CHAPTER LVII.

Volodyovski and Zagloba found all the forces of the Crown assembled at

Zbaraj, and waiting for the enemy. The cup-bearer of the Crown,

Ostrorog, who had come from Konstantinoff, was there, and

Lantskoronski, castellan of Kamenyets, who had gained the first victory

at Bar; the third commander, Pan Firlei of Dombrovitsa, castellan of

Belsk, and Andrei Serakovski, secretary of the Crown; Konyetspolski,

the standard-bearer, and Pshiyemski, commander of the artillery, a

warrior specially expert in the capture and defence of towns; and with

them ten thousand troops, not counting a number of Prince Yeremi's

squadrons previously quartered at Zbaraj.

Pan Pshiyemski, on the southern side of the town and the castle and the

two ponds, had laid out a strong camp, which he fortified in foreign

fashion, and which it was only possible to capture in front; for at the

rear and two sides it was defended by the ponds, the castle, and the

river. In this camp the commanders intended to offer resistance to

Hmelnitski, and delay his avalanche till the king, with the rest of the

forces and the national militia of all the nobility, should come. But

was that plan possible of execution in view of the power of Hmelnitski?

There was much doubt, and there were reasonable causes for the

doubt,--among them the disorder in the camp itself. First of all,

secret contention was raging among the leaders. The commanders had come

against their will to Zbaraj, yielding in this to the desires of Prince

Yeremi. They wished at first to make their defence at Konstantinoff;

but when the news went forth that Yeremi would appear in his own person

only in case Zbaraj should be the point of defence, the soldiers

declared immediately to the leaders of the Crown that they would go to

Zbaraj, and would not fight elsewhere. Neither persuasion nor the

authority of the baton availed; and in short the commanders discovered

that if they should continue in longer resistance, the army, from the

heavy hussar regiments to the last soldier of the foreign companies,

would leave them and go over to the banners of Vishnyevetski. This was

one of those sad cases of military insubordination of increasing

frequency in that time, and caused by the incapacity of the leaders,

their mutual disagreements, the unexampled terror before the power of

Hmelnitski, and the defeats unheard of till then, especially the defeat

of Pilavtsi.

So the commanders had to march to Zbaraj, where the command, in spite

of the appointments made by the king, had by the force of circumstance

passed into the hands of Yeremi; for the army would obey only

him,--fight and perish under him alone. But that leader _de facto_ was

not in Zbaraj yet; therefore unrest was increasing in the army,

discipline was relaxed to the last degree, and courage fell. For it was

already known that Hmelnitski, together with the Khan, was approaching

with forces the like of which the eyes of men had not seen since the

days of Tamerlane. Fresh tidings kept flying to the camp like

ill-omened birds,--reports, each more recent and more terrible than the

preceding,--and weakened the manhood of the soldiers. There were fears

that a panic like that of Pilavtsi might break out suddenly and scatter

that handful of an army which stood between Hmelnitski and the heart of

the Commonwealth. The leaders themselves had lost their heads. Their

contradictory orders were not carried out, or if carried out, with

unwillingness. In fact Yeremi alone could avert the catastrophe hanging

over the camp, the army, and the country.

Zagloba and Volodyovski dropped at once into the vortex of army life.

They had barely appeared on the square when they were surrounded by

officers of various regiments, interrupting one another in their

inquiries for news. At sight of the Tartar captives, confidence entered

the hearts of the curious. "The Tartars are plucked! Tartar prisoners!

God gave a victory!" repeated some. "The Tartars are here, and Burlai

with them!" cried others. "To arms! To the walls!" The news flew

through the camp, and Kushel's victory was magnified along the road. An

increasing throng gathered around the prisoners. "Kill them! What are

we to do with them?" Questions fell thick as flakes in a snow-storm.

Kushel would give no answer, and went with a report to the quarters of

Firlei, the castellan of Belsk. Volodyovski and Zagloba were greeted at

once by their acquaintances of the Russian squadron; but they escaped

as well as they could, for they were in haste to see Pan Yan.

They found him in the castle with Zatsvilikhovski, two Bernardine

priests of the place, and Pan Longin Podbipienta. Skshetuski grew a

little pale on seeing them, and half closed his eyes, for he was

reminded of too much to see them without pain; still he gave a calm and

even joyful greeting, inquired where they had been, and was satisfied

with the first convenient answer. Since he looked on the princess as

dead, he wished for nothing, hoped for nothing, and not the slightest

suspicion entered his soul that their long absence related to her. They

made no mention of the object of their journey, though Pan Longin

looked first on one and then on the other with an inquiring glance,

sighed, and turned in his place, wishing to read even a shadow of hope

on their faces. But both were occupied with Pan Yan, whom Volodyovski

seized by the shoulders repeatedly; for his heart grew soft at the

sight of that old and trusty friend, who had passed through so much and

lost so much that he had almost nothing to live for.

"We shall have all the old comrades together again," said he to

Skshetuski, "and you will be happy with us. A war too will come, I see,

such as has not been yet, and with it great delights for every soldier

soul. If God gives you health, you will lead the hussars many a time to

come."

"God has already returned me my health, and I wish nothing more for

myself than to serve while my service is needed."

Skshetuski was in fact well, for youth and his sturdy strength had

conquered the illness within him. Grief had bitten his spirit, but it

could not bite his body. He had merely grown spare and pallid, so that

his forehead, cheeks, and nose seemed formed of church wax. The former

austerity had settled firmly on his face, and there was in it the rigid

repose that we note in the visage of the dead. An increasing number of

silver threads wound through his dark beard. In other regards he

differed in nothing from the rest of men, except, contrary to soldier

custom, he avoided crowds, noise, and drinking. He conversed more

readily with monks, to whose discourse on the life of the cloister and

the life to come he listened with eagerness; but he performed his

service with diligent care, for the expected siege occupied him equally

with all the others.

Soon conversation touched on this subject, for no one in the camp,

castle, and town thought of aught else. Old Zatsvilikhovski asked about

the Tartars and Burlai, with whom he had an acquaintance of ancient

date.

"That's a great warrior," said he. "It is too bad that he should rise

against the country with others. We served together at Khotím. He was

still a youth, but already gave promise of ripening into an uncommon

man."

