The sortie had attained its object only in part; though Boguslav’s
division had entered the city, the sortie itself had not done great
things. It is true that Pan Kotvich’s squadron and Oskyerko’s dragoons
had suffered seriously; but the Swedes too had strewn the field with
many corpses, and one regiment of infantry, which Volodyovski and
Vankovich had struck, was almost destroyed. The Lithuanians boasted
that they had inflicted greater loss on the enemy than they had endured
themselves. Pan Sapyeha alone suffered internally, because a new
“confusion” had met him from which his fame might be seriously
affected. The colonels attached to the hetman comforted him as well as
they could; and to tell the truth this lesson was useful, for
henceforward he had no more such wild banquets, and if there was some
pleasure the greatest watchfulness was observed during the time of its
continuance. The Swedes were caught the day after. Supposing that the
hetman would not expect a repetition of the sortie so soon, they came
outside the walls again; but driven from their ground and leaving a
number of dead, they returned.
Meanwhile they were examining Hassling in the hetman’s quarters; this
made Pan Andrei so impatient that he almost sprang out of his skin, for
he wished to have the Scot to himself at the earliest, and talk with
him touching Taurogi. He prowled about the quarters all day, went in
every little while, listened to the statements, and sprang up whenever
Boguslav’s name was mentioned in the question.
But in the evening he received an order to go on a scouting expedition.
He said nothing, only set his teeth; for he had changed greatly
already, and had learned to defer private affairs for public service.
But he pushed the Tartars terribly during the expedition, burst out in
anger at the least cause, and struck with his baton till the bones
cracked. They said one to another that the “bagadyr” was mad, and
marched silently, as silently as cowards, looking only to the eyes of
the leader and guessing his thoughts on the wing.
On returning he found Hassling in his quarters, but so ill that he
could not speak, for his capture had affected him so cruelly that after
the additional torture of a whole day’s inquisition he had a fever, and
did not understand what was said to him. Kmita therefore was forced to
be satisfied with what Zagloba told of Hassling’s statements; but they
touched only public, not private affairs. Of Boguslav the young officer
said only this,—that after his return from the expedition to Podlyasye
and the defeat at Yanov he had become terribly ill from rage and
melancholy; he fell into a fever, but as soon as he had recovered
somewhat, he moved with his troops to Pomerania, whither Steinbock and
the elector invited him most earnestly.
“But where is he now?” asked Kmita.
“According to what Hassling tells me, and he has no reason to lie, he
is with the king’s brother, at the fortified camp on the Narev and the
Bug, where Boguslav is commanding a whole cavalry division,” answered
Zagloba.
“Ha! and they think to come here with succor to the besieged. We shall
meet, as God is in heaven, even if I had to go to him in disguise.”
“Do not grow angry for nothing! To Warsaw they would be glad to come
with succor, but they cannot, for Charnyetski has placed himself in
their way. Having neither infantry nor cannon, he cannot attack their
camp, and they are afraid to go out against him, for they know that
their soldiers could not withstand his in the field, and they know too
that if they went out, they could not shield themselves with the river.
If the king himself were there he would give battle, for under his
command the soldiers fight better, being confident that he is a great
warrior; but neither Douglas, nor the king’s brother, nor Prince
Boguslav, though all three are daring men, would venture against
Charnyetski.”
“But where is the king?”
“He has gone to Prussia. The king does not believe that we are before
Warsaw already, and that we shall capture Wittemberg. But whether he
believes or not, he had to go for two reasons,—first, because he must
win over the elector, even at the price of all Great Poland; second,
because the army, which he led out of the sack, is of no use until it
has rested. Toil, watching, and continual alarms have so gnawed it that
the soldiers are not able to hold muskets in their hands; and still
they are the choicest regiments in the whole army, which through all
the German and Danish regions have won famous victories.”
Further conversation was interrupted by the coming of Volodyovski.
“How is Hassling?” asked he on the threshold.
“He is sick and imagines every folly,” answered Kmita.
“And you, my dear Michael, what do you want of Hassling?” asked
Zagloba.
“Just as if you do not know!”
