Passing along the very boundary between the province of Trotsk and
Prussia, they travelled through broad and pathless forests known only
to Kyemlich, until they entered Prussia and reached Leng, or, as old
Kyemlich, called it, Elko, where they got news of public affairs from
nobles stopping there, who, taking their wives, children, and effects,
had fled from the Swedes and sought refuge under the power of the
elector.
Leng had the look of a camp, or rather it might be thought that some
petty diet was in session there. The nobles drank Prussian beer in the
public houses, and talked, while every now and then some one brought
news. Without making inquiries and merely by listening with care,
Babinich learned that Royal Prussia and the chief towns in it had taken
decisively the side of Yan Kazimir, and had made a treaty of mutual
defence with the elector against every enemy. It was said, however,
that in spite of the treaty the most considerable towns were unwilling
to admit the elector's garrisons, fearing lest that adroit prince, when
he had once entered with armed hand, might hold them for good, or might
in the decisive moment join himself treacherously to the Swedes,--a
deed which his inborn cunning made him capable of doing.
The nobles murmured against this distrust entertained by townspeople;
but Pan Andrei, knowing the Radzivill intrigues with the elector, had
to gnaw his tongue to refrain from telling what was known to him. He
was held back by the thought that it was dangerous in Electoral Prussia
to speak openly against the elector; and secondly, because it did not
beseem a small gray-coated noble who was going to a fair with horses,
to enter into the intricate subject of politics, over which the ablest
statesmen were racking their brains to no purpose.
He sold a pair of horses, bought new ones, and journeyed farther, along
the Prussian boundary, but by the road leading from Leng to Shchuchyn,
situated in the very corner of the province of Mazovia, between Prussia
on the one side and the province of Podlyasye on the other. To
Shchuchyn Pan Andrei had no wish to go, for he learned that in that
town were the quarters of the confederate squadron commanded by
Volodyovski.
Volodyovski must have passed over almost the same road on which Kmita
was travelling, and stopped before the very boundary of Podlyasye,
either for a short rest or for temporary quarters, in Shchuchyn, where
it must have been easier to find food for men and horses than in
greatly plundered Podlyasye.
Kmita did not wish to meet the famous colonel, for he judged that
having no proofs, except words, he would not be able to persuade
Volodyovski of his conversion and sincerity. He gave command,
therefore, to turn to the west toward Vansosh, ten miles from
Shchuchyn. As to the letter he determined to send it to Pan Michael at
the first opportunity.
But before arriving at Vansosh, they stopped at a wayside inn called
"The Mandrake," and disposed themselves for a night's rest, which
promised to be comfortable, for there was no one at the inn save the
host, a Prussian.
But barely had Kmita with the three Kyemliches and Soroka sat down to
supper when the rattling of wheels and the tramp of horses were heard.
As the sun had not gone down yet, Kmita went out in front of the inn to
see who was coming, for he was curious to know if it was some Swedish
party; but instead of Swedes he saw a carriage, and following it two
pack-wagons, surrounded by armed men.
At the first glance it was easy to see that some personage was coming.
The carriage was drawn by four good Prussian horses, with large bones
and rather short backs; a jockey sat on one of the front horses,
holding two beautiful dogs in a leash; on the seat was a driver, and at
his side a haiduk dressed in Hungarian fashion; in the carriage was the
lord himself, in a cloak lined with wolfskin and fastened with numerous
gilded buttons.
In the rear followed two wagons, well filled, and at each of them four
servants armed with sabres and guns.
The lord, though a personage, was still quite young, a little beyond
twenty. He had a plump, red face, and in his whole person there was
evidence that he did not stint himself in eating.
When the carriage stopped, the haiduk sprang to give his hand to help
down the lord; but the lord, seeing Kmita standing on the threshold,
beckoned with his glove, and called,--
"Come this way, my good friend!"
Kmita instead of going to him withdrew to the interior, for anger
seized him at once. He had not become accustomed yet to the gray coat,
or to being beckoned at with a glove. He went back therefore, sat at
the table, and began to eat. The unknown lord came in after him. When
he had entered he half closed his eyes, for it was dark in the room,
since there was merely a small fire burning in the chimney.
"But why did no one come out as I was driving up?" asked the unknown
lord.
"The host has gone to another room," answered Kmita, "and we are
travellers, like your grace."
"Thank you for the confidence. And what manner of travellers?"
