Next morning after the flight of Zagloba, the Cossacks found Bogun half
suffocated in the coat in which Zagloba had wrapped him; but since his
wounds were not serious he returned soon to consciousness. Remembering
everything that had happened, he fell into a rage, roared like a wild
beast, stained his hands with blood from his own wounded head, and
struck at the men with his dagger, so that the Cossacks dared not come
near him. At last, being unable to support himself in the saddle, he
ordered them to bind a Jew cradle between two horses, and sitting in
it, he hurried on as if insane in the direction of Lubni, supposing
that the fugitives had gone thither. Resting on the Jew bed on down,
and in his own blood, he raced over the steppe like a vampire hurrying
back to its grave before daybreak; and after him speeded his trusty
Cossacks, with the thought in mind that they were hurrying to evident
death. They flew on in this way to Vassílyevka, where there was a
garrison of one hundred Hungarian infantry belonging to Prince Yeremi.
The furious leader, as if life had become loathsome to him, fell upon
these without hesitation, rushing first into the fire himself, and
after a struggle of some hours' duration cut the men to pieces, with
the exception of a few whom he spared to gain from them a confession
through torture. Learning that no noble with a maiden had escaped by
that road, and not knowing himself what to do, he tore away his
bandages from excess of pain.
To go farther was impossible; for everywhere toward Lubni were
stationed the forces of the prince, whom the villagers that had run
away during the battle at Vassílyevka must have already informed of the
attack. The faithful Cossacks therefore bore away their ataman weakened
from rage, and took him back to Rozlogi. On their return they found not
a trace of the buildings; for the peasants of the neighborhood had
plundered and burned them, together with Prince Vassily, thinking that
in case the Kurtsevichi or Prince Yeremi should wish to inflict
punishment, the blame could be cast easily on Bogun and his Cossacks.
They had burned every out-house, cut down the cherry-orchard, and
killed all the servants. The peasants had taken unsparing vengeance for
the harsh rule and oppression which they had endured from the
Kurtsevichi.
Just beyond Rozlogi, Pleshnyevski, who was carrying tidings of the
defeat at Jóltiya Vodi from Chigirin, fell into the hands of Bogun.
When asked where and for what purpose he was going, he hesitated and
failed to give clear answers; he fell under suspicion, and when burned
with fire, told of the victory of Hmelnitski, and also of Zagloba, whom
he had met the day before. The leader rejoiced, and drew a long breath.
After he had hanged Pleshnyevski, he hurried on, feeling certain that
Zagloba would not escape him. The herdsmen gave some new indications,
but beyond the ford all traces disappeared. The ataman did not meet the
minstrel whom Zagloba had stripped of his clothing, for he had gone
lower down along the Kagamlik, and besides was so frightened that he
had hidden like a fox in the reeds.
A day and a night more passed; and since the pursuit toward Vassílyevka
occupied two days precisely, Zagloba had much time on his side. What
was to be done then? In this difficult juncture the essaul came to
Bogun with advice and assistance. He was an old wolf of the steppe,
accustomed from youth to track Tartars through the Wilderness.
"Father," said he, "they fled to Chigirin,--and they have done wisely,
for they have gained time,--but when they heard of Hmelnitski and
Jóltiya Vodi from Pleshnyevski, they changed their road. You have seen
yourself, father, that they left the high-road and rushed to one side."
"To the steppe?"
"In the steppe I could find them, father; but they went toward the
Dnieper, to go to the hetmans; therefore they went either through
Cherkas or Zólotonosha and Próhorovka; and if they went even to
Pereyasláv, though I don't believe that, still we shall find them.
We should go, one to Cherkasi, another to Zólotonosha, along the
wagon-road; and quickly, for as soon as they cross the Dnieper, they
will hasten to the hetmans, or Hmelnitski's Tartars will pick them up."
"You hurry to Zólotonosha, and I will go to Cherkasi," said Bogun.
"All right, father."
"And keep a sharp lookout, for he is a cunning fox."
