It is easy to understand how the prince received the statement which
Skshetuski made of the refusal of Osinski and Koritski. Everything had
so combined that it needed such a great soul as that iron prince
possessed, not to bend, not to waver, or let his hands drop. In vain
was he to spend a colossal fortune on the maintenance of armies; in
vain was he to struggle like a lion in a net; in vain was he to tear
off one head of the rebellion after another, showing wonders of bravery
all for nothing. A time was coming in which he must feel his own
impotence, withdraw somewhere to a distance, to a quiet place, and
remain a silent spectator of what was being done in the Ukraine. And
what was it that rendered him powerless? Not the swords of the
Cossacks, but the ill-will of his own people. Was it not reasonable for
him to hope when he marched from the Trans-Dnieper in May that when
like an eagle from the sky he should strike rebellion, when in the
general dismay and confusion he should first raise his sword over his
head, the whole Commonwealth would come to his aid, and put its power
and its punishing sword in his hand? But what did happen? The king was
dead, and after his death the command was put into other hands, and he,
the prince, was passed by ostentatiously. That was the first concession
to Hmelnitski. The soul of the prince did not suffer for the office he
had lost; but it suffered at the thought that the insulted Commonwealth
had fallen so low that it did not seek a death-struggle, but drew back
before one Cossack, and preferred to restrain his insolent right hand
by negotiations.
From the time of the victory at Makhnovka worse and worse tidings were
brought to the camp,--first news of negotiations sent through Pan
Kisel; then news that Volynian Polesia was covered with the waves of
insurrection; then the refusal of the colonels, showing clearly how far
the commander-in-chief, Prince Dominik Zaslavski-Ostrogski, was
hostile. During Skshetuski's absence Pan Korsh Zenkovich came to camp
with information that all Ovruch was on fire. The people had been
quiet, and not anxious for rebellion; but the Cossacks, coming under
Krechovski and Polksenjits, forced the mob to enter their ranks.
Castles and villages were burned; the nobles who did not escape were
cut to pieces, and among others old Pan Yelets, a former servant and
friend of the Vishnyevetskis. In view of this, the prince had decided
after a juncture with Osinski and Koritski to overwhelm Krívonos, and
then move north toward Ovruch, and after an agreement with the hetman
of Lithuania, to seize the rebels between two fires. But all these
plans had fallen through now on account of the refusal of both colonels
caused by Prince Dominik. For Yeremi, after all the marches, battles,
and labors, was not strong enough to meet Krívonos, especially when not
sure of the voevoda of Kieff, who belonged heart and soul to the peace
party. Pan Yanush yielded before the importance and power of Yeremi,
and had to go with him; but the more he saw his authority broken the
more inclined was he to oppose the warlike wishes of the prince, as was
shown at once.
Skshetuski gave his account, and the prince listened to it in silence.
All the officers were present; their faces were gloomy at the news of
the refusal. All eyes turned to the prince when he said,--
"Prince Dominik, of course, sent them the order."
"Yes, they showed it to me in writing."
Yeremi rested his arms on the table and covered his face with his
hands; after a while he said,--
"This indeed is more than a man can bear. Am I to labor alone, and
instead of assistance meet only obstructions? Could I not have gone to
my estates in Sandomir and lived quietly? And what prevented me from
doing so, except love of country? This is my reward for toil, for loss
of fortune and blood."
The prince spoke quietly, but such bitterness and pain trembled
in his voice that all present were straitened with sorrow. Old
colonels--veterans from Putívl, Starets, Kuméiki,--and young men
victorious in the last conflicts, looked at him with unspeakable sorrow
in their eyes; for they knew what a heavy struggle that iron man was
having with himself, how terribly his pride must suffer from the
humiliation put upon him. He, a prince, "by the grace of God;" he, a
voevoda in Russia, senator of the Commonwealth,--must yield to some
Hmelnitski or Krívonos. He, almost a monarch, who recently had received
ambassadors from foreign rulers, must withdraw from the field of glory,
and confine himself in some little castle, waiting for the outcome of a
war directed by others or for humiliating negotiations. He, predestined
for great things, conscious of ability to direct them, had to confess
that he was without power.
