivers overflowed, the fords
became impassable; then followed the “stickiness and the impossible of
muddy roads.” Amid all this water, mud, and swamp the Swedish legions
dragged onward continually toward the south.
But how little was that throng, advancing as it were to destruction,
like that brilliant army which in its time marched under Wittemberg to
Great Poland! Hunger had stamped itself on the faces of the old
soldiers; they went on more like spectres than men, in suffering, in
toil, in sleeplessness, knowing that at the end of the road not food
was awaiting, but hunger; not sleep, but a battle; and if rest, then
the rest of the dead.
Arrayed in iron these skeletons of horsemen sat on skeletons of horses.
The infantry hardly drew their legs along; barely could they hold
spears and muskets with trembling hands. Day followed day; they went
onward continually. Wagons were broken, cannons were fastened in
sloughs; they went on so slowly that sometimes they were able to
advance hardly five miles in one day. Diseases fell on the soldiers,
like ravens on corpses; the teeth of some were chattering from fever;
others lay down on the ground simply from weakness, choosing rather to
die than advance.
But the Swedish Alexander hastened toward the Polish Darius
unceasingly. At the same time he was pursued himself. As in the
night-time jackals follow a sick buffalo waiting to see if he will soon
fall, and he knows that he will fall and he hears the howl of the
hungry pack, so after the Swedes went “parties,” nobles and peasants,
approaching ever nearer, attacking ever more insolently, and snatching
away.
At last came Charnyetski, the most terrible of all the pursuers, and
followed closely. The rearguards of the Swedes as often as they looked
behind saw horsemen, at one time far off on the edge of the horizon, at
another a furlong away, at another twice the distance of a musket-shot,
at another time, when attacking, on their very shoulders.
The enemy wanted battle; with despair did the Swedes pray to the Lord
of Hosts for battle. But Charnyetski did not receive battle, he bided
his time; meanwhile he preferred to punish the Swedes, or let go from
his hand against them single parties as one would falcons against water
birds.
And so they marched one after the other. There were times, however,
when Charnyetski passed the Swedes, pushed on, and blocked the road
before them, pretending to prepare for a general battle. Then the
trumpet sounded joyously from one end of the Swedish camp to the other,
and, oh miracle! new strength, a new spirit seemed to vivify on a
sudden the wearied ranks of the Scandinavians. Sick, wet, weak, like
Lazaruses, they stood in rank promptly for battle, with flaming faces,
with fire in their eyes. Spears and muskets moved with as much accuracy
as if iron hands held them; the shouts of battle were heard as loudly
as if they came from the healthiest bosoms, and they marched forward to
strike breast against breast.
Then Charnyetski struck once, twice; but when the artillery began to
thunder he withdrew his troops, leaving to the Swedes as profit, vain
labor and the greater disappointment and disgust.
When, however, the artillery could not come up, and spears and sabres
had to decide in the open field, he struck like a thunderbolt, knowing
that in a hand-to-hand conflict the Swedish cavalry could not stand,
even against volunteers.
And again Wittemberg implored the king to retreat and thus avoid ruin
to himself and the army; but Karl Gustav in answer compressed his lips,
fire flashed from his eyes, and he pointed to the south, where in the
Russian regions he hoped to find Yan Kazimir, and also fields open to
conquest, rest, provisions, pastures for horses, and rich plunder.
Meanwhile, to complete the misfortune, those Polish regiments which had
served him hitherto, and which in one way or another were now alone
able to meet Charnyetski, began to leave the Swedes. Pan Zbrojek
resigned first; he had held to Karl hitherto not from desire of gain,
but from blind attachment to the squadron, and soldierly faithfulness
to Karl. He resigned in this fashion, that he engaged in conflict with
a regiment of Miller’s dragoons, cut down half the men, and departed.
After him resigned Pan Kalinski, who rode over the Swedish infantry.
Yan Sapyeha grew gloomier each day; he was meditating something in his
soul, plotting something. He had not gone hitherto himself, but his men
were deserting him daily.