"Oh, a noble travelling with horses."
"And your company are nobles too?"
"Poor men, but nobles."
"With the forehead, then, with the forehead. Whither is God guiding
you?"
"From fair to fair, to sell horses."
"If you stay here all night, I'll see, perhaps I'll pick out something.
Meanwhile will you permit me to join you at the table?"
The unknown lord asked, it is true, if they would let him sit with
them, but in such a tone as if he were perfectly sure that they would;
and he was not mistaken. The young horse-dealer said,--
"We beg your grace very kindly, though we have nothing to offer but
sausage and peas."
"There are better dainties in my bags," answered the lordling, not
without a certain pride; "but I have a soldier's palate, and sausage
with peas, if well cooked, I prefer to everything." When he had
said this,--and he spoke very slowly, though he looked quickly and
sharply,--he took his seat on the bench on which Kmita pushed aside to
give convenient room.
"Oh, I beg, I beg, do not incommode yourself. On the road rank is not
regarded; and though you were to punch me with your elbow, the crown
would not fall from my head."
Kmita, who was pushing a plate of peas to the unknown, and who, as has
been said, was not used to such treatment, would certainly have broken
the plate on the head of the puffed up young man if there had not been
something in that pride of his which amused Pan Andrei; therefore not
only did he restrain his internal impulse at once, but laughed and
said,--
"Such times are the present, your grace, that crowns fall from the
loftiest heads; for example, our king Yan Kazimir, who by right should
wear two crowns, has none, unless it be one of thorns."
The unknown looked quickly at Kmita, then sighed and said, "Times are
such now that it is better not to speak of this unless with
confidants." Then after a moment he added: "But you have brought that
out well. You must have served with polished people, for your speech
shows more training than your rank."
"Rubbing against people, I have heard this and that, but I have never
been a servant."
"Whence are you by birth, I beg to ask?"
"From a village in the province of Trotsk."
"Birth in a village is no drawback, if you are only noble; that's the
main thing. What is to be heard in Lithuania?"
"The old story,--no lack of traitors."
"Traitors, do you say? What kind of traitors?"
"Those who have deserted the king and the Commonwealth."
"How is the prince voevoda of Vilna?"
"Sick, it is said; his breath fails him."
"God give him health, he is a worthy lord!"
"For the Swedes he is, since he opened the gates to them."
"I see that you are not a partisan of his."
Kmita noticed that the stranger, while asking him questions as it were
good-naturedly, was observing him.
"What do I care!" said he; "let others think of him. My fear is that
the Swedes may take my horses in requisition."
"You should have sold them on the spot, then. In Podlyasye are
stationed, very likely, the squadrons which rebelled against the
hetman, and surely they have not too many horses."
"I do not know that, for I have not been among them, though some man in
passing gave me a letter to one of their colonels, to be delivered when
possible."
"How could that passing man give you a letter when you are not going to
Podlyasye?"
"Because in Shchuchyn one confederate squadron is stationed, therefore
the man said to me, 'Either give it yourself or find an opportunity in
passing Shchuchyn.'"
"That comes out well, for I am going to Shchuchyn."
"Your grace is fleeing also before the Swedes?"
The unknown, instead of an answer, looked at Kmita and asked
phlegmatically, "Why do you say _also_, since you not only are not
fleeing from the Swedes, but are going among them and will sell them
horses, if they do not take your beasts by force?"
At this Kmita shrugged his shoulders. "I said _also_, because in Leng I
saw many nobles who escaped before the Swedes; and as to me, if all
were to serve them as much as I wish to serve them, I think they would
not warm the places here long."
"Are you not afraid to say this?"
"I am not afraid, for I am not a coward, and in the second place your
grace is going to Shchuchyn, and there every one says aloud what he
thinks. God grant a quick passage from talking to action."
"I see that you are a man of wit beyond your station," repeated the
unknown. "But if you love not the Swedes, why leave these squadrons,
which have mutinied against the hetman? Have they mutinied because
their wages were kept back, or from caprice? No! but because they would
not serve the hetman and the Swedes. It would have been better for
those soldiers, poor fellows, to remain under the hetman, but they
preferred to give themselves the name of rebels, to expose themselves
to hunger, hardships, and many destructive things, rather than act
against the king. That it will come to war between them and the Swedes
is certain, and it would have come already were it not that the Swedes
have not advanced to that corner as yet. Wait, they will come, they
will meet here, and then you will see!"