This suffering, together with his labors, was marked on his figure. He
had become greatly emaciated; his eyes had sunk; his hair, black as the
wing of a raven, had begun to grow gray. But a certain grand tragic
calm was spread over his countenance, for pride guarded him from
betraying his suffering.
"Well, let it be so," said he; "we will show this unthankful country
that we are able not only to fight, but to die for it. Indeed I should
prefer a more glorious death,--to fall in some other war than in a
domestic squabble with serfs--"
"Do not speak of death," interrupted the voevoda of Kieff; "for though
it is unknown what God has predestined to any man, still death may be
far away. I do homage to your military genius and your knightly spirit;
but I cannot take it ill, either of the viceroy, the chancellor, or the
commanders, if they try to stem civil war by negotiations, for in it
the blood of brothers is flowing, and who, unless a foreign enemy, can
reap advantage from the stubbornness of both sides?"
The prince looked long into the eyes of the voevoda, and said
emphatically,--
"Show favor to the conquered, and they will accept it with thanks and
will remember it, but you will be only despised by conquerors. Would
that no one had ever done injustice to these people! But when once
insurrection has flamed up, we must quench it with blood, not
negotiations; if we do not, disgrace and destruction to us!"
"Speedy ruin will come if we wage war each on his own account,"
answered the voevoda.
"Does that mean that you will not go on with me?"
"I call God to witness that this is out of no ill-will to you; but my
conscience tells me not to expose my men to evident destruction, for
their blood is precious, and will be of value to the Commonwealth yet."
The prince was silent awhile; then turning to his colonels, he said,--
"You, my old comrades, will not leave me now!"
At these words the colonels, as if impelled by one power and one will,
rushed to the prince. Some kissed his garments; some embraced his
knees; others, raising their hands to heaven, cried,--
"We are with you to the last breath, to the last drop of blood! Lead
us, lead us! we will serve without pay."
"And let me die with you," cried young Pan Aksak, blushing like a girl.
At sight of this the voevoda of Kieff was moved; but the prince went
from one to another, pressed the head of each one, and thanked him. A
mighty enthusiasm seized on young and old. From the eyes of the
warriors sparks flashed; they grasped their sabres from moment to
moment.
"I will live with you, die with you!" said the prince.
"We will conquer!" cried the officers. "Against Krívonos! On Polónnoe!
Whoever wishes to leave us, let him leave. We will do without aid. We
wish to share neither glory nor death."
"It is my will," said the prince, "that before moving on Krívonos we
take even a short rest to restore our strength. It is now the third
month that we are on horseback, scarcely ever dismounting. The flesh is
leaving our bones from excessive toil and change of climate. We have no
horses; the infantry are barefoot. Let us go then to Zbaraj; there we
will recruit and rest. Perhaps too some soldiers will join us, and we
will move into the fire with new forces."
"When do you wish to start?" asked old Zatsvilikhovski.
"Without delay, old soldier, without delay!" Here the prince turned to
the voevoda: "And where do you wish to go?"
"To Gliniani, for I hear that forces are collecting there."
"Then we will conduct you to a safe place, so that no harm may happen
to you."
The voevoda said nothing, for he felt rather ill at ease. He was
leaving, and the prince still showed care for him and intended to
conduct him. Was there irony in the words of the prince? The voevoda
did not know. Still the voevoda did not abandon his design; for the
colonels of the prince looked on him more inimically every moment, and
it was clear that in any other less disciplined army there would have
been an outbreak against him.
He bowed and went out; and the colonels went, each to his own regiment
to make ready for the march. Skshetuski alone remained with the prince.
"What kind of soldiers are in those regiments?" asked the prince.
"So good that you cannot find better. Dragoons drilled in German
fashion, and with infantry of the guard, veterans of the Thirty Years'
War. When I saw them I thought they were Roman legionaries."
"Many of them?"
"Two regiments with the dragoons,--just three thousand men."
"Oh, it is a pity, it is a pity! Great things might be done with their
assistance."
Suffering was already depicted on the face of the prince. After a while
he said as if to himself,--
"It is unfortunate that such commanders were chosen in times of defeat!
