The fugitive Tartars carried news to the Belgrod horde of
the disaster. Couriers from them took the news to the Ordu i
Humayun,--that is, to the Sultan’s camp,--where it made an uncommon
impression.
Pan Adam had no need, it is true, to flee too hurriedly with his
booty to the Commonwealth, for not only did no one pursue him at
the first moment, but not even for the two succeeding days. The
Sultan was so astonished that he knew not what to think. He sent
Belgrod and Dobrudja chambuls at once to discover what troops
were in the vicinity. They went unwillingly, for with them it was
a question of their own skins. Meanwhile the tidings, given from
mouth to mouth, grew to be the account of a considerable overthrow.
Men inhabiting the depth of Asia or Africa, who had not gone
hitherto with war to Lehistan, and who heard from narratives of the
terrible cavalry of the unbelievers, were seized with fright at
the thought that they were already in presence of that enemy who
did not wait for them within his own boundaries, but sought them
in the very dominions of the Padishah; the grand vizir himself,
and the “future sun of war,” the kaimakan, Kara Mustafa, did not
know either what to think of the attack. How that Commonwealth,
of whose weakness they had the minutest accounts, could assume
all at once the offensive, no Turkish head could explain. It is
enough that henceforth the march seemed less secure, and less like
a triumph. At the council of war the Sultan received the vizir and
the kaimakan with a terrible countenance.
“You have deceived me,” said he. “The Poles cannot be so weak,
since they seek us even here. You told me that Sobieski would not
defend Kamenyets, and now he is surely in front of us, with his
whole army.”
The vizir and kaimakan tried to explain to their lord that this
might be some detached band of robbers; but in view of the muskets
and of straps, in which there were dragoon jackets, they did not
believe that themselves. The recent expedition of Sobieski to the
Ukraine, daring beyond every measure, but for all that victorious,
permitted the supposition that the terrible leader intended to
anticipate the enemy this time as well as the other.
“He has no troops,” said the grand vizir to the kaimakan, while
coming out from the council; “but there is a lion in him which
knows nothing of fear. If he has collected even a few thousand, and
is here, we shall march in blood to Hotin.”
“I should like to measure strength with him,” said young Kara
Mustafa.
“May God avert from you misfortune!” answered the grand vizir.
By degrees, however, the Belgrod and Dobrudja chambuls convinced
themselves that there were not only no large bodies of troops, but
no troops at all in the neighborhood. They discovered the trail
of a detachment numbering about three hundred horse, which moved
hurriedly toward the Dniester. The Tartars, remembering the fate
of Azya’s men, made no pursuit, out of fear of an ambush. The
attack remained as something astonishing and unexplained; but quiet
came back by degrees to the Ordu i Humayun, and the armies of the
Padishah began again to advance like an inundation.
Meanwhile, Pan Adam was returning safely with his living booty to
Rashkoff. He went hurriedly, but as experienced scouts learned
on the second day that there was no pursuit, he advanced,
notwithstanding his haste, at a gait not to weary the horses
over-much. Azya, fastened with cords to the back of the horse, was
always between Pan Adam and Lusnia. He had two ribs broken, and
had become wonderfully weak, for even the wound given him by Basia
in the face opened from his struggle with Pan Adam and from riding
with head hanging down. The terrible sergeant was careful that he
should not die before reaching Rashkoff, and thus baffle revenge.
The young Tartar wanted to die. Knowing what awaited him, he
determined first of all to kill himself with hunger, and would not
take food; but Lusnia opened his set teeth with a knife, and forced
into his mouth gorailka and Moldavian wine, in which biscuits,
rubbed to dust, had been mixed. At the places of halting, they
threw water on his face, lest the wounds of his eye and his nose,
on which flies and gnats had settled thickly during the journey,
should mortify, and bring premature death to the ill-fated man.
Pan Adam did not speak to him on the road. Once only, at the
beginning of the journey, when Azya, at the price of his freedom
and life, offered to return Zosia and Eva, did the lieutenant say
to him,--
“Thou liest, dog! Both were sold by thee to a merchant of Stambul,
who will sell them again in the bazaar.”
And straightway they brought Eliashevich, who said in presence of
all,--
“It is so, Effendi. You sold her without knowing to whom; and
Adurovich sold the bagadyr’s[30] sister, though she was with child
by him.”
After these words, it seemed for a while to Azya that Novoveski
would crush him at once in his terrible grasp. Afterwards, when he
had lost all hope, he resolved to bring the young giant to kill
him in a transport of rage, and in that way spare himself future
torment; since Novoveski, unwilling to let his captive out of
sight, rode always near him, Azya began to boast beyond measure
and shamelessly of all that he had done. He told how he had killed
old Novoveski, how he had kept Zosia Boski in the tent, how he
gloated over her innocence, how he had torn her body with rods, and
kicked her. The sweat rolled off the pale face of Pan Adam in thick
drops. He listened; he had not the power, he had not the wish to
go away. He listened eagerly, his hands quivered, his body shook
convulsively; still he mastered himself, and did not kill.