"Ai, father! I am cunning too."
Having settled the plan of pursuit in this way, the leader and the
essaul turned immediately,--one to Cherkasi; the other higher up, to
Zólotonosha. In the evening of the same day the old essaul Anton
reached Demiánovka.
The village was deserted; only the women were left, for all the men had
gone beyond the river to Hmelnitski. Seeing armed men and not knowing
who they were, the women had hidden in the thatch and in the barns. The
Cossacks had to search long; but at last they found an old woman, who
feared nothing, not even the Tartars.
"And where are the men, mother?" asked Anton.
"Do I know?" answered she, showing her yellow teeth.
"We are Cossacks, mother, don't be afraid; we are not from the Poles."
"The Poles? May the evil one--"
"You are glad to see us, I suppose?"
"You?" The old woman hesitated a moment. "The plague take you!"
Anton was at a loss what to do, when suddenly the door of one of the
cottages squeaked, and a young, fair-looking woman came out.
"Ai! good men, I heard that you were not Poles."
"True, we are not."
"Are you from Hmelnitski?"
"Yes."
"Not from the Poles?"
"By no means."
"And why do you ask for the men?"
"I ask if they have gone already."
"They have gone."
"Glory be to God! And tell us now, did a noble go by here,--a cursed
Pole with a young woman?"
"A noble? A Pole? I didn't see them."
"Was no one here?"
"There was a 'grandfather.' He persuaded the men to go to Hmelnitski
through Zólotonosha, for he said that Prince Yeremi was coming here."
"Where?"
"Here. And from here would go to Zólotonosha, so the old man said."
"And the old man persuaded the men to rise?"
"He did."
"And he was alone?"
"No, With a dumb boy."
"How did he look?"
"Who?"
"The old man."
"Oh, ai! old, very old. He played on a lyre, and complained of the
lords. But I did not see him."
"And he persuaded the men to rise?" asked Anton.
"He did."
"Well, good-by, young woman."
"God be with you!"
Anton stopped in deep thought. If the old man was Zagloba disguised,
why did he persuade the peasants to go to Hmelnitski, and where did he
get the disguise? Where did he leave the horses, for he fled on
horseback? But, above all, why did he incite peasants to rebellion and
warn them of the coming of the prince? A noble would not have warned
them, and first of all he would have taken refuge under the protection
of the prince. And if the prince is really going to Zólotonosha, in
which there is nothing strange, then he will pay for Vassílyevka
without fail. Here Anton shuddered; for that moment he saw a new picket
in the gate, exactly like an empaling stake.
"No! That old man was only a minstrel and nothing more. There is no
reason to go to Zólotonosha unless they fled that way."
But Zagloba had disappeared. What was to be done further? Wait?--but
the prince might come up. Go to Próhorovka and cross the Dnieper?--that
would be to fall into the hands of the hetmans.
It was growing rather narrow for the old wolf of the Wilderness in the
broad steppes. He felt also that being a wolf he had come upon a fox in
Pan Zagloba. Then he struck his forehead. But why did that
"grandfather" take the people to Zólotonosha, beyond which is
Próhorovka, and beyond that and the Dnieper the hetmans and the whole
camp of the king? Anton determined that come what might, he would go to
Próhorovka.
"When I am at the river, if I hear that the forces of the hetmans are
on the other side, then I will not cross, I will go along the bank and
join Bogun opposite Cherkasi. Besides, I shall get news of Hmelnitski
along the road."
Anton already knew, from the story of Pleshnyevski, that Hmelnitski had
occupied Chigirin; that he had sent Krívonos against the hetmans, and
was to follow him at once with Tugai Bey. Anton was an experienced
soldier, and knowing the situation of the country well, was sure that
the battle must have been fought already. In such an event it was
necessary to know what was to be done. If Hmelnitski had been beaten,
the forces of the hetmans would spread over the whole country along the
Dnieper in pursuit; in that case there would be no sense in looking for
Zagloba. But if Hmelnitski had won,--which in truth Anton did not
greatly believe,--it was easier to beat the son of the hetman than the
hetman, a van detachment than the whole army.
