Pan Zagloba had his head mightily full when he hurled the word
"traitor" thrice at the eyes of the terrible hetman. At an hour nearer
morning, when the wine had evaporated from his bald head, and he found
himself with the two Skshetuskis and Pan Michael in a dungeon of
Kyedani Castle, he saw, when too late, the danger to which he had
exposed his own neck and the necks of his comrades, and was greatly
cast down.
"But what will happen now?" asked he, gazing with dazed look on the
little knight, in whom he had special trust in great peril.
"May the devil take life! it is all one to me!" answered Volodyovski.
"We shall live to such times and such infamy as the world and this
kingdom have not seen hitherto!" said Pan Yan.
"Would that we might live to them!" answered Zagloba; "we could restore
virtue in others by our good example. But shall we live? That is the
great question."
"This is a terrible event, passing belief!" said Pan Stanislav. "Where
has the like of it happened? Save me, gentlemen, for I feel that there
is confusion in my head. Two wars,--a third, the Cossack,--and in
addition treason, like a plague: Radzyovski, Opalinski, Grudzinski,
Radzivill! The end of the world is coming, and the day of judgment; it
cannot be otherwise! May the earth open under our feet! As God is dear
to me, I am losing my mind!"
And clasping his hands at the back of his head, he began to pace the
length and width of the cellar, like a wild beast in a cage.
"Shall we begin to pray, or what?" asked he at last. "Merciful God,
save us!"
"Be calm!" said Zagloba; "this is not the time to despair."
Pan Stanislav ground his teeth on a sudden; rage carried him away. "I
wish you were killed!" cried he to Zagloba. "It was your thought to
come to this traitor. May vengeance reach you and him!"
"Bethink yourself, Stanislav," said Pan Yan, sternly. "No one could
foresee what has happened. Endure, for you are not the only man
suffering; and know that our place is here, and not elsewhere. Merciful
God! pity, not us, but the ill-fated country."
Stanislav made no answer, but wrung his hands till the joints were
cracking.
They were silent. Pan Michael, however, began to whistle through his
teeth, in despair, and feigned indifference to everything happening
around him, though, in fact, he suffered doubly,--first, for the
misfortune of the country, and secondly, because he had violated his
obedience to the hetman. The latter was a terrible thing for him, a
soldier to the marrow of his bones. He would have preferred to die a
thousand times.
"Do not whistle, Pan Michael," said Zagloba.
"All one to me!"
"How is it? Is no one of you thinking whether there are not means of
escape? It is worth while to exercise one's wits on this. Are we to rot
in this cellar, when every hand is needed for the country, when one man
of honor must settle ten traitors?"
"Father is right," said Pan Yan.
"You alone have not become stupid from pain. What do you suppose? What
does that traitor think of doing with us? Surely he will not punish us
with death?"
Pan Michael burst out in a sudden laugh of despair. "But why not? I am
curious to learn! Has he not authority, has he not the sword? Do you
not know Radzivill?"
"Nonsense! What right do they give him?"
"Over me, the right of a hetman; over you, force!"
"For which he must answer."
"To whom,--to the King of Sweden?"
"You give me sweet consolation; there is no denying that!"
"I have no thought of consoling you."
They were silent, and for a time there was nothing to be heard but the
measured tread of Scottish infantry at the door of the cellar.
"There is no help here," said Zagloba, "but stratagem."
No one gave answer; therefore he began to talk again after a while: "I
will not believe that we are to be put to death. If for every word
spoken in haste and in drink, a head were cut off, not one noble in
this Commonwealth would walk around with his head on his shoulders. But
_neminem captivabimus?_ Is that a trifle?"
"You have an example in yourself and in us," answered Stanislav.
"Well, that happened in haste; but I believe firmly that the prince
will take a second thought. We are strangers; in no way do we come
under his jurisdiction. He must respect opinion, and not begin with
violence, so as not to offend the nobles. As true as life, our party is
too large to have the heads cut from all of us. Over the officers he
has authority, I cannot deny that; but, as I think, he will look to the
army, which surely will not fail to remember its own. And where is your
squadron, Michael?"
"In Upita."
"But tell me, are you sure that the men will be true to you?"