"But he is from the Trans-Dnieper, and leads men of that region," said

Skshetuski. "How is it, father, that he is now marching from the south,

from the direction of Kamenyets?"

"It seems," answered the old man, "that Hmelnitski fixed winter

quarters for him there on purpose, since Tugai Bey remained on the

Dnieper, and that great murza has a hatred for him from former times.

No one has cut up the Tartars like Burlai."

"And now he will be a comrade to them?"

"Yes," said Zatsvilikhovski, "such are the times. But Hmelnitski will

watch and keep them from devouring each other."

"When do they expect Hmelnitski here, father?" asked Volodyovski.

"Any day. But who can tell? The commanders should send out scout after

scout; but they do not. I was barely able to prevail on them to send

Kushel to the south and Piglovski to Cholganski Kamen. I wished to go

myself, but there are counsels without end. They should send also the

secretary of the Crown with some squadrons. They would better hurry,

lest it be too late. God give us the prince at the earliest moment, or

we shall be met by disgrace like that of Pilavtsi."

"I saw those soldiers as we rode through the square," said Zagloba,

"and I think there are more fools among them than good men. They should

be market-boys, not comrades to us who are enamoured of glory,

esteeming it beyond our own lives."

"What are you talking about?" blurted out the old man. "I do not

belittle your bravery, though once I was of another mind. But all the

knights here are the first soldiers that the Commonwealth has ever had.

Only a head is needed,--a leader! Lantskoronski is a good skirmisher,

but no general; Firlei is old, and as to the cup-bearer, he and Prince

Dominik made a reputation for themselves at Pilavtsi. What wonder that

no one wants to obey them! A soldier will shed his blood freely if sure

that he will not be destroyed without need. But now, instead of

thinking of the siege, they are disputing about positions."

"Are there provisions enough?" asked Zagloba, in alarm.

"Not so many as are necessary; but we are still worse off for

provender. If the siege should last a month, there will be only

shavings and stones for the horses."

"There is still time to get provender," said Volodyovski.

"Then go and tell them so. God give us the prince! I repeat."

"You are not the only one who is sighing for him," interrupted Pan

Longin.

"I know that," answered the old man. "Look out on the square! All at

the walls look with longing eyes toward Old Zbaraj; others in the town

have climbed the towers; and if any one cries in a joke, 'He is

coming,' they are mad with joy. A thirsty stag is not so eager for

water as we for the prince. Oh, if he could only get here before

Hmelnitski! But I think he must have been delayed."

"We too pray, whole days at a time, for his coming," said one of the

Bernardines.

The prayers and wishes of all the knighthood were soon to gain their

object, though the following day brought still greater fears and was

full of ominous prophecies. On Thursday, July 8, a terrific storm raged

over the town and the freshly raised ramparts of the camp. Rain fell in

torrents. A part of the earthworks was swept away. Gnyezna and the two

ponds overflowed. In the evening lightning struck the infantry under

command of Firlei, castellan of Belsk, killed a number of men, and tore

the banner to pieces. This was considered of evil omen,--an evident

sign of the anger of God, the more since Firlei was a Calvinist.

Zagloba proposed that a deputation be sent to him with the request and

prayer to become a Catholic, "for there could be no blessing of God for

an army whose leader was living in disgusting errors hateful to

Heaven." Many shared this opinion; and only the dignity of the

castellan's person and the command prevented the sending of the

deputation. But their courage fell all the more. The storm raged

without interruption. The bulwark, though strengthened with stones,

willows, and stakes, became so soft that the cannon began to sink. They

were obliged to put planks under the howitzers, mortars, and even under

the eight-pounders. In the deep ditches the water roared to the height

of a man. Night brought no rest. The storm drove to the east new

gigantic piles of clouds which, concentrating and discharging with

terrific noise in the heavens, cast out on Zbaraj their whole stock of

rain, thunder, and lightning. Only the servants remained in the tents

at the camp; soldiers, officers, and commanders, with the exception of

the castellan of Kamenyets, took refuge in the town. If Hmelnitski had

come with the storm, he would have taken the camp without a blow.

Next day it was a little better, though rain was still falling. About

five o'clock in the afternoon the wind drove away the clouds, the blue

sky opened above the camp, and in the direction of Old Zbaraj a

splendid seven-colored rainbow was shining. The mighty arc with one arm

extended beyond Old Zbaraj, while the other, seeming to drink in the

moisture of the Black Forest, glittered, changed, and played on the

background of fleeing clouds. That moment confidence entered all

hearts. The knights returned to the camp and stood on the slippery

bulwark to gladden their eyes with the sight of the rainbow.

Immediately they began to talk loudly and to guess what this favorable

sign might announce, when Volodyovski, standing with others over the

very ditch, covered his panther eyes with his hand and cried,--

"Troops are coming from under the rainbow!"

There was a stir as if a whirlwind had moved the human mass, and then a

sudden murmur. The words "Troops are coming!" flew like an arrow from

one end of the rampart to the other. The soldiers began to crowd and

push, gathering in groups. Murmurs rose and fell; still all hands

rested above the eyes; all eyes were turned, strained with effort, into

the distance; hearts were throbbing; and all, holding the breath in

their breasts, were suspended between hope and fear. Then something

began to sway, and swayed still more definitely, and rose out of the

distance, and approached still nearer, and became still more distinctly

visible, till at last the banners, flags, and bunchuks appeared, later

a forest of streamers. The eyes doubted no longer,--it was an army.

Then one gigantic shout rose from the breasts of all, a shout of

inconceivable joy,--

"Yeremi! Yeremi! Yeremi!"

The oldest soldiers were simply seized with frenzy. Some threw

themselves from the ramparts, waded through the ditch, and hurried on

foot through the water-covered plain to the advancing regiments; others

rushed to their horses; some laughed; others wept, placing their hands

together and crying: "Our father is coming,--our savior, our chief!" It

might have seemed that the siege was raised, Hmelnitski finished, and

the victory won.

Meanwhile the regiments of the prince had drawn so near that the

banners could be distinguished. In advance came, as usual, the light

regiments of the prince's Tartars, the Cossacks, and the Wallachians,

after them Makhnitski's foreign infantry, then the cannon of Vershul,

the dragoons, and the heavy hussar regiments. The rays of the sun

reflected on their armor and on the points of their upraised lances.