Karl Gustav was marching then through Narol, Tsyeshanov, and Oleshytse,
to reach the San. He was upheld by the hope that Yan Kazimir would bar
his road and give him battle. A victory might yet repair the fate of
Sweden and bring a change of fortune. In fact, rumors were current that
Yan Kazimir had set out from Lvoff with the quarter soldiers and the
Tartars. But Karl’s reckonings deceived him. Yan Kazimir preferred to
await the junction of the armies and the arrival of the Lithuanians
under Sapyeha. Delay was his best ally; for he was growing daily in
strength, while Karl was becoming weaker.
“That is not the march of troops nor of an army, but a funeral
procession!” said old warriors in Yan Kazimir’s suite.
Many Swedish officers shared this opinion. Karl Gustav however repeated
still that he was going to Lvoff; but he was deceiving himself and his
army. It was not for him to go to Lvoff, but to think of his own
safety. Besides, it was not certain that he would find Yan Kazimir in
Lvoff; in every event the “Polish Darius” might withdraw far into
Podolia, and draw after him the enemy into distant steppes where the
Swedes must perish without rescue.
Douglas went to Premysl to try if that fortress would yield, and
returned, not merely with nothing, but plucked. The catastrophe was
coming slowly, but inevitably. All tidings brought to the Swedish camp
were simply the announcement of it. Each day fresh tidings and ever
more terrible.
“Sapyeha is marching; he is already in Tomashov!” was repeated one day.
“Lyubomirski is marching with troops and mountaineers!” was announced
the day following. And again: “The king is leading the quarter soldiers
and the horde one hundred thousand strong! He has joined Sapyeha!”
Among these tidings were “tidings of disaster and death,” untrue and
exaggerated, but they always spread fear. The courage of the army fell.
Formerly whenever Karl appeared in person before his regiments, they
greeted him with shouts in which rang the hope of victory; now the
regiments stood before him dull and dumb. And at the fires the
soldiers, famished and wearied to death, whispered more of Charnyetski
than of their own king. They saw him everywhere. And, a strange thing!
when for a couple of days no party had perished, when a few nights
passed without alarms or cries of “Allah!” and “Strike, kill!” their
disquiet became still greater. “Charnyetski has fled; God knows what he
is preparing!” repeated the soldiers.
Karl halted a few days in Yaroslav, pondering what to do. During that
time the Swedes placed on flat-bottomed boats sick soldiers, of whom
there were many in camp, and sent them by the river to Sandomir, the
nearest fortified town still in Swedish hands. After this work had been
finished, and just when the news of Yan Kazimir’s march from Lvoff had
come in, the King of Sweden determined to discover where Yan Kazimir
was, and with that object Colonel Kanneberg with one thousand cavalry
passed the San and moved to the east.
“It may be that you have in your hands the fate of the war and us all,”
said the king to him at parting.
And in truth much depended on that party, for in the worst case
Kanneberg was to furnish the camp with provisions; and if he could
learn certainly where Yan Kazimir was, the Swedish King was to move at
once with all his forces against the “Polish Darius,” whose army he was
to scatter and whose person he was to seize if he could.
The first soldiers and the best horses were assigned, therefore, to
Kanneberg. Choice was made the more carefully as the colonel could not
take artillery or infantry; hence he must have with him men who with
sabres could stand against Polish cavalry in the field.
March 20, the party set out. A number of officers and soldiers took
farewell of them, saying: “God conduct you! God give victory! God give
a fortunate return!” They marched in a long line, being one thousand in
number, and went two abreast over the newly built bridge which had one
square still unfinished, but was in some fashion covered with planks so
that they might pass.
Good hope shone in their faces, for they were exceptionally well fed.
Food had been taken from others and given to them; gorailka was poured
into their flasks. When they were riding away they shouted joyfully and
said to their comrades,—
“We will bring you Charnyetski himself on a rope.”
Fools! They knew not that they were going as go bullocks to slaughter
at the shambles!