"Whence should I know? They like me well enough, but they know that the
hetman is above me."
Zagloba meditated awhile. "Give me an order to them to obey me in
everything, as they would you, if I appear among them."
"You think that you are free!"
"There is no harm in that. I have been in hotter places, and God saved
me. Give an order for me and the two Skshetuskis. Whoso escapes first
will go straight to the squadron, and bring it to rescue the others."
"You are raving! It is a pity to lose time in empty talk! Who will
escape from this place? Besides, on what can I give an order; have you
paper, ink, pen? You are losing your head."
"Desperation!" cried Zagloba; "give me even your ring."
"Here it is, and let me have peace!"
Zagloba took the ring, put it on his little finger, and began to walk
and meditate.
Meanwhile the smoking candle went out, and darkness embraced them
completely; only through the grating of the high window a couple of
stars were visible, twinkling in the clear sky. Zagloba's eye did not
leave the grating. "If heaven-dwelling Podbipienta were living and with
us," muttered the old man, "he would tear out that grating, and in an
hour we should see ourselves beyond Kyedani."
"But raise me to the window," said Pan Yan, suddenly.
Zagloba and Pan Stanislav placed themselves at the wall; in a moment
Yan was on their shoulders.
"It cracks! As God is dear to me, it cracks!" cried Zagloba.
"What are you talking about, father? I haven't begun to pull it yet."
"Crawl up with your cousin; I'll hold you somehow. More than once I
pitied Pan Michael because he was so slender; but now I regret that he
is not still thinner, so as to slip through like a snake."
But Yan sprang down from their shoulders. "The Scots are standing on
this side!" said he.
"May God turn them into pillars of salt, like Lot's wife!" said
Zagloba. "It is so dark here that you might strike a man in the face,
and he could not see you. It will soon be daybreak. I think they will
bring us food of some kind, for even Lutherans do not put prisoners to
a hunger death. Perhaps, too, God will send reflection to the hetman.
Often in the night conscience starts up in a man, and the devils pinch
sinners. Can it be there is only one entrance to this cellar? I will
look in the daytime. My head is somehow heavy, and I cannot think out a
stratagem. To-morrow God will strengthen my wit; but now we will say
the Lord's Prayer, and commit ourselves to the Most Holy Lady, in this
heretical dungeon."
In fact they began a moment later to say the Lord's Prayer and the
litany to the Mother of God; then Yan, Stanislav, and Volodyovski were
silent, for their breasts were full of misfortune, but Zagloba growled
in a low voice and muttered,--
"It must be beyond doubt that to-morrow he will say to us, _aut_,
_aut!_ (either, or). 'Join Radzivill and I will pardon everything.' But
we shall see who outwits the other. Do you pack nobles into prison,
have you no respect for age or services? Very good! To whom the loss,
to him the weeping! The foolish will be under, and the wise on top. I
will promise what you like, but what I observe would not make a patch
for your boot. If you do not hold to the country, he is virtuous who
holds not to you. This is certain, that final ruin is coming on the
Commonwealth if its foremost dignitaries join the enemy. This has never
been in the world hitherto, and surely a man may lose his senses from
it. Are there in hell torments sufficient for such traitors? What was
wanting to such a Radzivill? Is it little that the country has given
him, that he should sell it like a Judas, and in the very time of its
greatest misfortunes, in the time of three wars? Just is thy anger, O
Lord! only give swiftest punishment. So be it! Amen! If I could only
get out of here quickly, I would create partisans for thee, mighty
hetman! Thou wilt know how the fruits of treason taste. Thou wilt look
on me yet as a friend; but if thou findest no better, do not hunt a
bear unless thy skin is not dear to thee."
Thus did Zagloba converse with himself. Meanwhile one hour passed, and
a second; at last day began to dawn. The gray light falling through the
grating dissipated slowly the darkness in the cellar, and brought out
the gloomy figures sitting at the walls. Volodyovski and the
Skshetuskis were slumbering from weariness; but when things were more
visible, and when from the courtyard came the sounds of soldiers'
footsteps, the clatter of arms, the tramp of hoofs, and the sound of
trumpets at the gate, the knights sprang to their feet.
"The day begins not too favorably for us," said Yan.