"Oh," thought the old Cossack, "our ataman would do better to think of
his own skin than of a young girl! Near Chigirin he might have crossed
the Dnieper, and from there slipped off to the Saitch in time. Here
between Prince Yeremi and the hetmans it will be difficult for him to
make his way."
With these thoughts he moved on quickly with the Cossacks in the
direction of the Sula, which he had to cross just beyond Demiánovka,
wishing to go to Próhorovka. They went to Mogilna, situated at the
river itself. Here fortune served Anton; for Mogilna, like Demiánovka,
was deserted. He found, however, scows ready, and ferrymen who took
over peasants fleeing to the Dnieper.
The Trans-Dnieper did not dare to rise under the hand of the prince;
but to make up for this the peasants left all the hamlets, settlements,
and villages, to join Hmelnitski and rally to his banners. The news of
the victory of the Zaporojians at Jóltiya Vodi flew like a bird through
the whole Trans-Dnieper. The wild inhabitants could not remain in
quiet, though there especially they had experienced hardly any
oppression; for, as has been said, the prince, merciless to rebels, was
a real father to peaceful settlers. His overseers on this account
feared to commit injustice on people intrusted to them. But that
people, changed not long before from robbers into agriculturists, were
weary of the harshness of regulations and order. They fled therefore to
where the hope of wild freedom gleamed. In many villages even the women
fled to Hmelnitski. In Chabanovets and Vysoki the whole population
turned out, burning the houses behind them so as to have no place for
return. In those villages in which a few people still remained, they
were forced to arms.
Anton began to inquire at once of the ferrymen for news beyond the
Dnieper. There were reports, but contradictory, confused,
unintelligible. It was said that Hmelnitski was fighting with the
hetmans; some said that he was beaten, others that he was victorious. A
peasant fleeing toward Demiánovka said that the hetmans were taken
captive. The ferrymen suspected that he was a noble in disguise, but
were afraid to detain him because they had heard that the forces of the
prince were at hand. A certain fear increased the number of the
prince's armies everywhere, and made of them omnipresent divisions; for
there was not a single village in the whole Trans-Dnieper in which it
was not said that the prince was "right here, close by." Anton saw that
they considered his party everywhere as belonging to Prince Yeremi.
But soon he set the ferrymen at rest, and began to inquire about the
Demiánovka peasants.
"Oh yes; they passed. We took them to the other side," said a ferryman.
"And there was a minstrel with them?"
"Yes, there was."
"And a dumb boy with the old man,--a lad?"
"Yes; there was."
"What did the minstrel look like?"
"He was not old, heavy, had eyes like a fish, and on one of them a
cataract."
"Oh, that is he!" muttered Anton, and inquired further: "And the boy?"
"Oh, father ataman," said the ferryman, "an angel, out and out! We have
never seen such a boy."
In the mean while they were coming to the shore.
"Ah, we will bring her to the ataman!" muttered Anton to himself. Then
he turned to the Cossacks: "To horse!"
They shot on like a flock of frightened bustards, though the road was
difficult, for the country was broken into gorges. But they entered a
broad ravine at the bottom of which was a kind of natural path formed
by the flowing of a spring. The ravine extended to Kavraiets. They
rushed on some miles without halting; Anton, on the best horse, ahead.
The broad mouth of the ravine was already visible when Anton suddenly
pulled in his horse till his hind shoes crushed the stones.
"What is this?"
The entrance was suddenly darkened with men and horses. A troop entered
in pairs, and formed six abreast. There were about three hundred
horsemen. Anton looked; and although he was an old soldier hardened to
every danger, his heart thumped within his breast and on his face came
a deathly pallor. He recognized the dragoons of Prince Yeremi.
It was too late to flee. Anton's party was separated from the dragoons
by scarcely two hundred yards, and the tired horses of the Cossacks
could not go far in escape. The dragoons, seeing them, rode up on a
trot. In a moment the Cossacks were surrounded on every side.
