After the affair at Rudnik the king advanced farther toward the point
of the wedge between the San and the Vistula, and did not cease as
before to march with the rearguard; for he was not only a famous
leader, but a knight of unrivalled daring. Charnyetski, Vitovski, and
Lyubomirski followed, and urged him on as a wild beast is urged to a
trap. Detached parties made an uproar night and day around the Swedes.
The retreating troops had less and less provisions; they were more and
more wearied and drooping in courage, looking forward to certain
destruction.
At last the Swedes enclosed themselves in the very corner where the two
rivers meet, and rested. On one side the Vistula defended them, on the
other the San, both overflowed, as usual in springtime; the third side
of the triangle the king fortified with strong intrenchments, in which
cannons were mounted.
That was a position not to be taken, but it was possible to die there
from hunger. But even in that regard the Swedes gained better courage,
for they hoped that the commandants would send them provisions by water
from Cracow and other river fortresses. For instance, right there at
hand was Sandomir, in which Colonel Schinkler had collected
considerable supplies. He sent these in at once; therefore the Swedes
ate, drank, slept; and when they woke they sang Lutheran psalms,
praising God that he had saved them from such dire distress.
But Charnyetski was preparing new blows for them.
Sandomir in Swedish hands could always come to the aid of the main
army. Charnyetski planned, therefore, to take the town with the castle
at a blow, and cut off the Swedes.
“We will prepare a cruel spectacle for them,” said he, at a council of
war. “They will look on from the opposite bank when we strike the town,
and they will not be able to give aid across the Vistula; and when we
have Sandomir we will not let provisions come from Wirtz in Cracow.”
Lyubomirski, Vitovski, and others tried to dissuade Charnyetski from
that undertaking. “It would be well,” said they, “to take such a
considerable town, and we might injure the Swedes greatly; but how are
we to take it? We have no infantry, siege guns we have not; it would be
hard for cavalry to attack walls.”
“But do our peasants,” asked Charnyetski, “fight badly as infantry? If
I had two thousand such as Mihalko, I would take not only Sandomir, but
Warsaw.”
And without listening to further counsel he crossed the Vistula. Barely
had his summons gone through the neighborhood when a couple of thousand
men hurried to him, one with a scythe, another with a musket, the third
with carabine; and they marched against Sandomir.
They fell upon the place rather suddenly, and in the streets a fierce
conflict set in. The Swedes defended themselves furiously from the
windows and the roofs, but they could not withstand the onrush. They
were crushed like worms in the houses, and pushed entirely out of the
town. Schinkler took refuge, with the remnant of his forces, in the
castle; but the Poles followed him with the same impetuosity. A storm
against the gates and the walls began, Schinkler saw that he could not
hold out, even in the castle; so he collected what he could of men,
articles and supplies of provisions, and putting them on boats, crossed
to the king, who looked from the other bank on the defeat of his men
without being able to succor them.
The castle fell into the hands of the Poles; but the cunning Swede when
departing put under the walls in the cellars kegs of powder with
lighted matches.
When he appeared before the king he told him of this at once, so as to
rejoice his heart.
“The castle,” said he, “will fly into the air with all the men.
Charnyetski may perish.”
“If that is true, I want myself to see how the pious Poles will fly to
heaven,” said the king; and he remained on the spot with all the
generals.
In spite of the commands of Charnyetski, who foresaw deceit, the
volunteers and the peasants ran around through the whole castle to seek
hidden Swedes and treasure. The trumpets sounded an alarm for every man
to take refuge in the town; but the searchers in the castle did not
hear the trumpets, or would not heed them.
All at once the ground trembled under their feet, an awful thunder and
a roar tore the air, a gigantic pillar of fire rose to the sky, hurling
upward earth, walls, roofs, the whole castle, and more than five
hundred bodies of those who had not been able to withdraw.
Karl Gustav held his sides from delight, and his favor-seeking
courtiers began at once to repeat his words: “The Poles are going to
heaven, to heaven!”
But that joy was premature; for none the less did Sandomir remain in
Polish hands, and could no longer furnish food for the main army
enclosed between the rivers.
