A movement rose quickly among the soldiers, who were glad to go out of
the forest to the distant world, all the more since they feared pursuit
on the part of Boguslav Radzivill; and old Kyemlich went to the cabin,
understanding that Kmita would need him.
"Does your grace wish to go?" asked he.
"I do. Will you guide me out of the forest? Do you know all the roads?"
"I know all the roads in these parts. But whither does your grace wish
to go?"
"To our gracious king."
The old man started back in astonishment. "O Wise Lady!" cried he. "To
what king."
"Not to the Swedish, you may be sure."
Kyemlich not only failed to recover, but began to make the sign of the
cross.
"Then surely your grace does not know that people say our lord the king
has taken refuge in Silesia, for all have deserted him. Cracow is
besieged."
"We will go to Silesia."
"Well, but how are we to pass through the Swedes?"
"Whether we pass through as nobles or peasants, on horseback or on
foot, is all one to me, if only we pass."
"Then too a tremendous lot of time is needed."
"We have time enough, but I should be glad to go as quickly as
possible."
Kyemlich ceased to wonder. The old man was too cunning not to surmise
that there was some particular and secret cause for this undertaking of
Pan Kmita's, and that moment a thousand suppositions began to crowd
into his head. But as the soldiers, on whom Pan Andrei had enjoined
silence, said nothing to the old man or his sons about the seizure of
Prince Boguslav, the supposition seemed to him most likely that the
prince voevoda of Vilna had sent the young colonel on some mission to
the king. He was confirmed in this opinion specially because he counted
Kmita a zealous adherent of Prince Yanush, and knew of his services to
the hetman; for the confederate squadrons had spread tidings of him
throughout the whole province of Podlyasye, creating the opinion that
Kmita was a tyrant and a traitor.
"The hetman is sending a confidant to the king," thought the old man;
"that means that surely he wishes to agree with him and leave the
Swedes. Their rule must be bitter to him already, else why send?"
Old Kyemlich did not struggle long over this question, for his interest
in the matter was altogether different; and namely, what profit could
he draw from such circumstances? If he served Kmita he would serve at
the same time the hetman and the king, which would not be without a
notable reward. The favor of such lords would be of service, too,
should he be summoned to account for old sins. Besides, there will
surely be war, the country will flame up, and then plunder will crawl
of itself into his hands. All this smiled at the old man, who besides
was accustomed to obey Kmita, and had not ceased to fear him like fire,
cherishing toward him also a certain kind of love, which Kmita knew how
to rouse in all his subordinates.
"Your grace," said he, "must go through the whole Commonwealth to reach
the king. Swedish troops are nothing, for we may avoid the towns and go
through the woods; but the worst is that the woods, as is usual in
unquiet times, are full of parties of freebooters, who fall upon
travellers; and your grace has few men."
"You will go with me, Pan Kyemlich, and your sons and the men whom you
have; there will be more of us."
"If your grace commands I will go, but I am a poor man. Only misery
with us; nothing more. How can I leave even this poverty and the roof
over my head?"
"Whatever you do will be paid for; and for you it is better to take
your head out of this place while it is yet on your shoulders."
"All the Saints of the Lord! What does your grace say? How is that?
What threatens me, innocent man, in this place? Whom do we hinder?"
"I know you robbers!" answered Pan Andrei. "You had partnership with
Kopystynski, and killed him; then you ran away from the courts, you
served with me, you took away my captured horses.
"As true as life! O Mighty Lady!" cried the old man.
"Wait and be silent! Then you returned to your old lair, and began to
ravage in the neighborhood like robbers, taking horses and booty
everywhere. Do not deny it, for I am not your judge, and you know best
whether I tell the truth. If you take the horses of Zolotarenko, that
is well; if the horses of the Swedes, that is well. If they catch you
they will flay you; but that is their affair."
"True, true; but we take only from the enemy," said the old man.
"Untrue; for you attack your own people, as your sons have confessed to
me, and that is simple robbery, and a stain on the name of a noble.
Shame on you, robbers! you should be peasants, not nobles."
