In Chigirin, Skshetuski found the old man Zatsvilikhovski in great
excitement and fever. He looked impatiently at the prince's envoy, for
tidings more and more terrible kept coming from the Saitch. There was
no doubt that Hmelnitski was preparing to demand with armed hand
justice for himself and the ancient rights of the Cossacks.
Zatsvilikhovski had news that he had been with the Khan in the Crimea
to beg Tartar aid, with which he was expected every day in the Saitch.
Then there would be a general campaign from the lower country against
the Commonwealth, which with Tartar assistance might be destructive.
The storm drew nearer and nearer, more definite and more terrible. It
was no longer vague undefined alarm that swept over the Ukraine, but
clear certainty of slaughter and war. The Grand Hetman, who at first
had made light of the whole affair, was pushing forward with his troops
to Cherkasi. The advance guard of the royal armies was advancing mainly
to prevent desertion; for the Cossacks of the towns, and the mob had
begun to flee to the Saitch in masses. The nobility assembled in the
towns. It was said that the general militia were to be called out in
the southern provinces. Some, not waiting for the call, sent their
wives and children to castles, and assembled in person at Cherkasi. The
ill-fated Ukraine was divided into two parties,--one of these hastened
to the Saitch, the other to the royal camp; one declared for the
existing order of affairs, the other for wild freedom; one desired to
keep possession of that which was the fruit of ages of labor, the other
desired to deprive these possessors of that property. Both were to
imbrue fraternal hands in the blood of each other. The terrible
dispute, before it found religious rallying-cries which were completely
foreign to the lower country, was breaking out as a social war.
But though black clouds were gathering on the heaven of the Ukraine,
though a dark and ominous night was descending from these clouds,
though within them it rumbled and roared and thunder-claps rolled from
horizon to horizon, people still could not tell to what degree the
storm would burst forth. Perhaps even Hmelnitski himself could
not,--Hmelnitski, who had just sent letters to Pan Pototski, to the
Cossack commissioner, and to the royal standard-bearer, full of
accusation and complaints, and at the same time of assurances of
loyalty to Vladislav IV. and the Commonwealth. Did he wish to win time,
or did he suppose that some agreement might yet end the dispute? On
this there was a variety of opinions. There were only two men who did
not deceive themselves for a single moment. These men were
Zatsvilikhovski and Barabash.
The old colonel had also received a letter from Hmelnitski. The letter
was sarcastic, threatening, and full of abuse. Hmelnitski wrote:--
"We shall begin, with the whole Zaporojian army, to beg most fervently
and to ask for that charter of rights which you secreted. And because
you secreted it for your own personal profit and advantage, the whole
Zaporojian army creates you a colonel over sheep or swine, but not over
men. I beg pardon if in any way I failed to please you in my poor house
in Chigirin on the feast-day of Saint Nicholas, and that I went off to
the Zaporojie without your knowledge or permission."
"Do you see," said Barabash to Zatsvilikhovski and Pan Yan, "how he
ridicules me? Yet it was I who taught him war, and was in truth a
father to him."
"He says, then, that the whole Zaporojian army will demand their
rights," said Zatsvilikhovski. "That is simply a civil war, of all wars
the most terrible."
"I see that I must hasten," said Skshetuski. "Give me the letters to
those men with whom I am to come in contact."
"You have one to the koshevoi ataman?"
"I have, from the prince himself."
"I will give you a letter to one of the kuren atamans. Barabash has a
relative there,--Barabash also. From these you will learn everything.
Who knows, though, but it is too late for such an expedition? Does the
prince wish to hear what is really to be heard there? The answer is
brief: 'Evil!' And he wants to know what to do? Short advice: 'Collect
as many troops as possible and join the hetmans.'"
"Despatch a messenger, then, to the prince with the answer and the
advice," said Skshetuski. "I must go; for I am on a mission, and I
cannot alter the decision of the prince."
"Are you aware that this is a terribly dangerous expedition?" asked
Zatsvilikhovski. "Even here the people are so excited that it is
difficult for them to keep still. Were it not for the nearness of the
army of the crown, the mob would rush upon us. But there you are going
into the dragon's mouth."