Everything combined for their ruin. Barely had they crossed the river
when the Swedish sappers removed the temporary covering of the bridge,
so as to lay stronger planks over which cannon might pass. The thousand
turned toward Vyelki Ochi, singing in low voices to themselves; their
helmets glittered in the sun on the turn once and a second time; then
they began to sink in the dense pine-wood.
They rode forward two miles and a half,—emptiness, silence around them;
the forest depths seemed vacant altogether. They halted to give breath
to the horses; after that they moved slowly forward. At last they
reached Vyelki Oehi, in which they found not a living soul. That
emptiness astonished Kanneberg.
“Evidently they have been waiting for us here,” said he to Major Sweno;
“but Charnyetski must be in some other place, since he has not prepared
ambushes.”
“Does your worthiness order a return?” asked Sweno.
“We will go on even to Lvoff itself, which is not very far. I must find
an informant, and give the king sure information touching Yan Kazimir.”
“But if we meet superior forces?”
“Even if we meet several thousand of those brawlers whom the Poles call
general militia, we will not let ourselves be torn apart by such
soldiers.”
“But we may meet regular troops. We have no artillery, and against them
cannons are the main thing.”
“Then we will draw back in season and inform the king of the enemy, and
those who try to cut off our retreat we will disperse.”
“I am afraid of the night!” replied Sweno.
“We will take every precaution. We have food for men and horses for two
days; we need not hurry.”
When they entered the pine-wood beyond Vyelki Ochi, they acted with
vastly more caution. Fifty horsemen rode in advance musket in hand,
each man with his gunstock on his thigh. They looked carefully on every
side; examined the thickets, the undergrowth; frequently they halted,
listened; sometimes they went from the road to one side to examine the
depths of the forest, but neither on the roads nor at the sides was
there a man.
But one hour later, after they had passed a rather sudden turn, two
troopers riding in advance saw a man on horseback about four hundred
yards ahead.
The day was clear and the sun shone brightly; hence the man could be
seen as something on the hand. He was a soldier, not large, dressed
very decently in foreign fashion. He seemed especially small because he
sat on a large cream-colored steed, evidently of high breed.
The horseman was riding at leisure, as if not seeing that troops were
rolling on after him. The spring floods had dug deep ditches in the
road, in which muddy water was sweeping along. The horseman spurred his
steed in front of the ditches, and the beast sprang across with the
nimbleness of a deer, and again went on at a trot, throwing his head
and snorting vivaciously from time to time.
The two troopers reined in their horses and began to look around for
the sergeant. He clattered up in a moment, looked, and said: “That is
some hound from the Polish kennel.”
“Shall I shout at him?”
“Shout not; there may be more of them. Go to the colonel.”
Meanwhile the rest of the advance guard rode up, and all halted; the
small horseman halted too, and turned the face of his steed to the
Swedes as if wishing to block the road to them. For a certain time they
looked at him and he at them.
“There is another! a second! a third! a fourth! a whole party!” were
the sudden cries in the Swedish ranks.
In fact, horsemen began to pour out from both sides of the road; at
first singly, then by twos, by threes. All took their places in line
with him who had appeared first.
But the second Swedish guard with Sweno, and then the whole detachment
with Kanneberg, came up. Kanneberg and Sweno rode to the front at once.
“I know those men!” cried Sweno, when he had barely seen them; “their
squadron was the first to strike on Prince Waldemar at Golamb; those
are Charnyetski’s men. He must be here himself!”
These words produced an impression; deep silence followed in the ranks,
only the horses shook their bridle-bits.
“I sniff some ambush,” continued Sweno. “There are too few of them to
meet us, but there must be others hidden in the woods.”
He turned here to Kanneberg: “Your worthiness, let us return.”
“You give good counsel,” answered the colonel, frowning. “It was not
worth while to set out if we must return at sight of a few ragged
fellows. Why did we not return at sight of one? Forward!”
The first Swedish rank moved at that moment with the greatest
regularity; after it the second, the third, the fourth. The distance
between the two detachments was becoming less.
“Cock your muskets!” commanded Kanneberg.
