Even before the Turks marched from Adrianople, a great movement
had begun in all the stanitsas on the Dniester. To Hreptyoff,
the stanitsa nearest to Kamenyets, couriers of the hetman were
hastening continually, bringing various orders; these the little
knight executed himself, or if they did not relate to him, he
forwarded them through trusty people. In consequence of these
orders the garrison of Hreptyoff was reduced notably. Pan Motovidlo
went with his Cossacks to Uman to aid Hanenko, who, with a handful
of Cossacks faithful to the Commonwealth, struggled as best he
could with Doroshenko and the Crimean horde which had joined
him. Pan Mushalski, the incomparable bowman, Pan Snitko of the
escutcheon Hidden Moon, Pan Nyenashinyets, and Pan Hromyka, led a
squadron and Linkhauz’s dragoons to Batog of unhappy memory, where
was stationed Pan Lujetski, who, aided by Hanenko, was to watch
Doroshenko’s movements; Pan Bogush received an order to remain
in Mohiloff till he could see chambuls with the naked eye. The
instructions of the hetman were seeking eagerly the famous Pan
Rushchyts, whom Volodyovski alone surpassed as a partisan; but Pan
Rushchyts had gone to the steppes at the head of a few tens of
men, and vanished as if in water. They heard of him only later,
when wonderful tidings were spread, that around Doroshenko’s tabor
and the companies of the horde an evil spirit, as it were, was
hovering, which carried away daily single warriors and smaller
companies. It was suspected that this must be Pan Rushchyts, for
no other except the little knight could attack in that manner. In
fact, it was Pan Rushchyts.
As decided before. Pan Michael had to go to Kamenyets; the hetman
needed him there, for he knew him to be a soldier whose coming
would comfort the hearts, while it roused the courage, of the
inhabitants and the garrison. The hetman was convinced that
Kamenyets would not hold out; with him the question was simply
that it should hold out as long as possible,--that is, till the
Commonwealth could assemble some forces for defence. In this
conviction he sent to evident death, as it were, his favorite
soldier, the most renowned cavalier of the Commonwealth.
He sent the most renowned warrior to death, and he did not grieve
for him. The hetman thought always, what he said later on at
Vienna, that Pani Wojnina[29] might give birth to people, but that
Wojna (war) only killed them. He was ready himself to die; he
thought that to die was the most direct duty of a soldier, and that
when a soldier could render famous service by dying, death was to
him a great reward and favor. The hetman knew also that the little
knight was of one conviction with himself.
Besides, he had no time to think of sparing single soldiers when
destruction was advancing on churches, towns, the country, the
whole Commonwealth; when, with forces unheard of, the Orient was
rising against Europe to conquer all Christendom, which, shielded
by the breast of the Commonwealth, had no thought of helping that
Commonwealth. The only question possible for the hetman was that
Kamenyets should cover the Commonwealth, and then the Commonwealth
the remainder of Christendom.
This might have happened had the Commonwealth been strong, had
disorder not exhausted it. But the hetman had not troops enough
even for reconnoissances, not to mention war. If he hurried some
tens of soldiers to one place, there was an opening made in
another, through which an invading wave might pour in without
obstacle. The detachments of sentries posted by the Sultan at night
in his camp outnumbered the squadrons of the hetman. The invasion
moved from two directions,--from the Dnieper and the Danube.
Because Doroshenko, with the whole horde of the Crimea, was nearer,
and had inundated the country already, burning and slaying, the
chief squadrons had gone against him; on the other hand, people
were lacking for simple reconnoissances. While in such dire straits
the hetman wrote the following few words to Pan Michael,--
“I did think to send you to Rashkoff near the enemy, but
grew afraid, because the horde, crossing by seven fords
from the Moldavian bank, will occupy the country, and you
could not reach Kamenyets, where there is absolute need
of you. Only yesterday I remembered Novoveski, who is a
trained soldier and daring, and because a man in despair
is ready for everything, I think that he will serve me
effectively. Send him whatever light cavalry you can spare;
let him go as far as possible, show himself everywhere,
and give out reports of our great forces, when before the
eyes of the enemy; let him appear here and there suddenly,
and not let himself be captured. It is known how they will
come; but if he sees anything new, he is to inform you at
once, and you will hurry off without delay an informant to
me, and to Kamenyets. Let Novoveski move quickly, and be
you ready to go to Kamenyets, but wait where you are till
news comes from Novoveski in Moldavia.”