Ostrorog would be the right man if war could be put down with eloquence
and Latin; Konyetspolski is my brother-in-law and a warrior by nature;
but he is young, without experience. Zaslavski is worst of all. I know
him of old. He is a man of small heart and narrow mind. His business is
to slumber over the cup, not to manage an army. I do not speak of this
in public, lest it might be thought that malice moves me, but I foresee
terrible disaster, especially now, at this time, when such people have
the helm in their hands! Oh, God, God, remove this cup from me! What
will happen to this country? When I think of it I would prefer death,
for I am greatly wearied, and I tell you that I shall not last long. My
spirit is rushing to the war, but my body lacks strength."
"You should care more for your health, in which the whole country is
deeply concerned, and which is already greatly injured by toil."
"The country thinks differently, it is evident, when it avoids me and
drags the sabre out of my hand."
"God grant when Prince Karl changes his cap for a crown, he will see
whom to elevate and whom to punish; but you are powerful enough to care
for no one at present."
"I will go my own way."
The prince did not notice perhaps that, like the other "kinglets," he
was carrying on a policy of his own; but if he had noticed it, he would
not have abandoned it, for he felt clearly that that was the only one
that could save the honor of the Commonwealth.
Again followed a moment of silence, soon broken by the neighing of
horses and the sound of trumpets. The regiments were mustering for the
march. These sounds roused the prince from meditation. He shook his
head as if wishing to shake off suffering and evil thoughts; then he
said,--
"You had a quiet journey?"
"I met, in the forest, a large body of peasants, a couple of hundred
men whom I destroyed."
"Well done! And you took prisoners, for that is an important thing
now?"
"I did, but--"
"But you have commanded them to be executed already? Is that true?"
"No, I set them free."
Yeremi looked with wonderment at Skshetuski; then his brows contracted
suddenly. "What was that for? Do you too belong to the peace party?"
"Your Highness, I brought an informant; for among the peasants was a
disguised noble who remained alive. I freed the others, for God showed
mercy to me and comfort. I will bear the punishment. That noble was Pan
Zagloba, who brought me tidings of the princess."
The prince approached Pan Yan quickly. "She is alive and well?"
"Praise be to God on high, she is."
"And where is she?"
"In Bar."
"That is a strong fortress, my boy!" Here the prince raised his hands,
and taking Skshetuski's head, kissed him a number of times on the
forehead. "I rejoice in your gladness, for I love you as a son."
Pan Yan kissed the prince's hand with emotion, and though for many a
day he would have willingly shed his blood for him, he felt again that
at his command he would spring into rolling flames. To such a degree
did that terrible and cruel Yeremi know how to win the hearts of the
knights.
"Well, I do not wonder that you let those men go free. You will go
unpunished. But he's a sharp fellow, that noble! Then he took her from
the Trans-Dnieper to Bar, praise be to God! In these grievous times
this is a real delight to me also. He must be a fox of no common kind.
But let's have a look at this Zagloba."
Skshetuski moved quickly toward the door; but at that moment it was
opened suddenly, and there appeared in it the flaming head of Vershul,
who had been on a distant expedition with the Tartars of the guard.
"Your Highness," cried he, panting, "Krívonos has taken Polónnoe, cut
down ten thousand people, among them women and children."
The colonels began to assemble again, and crowd around Vershul. The
voevoda of Kieff hurried up also. The prince was astonished, for he had
not expected such news.
"But Russians were shut up in there! It cannot be!"
"Not a living soul escaped."
"Do you hear?" said the prince, turning to the voevoda. "Negotiate with
an enemy like that, who does not spare even his own!"
The voevoda snorted and said: "Oh, the curs! If that is the case, then
may the devils take it all! I will go with you."
"Then you are a brother to me," said the prince.
"Long live the voevoda of Kieff!" said Zatsvilikhovski.
"Success to concord!"
The prince turned again to Vershul. "Where did they go after Polónnoe?
Unknown?"
"To Konstantinoff, probably."
"Oh, God save us! Then the regiments of Osinski and Koritski are lost,
for they cannot escape with infantry. We must forget our wrongs and
hurry to their aid. To horse! to horse!"
The face of the prince brightened with joy, and a glow enlivened his
emaciated cheeks, for the path of glory was open before him again.