All marched in unusual splendor, as if the halo of victory were around

them.

Skshetuski, standing with Pan Longin on the ramparts, recognized from

afar his own squadron, which he had left in Zamost, and his faded

cheeks colored a little; he drew several deep breaths, as if he had

thrown some great weight from his breast, and his eyes grew glad; for

days of superhuman toil were near him too, as well as heroic struggles

which heal the heart better than all, and hurl down painful memories

deeper and deeper somewhere into the bottom of the soul.

The regiments continued to approach, and barely a thousand yards

separated them from the camp. The officers too had hurried up in order

to witness the entrance of the prince; the three commanders also, and

with them Pan Pshiyemski, Pan Konyetspolski, Pan Marek Sobieski,

starosta of Krasnostav, Pan Korf, and all the other officers, as well

of Polish as foreign command. All shared in the universal joy; and

especially Lantskoronski, one of the commanders, who was more a knight

than a general, but enamoured of military glory. He stretched his baton

in the direction from which Yeremi was coming, and called in a voice so

loud that all heard him,--

"There is our supreme chief, and I am the first to give him my command

and my office."

The regiments of the prince began to enter the camp. They were three

thousand men in all; but the courage of the garrison increased by a

hundred thousand, for they were the victors from Pogrébische,

Nyemiroff, Makhnovka, and Konstantinoff. Then acquaintances and friends

greeted one another. After the light regiments Vershul's artillery came

in at last with difficulty, bringing twelve cannon. The prince, who had

sent his regiments from Old Zbaraj, entered after sunset. All that was

living assembled to greet him. The soldiers, taking lamps, candles,

torches, bits of pitch-pine, surrounded the prince's steed and barred

his advance. The horse was caught by the bridle, so that the warriors

might sate their eyes with the sight of the hero; they kissed his

garments, and almost bore him away on their shoulders. The excitement

rose to that degree that not only soldiers of his own regiments but of

foreign companies declared they would serve three months without pay.

The throng became denser each moment, so that he was unable to move a

step. He sat then on his white steed, surrounded by the soldiery as a

shepherd by his flocks, and there was no end to shouts and applause.

The evening was calm and clear, thousands of stars glittered in the

dark sky, and then appeared favorable omens. Just as Lantskoronski

approached the prince to deliver the baton into his hand, one of the

stars, torn away from the sky and drawing after it a stream of light,

fell with a noise, and was quenched in the direction of Konstantinoff,

from which Hmelnitski had to come. "That is Hmelnitski's star!" shouted

the soldiers. "A miracle! a miracle!" "An evident sign!" "Vivat Yeremi

victor!" repeated a thousand voices. Then Lantskoronski approached and

gave a sign with his hand that he wanted to speak. Immediately there

was silence, and he said,--

"The king gave me this baton, but into your more worthy hands do I

yield it, wishing to be first to obey your orders."

"And we are with him," repeated two other commanders.

Three batons were extended to the prince; but he drew back his hand,

saying, "It was not I that gave them, and I will not receive them."

"Let there be a fourth with the three," said Firlei.

"Vivat Vishnyevetski! vivat the commanders!" shouted the knights. "We

will die together!"

At that moment the prince's steed raised his head, shook his

purple-stained mane, and neighed mightily, so that all the horses in

the camp answered him in one voice.

This too was considered prophetic of victory. The soldiers had fire in

their eyes; their hearts were hot with thirst for battle; the quiver of

eagerness ran through their bodies. The officers shared the universal

ecstasy. Prince Ostrorog wept and prayed. Lantskoronski and the

starosta of Krasnostav began first to wave their sabres, encouraging

the soldiers, who, running to the edge of the rampart and stretching

out their hands in the darkness, shouted in the direction from which

they expected the enemy,--

"Come on, dog-brothers! You will find us ready for you!"

That night no man slept in the camp, and till daybreak there was

thunder of shouts with the rushing to and fro of lamps and torches.

In the morning Pan Serakovski, secretary of the Crown, came with a

scouting-party from Cholganski Kamen, and brought news that the enemy

were twenty-five miles from the camp. The party had a battle with a

superior force of Tartars, in which the two Mankovskis and Pan Oleksich

had fallen, with a number of good soldiers. The informants brought in

declared that behind this body the Khan and Hmelnitski were marching

with all their forces. The day passed in waiting and preparations for

defence. The prince, having taken the command, without further delay

put the army in order; he showed each part where to stand, how to

defend itself, and how to give succor to the rest. The best spirit

reigned in the camp, discipline was restored, and instead of the former

confusion, antagonism of authority, and uncertainty, accuracy and order

were everywhere present. Before mid-day all were in their places. The

pickets thrown out before the camp reported at intervals what was doing

in the neighborhood. The camp attendants despatched to the adjacent

villages brought in provisions and forage, whatever was yet to be

found. Soldiers standing on the ramparts chatted merrily and sang, and

they passed the night slumbering by the fires, sabre in hand, with the

same readiness as if the assault might begin at any moment.

At daylight something dark began to appear in the direction of

Vishnyovets. The bells in the town rang an alarm, and in the camp the

prolonged plaintive sound of the trumpets roused the soldiers to

wakefulness. The infantry regiments mounted the ramparts, the cavalry

took position in the intervals, ready to rush forward at the signal of

attack, and through the whole length of the ditch ascended slender

streaks of smoke from the lighted matches.

At this moment the prince appeared on his white steed. He was in silver

armor, but without a helmet. Not the least concern was visible on his

forehead, but gladness shone out of his eyes and his face.

"We have guests, gentlemen, we have guests!" he repeated, riding along

the ramparts.

Silence followed, and then could be heard the waving of banners, which

the light breath of air now raised and now wound around the staffs.

Meanwhile the enemy came so near that it was possible to take them in

with the eye.

This was the first wave; not Hmelnitski himself, with the Khan, but a

reconnoitring party made up of thirty thousand chosen Tartars, armed

with bows, muskets, and sabres. Having captured fifteen hundred men

sent out for provisions, they went in a dense mass from Vishnyovets;

then, stretching out in a long crescent, they began to ride around from

the opposite side toward Old Zbaraj.