"Who are you?" asked the commander, sternly.
"Bogun's men!" answered Anton, seeing that it was necessary to tell the
truth. But recognizing the lieutenant whom he had seen in Pereyasláv,
he cried out at once with pretended joy: "Oh, Pan Kushel! Thank God!"
"Ah! is that you, Anton?" asked the lieutenant, looking at the essaul.
"What are you doing here? Where is your ataman?"
"The Grand Hetman has sent our ataman to the prince to ask for
assistance; so he has gone to Lubni, and he has commanded us to go
along through the villages to catch deserters."
Anton lied as if for hire; but he trusted in this,--since the dragoons
were going away from the Dnieper, they could not know yet of the attack
on Rozlogi, nor of the battle at Vassílyevka, nor of any of Bogun's
undertakings.
Still the lieutenant added: "One might say you wanted to steal over to
the rebellion."
"Oh, Lieutenant, if we wanted to go to Hmelnitski, we should not be on
this side of the Dnieper."
"That," said Kushel,--"is an evident truth which I am not able to
deny. But the ataman will not find the prince in Lubni."
"Where is he?"
"He was in Priluka; but it is possible that he started yesterday for
Lubni."
"Too bad! The ataman has a letter from the hetman to the prince. And
may I make bold to ask if you are coming from Zólotonosha?"
"No; we were stationed at Kalenki, and now we have received orders to
go to Lubni, like the rest of the army. From there the prince will
move, with all his forces. But where are you going?"
"To Próhorovka, for the peasants are crossing there."
"Have many of them fled?"
"Oh, many, many!"
"Well, then, go! God be with you!"
"Thank you kindly, Lieutenant. God conduct you!"
The dragoons opened their ranks, and Anton's escort rode out from among
them to the mouth of the ravine.
After he had issued from the ravine, Anton stopped and listened
carefully; and when the dragoons had vanished from sight, and the last
echo had ceased, he turned to his Cossacks, and said,--
"Do you know, you simpletons, that were it not for me, you would soon
be gasping, empaled on stakes, in Lubni? And now, forward, even if we
drive the last breath out of our horses!"
They rushed on with all speed.
"We are lucky, and doubly so," thought Anton,--"first, in escaping with
sound skins, and then because those dragoons were not marching from
Zólotonosha, and Zagloba missed them; for if he had met them, he would
have been safe from every pursuit."
In truth, fortune was very unfavorable to Zagloba in not letting him
come upon Kushel and his company; for then he would have been rescued
at once, and freed from every fear.
Meanwhile the news of the catastrophe at Korsún came upon Zagloba at
Próhorovka like a thunderbolt. Reports had already been passing through
the villages and farmhouses on the road to Zólotonosha of a great
battle, even of the victory of Hmelnitski; but Zagloba did not lend
them belief, for he knew from experience that every report grows and
grows among the common people to unheard of dimensions, and that
specially of the preponderance of the Cossacks the people willingly
told wonders. But in Próhorovka it was difficult to doubt any longer.
The terrible and ominous truth struck like a club on the head.
Hmelnitski had triumphed, the army of the king was swept away, the
hetmans were in captivity, and the whole Ukraine was on fire.
Zagloba lost his head at first, for he was in a terrible position.
Fortune had not favored him on the road, for at Zólotonosha he did not
find the garrison, and the old fortress was deserted. He doubted not
for a moment that Bogun was pursuing him, and that sooner or later he
would come upon his trail. He had doubled back, it is true, like a
hunted hare; but he knew, through and through, the hound that was
hunting him, and he knew that that hound would not allow himself to be
turned from the trail. Zagloba had Bogun behind, and before him a sea
of peasant rebellion, slaughter, conflagration, Tartar raids, and
raging mobs. To flee in such a position was a task difficult of
accomplishment, especially with a young woman who, though disguised as
a minstrel boy, attracted attention everywhere by her extraordinary
beauty. In truth, it was enough to make a man lose his head.