"I think, too, that war will begin here very soon," said Kmita.
"Well, if you have such an opinion, and a sincere hatred for the
Swedes,--which looks out of your eyes, for you speak truth, I am a
judge of that,--then why not join these worthy soldiers? Is it not
time, do they not need hands and sabres? Not a few honorable men are
serving among them, who prefer their own king to a foreign one, and
soon there will be more of these. You come from places in which men
know not the Swedes as yet, but those who have made their acquaintance
are shedding hot tears. In Great Poland, though it surrendered to them
of its own will, they thumbscrew nobles, plunder, make requisitions,
seize everything they can. At present in this province their manner is
no better. General Stenbok gave forth a manifesto that each man remain
quietly at home, and his property would be respected. But what good was
in that! The General has his will, and the smallest commandants have
theirs, so that no man is sure of to-morrow, nor of what property he
holds. Every man wishes to get good of what he has, to use it in peace,
wants it to bring him pleasure. But now the first best adventurer will
come and say, 'Give.' If you do not give, he will find reason to strip
you of your property, or without reason will have your head cut off.
Many shed bitter tears, when they think of their former king. All are
oppressed and look to those confederates unceasingly, to see if some
rescue for the country and the people will not come from them."
"Your grace, as I see, has no better wish for the Swedes than I have,"
said Kmita.
The unknown looked around as it were with a certain alarm, but soon
calmed himself and spoke on,--
"I would that pestilence crushed them, and I hide that not from you,
for it seems to me that you are honest; and though you were not honest,
you would not bind me and take me to the Swedes, for I should not
yield, having armed men, and a sabre at my side."
"Your grace may be sure that I will not harm you; your courage is to my
heart. And it pleases me that your grace did not hesitate to leave
property behind, in which the enemy will not fail to punish you. Such
good-will to the country is highly deserving of praise."
Kmita began unwittingly to speak in a patronizing tone, as a superior
to a subordinate, without thinking that such words might seem strange
in the mouth of a small horse-dealing noble; but apparently the young
lord did not pay attention to that, for he merely winked cunningly and
said,--
"But am I a fool? With me the first rule is that my own shall not leave
me, for what the Lord God has given must be respected. I stayed at home
quietly with my produce and grain, and when I had sold in Prussia all
my crops, cattle, and utensils, I thought to myself: 'It is time for
the road. Let them take vengeance on me now, let them take whatever
pleases their taste.'"
"Your grace has left the hind and the buildings for good?"
"Yes, for I hired the starostaship of Vansosh from the voevoda of
Mazovia, and just now the term has expired. I have not paid the last
rent, and I will not, for I hear the voevoda of Mazovia is an adherent
of the Swedes. Let the rent be lost to him for that, and it will add to
my ready money."
"'Pon my word," said Kmita, smiling, "I see that your grace is not only
a brave cavalier, but an adroit one."
"Of course," replied the unknown. "Adroitness is the main thing! But I
was not speaking of that. Why is it that, feeling the wrongs of our
country and of our gracious king, you do not go to those honorable
soldiers in Podlyasye and join their banner? You would serve both God
and yourself; luck might come, for to more than one has it happened to
come out of war a great man, from being a small noble. It is evident
that you are bold and resolute, and since your birth is no hindrance,
you might advance quickly to some fortune, if God favors you with
booty. If you do not squander that which here and there will fall into
your hands, the purse will grow heavy. I do not know whether you have
land or not, but you may have it; with a purse it is not hard to rent
an estate, and from renting an estate to owning one, with the help of
the Lord, is not far. And so, beginning as an attendant, you may die an
officer, or in some dignity in the country, in case you are not lazy in
labor; for whoso rises early, to him God gives treasure."
Kmita gnawed his mustache, for laughter seized him; then his face
quivered, and he squirmed, for from time to time pain came from the
healing wound. The unknown continued,--
"As to receiving you there, they will receive you, for they need men;
besides, you have pleased me, and I take you under my protection, with
which you may be certain of promotion."
Here the young man raised his plump face with pride, and began to
smooth his mustaches; at last he said,--
"Will you be my attendant, carry my sabre, and manage my men?"
Kmita did not restrain himself, but burst out in sincere, joyous
laughter, so that all his teeth gleamed.
"Why laugh?" asked the unknown, frowning.
"From delight at the service."