The Swedish muskets moved like one; their iron necks were stretched
toward the Polish horsemen.
But before the muskets thundered, the Polish horsemen turned their
horses and began to flee in a disorderly group.
“Forward!” cried Kanneberg.
The division moved forward on a gallop, so that the ground trembled
under the heavy hoofs of the horses.
The forest was filled with the shouts of pursuers and pursued. After
half an hour of chasing, either because the Swedish horses were better,
or those of the Poles were wearied by some journey, the distance
between the two bodies was decreasing.
But at once something wonderful happened. The Polish band, at first
disorderly, did not scatter more and more as the flight continued, but
on the contrary, they fled in ever better order, in ranks growing more
even, as if the very speed of the horses brought the riders into line.
Sweno saw this, urged on his horse, reached Kanneberg, and called out,—
“Your worthiness, that is an uncommon party; those are regular
soldiers, fleeing designedly and leading us to an ambush.”
“Will there be devils in the ambush, or men?” asked Kanneberg.
The road rose somewhat and became ever wider, the forest thinner, and
at the end of the road was to be seen an unoccupied field, or rather a
great open space, surrounded on all sides by a dense, deep gray
pine-wood.
The Polish horsemen increased their pace in turn, and it transpired
that hitherto they had gone slowly of purpose; for now in a short time
they pushed forward so rapidly that the Swedish leader knew that he
could never overtake them. But when he had come to the middle of the
open plain and saw that the enemy were almost touching the other end of
it, he began to restrain his men and slacken speed.
But, oh marvel! the Poles, instead of sinking in the opposite forest,
wheeled around at the very edge of the half-circle and returned on a
gallop toward the Swedes, putting themselves at once in such splendid
battle order that they roused wonder even in their opponents.
“It is true!” cried Kanneberg, “those are regular soldiers. They turned
as if on parade. What do they want for the hundredth time?”
“They are attacking us!” cried Sweno.
In fact, the squadron was moving forward at a trot. The little knight
on the cream-colored steed shouted something to his men, pushed
forward, again reined in his horse, gave signs with his sabre;
evidently he was the leader.
“They are attacking really!” said Kanneberg, with astonishment.
And now the horses, with ears dropped back, were coming at the greatest
speed, stretched out so that their bellies almost touched the ground.
Their riders bent forward to their shoulders, and were hidden behind
the horse manes. The Swedes standing in the first rank saw only
hundreds of distended horse-nostrils and burning eyes. A whirlwind does
not move as that squadron tore on.
“God with us! Sweden! Fire!” commanded Kanneberg, raising his sword.
All the muskets thundered; but at that very moment the Polish squadron
fell into the smoke with such impetus that it hurled to the right and
the left the first Swedish ranks, and drove itself into the density of
men and horses, as a wedge is driven into a cleft log. A terrible whirl
was made, breastplate struck breast-plate, sabre struck rapier; and the
rattle, the whining of horses, the groan of dying men roused every
echo, so that the whole pine-wood began to give back the sounds of the
battle, as the steep cliffs of mountains give back the thunder.
The Swedes were confused for a time, especially since a considerable
number of them fell from the first blow; but soon recovering, they went
powerfully against the enemy. Their flanks came together; and since the
Polish squadron was pushing ahead anyhow, for it wished to pass through
with a thrust, it was soon surrounded. The Swedish centre yielded
before the squadron, but the flanks pressed on it with the greater
power, unable to break it; for it defended itself with rage and with
all that incomparable adroitness which made the Polish cavalry so
terrible in hand-to-hand conflict. Sabres toiled then against rapiers,
bodies fell thickly; but the victory was just turning to the Swedish
side when suddenly from under the dark wall of the pinewood rolled out
another squadron, and moved forward at once with a shout.
The whole right wing of the Swedes, under the lead of Sweno, faced the
new enemy in which the trained Swedish soldiers recognized hussars.
They were led by a man on a valiant dapple gray; he wore a burka, and a
wild-cat skin cap with a heron feather. He was perfectly visible to the
eye, for he was riding at one side some yards from the soldiers.