"God grant it to end more favorably," answered Zagloba. "Do you know
what I have thought in the night? They will surely treat us with the
gift of life if we will take service with Radzivill and help him in his
treason; we ought to agree to that, so as to make use of our freedom
and stand up for the country."
"May God preserve me from putting my name to treason," answered Yan;
"for though I should leave the traitor afterward, my name would remain
among those of traitors as an infamy to my children. I will not do
that, I prefer to die."
"Neither will I!" said Stanislav.
"But I tell you beforehand that I will. No one will think that I did it
voluntarily or sincerely. May the devils take that dragon Radzivill! We
shall see yet who gets the upper hand."
Further conversation was stopped by sounds in the yard. Among them were
the ominous accents of anger and indignation. At the same time single
voices of command, the echo of footsteps of whole crowds, and heavy
thunder as of cannon in motion.
"What is going on?" asked Zagloba. "Maybe there is some help for us."
"There is surely an uncommon uproar," said Volodyovski. "But raise me
to the window, for I shall see right away what it is."
Yan took Volodyovski and raised him as he would a boy. Pan Michael
caught the grating, and looked carefully through the yard.
"There is something going on,--there is!" said he, with sudden
alertness. "I see the Hungarian castle regiment of infantry which
Oskyerko led--they loved him greatly, and he too is arrested; they are
demanding him surely. As God lives! they are in order of battle.
Lieutenant Stahovich is with them; he is a friend of Oskyerko."
At that moment the cries grew still louder.
"Ganhoff has ridden up. He is saying something to Stahovich, and what a
shout! I see that Stahovich with two officers is walking away from the
troops. They are going of course as a deputation to the hetman. As God
is dear to me, mutiny is spreading in the army! The cannon are pointed
against the Hungarians, and the Scottish regiment is also in order of
battle. Men from the Polish squadrons are gathering to the Hungarians.
Without them they would not be so daring, for in the infantry there is
stern discipline."
"In God's name!" cried Zagloba. "In that is salvation for us. Pan
Michael, are there many Polish squadrons? If they rise, it will be a
rising!"
"Stankyevich's hussars and Mirski's mailed squadrons are two days'
march from Kyedani," answered Volodyovski. "If they had been here, the
hetman would not have dared to arrest their commanders. Wait! There are
Kharlamp's dragoons, one regiment, Myeleshko's another; they are for
the prince. Nyevyarovski declared also for the prince, but his regiment
is far away,--two Scottish regiments."
"Then there are four with the prince?"
"And the artillery under Korf, two regiments."
"Oh, that's a strong force!"
"And Kmita's squadron, well equipped,--six hundred men."
"And on whose side is Kmita?"
"I do not know."
"Did you not see him? Did he throw down his baton?"
"We know not."
"Who are against the prince,--what squadrons?"
"First, these Hungarians evidently, two hundred men; then a number of
detached men from the commands of Mirski and Stankyevich; some nobles
and Kmita,--but he is uncertain."
"God grant him!--By God's mercy!--Too few, too few."
"These Hungarians are as good as two regiments, old soldiers and tried.
But wait! They are lighting the matches at the cannon; it looks like a
battle!"
Yan and Stanislav were silent; Zagloba was writhing as in a fever,--
"Slay the traitors! Slay the dog-brothers! Ai, Kmita! Kmita! All
depends on him. Is he daring?"
"As the devil,--ready for anything."
"It must be that he will take our side."
"Mutiny in the army! See to what the hetman has brought things!" cried
Volodyovski.
"Who is the mutineer,--the army, or the hetman who rose against his own
king?" asked Zagloba.
"God will judge that. Wait! Again there is a movement! Some of Kharlamp's
dragoons take the part of the Hungarians. The very best nobles serve in
that regiment. Hear how they shout!"
"The colonels! the colonels!" cried threatening voices in the yard.
"Pan Michael! by the wounds of God, cry to them to send for your
squadron and for the armored regiment and the hussars."
"Be silent!"
Zagloba began to shout himself: "But send for the rest of the Polish
squadrons, and cut down the traitors!"
"Be silent there!"
Suddenly, not in the yard, but in the rear of the castle, rang forth a
sharp salvo of muskets.