But the youthful personage was offended in earnest, and said,--
"He was a fool who taught you such manners, and be careful with whom
you are speaking, lest you exceed measure in familiarity."
"Forgive me, your grace," answered Kmita, joyously, "for really I do
not know before whom I am standing."
The young lord put his hands on his hips: "I am Pan Jendzian of
Vansosh," said he, with importance.
Kmita had opened his mouth to tell his assumed name, when Biloüs came
hurriedly into the room.
"Pan Com--"
Here the soldier, stopped by the threatening look of Kmita, was
confused, stammered, and finally coughed out with effort,--
"I beg to tell you some people are coming."
"Where from?"
"From Shchuchyn."
Kmita was embarrassed, but hiding his confusion quickly, he answered,
"Be on your guard. Are there many?"
"About ten men on horseback."
"Have the pistols ready. Go!"
When the soldier had gone out, Kmita turned to Pan Jendzian of Vansosh
and asked,--
"Are they not Swedes?"
"Since you are going to them," answered Pan Jendzian, who for some time
had looked with astonishment on the young noble, "you must meet them
sooner or later."
"I should prefer the Swedes to robbers, of whom there are many
everywhere. Whoso goes with horses must go armed and keep on the watch,
for horses are very tempting."
"If it is true that Pan Volodyovski is in Shchuchyn," said Pan
Jendzian, "this is surely a party of his. Before they take up their
quarters there they wish to know if the country is safe, for with
Swedes at the border it would be difficult to remain in quiet."
When he heard this, Pan Andrei walked around in the room and sat down
in its darkest corner, where the sides of the chimney cast a deep
shadow on the corner of the table; but meanwhile the sound of the tramp
and snorting of horses came in from outside, and after a time a number
of men entered the room.
Walking in advance, a gigantic fellow struck with wooden foot the loose
planks in the floor of the room. Kmita looked at him, and the heart
died within his bosom. It was Yuzva Butrym, called Footless.
"But where is the host?" inquired he, halting in the middle of the
room.
"I am here!" answered the innkeeper, "at your service."
"Oats for the horses!"
"I have no oats, except what these men are using." Saying this, he
pointed at Jendzian and the horse-dealer's men.
"Whose men are you?" asked Jendzian.
"And who are you yourself?"
"The starosta of Vansosh."
His own people usually called Jendzian starosta, as he was the tenant
of a starostaship, and he thus named himself on the most important
occasions.
Yuzva Butrym was confused, seeing with what a high personage he had to
do; therefore he removed his cap, and said,--
"With the forehead, great mighty lord. It was not possible to recognize
dignity in the dark."
"Whose men are these?" repeated Jendzian, placing his hands on his
hips.
"The Lauda men from the former Billevich squadron, and now of Pan
Volodyovski's."
"For God's sake! Then Pan Volodyovski is in the town of Shchuchyn?"
"In his own person, and with other colonels who have come from Jmud."
"Praise be to God, praise be to God!" repeated the delighted starosta.
"And what colonels are with Pan Volodyovski?"
"Pan Mirski was," answered Butrym, "till apoplexy struck him on the
road; but Pan Oskyerko is there, and Pan Kovalski, and the two
Skshetuskis."
"What Skshetuskis?" cried Jendzian. "Is not one of them Skshetuski from
Bujets?"
"I do not know where he lives," said Butrym, "but I know that he was at
Zbaraj."
"Save us! that is my lord!"
Here Jendzian saw how strangely such a word would sound in the mouth of
a starosta, and added,--
"My lord godson's father, I wanted to say."
The starosta said this without forethought, for in fact he had been the
second godfather to Skshetuski's first son, Yaremka.
Meanwhile thoughts one after another were crowding to the head of Pan
Kmita, sitting in the dark corner of the room. First the soul within
him was roused at sight of the terrible graycoat, and his hand grasped
the sabre involuntarily. For he knew that Yuzva, mainly, had caused the
death of his comrades, and was his most inveterate enemy. The old-time
Pan Kmita would have commanded to take him and tear him with horses,
but the Pan Babinich of that day controlled himself. Alarm, however,
seized him at the thought that if the man were to recognize him various
dangers might come to his farther journey and the whole undertaking. He
determined, therefore, not to let himself be known, and he pushed ever
deeper into the shade; at last he put his elbow on the table, and
placing his head in his palms began to feign sleep; but at the same
time he whispered to Soroka, who was sitting at the table,--
"Go to the stable, let the horses be ready. We will go in the night."