“Charnyetski! Charnyetski!” was the cry in the Swedish ranks.
Sweno looked in despair at the sky, then pressed his horse with his
knees and rushed forward with his men.
But Charnyetski led his hussars a few yards farther, and when they were
moving with the swiftest rush, he turned back alone.
With that a third squadron issued from the forest, he galloped to that
and led it forward; a fourth came out, he led that on; pointing to each
with his baton, where it must strike. You would have said that he was a
man leading harvesters to his field and distributing work among them.
At last, when the fifth squadron had come forth from the forest, he put
himself at the head of that, and with it rushed to the fight.
But the hussars had already forced the right wing to the rear, and
after a while had broken it completely; the three other squadrons,
racing around the Swedes in Tartar fashion and raising an uproar, had
thrown them into disorder; then they fell to cutting them with steel,
to thrusting them with lances, scattering, trampling, and finally
pursuing them amid shrieks and slaughter.
Kanneberg saw that he had fallen into an ambush, and had led his
detachment as it were under the knife. For him there was no thought of
victory now; but he wished to save as many men as possible, hence he
ordered to sound the retreat. The Swedes, therefore, turned with all
speed to that same road by which they had come to Vyelki Ochi; but
Charnyetski’s men so followed them that the breaths of the Polish
horses warmed the shoulders of the Swedes.
In these conditions and in view of the terror which had seized the
Swedish cavalry, that return could not take place in order; and soon
Kanneberg’s brilliant division was turned into a crowd fleeing in
disorder and slaughtered almost without resistance.
The longer the pursuit lasted, the more irregular it became; for the
Poles did not pursue in order, each of them drove his horse according
to the breath in the beast’s nostrils, and attacked and slew whom he
wished.
Both sides were mingled and confused in one mass. Some Polish soldiers
passed the last Swedish ranks; and it happened that when a Pole stood
in his stirrups to strike with more power the man fleeing in front of
him, he fell himself thrust with a rapier from behind. The road to
Vyelki Ochi was strewn with Swedish corpses; but the end of the chase
was not there. Both sides rushed with the same force along the road
through the next forest; there however the Swedish horses, wearied
first, began to go more slowly, and the slaughter became still more
bloody.
Some of the Swedes sprang from their beasts and vanished in the forest;
but only a few did so, for the Swedes knew from experience that
peasants were watching in the forest, and they preferred to die from
sabres rather than from terrible tortures, of which the infuriated
people were not sparing. Some asked quarter, but for the most part in
vain; for each Pole chose to slay an enemy, and chase on rather than
take him prisoner, guard him, and leave further pursuit.
They cut then without mercy, so that no one might return with news of
the defeat. Volodyovski was in the van of pursuit with the Lauda
squadron. He was that horseman who had appeared first to the Swedes as
a decoy; he had struck first, and now, sitting on a horse which was as
if impelled by a whirlwind, he enjoyed himself with his whole soul,
wishing to be sated with blood, and avenge the defeat of Golamb. Every
little while he overtook a horseman, and when he had overtaken him he
quenched him as quickly as he would a candle; sometimes he came on the
shoulders of two, three, or four, but soon, only in a moment, that same
number of horses ran riderless before him. More than one hapless Swede
caught his own rapier by the point, and turning the hilt to the knight
for quarter implored with voice and with eyes. Volodyovski did not
stop, but thrusting his sabre into the man where the neck joins the
breast, he gave him a light, small push, and the man dropped his hands,
gave forth one and a second word with pale lips, then sank in the
darkness of death.
Volodyovski, not looking around, rushed on and pushed new victims to
the earth.
The valiant Sweno took note of this terrible harvester, and summoning a
few of the best horsemen he determined with the sacrifice of his own
life to restrain even a little of the pursuit in order to save others.
They turned therefore their horses, and pointing their rapiers waited
with the points toward the pursuers. Volodyovski, seeing this,
hesitated not a moment, spurred on his horse, and fell into the midst
of them.