Charnyetski disposed his camp opposite the Swedes, on the other side of
the Vistula, and guarded the passage.
Sapyeha, grand hetman of Lithuania and voevoda of Vilna, came from the
other side and took his position on the San.
The Swedes were invested completely; they were caught as it were in a
vise.
“The trap is closed!” said the soldiers to one another in the Polish
camps.
For every man, even the least acquainted with military art, understood
that inevitable destruction was hanging over the invaders, unless
reinforcements should come in time and rescue them from trouble.
The Swedes too understood this. Every morning officers and soldiers,
coming to the shore of the Vistula, looked with despair in their eyes
and their hearts at the legions of Charnyetski’s terrible cavalry
standing black on the other side.
Then they went to the San; there again the troops of Sapyeha were
watching day and night, ready to receive them with sabre and musket.
To cross either the San or the Vistula while both armies stood near was
not to be thought of. The Swedes might return to Yaroslav by the same
road over which they come, but they knew that in that case not one of
them would ever see Sweden.
For the Swedes grievous days and still more grievous nights now began,
for these days and nights were uproarious and quarrelsome. Again
provisions were at an end.
Meanwhile Charnyetski, leaving command of the army to Lyubomirski and
taking the Lauda squadron as guard crossed the Vistula above the mouth
of the San, to visit Sapyeha and take counsel with him touching the
future of the war.
This time the mediation of Zagloba was not needed to make the two
leaders agree; for both loved the country more than each one himself,
both were ready to sacrifice to it private interests, self-love, and
ambition.
The Lithuanian hetman did not envy Charnyetski, nor did Charnyetski
envy the hetman, but each did homage to the other; so the meeting
between them was of such character that tears stood in the eyes of the
oldest soldiers.
“The Commonwealth is growing, the dear country is rejoicing, when such
sons of heroes take one another by the shoulders,” said Zagloba to Pan
Michael and Pan Yan. “Charnyetski is a terrible soldier and a true
soul, but put Sapyeha to a wound and it will heal. Would there were
more such men! The skin would fly off the Swedes, could they see this
love of the greatest patriots. How did they conquer us, if not through
the rancor and envy of magnates? Have they overcome us with force? This
is how I understand! The soul jumps in a man’s body at sight of such a
meeting. I will guarantee, too, that it will not be dry; for Sapyeha
loves a feast wonderfully, and with such a friend he will willingly let
himself out.”
“God is merciful! the evil will pass,” said Pan Yan.
“Be careful that you do not blaspheme,” said Zagloba; “every evil must
pass, for should it last forever it would prove that the Devil governs
the world, and not the Lord Jesus, who has mercy inexhaustible.”
Their further conversation was interrupted by the sight of Babinich,
whose lofty form they saw from a distance over the wave of other heads.
Pan Michael and Zagloba began to beckon to him, but he was so much
occupied in looking at Charnyetski that he did not notice them at
first.
“See,” said Zagloba, “how thin the man has grown!”
“It must be that he has not done much against Boguslav,” said
Volodyovski; “otherwise he would be more joyful.”
“It is sure that he has not, for Boguslav is before Marienburg with
Steinbock, acting against the fortress.”
“There is hope in God that he will do nothing.”
“Even if he should take Marienburg,” said Zagloba, “we will capture
Karl Gustav right away; we shall see if they will not give the fortress
for the king.”
“See! Babinich is coming to us!” interrupted Pan Yan.
He had indeed seen them, and was pushing the crowd to both sides; he
motioned with his cap, smiling at them from a distance. They greeted
one another as good friends and acquaintances.
“What is to be heard? What have you done with the prince?” asked
Zagloba.
“Evil, evil! But there is no time to tell of it. We shall sit down to
table at once. You will remain here for the night; come to me after the
feast to pass the night among my Tartars. I have a comfortable cabin;
we will talk at the cups till morning.”
“The moment a man says a wise thing it is not I who will oppose,” said
Zagloba. “But tell us why you have grown so thin?”