“I could not know that it is a question with you of that cherry-tree
which Prince Boguslav has planted in his garden. He is a diligent
gardener; he does not need to wait a year for fruit.”
“I wish you were killed for such jokes!” cried the little knight.
“Look at him, tell him the most innocent thing, and immediately his
mustaches are quivering like the horns of a mad grasshopper. In what am
I to blame? Seek vengeance on Boguslav, not on me.”
“God grant me to seek and to find!”
“Just now Babinich has said the same! Before long I see that he will
raise the whole army against the prince; but Boguslav is taking good
care of himself, and without my stratagems you will not be able to
succeed.”
Here both young men sprang to their feet and asked,—
“Have you any stratagems?”
“But do you think it is as easy to take a stratagem out of the head as
a sabre out of the sheath? If Boguslav were here, surely I should find
more than one; but at that distance, not only a stratagem, but a cannon
will not strike. Pan Andrei, give orders to bring me a goblet of mead,
for it is hot here to-day.”
“I’ll give you a keg of it if you will invent something.”
“First, why do you stand over this Hassling like an executioner? He is
not the only man captured; you can ask others.”
“I have already tortured others, but they are common soldiers; they
know nothing, but he, as an officer, was at the court,” answered Kmita.
“That is a reason!” answered Zagloba. “I must talk with him too; from
what he tells me of the person and ways of Prince Boguslav, stratagems
may be important. Now the main thing is to finish the siege soon, for
afterward we shall move surely against that army on the Narev. But
somehow our gracious lord and the hetmans are a long time invisible.”
“How so?” asked Volodyovski. “I have returned this minute from the
hetman, who has just received news that the king will take up position
here this evening with the auxiliary divisions, and the hetmans with
cavalry will come to-morrow. They are advancing from Sokal itself,
resting but little, making forced marches. Besides, it has been known
for two days that they are almost in sight.”
“Are they bringing many troops?”
“Nearly five times as many as Sapyeha has, infantry Russian and
Hungarian, very excellent; six thousand Tartars under Suba Gazi, but
probably it is impossible to let them out for even a day, for they are
very self-willed and plunder all around.”
“Better give them to Pan Andrei to lead,” said Zagloba.
“Yes,” said Kmita, “I should lead them straightway from Warsaw, for
they are of no use in a siege; I should take them to the Bug and the
Narev.”
“They are of use,” replied Volodyovski, “for none can see better than
they that provisions do not enter the fortress.”
“Well, it will be warm for Wittemberg. Wait, old criminal!” cried
Zagloba. “You have warred well, I will not deny that, but you have
robbed and plundered still better; you had two mouths,—one for false
oaths, the other for breaking promises,—but this time you will not beg
off with both of them. The Gallic disease will dry up your skin, and
doctors will tear it from you; but we will flay you better, Zagloba’s
head for that!”
“Nonsense! he will surrender on conditions to the king, who will not do
anything to him,” answered Pan Michael; “and we shall have to give him
military honors besides.”
“He will yield on conditions, will he? Indeed!” cried Zagloba. “We
shall see!”
Here he began to pound the table with such force that Roh Kovalski, who
was coming in at the moment, was frightened and stood as if fixed to
the threshold.
“May I serve as a waiting-lad to Jews,” shouted the old man, “if I let
free out of Warsaw that blasphemer of the faith, that robber of
churches, that oppressor of widows, that executioner of men and women,
that hangman’s assistant, that ruffian, that blood-spiller and
money-grabber, that purse-gnawer, that flayer! All right! The king will
let him out on conditions; but I, as I am a Catholic, as I am Zagloba,
as I wish for happiness during life and desire God at death, will make
such a tumult against him as no man has ever heard of in this
Commonwealth before! Don’t wave your hand, Pan Michael! I’ll make a
tumult! I repeat it, I’ll make a tumult!”
“Uncle will make a tumult!” thundered Roh Kovalski.
Just then Akbah Ulan thrust in his beast-like face at the door.
“Effendi!” said he to Kmita, “the armies of the king are visible beyond
the Vistula.”
All sprang to their feet and rushed forth.