Soroka rose and went out; Kmita still feigned sleep. Various memories
came to his head. These people reminded him of Lauda, Vodokty, and that
brief past which had vanished as a dream. When a short time before
Yuzva Butrym said that he belonged to the former Billevich squadron,
the heart trembled in Pan Andrei at the mere name. And it came to his
mind that it was also evening, that the fire was burning in the chimney
in the same way, when he dropped unexpectedly into Vodokty, as if with
the snow, and for the first time saw in the servants' hall Olenka among
the spinners.
He saw now with closed lids, as if with eyesight, that bright, calm
lady; he remembered everything that had taken place,--how she wished to
be his guardian angel, to strengthen him in good, to guard him from
evil, to show him the straight road of worthiness. If he had listened
to her, if he had listened to her! She knew also what ought to be done,
on what side to stand; knew where was virtue, honesty, duty, and simply
would have taken him by the hand and led him, if he had listened to
her.
Here love, roused by remembrance, rose so much in Pan Andrei's heart
that he was ready to pour out all his blood, if he could fall at the
feet of that lady; and at that moment he was ready to fall on the neck
of that bear of Lauda, that slayer of his comrades, simply because he
was from that region, had named the Billeviches, had seen Olenka.
His own name repeated a number of times by Yuzva Butrym roused him
first from his musing. The tenant of Vansosh inquired about
acquaintances, and Yuzva told him what had happened in Kyedani from the
time of the memorable treaty of the hetman with the Swedes; he spoke of
the oppression of the army, the imprisonment of the colonels, of
sending them to Birji, and their fortunate escape. The name of Kmita,
covered with all the horror of treason and cruelty, was repeated
prominently in those narratives. Yuzva did not know that Pan
Volodyovski, the Skshetuskis, and Zagloba owed their lives to Kmita;
but he told of what had happened in Billeviche,--
"Our colonel seized that traitor in Billeviche, as a fox in his den,
and straightway commanded to lead him to death; I took him with great
delight, for the hand of God had reached him, and from moment to moment
I held the lantern to his eyes, to see if he showed any sorrow. But no!
He went boldly, not considering that he would stand before the judgment
of God,--such is his reprobate nature. And when I advised him to make
even the sign of the cross, he answered, 'Shut thy mouth, fellow; 'tis
no affair of thine!' We posted him under a pear-tree outside the
village, and I was already giving the word, when Pan Zagloba, who went
with us, gave the order to search him, to see if he had papers on his
person. A letter was found. Pan Zagloba said, 'Hold the light!' and he
read. He had barely begun reading when he caught his head: 'Jesus,
Mary! bring him back to the house!' Pan Zagloba mounted his horse and
rode off, and we brought Kmita back, thinking they would burn him
before death, to get information from him. But nothing of the kind!
They let the traitor go free. It was not for my head to judge what they
found in the letter, but I would not have let him go."
"What was in that letter?" asked the tenant of Vansosh.
"I know not; I only think that there must have been still other
officers in the hands of the prince voevoda, who would have had them
shot right away if we had shot Kmita. Besides, our colonel may have
taken pity on the tears of Panna Billevich, for she fell in a faint so
that hardly were they able to bring her to her senses. I do not make
bold to complain; still evil has happened, for the harm which that man
has done, Lucifer himself would not be ashamed of. All Lithuania weeps
through him; and how many widows and orphans and how many poor people
complain against him is known to God only. Whoso destroys him will have
merit in heaven and before men."
Here conversation turned again to Pan Volodyovski, the Skshetuskis, and
the squadrons in Podlyasye.
"It is hard to find provisions," said Butrym, "for the lands of the
hetman are plundered completely,--nothing can be found in them for the
tooth of a man or a horse; and the nobles are poor in the villages, as
with us in Jmud. The colonels have determined therefore to divide the
horses into hundreds, and post them five or ten miles apart. But when
winter comes, I cannot tell what will happen."
Kmita, who had listened patiently while the conversation touched him,
moved now, and had opened his mouth to say from his dark corner, "The
hetman will take you, when thus divided, one by one, like lobsters from
a net." But at that moment the door opened, and in it stood Soroka,
whom Kmita had sent to get the horses ready for the road. The light
from the chimney fell straight on the stern face of the sergeant. Yuzva
Butrym glanced at him, looked a long time, then turned to Jendzian and
asked,--
"Is that a servant of your great mightiness? I know him from some place
or another."