The prince, satisfied that this was merely a party, ordered the cavalry

out of the intrenchments. The voices of command were heard; the

regiments began to move and issue from behind the ramparts like bees

from a hive. The plain was soon filled with men and horses. From a

distance could be seen the captains riding around the squadrons and

putting them in line of battle. The horses snorted playfully, and

sometimes their neighing went through the ranks. Then from out this

mass pushed forth two squadrons of Tartars and Cossacks, and advanced

on a light trot; their bows shook on their shoulders, and their caps

glittered. They rode in silence: and at their head was the red Vershul,

whose horse reared under him as though wild, throwing his front hoofs

in the air as if wishing to escape the bit and spring at once into the

tumult. The blue of heaven was unspotted by a cloud; the day was clear,

transparent, and the assailants were visible as on the palm of the

hand.

Now there appeared from the side of Old Zbaraj a small wagon-train of

the prince, which had not succeeded in entering with the army, and was

hurrying with all its might to escape capture at a blow by the Tartars.

Indeed it had not escaped their glance, and the long crescent moved

swiftly toward it. Cries of "Allah!" flew to the ears of the infantry

on the ramparts; the squadrons of Vershul shot on like a whirlwind to

the rescue.

But the crescent arrived at the train sooner, and engirdled it in a

moment as if with a black ribbon; and simultaneously several thousand

of the horde turned with an unearthly howl to surround Vershul in like

manner. Here might be noted the experience of Vershul and the skill of

his soldiers. Seeing that they were flanking him on right and left, he

divided his forces into three parts and sprang to the sides; then he

divided them into four, then into two; and each time the enemy had to

turn with his whole line, for he had no opponent in front and his wings

were already broken. The fourth time they met breast to breast; but

Vershul struck with all his force in the weakest part, burst through,

and immediately found himself in the rear of the enemy, whom he left,

and rushed like a tempest to the train, regardless of pursuit.

Old soldiers, beholding this from the ramparts, stood with armored

hands on their hips, crying: "May the bullets strike them, only the

prince's captains lead in that style!"

Then Vershul struck in the form of a sharp wedge the ring surrounding

the tabor, and pierced it as an arrow pierces a man. In the twinkle of

an eye he was in the centre. Now instead of two battles there raged

one, but all the more stubborn. It was a marvellous sight. In the

centre of the plain was a small tabor, like a moving fortress, throwing

out long streaks of smoke and vomiting fire; without, a black and

wildly moving swarm, as one gigantic eddy followed another, horses

fleeing without riders; within, noise, uproar, and the thunder of guns.

In one place some were rushing through others, in another they

struggled unbroken. As a wild boar at bay defends himself with his

white tusks and tears the raging dogs, so that tabor in the midst of

the cloud of Tartars defended itself desperately, hoping that

assistance greater than Vershul's would come from the camp.

The red coats of the dragoons of Kushel and Volodyovski soon twinkled

on the field. You would have said they were red leaves of flowers

driven by the wind. They rushed to the cloud of Tartars and disappeared

in it as in a black forest; so for a time they were invisible, but the

uproar increased. The troops wondered why the prince did not send force

enough at once to the succor of the surrounded; but he delayed, wishing

to show exactly what he sent, and in this way to raise their courage

and prepare them for still greater perils.

However, the fire in the tabor grew weak; it was evident they had no

time to load, or the barrels of the muskets had grown hot. The shouts

of the Tartars increased continually; the prince therefore gave a

signal, and three hussar squadrons--one (his guard) under Skshetuski,

the second under the starosta of Krasnostav, the third a royal squadron

under Piglovski--rushed to the battle from the camp. They struck them

as an axe strikes; they broke the ring of Tartars at once, threw them

back, scattered them, pressed them to the woods, re-dispersed and drove

them more than a mile from the camp. The little tabor entered the

intrenchments in safety, amidst joyous shouts and the thunder of

cannon.

The Tartars, however, feeling that Hmelnitski and the Khan were

following, did not disappear altogether, but came again, and shouting

"Allah!" galloped around the whole camp, occupying at the same

time the roads, highways, and villages, from which pillars of black

smoke were soon rising to the sky. Many of their skirmishers came

near the trenches; against these the soldiers of the prince and the

quarter-soldiers rushed out at once, singly and in parties, especially

from the Tartar, Wallachian, and dragoon squadrons.

Vershul was unable to take part in the skirmishes; for, struck six

times in the head while defending the tabor, he lay as if dead in the

tent. Volodyovski, red as a lobster, though untouched, still

unsatisfied, took his place, and moved first to the field. These

skirmishes, at which the infantry and heavy cavalry looked from the

camp as at a spectacle, lasted till evening. Sometimes one side

excelled, sometimes the other; they fought in groups or singly;

captives were taken alive. But Pan Michael, as soon as he struck any

one and finished him, turned again, and his red uniform circled over

the whole field of battle. At last Skshetuski pointed him out from a

distance to Lantskoronski as a curiosity, for as often as he met with a

Tartar it might be said that lightning had struck that man. Zagloba,

though beyond the hearing of Pan Michael, encouraged him with shouts

from the ramparts. From time to time he turned to the soldiers standing

around, and said,--

"Look, gentlemen! I taught him to use the sabre. Well done! If he goes

on, with God's help, he will equal me soon."

But now the sun had gone down, and each skirmisher began to withdraw

slowly from the field, on which remained only bodies of horses and men.

From the town the first sounds of the "Ave Maria" were heard.

Night fell gradually; still darkness did not come, for fires in the

country about gave light. Zalostsitse, Barzyntse, Lublyanki, Striyovka,

Kretovitse, Zarudzie, Vakhlovka were burning; and the whole vicinity,

as far as the eye could reach, was blazing in one conflagration. The

smoke in the night became red; the stars were shining on the rosy

background of the sky. Clouds of birds rose from the forests, thickets,

and ponds with a tremendous noise, circled in the air lighted by the

burning, and looked like flying flames. The cattle in the camp,

terrified by the unusual spectacle, began to bellow plaintively.