The king had come indeed. First arrived the Tartar squadrons, under
Suba Gazi, but not in such numbers as was expected; after them came the
troops of the kingdom, many and well armed, and above all full of
ardor. Before evening the whole army had passed the bridge freshly
built by Oskyerko. Sapyeha was waiting for the king with squadrons
drawn out as if ready for battle, standing one by the side of the
other, like an immense wall, the end of which it was difficult to reach
with the eye. The captains stood before the regiments; near them the
standard-bearers, each with lowered ensign; the trumpets, kettle-drums,
crooked trumpets, and drums made a noise indescribable. The squadrons
of the kingdom, in proportion as they passed, stood just opposite the
Lithuanians in line; between one and the other army was an interval of
a hundred paces.
Sapyeha with baton in hand went on foot to that open space; after him
the chief civil and military dignitaries. On the other side, from the
armies of the kingdom approached the king on a splendid Frisian horse,
given him by Lyubomirski; he was arrayed as if for battle, in light
armor of blue and gold, from under which was to be seen a black velvet
kaftan, with a lace collar coming out on the breastplate, but instead
of a helmet he wore the ordinary Swedish hat, with black feathers; but
he wore military gloves, and long yellow boots coming far above his
knees.
After him rode the papal nuncio, the archbishop of Lvoff, the bishop of
Kamenyets, the priest Tsyetsishovski, the voevoda of Cracow, the
voevoda of Rus, Baron Lisola, Count Pöttingen, Pan Kamenyetski, the
ambassador of Moscow, Pan Grodzitski, general of artillery, Tyzenhauz,
and many others. Sapyeha advanced as marshal of the kingdom to hold the
king’s stirrup; but the king sprang lightly from the saddle, hurried to
Sapyeha and without saying a word, seized him in his embrace.
And Yan Kazimir held him a long time, in view of both armies; silent
all the while, but tears flowed down his cheeks in a stream, for he
pressed to his bosom the truest servant of the king and the country,—a
man who, though he did not equal others in genius, though he even erred
at times, still soared in honesty above all the lords of that
Commonwealth, never wavered in loyalty, sacrificed without a moment’s
thought his whole fortune, and from the beginning of the war exposed
his breast for his king and the country.
The Lithuanians, who had whispered previously among themselves that
perhaps reprimands would meet Pan Sapyeha because he had let Karl
Gustav escape from near Sandomir and for the recent carelessness at
Warsaw, or at least a cool reception, seeing this heartiness of the
king, raised in honor of the kindly monarch a tremendous heaven-echoing
shout. The armies of the kingdom answered it immediately with one
thunder-roll, and for some time above the noise of the music, the
rattle of drums, the roar of musketry, were heard only these shouts,—
“Vivat Yoannes Casimirus!”
“Long life to the armies of the crown!”
“Long life to the Lithuanians!”
So they greeted one another at Warsaw. The walls trembled, and behind
the walls the Swedes.
“I shall bellow, as God is dear to me!” cried Zagloba, with emotion; “I
cannot restrain myself. See our king, our father!—gracious gentlemen, I
am blubbering,—our father, our king! the other day a wanderer deserted
by all; now here—now here are a hundred thousand sabres at call!
merciful God! I cannot keep from tears; yesterday a wanderer, to-day
the Emperor of Germany has not such good soldiers—”
Here the sluices were opened in the eyes of Zagloba, and he began to
sob time after time; then he turned suddenly to Roh,—
“Be silent! what are you whimpering about?”
“And is Uncle not whimpering?” answered Roh.
“True, as God is dear to me!—I was ashamed, gracious gentlemen, of this
Commonwealth. But now I would not change with any nation! A hundred
thousand sabres,—let others show the like. God has brought them to
their minds; God has given this, God has given it!”
Zagloba had not made a great mistake, for really there were nearly
seventy thousand men at Warsaw, not counting Charnyetski’s division,
which had not arrived yet, and not counting the armed camp attendants
who rendered service when necessary, and who straggled after every camp
in countless multitudes.
After the greeting and a hurried review of the troops, the king thanked
Sapyeha’s men, amid universal enthusiasm, for their faithful services,
and went to Uyazdov. The troops occupied the positions assigned them.