“That hell-dweller overthrew me and my horse like an earthen pot, so
that from that time I am spitting fresh blood and cannot recover. There
is hope in the mercy of our Lord Christ that I shall let the blood out
of him yet. But let us go now, for Sapyeha and Charnyetski are
beginning to make declarations and to be ceremonious about
precedence,—a sign that the tables are ready. We wait for you here with
great pleasure, for you have shed Swedish pig-blood in plenty.”
“Let others speak of what I have done,” said Zagloba; “it does not
become me.”
Meanwhile whole throngs moved on, and all went to the square between
the tents on which were placed tables. Sapyeha in honor of Charnyetski
entertained like a king. The table at which Charnyetski was seated was
covert with Swedish flags. Mead and wine flowed from vats, so that
toward the end both leaders became somewhat joyous. There was no lack
of gladsomeness, of jests, of toasts, of noise; though the weather was
marvellous, and the sun warm beyond wonder. Finally the cool of the
evening separated the feasters.
Then Kmita took his guests to the Tartars. They sat down in his tent on
trunks packed closely with every kind of booty, and began to speak of
Kmita’s expedition.
“Boguslav is now before Marienburg,” said Pan Andrei, “though some say
that he is at the elector’s, with whom he is to march to the relief of
the king.”
“So much the better; then we shall meet! You young fellows do not know
how to manage him; let us see what the old man will do. He has met with
various persons, but not yet with Zagloba. I say that we shall meet,
though Prince Yanush in his will advised him to keep far from Zagloba.”
“The elector is a cunning man,” said Pan Yan; “and if he sees that it
is going ill with Karl, he will drop all his promises and his oath.”
“But I tell you that he will not,” said Zagloba. “No one is so venomous
against us as the Prussian. When your servant who had to work under
your feet and brush your clothes becomes your master by change of
fortune, he will be sterner to you, the kinder you were to him.”
“But why is that?” asked Pan Michael.
“His previous condition of service will remain in his mind, and he will
avenge himself on you for it, though you have been to him kindness
itself.”
“What of that?” asked Pan Michael. “It often happens that a dog bites
his master in the hand. Better let Babinich tell about his expedition.”
“We are listening,” said Pan Yan.
Kmita, after he had been silent awhile, drew breath and began to tell
of the last campaign of Sapyeha against Boguslav, and the defeat of the
latter at Yanov; finally how Prince Boguslav had broken the Tartars,
overturned him with his horse, and escaped alive.
“But,” interrupted Volodyovski, “you said that you would follow him
with your Tartars, even to the Baltic.”
“And you told me also in your time,” replied Kmita, “how Pan Yan here
present, when Bogun carried off his beloved maiden, forgot her and
revenge because the country was in need. A man becomes like those with
whom he keeps company; I have joined you, gentlemen, and I wish to
follow your example.”
“May the Mother of God reward you, as she has Pan Yan!” said Zagloba.
“Still I would rather your maiden were in the wilderness than in
Boguslav’s hands.”
“That is nothing!” exclaimed Pan Michael; “you will find her!”
“I have to find not only her person, but her regard and love.”
“One will come after the other,” said Pan Michael, “even if you had to
take her person by force, as at that time—you remember?”
“I shall not do such a deed again.”
Here Pan Andrei sighed deeply, and after a while he said, “Not only
have I not found her, but Boguslav has taken another from me.”
“A pure Turk! as God is dear to me!” cried Zagloba.
And Pan Yan inquired: “What other?”
“Oh, it is a long story, a long story,” said Kmita. “There was a maiden
in Zamost, wonderfully fair, who pleased Pan Zamoyski. He, fearing
Princess Vishnyevetski, his sister, did not dare to be over-bold before
her; he planned, therefore, to send the maiden away with me, as if to
Sapyeha, to find an inheritance in Lithuania, but in reality to take
her from me about two miles from Zamost, and put her in some wilderness
where no one could stand in his way. But I sounded his intention. You
want, thought I to myself, to make a pander of me; wait! I flogged his
men, and the lady in all maidenly honor I brought to Sapyeha. Well, I
say to you that the girl is as beautiful as a goldfinch, but honest. I
am now another man, and my comrades, the Lord light their souls! are
long ago dust in the earth.”