"Your grace wrongs us," said old fox, growing red, "for we, remembering
our station, do no peasant deed. We do not take horses at night from
any man's stable. It is something different to drive a herd from the
fields, or to capture horses. This is permitted, and there is no
prejudice to a noble therefrom in time of war. But a horse in a stable
is sacred; and only a gypsy, a Jew, or a peasant would steal from a
stable,--not a noble. We, your grace, do not do that. But war is war!"
"Though there were ten wars, only in battle can plunder be taken; if
you seek it on the road, you are robbers."
"God is witness to our innocence."
"But you have brewed beer here. In few words, it is better for you to
leave this place, for sooner or later the halter will take you. Come
with me; you will wash away your sins with faithful service and win
honor. I will receive you to my service, in which there will be more
profit than in those horses."
"We will go with your grace everywhere; we will guide you through the
Swedes and through the robbers,--for true is the speech of your grace,
that evil people persecute us here terribly, and for what? For our
poverty,--for nothing but our poverty. Perhaps God will take pity on
us, and save us from suffering."
Here old Kyemlich rubbed his hands mechanically, and his eyes
glittered. "From these works," thought he, "it will boil in the country
as in a kettle, and foolish the man who takes no advantage."
Kmita looked at him quickly. "Only don't try to betray me!" said he,
threateningly, "for you will not be able, and the hand of God only
could save you."
"We have never betrayed," answered Kyemlich, gloomily, "and may God
condemn me if such a thought entered my head."
"I believe you," said Kmita, after a short silence, "for treason is
something different from robbery; no robber will betray."
"What does your grace command now?" asked Kyemlich.
"First, here are two letters, requiring quick delivery. Have you sharp
men?"
"Where must they go?"
"Let one go to the prince voevoda, but without seeing Radzivill
himself. Let him deliver the letter in the first squadron of the
prince, and come back without awaiting an answer."
"The pitch-maker will go; he is a sharp man and experienced."
"He will do. The second letter must be taken to Podlyasye; inquire for
Pan Volodyovski's Lauda squadron, and give it into the hands of the
colonel himself."
The old man began to mutter cunningly, and thought, "I see work on
every side; since he is sniffing with the confederates there will be
boiling water,--there will be, there will be!"
"Your grace," said he, aloud, "if there is not such a hurry with this
letter, when we leave the forest it perhaps might be given to some man
on the road. There are many nobles here friendly to the confederates;
any one would take it willingly, and one man more would remain to us."
"You have calculated shrewdly," answered Kmita, "for it is better that
he who delivers the letter should not know from whom he takes it. Shall
we go out of the forest soon?"
"As your grace wishes. We can go out in two weeks, or to-morrow."
"Of that later; but now listen to me carefully, Kyemlich."
"I am attending with all my mind, your grace."
"They have denounced me in the whole Commonwealth as a tyrant, as
devoted to the hetman, or altogether to Sweden. If the king knew who I
am, he might not trust me, and might despise my intention, which, if it
is not sincere, God sees! Are you attending, Kyemlich?"
"I am, your grace."
"Therefore I do not call myself Kmita, but Babinich, do you
understand? No one must know my real name. Open not your lips; let not
a breath out. If men ask whence I come, say that you joined me on the
road and do not know, but say, 'Whoso is curious, let him ask the man
himself.'"
"I understand, your grace."
"Warn your sons, and also your men. Even if straps were cut out of
them, they must say my name is Babinich. You will answer for this with
your life."
"It will be so, your grace. I will go and tell my sons, for it is
necessary to put everything into the heads of those rogues with a
shovel. Such is the joy I have with them. God has punished me for the
sins of my youth; that is the trouble. Let me say another word, your
grace."
"Speak boldly."
"It seems to me better not to tell soldiers or men where we are going."
"That is true."
"It is enough for them to know that Babinich, not Pan Kmita, is
travelling. And on such a journey it is better to conceal your grace's
rank."
"Why?"
"Because the Swedes give passes to the more considerable people; and
whoso has not a pass, him they take to the commandant."