Some squadrons remained in Praga; others disposed themselves around the
city. A gigantic train of wagons continued to cross the Vistula till
the following midday.
Next morning the suburbs of the city were as white with tents as if
they had been covered with snow. Countless herds of horses were
neighing on the adjoining meadows. After the army followed a crowd of
Armenians, Jews, Tartars; another city, more extensive and tumultuous
than that which was besieged, grew up on the plain.
The Swedes, amazed during the first days at the power of the King of
Poland, made no sorties, so that Pan Grodzitski, general of artillery,
could ride around the city quietly and form his plan of siege.
On the following day the camp attendants began to raise intrenchments
here and there, according to Grodzitski’s plan; they placed on them at
once the smaller cannon, for the larger ones were to appear only a
couple of weeks later.
Yan Kazimir sent a message to old Wittemberg summoning him to surrender
the city and lay down his arms, giving favorable conditions, which,
when known, roused discontent in the army. That discontent was spread
mainly by Zagloba, who had a special hatred of the Swedish commander.
Wittemberg, as was easy to foresee, rejected the conditions and
resolved on a defence to continue till the last drop of blood was shed,
and to bury himself in the ruins of the city rather than yield it to
the king. The size of the besieging army did not frighten him a whit,
for he knew that an excessive number was rather a hindrance than help
in a siege. He was informed also in good season that in the camp of Yan
Kazimir there was not one siege gun, while the Swedes had more than
enough of them, not taking into consideration their inexhaustible
supply of ammunition.
It was in fact to be foreseen that they would defend themselves with
frenzy, for Warsaw had served them hitherto as a storehouse for booty.
All the immense treasures looted in castles, in churches, in cities, in
the whole Commonwealth, came to the capital, whence they were
despatched in parties to Prussia, and farther to Sweden. But at the
present time, when the whole country had risen, and castles defended by
the smaller Swedish garrisons did not insure safety, booty was brought
to Warsaw all the more. The Swedish soldier was more ready to sacrifice
his life than his booty. A poor people who had seized the treasures of
a wealthy land had acquired the taste of them to such a degree that the
world had never seen more grasping robbers. The king himself had grown
famous for greed; the generals followed his example, and Wittemberg
surpassed them all. When it was a question of gain, neither the honor
of a knight nor consideration for the dignity of rank restrained
officers. They seized, they extorted, they skinned everything that
could be taken. In Warsaw itself colonels of high office and noble
birth were not ashamed to sell spirits and tobacco to their own
soldiers, so as to cram their purses with the pay of the army.
This too might rouse the Swedes to fury in defence, that their foremost
men were at that time in Warsaw. First was Wittemberg himself, next in
command to Karl Gustav. He was the first who had entered the
Commonwealth and brought it to decline at Uistsie. In return for that
service a triumph was prepared for him in Sweden as for a conqueror. In
the city was Oxenstiern, the chancellor, a statesman renowned
throughout the world, respected for honesty even by his enemies. He was
called the Minerva of the king. To his counsel Karl was indebted for
all his victories in negotiation. In the capital was also Wrangel, the
younger Horn, Erickson, the second Löwenhaupt, and many Swedish ladies
of high birth, who had followed their husbands to the country as to a
new Swedish colony.
The Swedes had something to defend. Yan Kazimir understood, therefore,
that the siege, especially through the lack of heavy guns on his side,
would be long and bloody. The hetmans understood this also, but the
army would not think of it. Barely had Grodzitski raised the
intrenchments in some fashion, barely had he pushed forward somewhat to
the walls, when deputations went from all the squadrons to ask the king
to permit volunteers to storm the walls. The king had to explain to
them a long time that fortresses were not taken with sabres, before he
could restrain their ardor.
Meanwhile the works were pushed forward as rapidly as possible. The
troops, not being able to storm, took eager part with the camp servants
in raising these works; men from the foremost regiments, nay, even
officers brought earth in wheelbarrows, carried fascines, labored. More
than once the Swedes tried to hinder, and not a day passed without
sorties; but barely were the Swedish musketeers outside the gate, when
the Poles, working at the intrenchments, throwing aside wheelbarrows,
bundles of twigs, spades and pickaxes, ran with sabres into the smoke
so furiously that the Swedes had to hide in the fortress with all
haste. In these engagements bodies fell thickly; the fosses and the
open space as far as the intrenchments were full of graves, in which
were placed sometimes small bundles of the weapons of the dead. At last
even time failed for burial, so that bodies lay on the ground spreading
a terrible odor around the city and the besiegers.