And before any one could have winked, two helmets had fallen. More than
ten rapiers were directed at once to the single breast of Volodyovski;
but at that instant rushed in Pan Yan and Pan Stanislav, Yuzva Butrym,
Zagloba and Roh Kovalski, of whom Zagloba related, that even when going
to the attack he had his eyes closed in sleep, and woke only when his
breast struck the breast of an enemy.
Volodyovski put himself under the saddle so quickly that the rapiers
passed through empty air. He learned this method from the Tartars of
Bailgorod; but being small and at the same time adroit beyond human
belief, he brought it to such perfection that he vanished from the eye
when he wished, either behind the shoulder or under the belly of the
horse. So he vanished this time, and before the astonished Swedes could
understand what had become of him he was erect on the saddle again,
terrible as a wild-cat which springs down from lofty branches among
frightened dogs.
Meanwhile his comrades gave him aid, and bore around death and
confusion. One of the Swedes held a pistol to the very breast of
Zagloba. Roh Kovalski, having that enemy on his left side, was unable
to strike him with a sabre; but he balled his fist, struck the Swede’s
head in passing, and that man dropped under the horse as if a
thunderbolt had met him, and Zagloba, giving forth a shout of delight,
slashed in the temple Sweno himself, who dropped his hands and fell
with his forehead to the horse’s shoulder. At sight of this the other
Swedes scattered. Volodyovski, Yuzva Footless, Pan Yan, and Pan
Stanislav followed and cut them down before they had gone a hundred
yards.
And the pursuit lasted longer. The Swedish horses had less and less
breath in their bodies, and ran more and more slowly. At last from a
thousand of the best horsemen, which had gone out under Kanneberg,
there remained barely a hundred and some tens; the rest had fallen in a
long belt over the forest road. And this last group was decreasing, for
Polish hands ceased not to toil over them.
At last they came out of the forest. The towers of Yaroslav were
outlined clearly in the azure sky. Now hope entered the hearts of the
fleeing, for they knew that in Yaroslav was the king with all his
forces, and at any moment he might come to their aid. They had
forgotten that immediately after their passage the top had been taken
from the last square of the bridge, so as to put stronger planks for
the passage of cannon.
Whether Charnyetski knew of this through his spies, or wished to show
himself of purpose to the Swedish king and cut down before his eyes the
last of those unfortunate men, it is enough that not only did he not
restrain the pursuit, but he sprang forward himself with the Shemberk
squadron, slashed, cut with his own hand, pursuing the crowd in such
fashion as if he wished with that same speed to strike Yaroslav.
At last they ran to within a furlong of the bridge; shouts from the
field came to the Swedish camp. A multitude of soldiers and officers
ran out from the town to see what was taking place beyond the river;
they had barely looked when they saw and recognized the horsemen who
had gone out of camp in the morning.
“Kanneberg’s detachment! Kanneberg’s detachment!” cried thousands of
voices.
“Almost cut to pieces! Scarcely a hundred men are running!”
At that moment the king himself galloped up; with him Wittemberg,
Forgell, Miller, and other generals.
The king grew pale. “Kanneberg!” said he.
“By Christ and his wounds! the bridge is not finished,” cried
Wittemberg; “the enemy will cut them down to the last man.”
The king looked at the river, which had risen with spring waters,
roaring with its yellow waves; to give aid by swimming was not to be
thought of.
The few men still left were coming nearer.
Now there was a new cry: “The king’s train and the guard are coming!
They too will perish!”
In fact, it had happened that a part of the king’s provision-chests
with a hundred men of the infantry guard had come out at that moment by
another road from adjoining forests. When they saw what had happened,
the men of the escort, in the conviction that the bridge was ready,
hastened with all speed toward the town.