“What sort of maiden was she?” asked Zagloba.
“From a respectable house, a lady-in-waiting on Princess Griselda. She
was once engaged to a Lithuanian, Podbipienta, whom you, gentlemen,
knew.”
“Anusia Borzobogati!” shouted Volodyovski, springing from his place.
Zagloba jumped up too from a pile of felt. “Pan Michael, restrain
yourself!”
But Volodyovski sprang like a cat toward Kmita. “Is it you, traitor,
who let Boguslav carry her off?”
“Be not unjust to me,” said Kmita. “I took her safely to the hetman,
having as much care for her as for my own sister. Boguslav seized her,
not from me, but from another officer with whom Pan Sapyeha sent her to
his own family; his name was Glovbich or something, I do not remember
well.”
“Where is he now?”
“He is no longer living, he was slain; so at least Sapyeha’s officers
said. I was attacking Boguslav separately, with the Tartars; therefore
I know nothing accurately save what I have told you. But noticing your
changed face, I see that a similar thing has met us; the same man has
wronged us, and since that is the case let us join against him to
avenge the wrong and take vengeance in company. He is a great lord and
a great knight, and still I think it will be narrow for him in the
whole Commonwealth, if he has two such enemies.”
“Here is my hand!” said Volodyovski. “Henceforth we are friends for
life and death. Whoever meets him first will pay him for both. God
grant me to meet him first, for that I will let his blood out is as
sure as that there is Amen in ‘Our Father.’”
Here Pan Michael began to move his mustaches terribly and to feel of
his sabre. Zagloba was frightened, for he knew that with Pan Michael
there was no joking.
“I should not care to be Prince Boguslav now,” said he, “even if some
one should add Livonia to my title. It is enough to have such a wildcat
as Kmita against one, but what will he do with Pan Michael? And that is
not all; I will conclude an alliance with you. My head, your sabres! I
do not know as there is a potentate in Christendom who could stand
against such an alliance. Besides, the Lord God will sooner or later
take away his luck, for it cannot be that for a traitor and a heretic
there is no punishment; as it is, Kmita has given it to him terribly.”
“I do not deny that more than one confusion has met him from me,” said
Pan Andrei. And giving orders to fill the goblets, he told how he had
freed Soroka from captivity. But he did not tell how he had cast
himself first at the feet of Radzivill, for at the very thought of that
his blood boiled.
Pan Michael was rejoiced while hearing the narrative, and said at the
end,—
“May God aid you, Yendrek! With such a daring man one could go to hell.
The only trouble is that we shall not always campaign together, for
service is service. They may send me to one end of the Commonwealth and
you to the other. It is not known which will meet him first.”
Kmita was silent a moment.
“In justice I should reach him—if only I do not come out again with
confusion, for I am ashamed to acknowledge that I cannot meet that
hell-dweller hand to hand.”
“Then I will teach you all my secrets,” said Pan Michael.
“Or I!” said Zagloba.
“Pardon me, your grace, I prefer to learn from Michael,” said Kmita.
“Though he is such a knight, still I and Pani Kovalski are not afraid
of him, if only I had a good sleep,” put in Roh.
“Be quiet, Roh!” answered Zagloba; “may God not punish you through his
hand for boasting.”
“Oh, tfu! nothing will happen to me from him.”
Poor Kovalski was an unlucky prophet, but it was steaming terribly from
his forelock, and he was ready to challenge the whole world to single
combat. Others too drank heavily to one another, and to the destruction
of Boguslav and the Swedes.
“I have heard,” said Kmita, “that as soon as we rub out the Swedes here
and take the king, we shall march straight to Warsaw. Then surely there
will be an end of the war. After that will come the elector’s turn.”
“Oh, that’s it! that’s it!” said Zagloba.