"It cannot be," said old soldiers to one another in the trenches, "that

the Tartars of that party have set such fires; surely Hmelnitski, with

the Cossacks and the whole horde, are advancing."

These were not empty surmises, for Pan Serakovski had brought

intelligence on the preceding day that the Zaporojian hetman and the

Khan were in the rear of that party. They were expected therefore with

certainty. The soldiers were in the trenches to a man; the citizens

were on the roofs and towers; all hearts were unquiet; women were

sobbing in the churches, stretching out their hands to the most holy

sacrament. Uncertainty, worse than all, oppressed with immeasurable

weight the town, the castle, and the camp.

But it did not last long. Night had not fallen completely when the

first ranks of the Cossacks and Tartars appeared on the horizon; then

the second, third, tenth, hundredth, thousandth. You would have said

all the forests and groves had torn themselves suddenly from their

roots, and were marching on Zbaraj. In vain did the eye seek the end of

those ranks; as far as the eye reached swarms of men and horses were

blackening, vanishing in the smokes and fires of the distance. They

moved like clouds, or like locusts which cover the whole country with

their terrible moving mass. Before them went the threatening rumble of

human voices, like wind in a forest among the branches of the ancient

pines; then, halting about a mile and a quarter away, they began to

settle down and make fires for the night.

"You see the fires," whispered the soldiers; "they extend farther than

a horse could go in one journey."

"Jesus and Mary!" said Zagloba to Skshetuski. "I tell you there is a

lion in me and I feel no alarm; but I would that a blazing thunderbolt

might crush them all before morning. As God is dear to me, there are

too many of them. Unless perhaps in the valley of Jehoshaphat there

will not be a greater crowd. And tell me, what do those scoundrels

want? Would not every dog-brother of them be better at home, working

his serfage peaceably for his land? What fault is it of ours if God has

made us nobles and them trash, and commanded them to obey? Tfu! I am

beside myself with rage. I am a mild-mannered man, soft as a plaster;

but let them not rouse me to anger! They have had too much freedom, too

much bread; they have multiplied like mice in a barn; and now they are

dying to get at the cats. Ah, wait! There is one cat here called

Yeremi, and another called Zagloba. What do you think, will those two

enter upon negotiations? If the rebels had surrendered with obedience,

then their lives might be granted, might they not? One thing disturbs

me continually,--are there provisions enough in the camp? Oh, to the

devil! Look, gentlemen; fires beyond fires, and still fires! May black

death fall on such a crowd!"

"Why talk about treaties," said Skshetuski, "when they think they have

us all under their hands, and will get us to-morrow?"

"But they won't get us, will they?" asked Zagloba.

"Well, the will of God for that. In any case, since the prince is here,

it won't come easy to them."

"You have consoled me indeed. I do not care that it should not come

easy to them, but that it should not come at all."

"It is no small pleasure for a soldier not to yield his life for

nothing."

"True, true! But may lightning strike the whole affair, and your

consolation with it!"

At that moment Podbipienta and Volodyovski approached.

"They say that the Cossacks with the horde are half a million strong,"

said the Lithuanian.

"I wish that you had lost your tongue," said Zagloba; "you have brought

good tidings."

"It is easier to kill them in assault than in the field," continued Pan

Longin, mildly.

"Now that our prince and Hmelnitski have met at last, there will be no

talk about negotiations. Either master or monk.[18] To-morrow will be

the day of judgment," said Volodyovski, rubbing his hands.

He was right. In that war the two most terrible lions had not yet stood

eye to eye. One had crushed the hetmans and the commanders; the other

powerful Cossack atamans. On the footsteps of both followed victory;

each was a terror to his enemies. But whose side will be weightiest in

a direct encounter? This was to be decided now. Vishnyevetski looked

from the intrenchments on the countless myriads of Tartars and

Cossacks, and strove in vain to embrace them with the eye. Hmelnitski

looked from the field on the castle and camp, thinking in his soul: "My

most terrible enemy is there; when I have finished with him, who can

oppose me?"

It was easy to guess that the conflict between these two men would be

long and stubborn, but the result could not be doubtful. That prince in

Lubni and Vishnyovets stood at the head of fifteen thousand troops,

counting the camp-servants; while the peasant chieftain was followed by

mobs, from the Sea of Azoff and the Don to the mouth of the Danube. The

Khan too marched with him at the head of the Crimean, Bélgorod, Nogai,

and Dobrudja hordes; men marched with him who dwelt on the tributaries

of the Dniester and the Dnieper, men from the lower country, and a

countless rabble from the steppes, ravines, woods, towns, hamlets,

villages, and farms, and all who had formerly served in private

regiments or those of the Crown; Cherkes,[19] Wallachians, Silistrians,

Rumelians, Turks, bands of Serbs and Bulgarians were also in that host.

It might appear that a new migration of nations had abandoned the

dreary abodes on the steppes, and were moving westward to win fresh

lands and found a new kingdom.

This was the relation of the struggling forces,--a handful against

legions, an island against the sea. No wonder then that many a heart

was beating with alarm. Not only in that town, not only in that corner

of the land, but in the whole Commonwealth they looked on that lonely

trench, surrounded by a deluge of wild warriors, as the tomb of great

knights and their mighty chief.

Hmelnitski too looked on it in just the same way; for scarcely were the

fires well kindled in his camps, when a Cossack envoy began to wave a

white flag before the trenches, to sound a trumpet, and cry out not to

shoot.

The guards went and brought him in at once.

"From the hetman to Prince Yeremi," said he to them.

The prince had not yet dismounted, and was on the bulwark with face as

calm as the sky. The flames were reflected in his eyes, and invested

his delicate white countenance with rosy light. The Cossack standing

before the face of the prince lost his speech; his legs trembled under

him, and a shiver went through his body though he was an old wolf of

the steppes and had come as an envoy.

"Who are you?" asked the prince, fixing his calm glance upon him.

"I am the sotnik Sokol,--from the hetman."

"And why have you come?"

The sotnik began to make bows as low as the stirrups of the prince.

"Pardon me, lord! I tell what has been commanded me. I am to blame in

nothing."

"Speak boldly!"