"Jonah was in the whale's belly, not his mouth, and with God's aid he
came out in safety."
"Go, then! I applaud your courage. You can go to Kudák in safety, and
there you will see what is to be done further. Grodzitski is an old
soldier; he will give you the best of advice. And I will go to the
prince without fail. If I have to fight in my old age, I would rather
fight under him than any one else. Meanwhile I will get boats for you,
and guides who will take you to Kudák."
Skshetuski slipped out, and went straight to his quarters on the
square, in the prince's house, to make his final preparations. In spite
of the dangers of the journey mentioned by Zatsvilikhovski, the
lieutenant thought of it not without a certain satisfaction. He was
going to behold the Dnieper in its whole length, almost to the lower
country and the Cataracts; and for the warrior of that time it was a
sort of enchanted and mysterious land, to which every adventurous
spirit was drawn. Many a man had passed his whole life in the Ukraine,
and still was unable to say that he had seen the Saitch,--unless he
wished to join the Brotherhood, and there were fewer volunteers among
the nobility than formerly. The times of Samek Zborovski had passed
never to return. The break between the Saitch and the Commonwealth
which began in the time of Nalivaika and Pavlyuk had not lessened, but,
on the contrary, had increased continually; and the concourse of people
of family, not only Polish, but Russian, differing from the men of the
lower country neither in speech nor faith, had greatly decreased. Such
persons as the Bulygi Kurtsevichi did not find many imitators. In
general, nobles were forced into the Brotherhood at that time either by
misfortune or outlawry,--in a word, by offences which were inconvenient
for repentance. Therefore a certain mystery, impenetrable as the fogs
of the Dnieper, surrounded the predatory republic of the lower country.
Concerning it men related wonders, which Pan Yan was curious to see
with his own eyes. To tell the truth, he expected to come out of it
safely; for an envoy is an envoy, especially from Prince Yeremi.
While meditating in this fashion he gazed through the windows into the
square. Meanwhile one hour had followed another, when suddenly it
appeared to Pan Yan that he recognized a couple of figures going toward
the Bell-ringers' Corner to the wine-cellar of Dopula, the Wallachian.
He looked more carefully, and saw Zagloba with Bogun. They went arm in
arm, and soon disappeared in the dark doorway over which was the sign
denoting a drinking-place and a wine-shop.
The lieutenant was astonished at the presence of Bogun in Chigirin and
his friendship with Zagloba.
"Jendzian! are you here?" called he to his attendant.
Jendzian appeared in the doorway of the adjoining room.
"Listen to me, Jendzian! Go to the wine-shop where the sign hangs. You
will find a fat nobleman with a hole in his forehead there. Tell him
that some one wants to see him quickly. If he asks who it is, don't
tell him."
Jendzian hurried off, and in a short time Skshetuski saw him returning
in company with Zagloba.
"I welcome you," said Pan Yan, when the noble appeared in the door of
the room. "Do you remember me?"
"Do I remember you? May the Tartars melt me into tallow and make
candles of me for the mosques if I forget you! Some months ago you
opened the door at Dopula's with Chaplinski, which suited my taste
exactly, for in the selfsame way I got out of prison once in Stamboul.
And what is Pan Povsinoga, with the escutcheon Zervipludry, doing with
his innocence and his sword? Don't the sparrows always perch on his
head, taking him for a withered tree?"
"Pan Podbipienta is well, and asked to be remembered to you."
"He is a very rich man, but fearfully dull. If he should cut off three
heads like his own, it would be only a head and a half, for he would
cut off three half-heads. Pshaw! how hot it is, though it is only March
yet! The tongue dries up in one's throat."
"I have some excellent triple mead; maybe you would take a glass of
it?"
"It is a fool who refuses when a wise man offers. The barber has
enjoined me to drink mead to draw melancholy from my head. Troublesome
times for the nobility are approaching,--_dies iræ et calamitatis_.
Chaplinski is breathless from fear; he visits Dopula's no longer, for
the Cossack elders drink there. I alone set my forehead bravely against
danger, and keep company with those colonels, though their dignity
smells of tar. Good mead! really very excellent! Where do you get it?"
"I got this in Lubni. Are there many Cossack elders here?"