“I heard Sapyeha say that once, and he, as a great man, calculates
better than others; he said: ‘There will be a truce with the Swedes;
with the Northerners there is one already, but with the elector we
should not make any conditions. Pan Charnyetski,’ he says, ‘will go
with Lyubomirski to Brandenburg, and I with the treasurer of Lithuania
to Electoral Prussia; and if after that we do not join Prussia to the
Commonwealth, it is because in our chancellery we have no such head as
Pan Zagloba, who in autograph letters threatened the elector.’”
“Did Sapyeha say that?” asked Zagloba, flushing from pleasure.
“All heard him. And I was terribly glad, for that same rod will flog
Boguslav; and if not earlier, we will surely reach him at that time.”
“If we can finish with these Swedes first,” said Zagloba. “Devil take
them! Let them give up Livland and a million, I will let them off
alive.”
“The Cossack caught the Tartar, and the Tartar is holding him by the
head!” said Pan Yan, laughing. “Karl is still in Poland; Cracow,
Warsaw, Poznan, and all the most noted towns are in his hands, and
father wants him to ransom himself. Hei, we shall have to work much at
him yet before we can think of the elector.”
“And there is Steinbock’s army, and the garrisons, and Wirtz,” put in
Pan Stanislav.
“But why do we sit here with folded hands?” asked Roh Kovalski, on a
sudden, with staring eyes; “cannot we beat the Swedes?”
“You are foolish, Roh,” said Zagloba.
“Uncle always says one thing; but as I am alive, I saw a boat at the
shore. We might go and carry off even the sentry. It is so dark that
you might strike a man on the snout and he wouldn’t know who did it;
before they could see we should return and exhibit the courage of
cavaliers to both commanders. If you do not wish to go, I will go
myself.”
“The dead calf moved his tail, wonder of wonders!” said Zagloba,
angrily.
But Kmita’s nostrils began to quiver at once. “Not a bad idea! not a
bad idea!” said he.
“Good for camp-followers, but not for him who regards dignity. Have
respect for yourselves! You are colonels, but you wish to amuse
yourselves with wandering thieves!”
“True, it is not very becoming,” added Volodyovski. “We would better go
to sleep.”
All agreed with that idea; therefore they kneeled down to their prayers
and repeated them aloud; after that they stretched themselves on the
felt cloth, and were soon sleeping the sleep of the just.
But an hour later all sprang to their feet, for beyond the river the
roaring of guns was heard; while shouts and tumult rose in Sapyeha’s
whole camp.
“Jesus! Mary!” exclaimed Zagloba. “The Swedes are coming!”
“What are you talking about?” asked Volodyovski, seizing his sabre.
“Roh, come here!” cried Zagloba, for in cases of surprise he was glad
to have his sister’s son near him.
But Roh was not in the tent.
They ran out on the square. Crowds were already before the tents, and
all were making their way toward the river, for on the other side was
to be seen flashing of fire, and an increasing roar was heard.
“What has happened, what has happened?” was asked of the numerous
guards disposed along the bank.
But the guards had seen nothing. One of the soldiers said that he had
heard as it were the plash of a wave, but as fog was hanging over the
water he could see nothing; he did not wish therefore to raise the camp
for a mere sound.
When Zagloba heard this he caught himself by the head in desperation,—
“Roh has gone to the Swedes! He said that he wished to carry off a
sentry.”
“For God’s sake, that may be!” cried Kmita.
“They will shoot the lad, as God is in heaven!” continued Zagloba, in
despair. “Worthy gentlemen, is there no help? Lord God, that boy was of
the purest gold; there is not another such in the two armies! What shot
that idea into his stupid head? Oh, Mother of God, save him in
trouble!”
“Maybe he will return; the fog is dense. They will not see him.”
“I will wait for him here even till morning. Mother of God, Mother of
God!”
Meanwhile shots on the opposite bank lessened, lights went out
gradually, and after an hour dull silence set in. Zagloba walked along
the bank of the river like a hen with ducklings, and tore out the
remnant of hair in his forelock; but he waited in vain, he despaired in
vain. The morning whitened the river, the sun rose, but Roh came not.