"No," replied Jendzian; "those are nobles going with horses to fairs."
"But whither?" asked Yuzva.
"To Sobota," said old Kyemlich.
"Where is that?"
"Not far from Pyantek."
Yuzva accounted this answer an untimely jest, as Kmita had previously,
and said with a frown, "Answer when people ask!"
"By what right do you ask?"
"I can make that clear to you, for I am sent out to see if there are
not suspicious men in the neighborhood. Indeed it seems to me there are
some, who do not wish to tell where they are going."
Kmita, fearing that a fight might rise out of this conversation, said,
without moving from the dark corner,--
"Be not angry, worthy soldier, for Pyantek and Sobota are towns, like
others, in which horse-fairs are held in the fall. If you do not
believe, ask the lord starosta, who must know of them."
"They are regular places," said Jendzian.
"In that case it is all right. But why go to those places? You can sell
horses in Shchuchyn, where there is a great lack of them, and those
which we took in Pilvishki are good for nothing; they are galled."
"Every man goes where it is better for him, and we know our own road,"
answered Kmita.
"I know not whether it is better for you; but it is not better for us
that horses are driven to the Swedes and informants go to them."
"It is a wonder to me," said the tenant of Vansosh. "These people talk
against the Swedes, and somehow they are in a hurry to go to them."
Here he turned to Kmita: "And you do not seem to me greatly like a
horse-dealer, for I saw a fine ring on your finger, of which no lord
would be ashamed."
"If it has pleased your grace, buy it of me; I gave two quarters for it
in Leng."
"Two quarters? Then it is not genuine, but a splendid counterfeit. Show
it."
"Take it, your grace."
"Can you not move yourself? Must I go?"
"I am terribly tired."
"Ah, brother, a man would say that you are trying to hide your face."
Hearing this, Yuzva said not a word, but approached the chimney, took
out a burning brand, and holding it high above his head, went straight
toward Kmita and held the light before his eyes.
Kmita rose in an instant to his whole height, and during one wink of an
eyelid they looked at each other eye to eye. Suddenly the brand fell
from the hand of Yuzva, scattering a thousand sparks on the way.
"Jesus, Mary!" screamed Butrym, "this is Kmita!"
"I am he!" said Pan Andrei, seeing that there were no further means of
concealment.
"This way, this way! Seize him!" shouted Yuzva to the soldiers who had
remained outside. Then turning to Pan Andrei, he said,--
"Thou art he, O hell-dweller, traitor! Thou art that Satan in person!
Once thou didst slip from my hands, and now thou art hurrying in
disguise to the Swedes. Thou art that Judas, that torturer of women and
men! I have thee!"
So saying, he seized Pan Andrei by the shoulder; but Pan Andrei seized
him. First, however, the two young Kyemliches, Kosma and Damian, had
risen from the bench, almost touching the ceiling with their bushy
heads, and Kosma asked,--
"Shall we pound, father?"
"Pound!" answered old Kyemlich, unsheathing his sabre.
The doors burst open, and Yuzva's soldiers rushed in; but behind them,
almost on their necks, came Kyemlich's men.
Yuzva caught Pan Andrei by the shoulder, and in his right hand held a
naked rapier, making a whirlwind and lightning with it around himself.
But Pan Andrei, though he had not the gigantic strength of his enemy,
seized Butrym's throat as if in a vice. Yuzva's eyes were coming out;
he tried to stun Kmita with the hilt of his rapier, but did not
succeed, for Kmita thundered first on his forehead with the hilt of his
sabre. Yuzva's fingers, holding the shoulder of his opponent, opened at
once; he tottered and bent backward under the blow. To make room for a
second blow, Kmita pushed him again, and slashed him with full sweep on
the face with his sabre. Yuzva fell on his back like an oak-tree,
striking the floor with his skull.
"Strike!" cried Kmita, in whom was roused, in one moment, the old
fighting spirit.
But he had no need to urge, for it was boiling in the room, as in a
pot. The two young Kyemliches slashed with their sabres, and at times
butted with their heads, like a pair of bullocks, putting down a man
with each blow; after them advanced their old father, bending every
moment to the floor, half closing his eyes, and thrusting quickly the
point of his weapon under the arms of his sons.