But Zagloba never lost it long. Amid the greatest chaos in his brain he
saw perfectly one thing, or rather felt it most clearly,--that he
feared Bogun a hundred times more than fire, water, rebellion,
slaughter, or Hmelnitski himself. At the very thought that he might
fall into the hands of the terrible leader, the skin crept on his body.
"He would flay me," repeated he, continually. "But in front is a sea of
rebellion!"
One method of salvation remained,--to desert Helena, and leave her to
the will of God; but Zagloba did not wish to do that, and did not let
the thought enter his head. What was he to do?
"Ah," thought he, "it is not the time to look for the prince. Before me
is a sea; I will give a plunge into this sea. At least I shall hide
myself, and with God's aid swim to the other shore." And he determined
to cross to the right bank of the Dnieper.
This was no easy task at Próhorovka. Nikolai Pototski had already
collected for Krechovski and his men all the scows and boats, large and
small, from Pereyasláv to Chigirin. In Próhorovka there was only one
leaky scow. Thousands of people, fleeing from the neighborhood of the
Dnieper, were waiting for that scow. All the cottages, cow-houses,
barns, sheds in the entire village were taken. Everything was
enormously dear. Zagloba was in truth forced to earn a bit of bread
with his lyre and his song. For twenty-four hours there was no passage.
The scow was injured twice, and had to be repaired. Zagloba passed the
night sitting on the bank of the river with Helena, together with
crowds of drunken peasants who were sitting around fires. The night,
too, was windy and cold. The princess was worn out and in pain, for the
peasant boots galled her feet; she was afraid of becoming so ill as to
be unable to move. Her face grew dark and pale, her marvellous eyes
were quenched; every moment she feared that she should be recognized
under her disguise, or that Bogun's men would come up. That same night
she beheld a terrible sight. A number of nobles who had tried to take
refuge in the domains of Vishnyevetski from Tartar attack were brought
from the mouth of the Ros by peasants, and put to death on the bank of
the river.
Besides this, in Próhorovka there were two Jews, with their families.
The maddened crowd hurled them into the river; and when they did not go
to the bottom at once, they were pushed down with long sticks, together
with their wives and children. This was accompanied by uproar and
drunkenness. Tipsy men frolicked with tipsy women. Terrible outbursts
of laughter sounded ominously on the dark shores of the Dnieper. The
winds scattered the fire; red brands, and sparks driven by the wind,
flew along, and died on the waves. Occasionally alarm sprang up. At one
time and another a drunken, hoarse voice would cry in the darkness,
"Save yourselves! Yeremi is coming!" And the crowd rushed blindly to
the shore, trampled on one another, and pushed one another into the
water. Once they came near running over Zagloba and the princess. It
was an infernal night, and seemed endless. Zagloba begged a quart of
vudka, drank himself, and forced the princess to drink; otherwise she
would have fainted or caught a fever. At last the waves of the Dnieper
began to whiten and shine. Light had come. The day was cloudy, gloomy,
pale. Zagloba wished to cross, with all haste, to the other side.
Happily the scow was repaired, but the throng in front of it was
enormous.
"A place for the grandfather, a place for the grandfather!" cried
Zagloba, holding Helena between his outstretched arms, and defending
her from the pressure. "A place for the grandfather! I am going to
Hmelnitski and Krívonos. A place for the grandfather, good people! My
dear fellows, may the black death choke you and your children! I cannot
see well; I shall fall into the water; my boy will be drowned. Give
way, children! May the paralysis shake every limb of you; may you die
on the stake!"
Thus brawling, begging, pushing the crowd apart with powerful arms, he
urged Helena forward to the scow, clambered on himself, and then began
to brawl again,--
"There are plenty of you here already. Why do you crowd so? You will
sink the scow. Why do so many of you push on here? Enough, enough! Your
turn will come; and if it doesn't, small matter!"
"Enough, enough!" cried those who had got on the scow. "Push off, push
off!"
The oars bent, and the scow began to move from the shore. A swift
current bore it downward at once, somewhat in the direction of
Domontov.