"Who is not here? Fedor Yakubovich, Old Filon Daidyalo, Danilo Nechai,
and their eye in the head, Bogun, who became my friend as soon as I
outdrank him and promised to adopt him. Chigirin is filled with the
odor of them. They are looking which way to turn, for they do not dare
yet to take the side of Hmelnitski openly. But if they do not declare
for him, it will be owing to me."
"How is that?"
"While drinking with them I bring them over to the Commonwealth and
argue them into loyalty. If the king does not give me a crown estate
for this, then believe me there is no justice in the Commonwealth, nor
reward for services; and in such a case it would be better to breed
chickens than to risk one's head _pro bono publico_."
"It would be better for you to risk your head fighting with them; but
it appears to me you are only throwing away your money for nothing in
treating them, for in that way you will never win them."
"I throw money away! For whom do you take me? Isn't it enough for me to
hobnob with trash, without paying their scores? I consider it a favor
that I allow them to pay mine."
"And that fellow Bogun, what is he doing here?"
"He? He keeps his ears open to hear reports from the Saitch, like the
rest. That is why he came here. He is the favorite of all the Cossacks.
They are after him like monkeys, for it is certain that the Pereyasláv
regiment will follow him, and not Loboda. And who knows, too, whom
Krechovski's registered Cossacks will follow? Bogun is a brother to the
men of the lower country when it is a question of attacking the Turks
or the Tartars; but this time he is calculating very closely, for he
confessed to me, in drink, that he was in love with a noblewoman, and
intended to marry her. On this account it would not befit him, on the
eve of marriage, to be a brother to slaves. He wishes, too, that I
should adopt him and give him my arms. That is very excellent triple
mead!"
"Take another drink of it."
"I will, I will. They don't sell such mead as that behind
tavern-signs."
"You did not ask, perhaps, the name of the lady whom Bogun wants to
marry?"
"Well, my dear sir, what do I care about her name? I know only that
when I put horns on Bogun, she will be Madame Deer. In my youthful
years I was a fellow of no ordinary beauty. Only let me tell you how I
carried off the palm of martyrdom in Galáts. You see that hole in my
forehead? It is enough for me to say that the eunuchs in the harem of
the local pasha made it."
"But you said the bullet of a robber made it."
"Did I? Then I told the truth; for every Turk is a robber, as God is my
aid!"
Further conversation was interrupted by the entrance of
Zatsvilikhovski.
"Well, my dear lieutenant," said the old man, "the boats are ready, you
have trusty men for attendants; you can start, in God's name, this
moment, if you like. And here are the letters."
"Then I'll tell my people to be off for the shore at once."
"But where are you going?" asked Zagloba.
"To Kudák."
"It will be hot for you there."
The lieutenant did not hear his prophecy, for he went out of the room
into the court, where the Cossacks with horses were almost ready for
the road.
"To horse and to the shore!" commanded Pan Yan. "Put the horses on the
boats, and wait for me."
Meanwhile the old man said to Zagloba: "I hear that you court the
Cossack colonels, and drink with them."
"For the public good, most worthy standard-bearer."
"You have a nimble mind, but inclining rather to disgrace. You wish to
bring the Cossacks to your side in their cups, so they may befriend you
in case they win."
"Even if that were true, having been a martyr to the Turks, I do not
wish to become one to the Cossacks; and there is nothing wonderful in
that, for two mushrooms would spoil the best soup. And as to disgrace,
I ask no one to drink it with me,--I drink it alone; and God grant that
it taste no worse than this mead. Merit, like oil, must come to the
top."
At that moment Skshetuski returned. "The men have started already,"
said he.
Zatsvilikhovski poured out a measure. "Here is to a pleasant journey!"
"And a return in health!" added Zagloba.
"You will have an easy journey, for the water is tremendous."
"Sit down, gentlemen, and drink the rest. It is not a large vessel."
They sat down and drank.