"The hetman commanded me to inform you that he has come as a guest to

Zbaraj, and will visit you in the castle to-morrow."

"Tell him that not to-morrow, but to-day I give a feast in the castle,"

answered the prince.

In fact an hour later the mortars were thundering salutes, joyous

shouts were raised; all the windows of the castle shone with a thousand

gleaming lights.

The Khan, hearing the salutes of the cannon and the sound of trumpets

and drums, went out in front of the tent in company with his brother

Nureddin, the Sultan Galga, Tugai Bey, and many murzas, and later sent

for Hmelnitski.

The hetman, though he had been drinking, appeared at once. Bowing and

placing his fingers to his forehead, his beard, and his breast, he

waited for the question.

The Khan looked long at the castle, shining in the distance like a

gigantic lantern, and nodded his head slightly. At last he passed his

hand over his thin beard, which fell in two long tresses upon his

weasel-skin shuba, and asked, pointing to the gleaming windows,--

"Zaporojian hetman, what is that?"

"Most mighty Tsar," answered Hmelnitski, "that is Prince Yeremi giving

a feast."

The Khan was astonished. "A feast?"

"He is giving a feast for the slain of to-morrow," said Hmelnitski.

That moment new discharges thundered from the castle, the trumpets

sounded, and mingled shouts reached the worthy ears of the Khan. "God

is one!" muttered he. "There is a lion in the heart of that infidel."

And after a moment of silence he added: "I should rather be with him

than with you."

Hmelnitski trembled. He paid for the indispensable Tartar friendship,

and besides was not sure of his terrible ally. Any whim of the Khan,

and all the hordes might turn against the Cossacks, who would be lost

beyond redemption. Hmelnitski knew this, and knew too that the Khan was

aiding him really for the sake of plunder, gifts, and unfortunate

captives, and still looking upon himself as a legitimate monarch, was

ashamed in his soul to stand on the side of rebellion against a king,

on the side of such a "Hmel" against such a Vishnyevetski. The hetman

of the Cossacks often got drunk, not from habit alone, but from

desperation.

"Great monarch," said he, "Yeremi is your enemy. It was he who took the

Trans-Dnieper from the Tartars; he hanged, murdered murzas like wolves

on the trees, as a terror; he intended to visit the Crimea with fire

and sword."

"And have you not done damage in the uluses?" asked the Khan.

"I am your slave."

The blue lips of Tugai Bey began to quiver. He had among the Cossacks a

deadly enemy, who in his time had cut a whole chambul to pieces and

almost captured him. The name of that man was pressing to his mouth

from the implacable power of revengeful memories; he did not restrain

himself, and began to snarl in a low voice: "Burlai! Burlai!"

"Tugai Bey," said Hmelnitski, immediately, "you and Burlai, at the

exalted and wise command of the Khan, poured water on your swords the

past year."

A new salvo of artillery from the castle interrupted further

conversation.

The Khan stretched out his hand and described a circle with it

enclosing Zbaraj, the town, the castle, and the trench. "To-morrow will

that be mine?" asked he, turning to Hmelnitski.

"To-morrow they will die there," answered Hmelnitski, with eyes

fastened on the castle. Then he bowed again, and touched with his hand

his forehead, beard, and breast, considering the conversation ended.

The Khan wrapped himself in his weasel-skin shuba,--for the night was

cool, though in July,--and said, turning toward the tent: "It is late

already!"

Then all began to nod as if moved by one power, and he went to the tent

slowly and with dignity repeating in a low voice: "God is one!"

Hmelnitski withdrew also, and on the road to his quarters muttered:

"I'll give you the castle, the town, booty, and captives; but Yeremi

will be mine, even if I have to pay for him with my life."

Gradually the fires began to grow dim and die, gradually the dull

murmur of thousands of voices grew still; but here and there was heard

the report of a musket, or the calling of Tartar herdsmen driving their

horses to pasture. Then those voices were silent, and sleep embraced

the countless legions of Tartars and Cossacks.

But at the castle there was feasting and revelry as at a wedding. In

the camp all expected that the storm would take place on the morrow.

Indeed the throngs of the mob, Cossacks, Tartars, and other wild

warriors marching with Hmelnitski had been moving from early morning,

and approached the trenches like dark clouds rolling to the summit of a

mountain. The soldiers, though they had tried in vain the day before to

count the fires, were benumbed now at the sight of this sea of heads.

This was not yet a real storm, but an examination of the field, the

intrenchments, the ditch, the ramparts, and the whole Polish camp. And

as a swollen wave of the sea, which the wind urges from afar, rolls,

advances, rears itself, foams, strikes with a roar and then falls back,

so did they strike in one place and another, withdraw, and strike

again, as if testing the resistance, as if wishing to convince

themselves whether the very sight of them by numbers alone would not

crush the spirit of the enemy before they would crush the body.

They fired cannon too, and the balls began to fall thickly about the

camp, from which answer was given with eight-pounders and small arms.

At the same time there appeared a procession on the ramparts with the

most holy sacrament in order to freshen the benumbed soldiers. The

priest Mukhovetski carried the gilded monstrance; holding it with both

hands above his face and sometimes raising it on high, he moved on

under a baldachin, calm, with closed eyes and an ascetic face. At his

side walked two priests supporting him under the arms,--Yaskolski,

chaplain of the hussars, a famous soldier in his time, in military art

as experienced as any chief; and Jabkovski, also an ex-soldier, a

gigantic Bernardine, second in strength only to Pan Longin in the whole

camp. The staffs of the baldachin were supported by four nobles, among

whom was Zagloba; before the baldachin walked sweet-faced young girls

scattering flowers. They passed over the whole length of the ramparts,

and after them the officers of the army. The hearts of the soldiers

rose, daring came to them, fire entered their souls at the sight of the

monstrance shining like the sun, at the sight of the calmness of the

priest, and those maidens clothed in white. The breeze carried about

the strengthening odor of the incense burned in the censers; the heads

of all were bent down with humility. Mukhovetski from time to time

elevated the monstrance and his eyes to heaven, and intoned the hymn,

"Before so great a sacrament."