They had passed about one half the stream, when on the Próhorovka side
shouts and cries were heard. A terrible disturbance rose among the
people near the river. Some ran as if wild toward Domontov; others
jumped into the water. Some shouted and waved their hands, or threw
themselves on the ground.
"What is that? What has happened?" was asked on the scow.
"Yeremi!" cried one voice.
"Yeremi, Yeremi! Let us flee," cried others.
The oars began to beat feverishly on the water; the scow sped on
through the waves like a Cossack boat. At the same moment horsemen
appeared on the Próhorovka shore.
"The armies of Yeremi!" shouted some on the boat.
The horsemen rode along the shore, turned, asked the people about
something. At last they began to call out to the boatmen: "Stop, stop!"
Zagloba looked, and cold sweat covered him from head to foot. He
recognized Bogun's Cossacks. It was, in fact, Anton with his men.
But, as already stated, Zagloba never lost his head long. He covered
his eyes like a man of poor sight, looking; he must have looked a good
while. At last he began to cry, as if some one were pulling him out of
his skin,--
"Oh, children, those are the Cossacks of Vishnyevetski! Oh, for the
sake of God and his Holy Purest Mother, quick, to the shore! We will
resign ourselves to the loss of those who are left, and break the scow;
if not, death to us all!"
"Oh, hurry, hurry! break the scow!" cried others.
A shouting was raised, in which nothing could be heard of the cries
from the Próhorovka side. Then the scow grated upon the gravel of the
shore. The peasants began to spring out; but some of them were not able
to land before others were breaking the railing and cutting the bottom
with their axes. The planks and broken pieces began to fly through the
air. The ill-fated boat was destroyed with frenzy, torn to pieces;
terror lent strength to the raging people.
And all this time Zagloba was screaming: "Cut! slash! break! tear!
burn! Save yourselves! Yeremi is coming! Yeremi is coming!"
Shouting in this fashion, he looked with his sound eye at Helena and
began to mutter significantly.
Meanwhile from the other shore the shouts increased in view of the
destruction of the boat, but it was so far away they could not
understand what was said. The waving of hands seemed like threatening,
and only increased the speed of destruction.
The scow disappeared after a while, but suddenly from every breast
there came a cry of horror.
"They are springing into the water! they are swimming to us!" roared
the peasants.
In fact, one horseman in advance and after him a number of others urged
their horses into the water to swim to the other shore. It was a deed
of almost insane daring; for increased by the spring flood, the river
rushed on more powerfully than usual, forming here and there many
eddies and whirlpools. Borne away by the impetus of the river, the
horses could not swim straight across; the current began to bear them
on with extraordinary swiftness.
"They will not swim across!" cried the peasants.
"They are drowning!"
"Glory be to God! Oh! oh! one horse has gone down already! Death to
them!"
The horses had swum a third part of the river, but the water bore them
down with increasing speed. Evidently they began to lose strength;
gradually too they sank deeper and deeper. After a little the men on
their backs were in the water to their girdles. The peasants from
Shelepukhi ran to the water to see what was going on; now only the
horses' heads looked out above the water, which reached the breasts of
the men. But now they had swum half the river. Suddenly one horse's
head and one man disappeared under the water; after that a second, a
third, a fourth, a fifth,--the number of swimmers decreased each
moment. On both sides of the river a deep silence reigned in the
crowds, but all ran with the course of the water to see what would
happen. Now two thirds of the river was crossed; the number of swimmers
still decreased, but the heavy snorting of horses and the voices of the
heroes urging them on was heard; it was clear that some would cross.
"Hi, children! to your muskets! Destruction to the prince's men!"
Puffs of smoke burst forth; then the rattle of muskets. A cry of
despair was heard from the river, and after a while horses and men had
vanished. The river was cleared; only here and there in the distance,
in the whirl of the waves, looked black for an instant the belly of a
horse, gleamed red for a moment the cap of a Cossack.
Zagloba looked at Helena, and muttered.