But Azya, while tormenting his enemy, tormented himself, for
his narratives brought to his mind his present misfortune. Not
long before, he was commanding men, living in luxury, a murza,
a favorite of the young kaimakan; now, lashed to the back of a
horse, and eaten alive by flies, he was travelling on to a terrible
death. Relief came to him when, from the pain of his wounds, and
from suffering, he fainted. This happened with growing frequency,
so that Lusnia began to fear that he might not bring him alive.
But they travelled night and day, giving only as much rest to the
horses as was absolutely needful, and Rashkoff was ever nearer and
nearer. Still the horned soul of the Tartar would not leave the
afflicted body. But during the last days he was in a continual
fever, and at times he fell into an oppressive sleep. More than
once in that fever or sleep he dreamed that he was still in
Hreptyoff, that he had to go with Volodyovski to a great war; again
that he was conducting Basia to Rashkoff; again that he had borne
her away, and hidden her in his tent; at times in the fever he saw
battles and slaughter, in which, as hetman of the Polish Tartars,
he was giving orders from under his bunchuk. But awakening came,
and with it consciousness. Opening his eyes, he saw the face of
Novoveski, the face of Lusnia, the helmets of the dragoons, who had
thrown aside the sheepskin caps of the horse herds; and all that
reality was so dreadful that it seemed to him a genuine nightmare.
Every movement of the horse tortured him; his wounds burned him
increasingly; and again he fainted. Pierced with pain, he recovered
consciousness, to fall into a fever, and with it into a dream, to
wake up again.
There were moments in which it seemed to him impossible that he,
such a wretched man, could be Azya, the son of Tugai Bey; that
his life, which was full of uncommon events, and which seemed to
promise a great destiny, was to end with such suddenness, and so
terribly.
At times too it came to his head that after torments and death he
would go straightway to paradise; but because once he had professed
Christianity, and had lived long among Christians, fear seized him
at the thought of Christ. Christ would have no pity on him; if the
Prophet had been mightier than Christ, he would not have given him
into the hands of Pan Adam. Perhaps, however, the Prophet would
show pity yet, and take the soul out of him before Pan Adam would
kill him with torture.
Meanwhile, Rashkoff was at hand. They entered a country of cliffs,
which indicated the vicinity of the Dniester. Azya in the evening
fell into a condition half feverish, half conscious, in which
illusions were mingled with reality. It seemed to him that they had
arrived, that they had stopped, that he heard around him the words
“Rashkoff! Rashkoff!” Next it seemed to him that he heard the noise
of axes cutting wood.
Then he felt that men were dashing cold water on his head, and
then for a long time they were pouring gorailka into his mouth.
After that he recovered entirely. Above him was a starry night, and
around him many torches were gleaming. To his ears came the words,--
“Is he conscious?”
“Conscious. He seems in his mind.”
And that moment he saw above him the face of Lusnia.
“Well, brother,” said the sergeant, in a calm voice, “the hour is
on thee!”
Azya was lying on his back and breathing freely, for his arms were
stretched upward at both sides of his head, by reason of which his
expanded breast moved more freely and received more air than when
he was lying lashed to the back of the horse. But he could not move
his hands, for they were tied above his head to an oak staff which
was placed at right angles to his shoulders, and were bound with
straw steeped in tar. Azya divined in a moment why this was done;
but at that moment he saw other preparations also, which announced
that his torture would be long and ghastly. He was undressed from
his waist to his feet; and raising his head somewhat, he saw
between his naked knees a freshly trimmed, pointed stake, the
larger end of which was placed against the butt of a tree. From
each of his feet there went a rope ending with a whiffletree, to
which a horse was attached. By the light of the torches Azya could
see only the rumps of the horses and two men, standing somewhat
farther on, who evidently were holding the horses by the head.
The hapless man took in these preparations at a glance; then,
looking at the heavens, it is unknown why, he saw stars and the
gleaming crescent of the moon.
“They will draw me on,” thought he.
And at once he closed his teeth so firmly that a spasm seized his
jaws. Sweat came out on his forehead, and at the same time his face
became cold, for the blood rushed away from it. Then it seemed to
him that the earth was fleeing from under his shoulders, that his
body was flying and flying into some fathomless abyss. For a while
he lost consciousness of time, of place, and of what they were
doing to him. The sergeant opened Azya’s mouth with a knife, and
poured in more gorailka.
He coughed and spat out the burning liquor, but was forced to
swallow some of it. Then he fell into a wonderful condition:
he was not drunk; on the contrary, his mind had never been
clearer, nor his thought quicker. He saw what they were doing, he
understood everything; but an uncommon excitement seized him, as it
were,--impatience that all was lasting so long, and that nothing
was beginning yet.