The powerful voices of Yaskolski and Jabkovski continued, "We fall on

our faces;" and the whole army sang, "Let the old give place to the new

law with its testament!" The deep bass of the cannon accompanied the

hymn, and at times the cannon-balls flew past, roaring above the

baldachin and the priests; sometimes the balls striking lower in the

ramparts scattered earth on the people, so that Zagloba wriggled and

pressed up to the staff. Fear affected especially his hair. When the

procession halted for prayer there was silence, and the balls could be

heard distinctly flying like great birds in a flock. Zagloba merely

reddened the more; the priest Yaskolski looked to the field, and unable

to restrain himself muttered, "They should rear chickens and keep away

from cannon!" for in truth the Cossacks had very bad gunners, and he,

as a former soldier, could not look calmly on such clumsiness and waste

of powder. Again they went on till they reached the other end of the

ramparts, where there had been no great pressure from the enemy. Trying

here and there, especially from the western pond, to see if they could

not create a panic, the Tartars and Cossacks drew back at last to their

own positions, and remained in them without sending out even

skirmishers. Meanwhile the procession had freshened the minds of the

besieged completely.

It was evident that Hmelnitski was waiting for the arrival of his

tabor; still he felt so sure that the first real storm would be

sufficient, that he barely ordered a few trenches to be made for the

cannon and did not undertake other earthworks to threaten the besieged.

The tabor arrived the following day, and took its place near the camp,

wagon after wagon, in a number of tens of rows a mile in length, from

Vernyaki to Dembini. With it came also new forces; namely, the splendid

Zaporojian infantry, almost equal to the Turkish janissaries in storms

and attacks, and far more capable than the Cossacks or the mob.

The memorable day, Tuesday, July 13, was passed in feverish

preparations on both sides. There was no doubt that the assault would

take place, for the trumpets, drums, and kettle-drums were sounding the

alarm from daybreak in the Cossack camp; among the Tartars a great

sacred drum, called the balt, was roaring like thunder. The evening

came, calm and clear, but from both ponds and the Gnyezna thin mists

were rising; at length the first star began to twinkle in the sky.

At that moment sixty Cossack cannon bellowed with one voice; the

countless legions rushed with a terrible cry to the ramparts, and the

storm began. It appeared to the soldiers standing on the ramparts that

the ground was quivering under their feet; the oldest remembered

nothing like it.

"Jesus and Mary! what is that?" asked Zagloba, standing near Skshetuski

among the hussars, in the interval of the rampart; "those are not men

coming against us."

"Of course you know they are not men; the enemy are driving oxen ahead,

so that we may spend the first shots on them."

The old noble became as red as a beet, his eyes were coming out of his

head, and from his mouth burst one word, in which all the rage, all the

terror, all that he could think at that moment was included:

"Scoundrels!"

The oxen, as if mad, urged by wild, half-naked herdsmen with clubs and

burning brands, were insane from fear; they ran forward with an awful

bellowing, now crowding together, now hurrying on, now scattering or

turning to the rear; urged with shouts, burned with fire, lashed with

rawhides, they rushed again toward the ramparts. At last Vurtsel's guns

began to vomit iron and fire; then smoke hid the light, the air was

red, the terrified cattle were as if cut by a thunderbolt. Half of them

fell, and over their bodies went the enemy.

In front ran captives with bags of sand to fill the ditch; they were

stabbed from behind with pikes and scorched with musketry fire. These

were peasants from around Zbaraj, who had been unable to take refuge in

the town before the avalanche came,--young men as well as old, and

women. All ran forward with a shriek, a cry, a stretching of hands to

heaven, and a wailing for mercy. Hair stood on end from the howl, but

pity was dead upon earth at that hour. On one side the pikes of

Cossacks were entering their shoulders; on the other the balls of

Vurtsel mashed the unfortunates, grape-shot tore them to pieces, dug

furrows among them. They ran on, fell, rose again, and went forward;

for the Cossack wave pushed them,--the Cossack, the Turk, and the

Tartar. The ditch was soon filled with bodies, blood, and sand-bags; at

last it was evened, and the enemy rushed over with a shout.

The regiments pushed on, one after another; by the light of the

cannon-fire were to be seen the officers urging forward new regiments

to the ramparts. The choicest men rushed to the quarters and troops of

Yeremi, for at that point Hmelnitski knew the greatest resistance would

be. The kurens of the Saitch therefore came up; after them the

formidable men of Pereyasláv, with Loboda. Voronchenko led the regiment

of Cherkasi, Kulak the Karvoff regiment, Nechai the Bratslav, Stepka

the Uman, Mrozovetski the Korsún regiment; also the men of Kalnik went,

and the strong regiment of Belotserkoff,--fifteen thousand men in all,

and with them Hmelnitski himself, in the fire, red as Satan, exposing

his broad breast to the bullets, with the face of a lion and the eye of

an eagle,--in chaos, smoke, confusion, slaughter, and tempest, in

flames, observant of everything, ordering everything.

After the Zaporojians went the wild Cossacks of the Don; next, Cherkes

fighting with knives; Tugai Bey led chosen Nogais; after them Subahazi,

Bélgorod Tartars; then Kurdluk, swarthy men of Astrakhan, armed with

gigantic bows and arrows, one of which was almost equal to a spear.

They followed one another so closely that the hot breath of those

behind was blown on the necks of those in front.

How many of them fell before they reached the ditch filled with the

bodies of the captives, who shall tell, who shall relate? But they

reached and crossed it, and began to clamber on the ramparts. Then you

would have said that that starry night was the night of the Last

Judgment. The cannon, unable to strike the nearest, bellowed unceasing

fire on the farther ranks. Bombs, describing arcs of fire through the

air, fell with a hellish laughter, making bright day in the darkness.

The German infantry with the Polish land regiments, and at their side

the dismounted dragoons of Vishnyevetski poured fire and lead into the

faces and breasts of the Cossacks.

The first ranks wished to fall back, but pressed from behind they could

not; they died in their tracks. Blood spattered under the feet of the

advancing. The rampart grew slippery; hands, feet, and breasts went

sliding upon it. Men grasped it, and again fell covered with smoke,

black from soot, stabbed, cut, careless of wounds and death. In places

they fought with cold weapons. Men were as if beside themselves from

fury, with grinning teeth and blood-covered faces. The living battled

on top of the quivering mass of wounded and dying. Commands were not

heard; nothing was heard but a general and terrible roar, in which all

sounds were merged,--the thunder of guns, the cough of the wounded, the

groans, and the whistling of bombs.