"You will see a curious country," said Zatsvilikhovski. "Greet Pan
Grodzitski in Kudák for me. Ah, that is a soldier! He lives at the end
of the world, far from the eyes of the hetman, and he maintains such
order that God grant its like might be in the whole Commonwealth. I
know Kudák and the Cataracts well. Years ago I used to travel there,
and there is gloom on the soul when one thinks of what is past and
gone; but now--"
Here the standard-bearer rested his milk-white head on his hand, and
fell into deep thought. A moment of silence followed, broken only by
the tramp of horses heard at the gate; for the rest of Skshetuski's men
were going to the boats at the shore.
"My God!" said Zatsvilikhovski, starting from his meditation; "and
there were better times formerly, though in the midst of turmoil. I
remember Khotím, twenty-seven years ago, as if it were to-day! When the
hussars under Lyubomirski moved to attack the janissaries, then the
Cossacks in the trenches threw up their caps and shouted to
Sahaidachny, till the earth trembled, 'Let us die with the Poles!' And
what do we see to-day? To-day the lower country, which should be the
first bulwark of Christendom, lets Tartars into the boundaries of the
Commonwealth, to fall upon them when they are returning with booty. It
is still worse; for Hmelnitski allies himself directly with Tartars,
with whom he will murder Christians."
"Let us drink by reason of this sorrow!" said Zagloba. "What triple
mead this is!"
"God grant me the grave as soon as possible!" said the old man,
continuing. "Mutual crimes will be washed out in blood, but not blood
of atonement, for here brother will murder brother. Who are in the
lower country? Russians. Who in the army of Prince Yeremi? Russians.
Who in the retinues of the magnates? Russians. And are there few of
them in the king's camp? And I myself,--who am I? Oh, unhappy Ukraine!
pagans of the Crimea will put the chain upon thy neck, and thou wilt
pull the oar in the galley of the Turk!"
"Grieve not so, worthy standard-bearer," said Pan Yan; "if you do,
tears will come to our eyes. A fair sun may shine upon us yet!"
In fact, the sun was going down that very moment, and its last rays
fell with a red gleam on the white hair of the old man. In the town the
bells began to ring "Ave Maria" and "Praise to God."
They left the house. Skshetuski went to the Polish church,
Zatsvilikhovski to the Russian, and Zagloba to Dopula's at the
Bell-ringers' Corner.
It was dark when they met again at the shore by the landing.
Skshetuski's men were sitting already in the boats. The ferrymen were
still carrying in packages. The cold wind blew from the neighboring
point where the river entered the Dnieper, and the night gave no
promise of being very pleasant. By the light of the fire burning on the
bank, the water of the river looked bloody, and seemed to be running
with immeasurable speed somewhere into the unknown gloom.
"Well, happy journey to you!" said the old man, pressing the
lieutenant's hand heartily; "but be careful of yourself!"
"I will neglect nothing. God grant us soon to meet!"
"Either in Lubni or the prince's camp."
"Then you will go without fail to the prince?"
Zatsvilikhovski shrugged his shoulders. "What am I to do? If there is
war, then war!"
"Be in good health."
"God guard you!"
"Vive, valeque!" said Zagloba. "And if the water bears you all the way
to Stamboul, then give my respects to the Sultan. Or rather, let the
devil take him! That was very respectable triple mead. Brr! how cold it
is!"
"Till we meet again!"
"Till we see each other!"
"May God conduct you!"
The oar creaked and plashed against the water, the boats moved on. The
fire burning on the shore began to recede quickly. For a long time
Skshetuski saw the gray form of the standard-bearer lighted up by the
flame of the fire, and a certain sadness pressed his heart. The water
is bearing him on, but far away from well-wishing hearts and from the
loved one; from known lands it is bearing him as mercilessly as fate,
but into wild places and into darkness.
They sailed through the mouth of the Tasma into the Dnieper. The wind
whistled; the oars plashed monotonously and sadly. The oarsmen began to
sing.
Skshetuski wrapped himself in a burka, and lay down on the bed which
the soldier had fixed for him. He began to think of Helena,--that she
was not yet in Lubni, that Bogun was behind, and he departing. Fear,
evil presentiments, care, besieged him like ravens. He began to
struggle with them, struggled till he was wearied; thoughts tormented
him; something wonderful was blended with the whistle of the wind, the
plash of the oars, and the songs of the oarsmen,--he fell asleep.