In spite of the greatest difficulty citizens stole forth to the king’s
camp every day, reporting what happened in the city, and imploring on
their knees to hasten the storm. The Swedes, they said, had a plenty of
provisions as yet, but the people were dying of hunger on the streets;
they lived in want, in oppression under the terrible hand of the
garrison. Every day echoes brought to the Polish camp sounds of
musket-shots in the city, and fugitives brought intelligence that the
Swedes were shooting citizens suspected of good-will to Yan Kazimir.
The hair stood on end at the stories of the fugitives. They said that
the whole population, sick women, newly born infants, old men, all
lived at night on the streets, for the Swedes had driven them from
their houses, and made passages from wall to wall, so that the
garrison, in case Yan Kazimir’s troops should enter, might withdraw and
defend themselves. Rains fell on the people in their camping-places; on
clear days the sun burned them, at night the cold pinched them.
Citizens were not allowed to kindle fires; they had no means of
preparing warm food. Various diseases spread more and more, and carried
away hundreds of victims.
Yan Kazimir’s heart was ready to burst when he heard these narratives.
He sent therefore courier after courier to hasten the coming of the
heavy guns. Days and weeks passed; but it was impossible to undertake
anything more important than the repulse of sorties. Still the
besiegers were strengthened by the thought that the garrison must fail
of provisions at last, since the roads were blocked in such fashion
that a mouse could not reach the fortress. The besieged lost hope of
assistance; the troops under Douglas, which were posted nearest, were
not only unable to come to the rescue, but had to think of their own
skin; for Yan Kazimir, having even too many men, was able to harass
them.
At last the Poles, even before the coming of the heavy guns, opened on
the fortress with the smaller ones. Pan Grodzitski from the side of the
Vistula, raised in front of himself, like a mole, earth defences,
pushed to within six yards of the moat, and vomited a continual fire on
the unfortunate city. The magnificent Kazanovski Palace was ruined; and
the Poles did not regret it, for the building belonged to the traitor
Radzeyovski. The shattered walls were barely standing, shining with
their empty windows; day and night balls were dropping on the splendid
terraces and in the gardens, smashing the beautiful fountains, bridges,
arbors, and marble statues, terrifying the peacocks which with pitiful
screams gave notice of their unhappy condition.
Pan Grodzitski hurled fire on the Bernardine bell-tower, for he had
decided to begin the assault on that side.
Meanwhile the camp servants begged permission to attack the city, for
they wished greatly to reach the Swedish treasures earliest. The king
refused at first, but finally consented. A number of prominent officers
undertook to lead them, and among others Kmita, who was imbittered by
delay, and not only that, but in general he knew not what to do with
himself; for Hassling, having fallen into a grievous fever, lay without
consciousness for some weeks and could speak of nothing.
Men therefore were summoned to the storm. Grodzitski opposed this to
the last moment, insisting that until a breach was made the city could
not be taken, even though the regular infantry were to go to the
assault. But as the king had given permission, Grodzitski was forced to
yield.
June 15, about six thousand camp servants assembled; ladders, bundles
of brush, and bags of sand were prepared. Toward evening a throng,
barefoot and armed for the greater part only with sabres, began to
approach the city where the trenches and earth defences came nearest
the moat. When it had become perfectly dark, the men rushed, at a given
signal, toward the moat with a terrible uproar, and began to fill it.
The watchful Swedes received them with a murderous fire from muskets
and cannons, and a furious battle sprang up along the whole eastern
side of the city. Under cover of darkness the Poles filled the moat in
a twinkle and reached the walls in an orderless mass. Kmita, with two
thousand men, fell upon an earth fort, which the Poles called “the
mole-hill,” and which stood near the Cracow gate. In spite of a
desperate defence he captured this place at a blow; the garrison was
cut to pieces with sabres, not a man was spared. Pan Andrei gave
command to turn the guns on the gate and some of them to the farther
walls, so as to aid and cover somewhat those crowds who were striving
to scale the walls.