But they were seen from the field by the Poles. Immediately about three
hundred horsemen rushed toward them at full speed; in front of all,
with sabre above his head and fire in his eyes, flew the tenant of
Vansosh, Jendzian. Not many proofs had he given hitherto of his
bravery; but at sight of the wagons in which there might be rich
plunder, daring so rose in his heart that he went some tens of yards in
advance of the others. The infantry at the wagons, seeing that they
could not escape, formed themselves into a quadrangle, and a hundred
muskets were directed at once at the breast of Jendzian. A roar shook
the air, a line of smoke flew along the wall of the quadrangle; but
before the smoke had cleared away the rider had urged on his horse so
that the forefeet of the beast were above the heads of the men, and the
lord tenant fell into the midst of them like a thunderbolt.
An avalanche of horsemen rushed after him. And as when wolves overcome
a horse, and he, lying yet on his back, defends himself desperately
with his hoofs, and they cover him completely and tear from him lumps
of living flesh, so those wagons and the infantry were covered
completely with a whirling mass of horses and riders. But terrible
shouts rose from that whirl, and reached the ears of the Swedes
standing on the other bank.
Meanwhile still nearer the bank the Poles were finishing the remnant of
Kanneberg’s cavalry. The whole Swedish army had come out like one man
to the lofty bank of the San. Infantry, cavalry, artillery were mingled
together; and all looked as if in an ancient circus in Rome at the
spectacle; but they looked with set lips, with despair in their hearts,
with terror and a feeling of helplessness. At moments from the breasts
of those unwilling spectators was wrested a terrible cry. At moments a
general weeping was heard; then again silence, and only the panting of
the excited soldiers was audible. For that thousand men whom Kanneberg
had led out were the front and the pride of the whole Swedish army;
they were veterans, covered with glory in God knows how many lands, and
God knows how many battles. But now they are running, like a lost flock
of sheep, over the broad fields in front of the Swedish army, dying
like sheep under the knife of the butcher. For that was no longer a
battle, but a hunt. The terrible Polish horsemen circled about, like a
storm, over the field of struggle, crying in various voices and running
ahead of the Swedes. Sometimes a number less than ten, sometimes a
group more than ten fell on one man. Sometimes one met one, sometimes
the hunted Swede bowed down on the saddle as if to lighten the blow for
the enemy, sometimes he withstood the brunt: but oftener he perished,
for with edged weapons the Swedish soldiers were not equal to Polish
nobles trained in all kinds of fencing.
But among the Poles the little knight was the most terrible of all,
sitting on his cream-colored steed, which was as nimble and as swift as
a falcon. The whole army noted him; for whomsoever he pursued he
killed, whoever met him perished it was unknown how and when, with such
small and insignificant movements of his sword did he hurl the
sturdiest horsemen to the earth. At last he saw Kanneberg himself, whom
more than ten men were chasing; the little knight shouted at them,
stopped the pursuit by command, and attacked the Swede himself.
The Swedes on the other bank held the breath in their breasts. The king
had pushed to the edge of the river and looked with throbbing heart,
moved at once with alarm and hope; for Kanneberg, as a great lord and a
relative of the king, was trained from childhood in every species of
sword exercise by Italian masters; in fighting with edged weapons he
had not his equal in the Swedish army. All eyes therefore were fixed on
him now, barely did they dare to breathe; but he, seeing that the
pursuit of the crowd had ceased, and wishing after the loss of his
troops to save his own glory in the eyes of the king, said to his
gloomy soul,—
“Woe to me if having first lost my men, I do not seal with my own blood
the shame, or if I do not purchase my life by having overturned this
terrible man. In another event, though the hand of God might bear me to
that bank, I should not dare to look in the eyes of any Swede.” When he
had said this he turned his horse and rushed toward the yellow knight.
Since those Poles who had cut him off from the river had withdrawn,
Kanneberg had the hope that if he should finish his opponent, he might
spring into the water, and then what would be would be; if he could not
swim the stormy stream, its current would bear him far with the horse,
and his brothers would provide him some rescue.
He sprang therefore like a thunderbolt at the little knight, and the
little knight at him. The Swede wished during the rush to thrust the
rapier up to the hilt under the arm of his opponent; but he learned in
an instant that though a master himself he must meet a master as well,
for his sword merely slipped along the edge of the Polish sabre, only
quivered somehow wonderfully in his hand, as if his arm had suddenly
grown numb; barely was he able to defend himself from the blow which
the knight then gave him; luckily at that moment their horses bore them
away in opposite directions.