"Jesus Mary!" cried Volodyovski.
"Pan Michael, what is that?"
"Beyond doubt they have shot Stahovich and the two officers who went as
a deputation," said Volodyovski, feverishly. "It cannot be otherwise!"
"By the passion of our Lord! Then there is no mercy. It is impossible
to hope."
The thunder of shots drowned further discourse. Pan Michael grasped the
grating convulsively and pressed his forehead to it, but for a while he
could see nothing except the legs of the Scottish infantry stationed at
the window. Salvos of musketry grew more and more frequent; at last the
cannon were heard. The dry knocking of bullets against the wall over
the cellar was heard distinctly, like hail. The castle trembled to its
foundation.
"Jump down, Michael, or you will be killed!" cried Yan.
"By no means. The balls go higher; and from the cannon they are firing
in the other direction. I will not jump down for anything."
And Volodyovski, seizing the grating more firmly, drew himself entirely
to the window-sill, where he did not need the shoulder of Pan Yan to
hold him. In the cellar it became really dark, for the window was small
and Pan Michael though slender filled it completely; but as a
recompense the men below had fresh news from the field of battle every
minute.
"I see now!" cried Pan Michael. "The Hungarians are resting against the
wall and are firing. I was afraid that they would be forced to a
corner, then the cannon would destroy them in a moment. Good soldiers,
as God is dear to me! Without officers, they know what is needed. There
is smoke again! I see nothing--"
The firing began to slacken.
"O merciful God, delay not thy punishment!" cried Zagloba.
"And what, Michael?" asked Yan.
"The Scots are advancing to the attack!"
"Oh, brimstone thunderbolts, that we must sit here!" cried Stanislav.
"They are there already, the halberd-men! The Hungarians meet them with
the sabre! Oh, my God! that you cannot look on. What soldiers!"
"Fighting with their own and not with an enemy."
"The Hungarians have the upper hand. The Scots are falling back on the
left. As I love God! Myeleshko's dragoons are going over to them! The
Scots are between two fires. Korf cannot use his cannon, for he would
strike the Scots. I see Ganhoff uniforms among the Hungarians. They are
going to attack the gate. They wish to escape. They are advancing like
a storm,--breaking everything!"
"How is that? I wish they would capture this castle!" cried Zagloba.
"Never mind! They will come back to-morrow with the squadrons of
Mirski and Stankyevich--Oh, Kharlamp is killed! No! He rises; he is
wounded--they are already at the gate. What is that? Just as if the
Scottish guard at the gate were coming over to the Hungarians, for they
are opening the gate,--dust is rising on the outside; I see Kmita!
Kmita is rushing through the gate with cavalry!"
"On whose side is he, on whose side?" cried Zagloba.
For a moment Pan Michael gave no answer; but very soon the clatter of
weapons, shrieks, and shouts were heard with redoubled force.
"It is all over with them!" cried Pan Michael, with a shrill voice.
"All over with whom, with whom?"
"With the Hungarians. The cavalry has broken them, is trampling them,
cutting them to pieces! Their flag is in Kmita's hand! The end, the
end!"
When he had said this, Volodyovski dropped from the window and fell
into the arms of Pan Yan.
"Kill me!" cried he, "kill me, for I had that man under my sabre and
let him go with his life; I gave him his commission. Through me he
assembled that squadron with which he will fight now against the
country. I saw whom he got: dog-brothers, gallows-birds, robbers,
ruffians, such as he is himself. God grant me to meet him once more
with the sabre--God! lengthen my life to the death of that traitor, for
I swear that he will not leave my hands again."
Meanwhile cries, the trample of hoofs, and salvos of musketry were
thundering yet with full force; after a time, however, they began to
weaken, and an hour later silence reigned in the castle of Kyedani,
broken only by the measured tread of the Scottish patrols and words of
command.
"Pan Michael, look out once more and see what has happened," begged
Zagloba.
"What for?" asked the little knight. "Whoso is a soldier will guess
what has happened. Besides, I saw them beaten,--Kmita triumphs here!"
"God give him to be torn with horses, the scoundrel, the hell-dweller!
God give him to guard a harem for Tartars!"