Since Pan Adam was living at Mohiloff for the time, and, as report
ran, was to come to Hreptyoff in any case, the little knight merely
sent word to him to hasten, because a commission from the hetman
was waiting for him.
Pan Adam came three days later. His acquaintances hardly knew him,
and thought that Pan Byaloglovski had good reason to call him a
skeleton. He was no longer that splendid fellow, high-spirited,
joyous, who on a time used to rush at the enemy with outbursts of
laughter, like the neighing of a horse, and gave blows with just
such a sweep as is given by the arm of a windmill. He had grown
lean, sallow, dark, but in that leanness he seemed a still greater
giant. While looking at people, he blinked as if not recognizing
his nearest acquaintances; it was needful also to repeat the same
thing two or three times to him, for he seemed not to understand at
first. Apparently grief was flowing in his veins instead of blood;
evidently he strove not to think of certain things, preferring to
forget them, so as not to run mad.
It is true that in those regions there was not a man, not a family,
not an officer of the army, who had not suffered evil from Pagan
hands, who was not bewailing some acquaintance, friend, near and
dear one; but on Pan Adam there had burst simply a whole cloud of
misfortunes. In one day he had lost father and sister, and besides,
his betrothed, whom he loved with all the power of his exuberant
spirit. He would rather that his sister and that dearly beloved
girl had both died; he would rather they had perished from the
knife or in flames. But their fate was such that in comparison with
the thought of them the greatest torment was nothing for Pan Adam.
He strove not to think of their fate, for he felt that thinking of
it bordered on insanity; he strove, but he failed.
In truth, his calmness was only apparent. There was no resignation
whatever in his soul, and at the first glance it was evident to
any man that under the torpor there was something ominous and
terrible, and, should it break forth, that giant would do something
awful, just as a wild element would. That was as if written on his
forehead explicitly, so that even his friends approached him with
a certain timidity; in talking with him, they avoided reference to
the past.
The sight of Basia in Hreptyoff opened closed wounds in him, for
while kissing her hands in greeting, he began to groan like an
aurochs that is mortally wounded, his eyes became bloodshot, and
the veins in his neck swelled to the size of cords. When Basia,
in tears and affectionate as a mother, pressed his head with her
hands, he fell at her feet, and could not rise for a long time.
But when he heard what kind of office the hetman had given him, he
became greatly enlivened; a gleam of ominous joy flashed up in his
face, and he said,--
“I will do that, I will do more!”
“And if you meet that mad dog, give him a skinning!” put in Zagloba.
Pan Adam did not answer at once; he only looked at Zagloba; sudden
bewilderment shone in his eyes; he rose and began to go toward the
old noble, as if he wished to rush at him.
“Do you believe,” said he, “that I have never done evil to that
man, and that I have always been kind to him?”
“I believe, I believe!” said Zagloba, pushing behind the little
knight hurriedly. “I would go myself with you, but the gout bites
my feet.”
“Novoveski,” asked the little knight, “when do you wish to start?”
“To-night.”
“I will give you a hundred dragoons. I will remain here myself with
another hundred and the infantry. Go to the square!”
They went out to give orders. Zydor Lusnia was waiting at the
threshold, straightened out like a string. News of the expedition
had spread already through the square; the sergeant therefore, in
his own name and the name of his company, began to beg the little
colonel to let him go with Pan Adam.
“How is this? Do you want to leave me?” asked the astonished
Volodyovski.
“Pan Commandant, we made a vow against that son of a such a one;
and perhaps he may come into our hands.”
“True! Pan Zagloba has told me of that,” answered the little knight.
Lusnia turned to Novoveski,--
“Pan Commandant!”
“What is your wish?”
“If we get him, may I take care of him?”