These men, however, were not so fortunate. They put the ladders in
position, and ascended them so furiously that the best trained infantry
could not have done better; but the Swedes, safe behind battlements,
fired into their very faces, and hurled stones and blocks prepared for
the purpose; under the weight of these the ladders were broken into
pieces, and at last the infantry pushed down the assaulters with long
spears, against which sabres had no effect.
More than five hundred of the best camp servants were lying at the foot
of the wall; the rest passed the moat under an incessant fire, and took
refuge again in the Polish intrenchments.
The storm was repulsed, but the little fort remained in the hands of
the Poles. In vain did the Swedes roll at it all night from their
heaviest guns; Kmita answered them in like manner from those cannon
which he had captured. Only in the morning, when light came, were his
guns dismounted to the last one. Wittemberg, for whom that intrenchment
was as his head, sent infantry at once with the order not to dare
return without retaking what had been lost; but Grodzitski sent
reinforcements to Kmita, by the aid of which he not only repulsed the
infantry, but fell upon and drove them to the Cracow gate.
Grodzitski was so delighted that he ran in person to the king with the
report.
“Gracious Lord,” said he, “I was opposed to yesterday’s work, but now I
see that it was not lost. While that intrenchment was in the enemy’s
hands I could do nothing against the gate; but now only let the heavy
guns come, and in one night I will make a breach.”
The king, who was grieved that so many good men had fallen, was
rejoiced at Grodzitski’s words, and asked at once,—
“But who has command in that intrenchment?”
“Pan Babinich,” answered a number of voices.
The king clapped his hands. “He must be first everywhere! Worthy
General, I know him. He is a terribly stubborn cavalier, and will not
let himself be smoked out.”
“It would be a mistake beyond forgiveness, Gracious Lord, if we should
permit that. I have already sent him infantry and small cannon; for
that they will try to smoke him out is certain. It is a question of
Warsaw! That cavalier is worth his weight in gold.”
“He is worth more; for this is not his first, and not his tenth
achievement,” said the king.
Then Yan Kazimir gave orders to bring quickly a horse and a
field-glass, and he rode out to look at the earthwork. But it was not
to be seen from behind the smoke, for a number of forty-eight-pounders
were blowing on it with ceaseless fire; they hurled long balls, bombs,
and grape-shot. Still the intrenchment was so near the gate that
musket-balls almost reached it; the bomb-shells could be seen perfectly
when they flew up like cloudlets, and, describing a closely bent bow,
fell into that cloud of smoke, bursting with terrible explosion. Many
fell beyond the intrenchment, and they prevented the approach of
reinforcements.
“In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!” said the king.
“Tyzenhauz, look! A pile of torn earth is all that remains. Tyzenhauz,
do you know who is there?”
“Gracious King, Babinich is there. If he comes out living, he will be
able to say that he was in hell during life.”
“We must send him fresh men. Worthy General—”
“The orders are already given, but it is difficult for them to go,
since bombs pass over and fall very thickly on this side of the fort.”
“Turn all the guns on the walls so as to make a diversion,” said the
king.
Grodzitski put spurs to his horse and galloped to the trenches. After a
while cannonading was heard on the whole line, and somewhat later it
was seen that a fresh division of Mazovian infantry went out of the
nearest trenches, and on a run to the mole-hill.
The king stood there, looking continually. At last he cried: “Babinich
should be relieved in the command. And who, gentlemen, will volunteer
to take his place?”
Neither Pan Yan, Pan Stanislav, nor Volodyovski was near the king,
therefore a moment of silence followed.
“I!” said suddenly Pan Topor Grylevski, an officer of the light
squadron of the primate.
“I!” said Tyzenhauz.
“I! I! I!” called at once a number of voices.
“Let the man go who offered himself first,” said the king.
Pan Topor Grylevski made the sign of the cross, raised the canteen to
his mouth, then galloped away.