But Soroka, accustomed to fighting in inns and close quarters, spread
the greatest destruction. He pressed his opponents so sorely that they
could not reach him with a blade; and when he had discharged his
pistols in the crowd, he smashed heads with the butts of the pistols,
crushing noses, knocking out teeth and eyes. Kyemlich's servants and
Kmita's two soldiers aided their masters.
The fight moved from the table to the upper end of the room. The Lauda
men defended themselves with rage; but from the moment that Kmita,
having finished Yuzva, sprang into the fight and stretched out another
Butrym, the victory began to incline to his side.
Jendzian's servants also sprang into the room with sabres and guns; but
though their master cried, "Strike!" they were at a loss what to do,
for they could not distinguish one side from the other, since the Lauda
men wore no uniforms, and in the disturbance the starosta's young men
were punished by both sides.
Jendzian held himself carefully outside the battle, wishing to
recognize Kmita, and point him out for a shot; but by the faint light
of the fire Kmita vanished time after time from his eye,--at one
instant springing to view as red as a devil, then again lost in
darkness.
Resistance on the part of the Lauda men grew weaker and weaker, for the
fall of Yuzva and the terrible name of Kmita had lessened their
courage; still they fought on with rage. Meanwhile the innkeeper went
past the strugglers quietly with a bucket of water in his hand and
dashed it on the fire. In the room followed black darkness; the
strugglers gathered into such a dense crowd that they could strike with
fists only; after a while cries ceased; only panting breaths could be
heard, and the orderless stamp of boots. Through the door, then flung
open, sprang first Jendzian's people, after them the Lauda men, then
Kmita's attendants.
Pursuit began in the first room, in the bins before the house, and in
the shed. Some shots were heard; then uproar and the noise of horses. A
battle began at Jendzian's wagons, under which his people hid
themselves; the Lauda men too sought refuge there, and Jendzian's
people, taking them for the other party, fired at them a number of
times.
"Surrender!" cried old Kyemlich, thrusting the point of his sabre
between the spokes of the wagon and stabbing at random the men crouched
beneath.
"Stop! we surrender!" answered a number of voices.
Then the people from Vansosh threw from under the wagon their sabres
and guns; after that the young Kyemliches began to drag them out by the
hair, till the old man cried,--
"To the wagons! take what comes under your hands! Quick! quick! to the
wagons!"
The young men did not let the command be given thrice, but rushed to
untie the coverings, from beneath which the swollen sides of Jendzian's
sacks appeared. They had begun to throw out the sacks, when suddenly
Kmita's voice thundered,--
"Stop!"
And Kmita, supporting his command by his hand, fell to slashing them
with the flat of his bloody sabre.
Kosma and Damian sprang quickly aside.
"Cannot we take them, your grace?" asked the old man, submissively.
"Stand back!" cried Kmita. "Find the starosta for me."
Kosma and Damian rushed to the search in a moment, and behind them
their father; in a quarter of an hour they came bringing Jendzian, who,
when he saw Kmita, bowed low and said,--
"With the permission of your grace, I will say that wrong is done me
here, for I did not attack any man, and to visit acquaintances, as I am
going to do, is free to all."
Kmita, resting on his sabre, breathed heavily and was silent; Jendzian
continued,--
"I did no harm here either to the Swedes or the prince hetman. I was
only going to Pan Volodyovski, my old acquaintance; we campaigned
together in Russia. Why should I seek a quarrel? I have not been in
Kyedani, and what took place there is nothing to me. I am trying to
carry off a sound skin; and what God has given me should not be lost,
for I did not steal it, but earned it in the sweat of my brow. I have
nothing to do with this whole question! Let me go free, your great
mightiness--"
Kmita breathed heavily, looking absently at Jendzian all the time.
"I beg humbly, your great mightiness," began the starosta again. "Your
great mightiness saw that I did not know those people, and was not a
friend of theirs. They fell upon your grace, and now they have their
pay; but why should I be made to suffer? Why should my property be
lost? How am I to blame? If it cannot be otherwise, I will pay a ransom
to the soldiers of your great mightiness, though there is not much
remaining to me, poor man. I will give them a thaler apiece, so that
their labor be not lost,--I will give them two; and your great
mightiness will receive from me also--"
"Cover the wagons!" cried Kmita, suddenly. "But do you take the wounded
men and go to the devil!"
"I thank your grace humbly," said the lord tenant of Vansosh.