Such a fierce, beastly venom was depicted on the face of the
Mazovian that Novoveski inclined at once to Volodyovski, and said
entreatingly,--
“Your grace, let me have this man!”
Pan Michael did not think of refusing; and that same evening, about
dusk, a hundred horsemen, with Novoveski at their head, set out on
the journey.
They marched by the usual road through Mohiloff and Yampol. In
Yampol they met the former garrison of Rashkoff, from which two
hundred men joined Novoveski by order of the hetman; the rest,
under command of Pan Byaloglovski, were to go to Mohiloff, where
Pan Bogush was stationed. Pan Adam marched to Rashkoff.
The environs of Rashkoff were a thorough waste; the town itself had
been turned into a pile of ashes, which the winds had blown to the
four sides of the world; its scant number of inhabitants had fled
before the expected storm. It was already the beginning of May, and
the Dobrudja horde might show itself at any time; therefore it was
unsafe to remain in those regions. In fact, the hordes were with
the Turks, on the plain of Kuchunkaury; but men around Rashkoff
had no knowledge of that, therefore every one of the former
inhabitants, who had escaped the last slaughter, carried off his
head in good season whithersoever seemed best to him.
Along the road Lusnia was framing plans and stratagems, which in
his opinion Pan Adam should adopt if he wished to outwit the enemy
in fact and successfully. He detailed these ideas to the soldiers
with graciousness.
“You know nothing of this matter, horse-skulls,” said he; “but I
am old, I know. We will go to Rashkoff; we will hide there and
wait. The horde will come to the crossing; small parties will cross
first, as is their custom, because the chambul stops and waits till
they tell if ’tis safe; then we will slip out and drive them before
us to Kamenyets.”
“But in this way we may not get that dog brother,” remarked one of
the men in the ranks.
“Shut your mouth!” said Lusnia. “Who will go in the vanguard if not
the Lithuanian Tartars?”
In fact, the previsions of the sergeant seemed to be coming true.
When he reached Rashkoff Pan Adam gave the soldiers rest. All felt
certain that they would go next to the caves, of which there were
many in the neighborhood, and hide there till the first parties of
the enemy appeared. But the second day of their stay the commandant
brought the squadron to its feet, and led it beyond Rashkoff.
“Are we going to Yagorlik, or what?” asked the sergeant in his mind.
Meanwhile they approached the river just beyond Rashkoff, and a few
“Our Fathers” later they halted at the so-called “Bloody Ford.” Pan
Adam, without saying a word, urged his horse into the water and
began to cross to the opposite bank. The soldiers looked at one
another with astonishment.
“How is this,--are we going to the Turks?” asked one of another.
But these were not “gracious gentlemen” of the general militia,
ready to summon a meeting and protest, they were simple soldiers
inured to the iron discipline of stanitsas; hence the men of the
first rank urged their horses into the water after the commandant,
and then those in the second and third did the same. There was
not the least hesitation. They were astonished that, with three
hundred horse, they were marching against the Turkish power, which
the whole world could not conquer; but they went. Soon the water
was plashing around the horses’ sides; the men ceased to wonder
then, and were thinking simply of this, that the sacks of food for
themselves and the horses should not get wet. Only on the other
bank did they begin to look at one another again.
“For God’s sake, we are in Moldavia already!” said they, in quiet
whispers.
And one or another looked behind, beyond the Dniester, which
glittered in the setting sun like a red and golden ribbon. The
river cliffs, full of caves, were bathed also in the bright gleams.
They rose like a wall, which at that moment divided that handful
of men from their country. For many of them it was indeed the last
parting.
The thought went through Lusnia’s head that maybe the commandant
had gone mad; but it was the commandant’s affair to command, his to
obey.
Meanwhile the horses, issuing from the water, began to snort
terribly in the ranks. “Good health! good health!” was heard from
the soldiers. They considered the snorting of good omen, and a
certain consolation entered their hearts.
“Move on!” commanded Pan Adam.
The ranks moved, and they went toward the setting sun and toward
those thousands, to that swarm of people, to those nations gathered
at Kuchunkaury.