The king remained looking at the cloud of smoke with which the
mole-hill was covered, and the smoke rose above it like a bridge up to
the very wall. Since the fort was near the Vistula, the walls of the
city towered above it, and therefore the fire was terrible.
Meanwhile the thunder of cannon decreased somewhat, though the balls
did not cease to describe arcs, and a rattle of musketry was given out
as if thousands of men were beating threshing-floors with flails.
“It is evident that they are going to the attack again,” said
Tyzenhauz. “If there were less smoke, we should see the infantry.”
“Let us approach a little,” said the king, urging his horse.
After him others moved on, and riding along the bank of the Vistula
from Uyazdov they approached almost to the Solets itself; and since the
gardens of the palaces and the cloisters coming down to the Vistula had
been cleared by the Swedes in the winter for fuel, trees did not cover
the view, they could see even without field-glasses that the Swedes
were really moving again to the storm.
“I would rather lose that position,” said the king all at once, “than
that Babinich should die.”
“God will defend him!” said the priest Tsyetsishovski.
“And Pan Grodzitski will not fail to send him reinforcements,” added
Tyzenhauz.
Further conversation was interrupted by some horseman who was
approaching from the direction of the city at all speed. Tyzenhauz,
having such sight that he saw better with the naked eye than others
through field-glasses, caught his head at sight of him, and said,—
“Grylevski is returning! It must be that Kmita has fallen, and the fort
is captured.”
The king shaded his eyes with his hands. Grylevski rushed up, reined in
his horse, and, panting for breath, exclaimed,—
“Gracious Lord!”
“What has happened? Is he killed?” asked the king.
“Pan Babinich says that he is well, and does not wish any one to take
his place; he begs only to send him food, for he has had nothing to eat
since morning.”
“Is he alive then?” cried the king.
“He says that he is comfortable there!” repeated Grylevski.
But others, catching breath from wonder, began to cry: “That is
courage! He is a soldier!”
“But it was necessary to stay there and relieve him absolutely,” said
the king to Grylevski. “Is it not a shame to come back? Were you
afraid, or what? It would have been better not to go.”
“Gracious Lord,” answered Grylevski, “whoso calls me a coward, him I
will correct on any field, but before majesty I must justify myself. I
was in the ant-hill itself, but Babinich flew into my face because of
my errand: ‘Go,’ said he, ‘to the hangman! I am at work here, I am
almost creeping out of my skin, and I have no time to talk, but I will
not share either my glory or command with any man. I am well here and I
will stay here, but I’ll give orders to take you outside the trench! I
wish you were killed!’ said he. ‘We want to eat, and they send us a
commandant instead of food!’ What had I to do, Gracious Lord? I do not
wonder at his temper, for their hands are dropping from toil.”
“And how is it?” asked the king; “is he holding the place?”
“Desperately. What would he not hold? I forgot to tell besides that he
shouted to me when I was going: ‘I’ll stay here a week and will not
surrender, if I have something to eat!’”
“Is it possible to hold out there?”
“There, Gracious Lord, is the genuine day of judgment! Bomb is falling
after bomb; pieces of shells are whistling, like devils, around the
ear; the earth is dug out into ditches; it is impossible to speak from
smoke. The balls hurl around sand and earth, so that every moment a man
must shake himself to avoid being buried. Many have fallen, but those
who are living lie in furrows in the intrenchments, and have made
defences before their heads of stakes strengthened with earth. The
Swedes constructed the place carefully, and now it serves against them.
While I was there, infantry came from Grodzitski, and now there is
fighting again.”
“Since we cannot attack the walls until a breach is made,” said the
king, “we will strike the palace on the Cracow suburbs to-day; that
will be the best diversion.”
“The palace is wonderfully strengthened, almost changed into a
fortress,” remarked Tyzenhauz.
“But they will not hurry from the city to give aid, for all their fury
will be turned on Babinich,” said the king. “So will it be, as I am
here alive, so will it be! I will order the storm at once; but first I
will bless Babinich.”
Then the king took from the priest a golden crucifix in which were
splinters of the true cross, and raising it on high he began to bless
the distant mound, covered with fire and smoke, saying,—
“O God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, have mercy on Thy people, and give
salvation to the dying! Amen! amen! amen!”