Both wheeled in a circle and returned simultaneously; but they rode now
more slowly against each other, wishing to have more time for the
meeting and even to cross weapons repeatedly. Kanneberg withdrew into
himself so that he became like a bird which presents to view only a
powerful beak from the midst of upraised feathers. He knew one
infallible thrust in which a certain Florentine had trained
him,—infallible because deceitful and almost impossible to be warded
off,—consisting in this: that the point of the sword was directed
apparently at the breast, but by avoiding obstacles at the side it
passed through the throat till the hilt reached the back of the neck.
This thrust he determined to make now.
And, sure of himself, he approached, restraining his horse more and
more; but Volodyovski rode toward him with short springs. For a moment
he thought to disappear suddenly under the horse like a Tartar, but
since he had to meet with only one man, and that before the eyes of
both armies, though he understood that some unexpected thrust was
waiting for him, he was ashamed to defend himself in Tartar and not in
knightly fashion.
“He wishes to take me as a heron does a falcon with a thrust,” thought
Pan Michael to himself; “but I will use that windmill which I invented
in Lubni.”
And this idea seemed to him best for the moment; therefore it
surrounded him like a glittering shield of light, and he struck his
steed with his spurs and rushed on Kanneberg.
Kanneberg drew himself in still more, and almost grew to the horse; in
the twinkle of an eye the rapier caught the sabre, and quickly he stuck
out his head like a snake and made a ghastly thrust.
But in that instant a terrible whirling began to sound, the rapier
turned in the hands of the Swede; the point struck empty space, but the
curved end of the sabre fell with the speed of lightning; on the face
of Kanneberg, cut through a part of his nose, his mouth and beard,
struck his shoulder-blade, shattered that, and stopped only at the
sword-belt which crossed his shoulder.
The rapier dropped from the hands of the unfortunate man, and night
embraced his head; but before he fell from his horse, Volodyovski
dropped his own weapon and seized him by the shoulder.
The Swedes from the other bank roared with one out burst, but Zagloba
sprang to the little knight.
“Pan Michael, I knew it would be so, but I was ready to avenge you!”
“He was a master,” answered Volodyovski. “You take the horse, for he is
a good one.”
“Ha! if it were not for the river we could rush over and frolic with
those fellows. I would be the first—”
The whistle of balls interrupted further words of Zagloba; therefore he
did not finish the expression of his thoughts, but cried,—
“Let us go, Pan Michael; those traitors are ready to fire.”
“Their bullets have no force, for the range is too great.”
Meanwhile other Polish horsemen came up congratulating Volodyovski and
looking at him with admiration; but he only moved his mustaches, for he
was a cause of gladness to himself as well as to them.
But on the other bank among the Swedes, it was seething as in a
beehive. Artillerists on that side drew out their cannons in haste; and
in the nearer Polish ranks trumpets were sounded for withdrawal. At
this sound each man sprang to his squadron, and in a moment all were in
order. They withdrew then to the forest, and halted again, as if
offering a place to the enemy and inviting them across the river. At
last, in front of the ranks of men and horses, rode out on his dapple
gray the man wearing a burka and a cap with a heron’s feather, and
bearing a gilded baton in his hand.
He was perfectly visible, for the reddish rays of the setting sun fell
on him, and besides he rode before the regiments as if reviewing them.
All the Swedes knew him at once, and began to shout,—
“Charnyetski! Charnyetski!”
He said something to the colonels. It was seen how he stopped longer
with the knight who had slain Kanneberg, and placed his hand on his
shoulder; then he raised his baton, and the squadrons began to turn
slowly one after another to the pine-woods.
Just then the sun went down. In Yaroslav the bells sounded in the
church; then all the regiments began to sing in one voice as they were
riding away, “The Angel of the Lord announced to the Most Holy Virgin
Mary;” and with that song they vanished from the eyes of the Swedes.