Next heavy steps were heard near by, and before him stood Pan
Adam. At sight of him all the veins in the Tartar quivered. Lusnia
he did not fear; he despised him too much. But Pan Adam he did
not despise; indeed, he had no reason to despise him; on the
contrary, every look of his face filled Azya’s soul with a certain
superstitious dread and repulsion. He thought to himself at that
moment, “I am in his power; I fear him!” and that was such a
terrible feeling that under its influence the hair stiffened on the
head of Tugai Bey’s son.
“For what thou hast done, thou wilt perish in torment,” said Pan
Adam.
The Tartar gave no answer, but began to pant audibly.
Novoveski withdrew, and then followed a silence which was broken by
Lusnia.
“Thou didst raise thy hand on the lady,” said he, with a hoarse
voice; “but now the lady is at home with her husband, and thou art
in our hands. Thy hour has come!”
With those words the act of torture began for Azya. That terrible
man learned at the hour of his death that his treason and cruelty
had profited nothing. If even Basia had died on the road, he would
have had the consolation that though not in his, she would not be
in any man’s, possession; and that solace was taken from him just
then, when the point of the stake was at an ell’s length from his
body. All had been in vain. So many treasons, so much blood, so
much impending punishment for nothing,--for nothing whatever!
Lusnia did not know how grievous those words had made death to
Azya; had he known, he would have repeated them during the whole
journey.
But there was no time for regrets then; everything must give way
before the execution. Lusnia stooped down, and taking Azya’s hips
in both his hands to give them direction, called to the men holding
the horses,--
“Move! but slowly and together!”
The horses moved; the straightened ropes pulled Azya’s legs. In a
twinkle his body was drawn along the earth and met the point of
the stake. Then the point commenced to sink in him, and something
dreadful began,--something repugnant to nature and the feelings of
man. The bones of the unfortunate moved apart from one another; his
body gave way in two directions; pain indescribable, so awful that
it almost bounds on some monstrous delight, penetrated his being.
The stake sank more and more deeply. Azya fixed his jaws, but he
could not endure; his teeth were bared in a ghastly grin, and out
of his throat came the cry, “A! a! a!” like the croaking of a raven.
“Slowly!” commanded the sergeant.
Azya repeated his terrible cry more and more quickly.
“Art croaking?” inquired the sergeant.
Then he called to the men,--
“Stop! together! There, it is done,” said he, turning to Azya, who
had grown silent at once, and in whose throat only a deep rattling
was heard.
The horses were taken out quickly; then men raised the stake,
planted the large end of it in a hole prepared purposely, and
packed earth around it. The son of Tugai Bey looked from above on
that work. He was conscious. That hideous species of punishment is
in this the more dreadful, that victims drawn on to the stake live
sometimes three days. Azya’s head was hanging on his breast; his
lips were moving, smacking, as if he were chewing something and
tasting it. He felt then a great faintness, and saw before him, as
it were, a boundless, whitish mist, which, it is unknown wherefore,
seemed to him terrible; but in that mist he recognized the faces
of the sergeant and the dragoons, he saw that he was on the stake,
that the weight of his body was sinking him deeper and deeper. Then
he began to grow numb from the feet, and began to be less and less
sensitive to pain.
At times darkness hid from him that whitish mist; then he blinked
with his one seeing eye, wishing to see and behold everything till
death. His gaze passed with particular persistence from torch to
torch, for it seemed to him that around each flame there was a
rainbow circle.
But his torture was not ended; after a while the sergeant
approached the stake with an auger in his hand, and cried to those
standing near,--
“Lift me up.”
Two strong men raised him aloft. Azya began to look at him closely,
blinking, as if he wished to know what kind of man was climbing up
to his height. Then the sergeant said,--
“The lady knocked out one eye, and I promised myself to bore out
the other.”
When he had said this, he put the point into the pupil, twisted
once and a second time, and when the lid and delicate skin
surrounding the eye were wound around the spiral of the auger, he
jerked.
Then from the two eye-sockets of Azya two streams of blood flowed,
and they flowed like two streams of tears down his face. His face
itself grew pale and still paler. The dragoons extinguished the
torches in silence, as if in shame that light had shone on a deed
of such ghastliness; and from the crescent of the moon alone fell
silvery though not very bright rays on the body of Azya. His head
fell entirely on his breast; but his hands, bound to the oak staff,
and enveloped in straw steeped in tar, were pointing toward the
sky, as if that son of the Orient were calling the vengeance of the
Turkish crescent on his executioners.
“To horse!” was heard from Pan Adam.
Before mounting the sergeant ignited, with the last torch, those
uplifted hands of the Tartar; and the detachment moved toward
Yampol. Amid the ruins of Rashkoff, in the night and the desert,
Azya, the son of Tugai Bey, remained on the lofty stake, and he
gleamed there a long time.