Then old Kyemlich approached, pushing out his underlip with the
remnants of his teeth, and groaning,--
"Your grace, that is ours. Mirror of justice, that is ours."
But Kmita gave him such a look that the old man cowered, and dared not
utter another word.
Jendzian's people rushed, with what breath they had, to put the horses
to the wagons. Kmita turned again to the lord starosta,--
"Take all the wounded and killed, carry them to Pan Volodyovski, and
tell him from me that I am not his enemy, but may be a better friend
than he thinks. I wish to avoid him, for it is not yet time for us to
meet. Perhaps that time will come later; but to-day he would neither
believe me, nor have I that wherewith to convince him,--perhaps
later--Do you understand? Tell him that those people fell upon me and I
had to defend myself."
"In truth it was so," responded Jendzian.
"Wait; tell Pan Volodyovski, besides, to keep the troops together, for
Radzivill, the moment he receives cavalry from Pontus de la Gardie,
will move on them. Perhaps now he is on the road. Yanush and Boguslav
Radzivill are intriguing with the Elector of Brandenburg, and it is
dangerous to be near the boundary. But above all, let them keep
together, or they will perish for nothing. The voevoda of Vityebsk
wishes to come to Podlyasye; let them go to meet him, so as to give aid
in case of obstruction."
"I will tell everything, as if I were paid for it."
"Though Kmita says this, though Kmita gives warning, let them believe
him, take counsel with other colonels, and consider that they will be
stronger together. I repeat that the hetman is already on the road, and
I am not an enemy of Pan Volodyovski."
"If I had some sign from your grace, that would be still better," said
Jendzian.
"What good is a sign?"
"Pan Volodyovski would straightway have greater belief in your grace's
sincerity; would think, 'There must be something in what he says if he
has sent a sign.'"
"Then here is the ring; though there is no lack of signs of me on the
heads of those men whom you are taking to Pan Volodyovski."
Kmita drew the ring from his finger. Jendzian on his part took it
hastily, and said,--
"I thank your grace humbly."
An hour later, Jendzian with his wagons and his people, a little shaken
up however, rode forward quietly toward Shchuchyn, taking three killed
and the rest wounded, among whom were Yuzva Butrym, with a cut face and
a broken head. As he rode along Jendzian looked at the ring, in which
the stone glittered wonderfully in the moonlight, and he thought of
that strange and terrible man, who having caused so much harm to the
confederates and so much good to the Swedes and Radzivill, still wished
apparently to save the confederates from final ruin.
"For he gives sincere advice," said Jendzian to himself. "It is always
better to hold together. But why does he forewarn? Is it from love of
Volodyovski, because the latter gave him his life in Billeviche? It
must be from love! Yes, but that love may come out with evil result for
the hetman. Kmita is a strange man; he serves Radzivill, wishes well to
our people, and is going to the Swedes; I do not understand this."
After a while he added: "He is a bountiful lord; but it is evil to come
in his way."
As earnestly and vainly as Jendzian, did old Kyemlich rack his brain in
effort to find an answer to the query, "Whom does Pan Kmita serve?"
"He is going to the king, and kills the confederates, who are fighting
specially on the king's side. What is this? And he does not trust the
Swedes, for he hides from them. What will happen to us?"
Not being able to arrive at any conclusion, he turned in rage to his
sons: "Rascals! You will perish without blessing! And you could not
even pull away a little from the slain?"
"We were afraid!" answered Kosma and Damian.
Soroka alone was satisfied, and he clattered joyously after his
colonel.
"Evil fate has missed us," thought he, "for we killed those fellows.
I'm curious to know whom we shall kill next time."
And it was all one to him, as was also this,--whither he was faring.
No one dared approach Kmita or ask him anything, for the young colonel
was as gloomy as night. He grieved terribly that he had to kill those
men, at the side of whom he would have been glad to stand as quickly as
possible in the ranks. But if he had yielded and let himself be taken
to Volodyovski, what would Volodyovski have thought on learning that he
was seized making his way in disguise to the Swedes, and with passes to
the Swedish commandants?
"My old sins are pursuing and following me," said Kmita to himself. "I
will flee to the farthest place; and guide me, O God!"
He began to pray earnestly and to appease his conscience, which
repeated, "Again corpses against thee, and not corpses of Swedes."
"O God, be merciful!" answered Kmita. "I am going to my king; there my
service will begin."