"I have passes to the Swedish troops."
Astonishment gleamed in the cunning eyes of Kyemlich; but after a while
he asked, "Will your grace let me say once more what I think?"
"If you give good counsel and delay not, speak; for I see that you are
a clever man."
"If you have passes, it is better, for in need they may be shown; but
if your grace is travelling on an errand that should remain secret, it
is safer not to show the passes. I know not whether they are given in
the name of Babinich or Kmita; but if you show them, the trace will
remain and pursuit will be easier."
"You have struck the point!" cried Kmita. "I prefer to reserve the
passes for another time, if it is possible to go through without them."
"It is possible, your grace; and that disguised either as a peasant or
a petty noble,--which will be easier, for I have some clean clothes, a
cap and gray coat, for example, just such as petty nobles wear. We may
travel with a band of horses, as if we were going to the fairs, and
drive farther till we come to Lovich and Warsaw, as I have done more
than once during peace, and I know the roads. About this time there is
a fair in Sobota, to which people come from afar. In Sobota we shall
learn of other places where there are fairs, and so on. The Swedes too
take less note of small nobles, for crowds of them stroll about at all
the fairs. If some commandant inquires we will explain ourselves, but
if a small party asks we will gallop over their bellies, God and the
Most Holy Lady permitting."
"But if they take our horses? Requisitions in time of war are of daily
occurrence."
"Either they will buy or they will take them. If they buy we will go to
Sobota, not to sell, but to buy horses; and if they take them, we will
raise a lament and go with our complaint to Warsaw and to Cracow."
"You have a cunning mind," said Kmita, "and I see that you will serve
me. Even if the Swedes take these horses, some man will be found to pay
for them."
"I was going to Elko in Prussia with them; this turns out well, for
just in that direction does our road lie. From Elko we will go along
the boundary, then turn to Ostrolenko, thence through the wilderness to
Pultusk and to Warsaw."
"Where is that Sobota?"[24]
"Not far from Pyantek."[25]
"Are you jesting, Kyemlich?"
"How should I dare," answered the old man, crossing his arms on his
breast and bending his head; "but they have such wonderful names for
towns in this region. It is a good bit of road beyond Lovich, your
grace."
"Are there large fairs in that Sobota?"
"Not such as in Lovich; but there is one at this time of year, to which
horses are driven from Prussia, and crowds of people assemble. Surely
it will not be worse this year, for it is quiet about there. The Swedes
are in power everywhere, and have garrisons in the towns. Even if a man
wanted to rise against them, he could not."
"Then I will take your plan. We will go with horses, and that you
suffer no loss I will pay for them in advance."
"I thank your grace for the rescue."
"Only get sheepskin coats ready and common saddles and sabres, for we
will start at once. Tell your sons and men who I am, what my name is,
that I am travelling with horses, that you and they are hired
assistants. Hurry!"
When the old man turned to the door, Pan Andrei said further, "No one
will call me grace nor commandant nor colonel, only _you_ and
_Babinich_."
Kyemlich went out, and an hour later all were sitting on their horses
ready to start on the long journey. Kmita dressed in the gray coat of a
poor noble, a cap of worn sheepskin, and with a bandaged face, as if
after a duel in some inn, was difficult of recognition, and looked
really like some poor devil of a noble, strolling from one fair to
another. He was surrounded by people dressed in like fashion, armed
with common poor sabres, with long whips to drive the horses, and
lariats to catch those that might try to escape.
The soldiers looked with astonishment at their colonel, making various
remarks, in low tones, concerning him. It was a wonder to them that he
was Babinich instead of Pan Kmita, that they were to say _you_ to him;
and most of all shrugged his shoulders old Soroka, who, looking at the
terrible colonel as at a rainbow, muttered to Biloüs,--
"That _you_ will not pass my throat. Let him kill me, but I will give
him, as of old, what belongs to him."
The soldiers knew not that the soul in Pan Andrei had changed as well
as his external form.
"Move on!" cried Babinich, on a sudden.
The whips cracked; the riders surrounded the horses, which were huddled
together, and they moved on.