This gigantic struggle without quarter lasted whole hours. Around the

rampart rose another rampart of corpses, which hindered the approach of

the assailants. The Zaporojians were cut almost to pieces, the men of

Pereyasláv were lying side by side around the ramparts; the Karvoff,

Bratslav, and Uman regiments were decimated; but others pressed on,

pushed forward themselves from behind by the guard of the hetman, the

Rumelian Turks and Tartars of Urum Bey. But disorder rose in the ranks

of the assailants when the Polish land infantry, the Germans, and the

dragoons drew back not a step. Panting, dripping with blood, carried

away with the rage of battle, streaming in sweat, half mad with the

smell of blood, they tore over one another at the enemy, just as raging

wolves rush to a flock of sheep. At that juncture Hmelnitski pressed on

again with the remnants of his first regiments and with the whole

force, as yet intact, of the Belotserkoff Tartars, the Turks and

Cherkes.

The cannon from the ramparts ceased to thunder, and the bombs to flash;

hand-weapons alone were heard through the whole length of the western

rampart. Discharges flashed up anew. Finally, musketry fire also

stopped. Darkness covered the combatants. No eye could see what was

doing there, but something was turning in the darkness like the

gigantic body of a monster cast down in convulsions. Even from the

cries it could not be told whether it gave forth the sounds of triumph

or despair. At times these sounds also ceased, and then could be heard

only one measureless groan, as if it were going out on every side, from

under the earth, over the earth, in the air, higher and higher, as if

spirits were flying away with groans from that field of conflict. But

these were short pauses: after such a moment the uproar and howls rose

with still greater power, ever hoarser and more unearthly.

Then again thundered the fire of musketry. Makhnitski with the rest of

the infantry was coming to aid the wearied regiments. The trumpets

began to sound a retreat in the rear ranks of the Cossacks.

Now came a pause; the Cossack regiments withdrew a furlong from the

ramparts, and stood protected by the corpses of their own men. But a

half-hour had not passed when Hmelnitski rushed on again and hurried

his men to the assault a third time.

But this time Prince Yeremi appeared on the rampart himself, on

horseback. It was easy to know him, for the banner and bunchuk of the

hetman were waving above his head, and before and behind him were borne

a number of tens of torches, shining with blood-colored gleams.

Immediately they opened the artillery on him; but the awkward

cannoneers sent the balls far beyond the Gnyezna, and he stood calm and

gazed upon the approaching clouds.

The Cossacks slackened their gait as if bewitched by the sight.

"Yeremi! Yeremi!" passed in a low murmur, like the sound of a breeze,

through the deep ranks. Standing on the rampart in the midst of the

blood-colored torches, that terrible prince seemed to them like a giant

in a myth tale of the people; therefore a quiver ran over their wearied

limbs, and their hands made signs of the cross.

He stood motionless. He beckoned with the gilded baton, and immediately

an ominous flight of bombs sounded in the air, and fell into the

advancing ranks. The host twisted like a mortally wounded dragon; a cry

of terror flew from one end of the line to the other.

"On a run! on a run!" commanded the Cossack colonels.

The dark mass rushed with all its impetus to the ramparts under which

refuge from the bombs could be found; but they had not passed half the

interval when the prince, ever visible as on the palm of the hand,

turned somewhat to the west and again beckoned with his baton.

At this signal, from the side of the pond, through the space between it

and the ramparts, the cavalry began to push forth, and in the flash of

an eye they poured out on the edge of the shore-level. By the light of

the bombs were perfectly visible the great banners of the hussars of

Skshetuski and Zatsvilikhovski, the dragoons of Kushel and Volodyovski,

with the prince's Tartars, led by Roztvorovski. After them pushed out

still new regiments of the prince's Cossacks and the Wallachians of

Bykhovets. Not only Hmelnitski, but the last camp-follower of the

Cossacks, knew in one moment that the daring chief had determined to

hurl his entire cavalry into the enemy's flank.

That moment the trumpets sounded a retreat in the ranks of the

Cossacks. "Face to the cavalry! Face to the cavalry!" was heard in

alarmed voices. Hmelnitski endeavored simultaneously to change the

front of his troops and defend himself from cavalry with cavalry. But

there was no time. Before he could arrange his ranks the prince's

regiments had started, moving as if on wings, shouting "Kill! slay!"

with rustling of banners, whistling of plumes, and the iron rattle of

arms. The hussars thrust their lances into the wall of the enemy, and

followed themselves, like a hurricane, overturning and crushing

everything on the road. No human power, no command, no leader could

hold the infantry on which their first impetus came. Wild panic seized

the picked guard of the hetman. The men of Belotserkoff threw down

their muskets, pikes, scythes, sabres, and shielding their heads with

their hands in helplessness of terror, with the roar of beasts, they

rushed against the Tartars in the rear. But the Tartars received them

with a storm of arrows. So they rushed to the flank, and ran along the

tabor under the infantry fire and the cannon of Vurtsel, covering the

ground so thickly that it was rare when one did not fall upon another.

But now the wild Tugai Bey, aided by Subahazi and Urum Murza, struck

with rage on the onrush of hussars. He did not hope to break; he wished

merely to restrain them till the Silistrian and Rumelian janissaries

might form in a quadrangle and protect the men of Belotserkoff from the

first panic. He sprang at them as if into smoke, and flew on in the

front rank, not as a leader, but as a simple Tartar; he cut and

killed,--exposed himself with the others. The crooked sabres of the

Nogais rang upon chain-mail and breastplates, and the howl of the

warriors drowned all other voices. But they could not hold out. Pushed

from their places, crushed with the terrible weight of the iron

horsemen, against whom they were unaccustomed to stand with open front,

they were driven toward the janissaries, hacked with long swords,

whirled from their saddles, thrust through, beaten down, twisted like

poisonous reptiles; but they defended themselves with such venom that

in fact the onset of the hussars was stopped. Tugai Bey rushed like a

destroying flame, and the Nogais went with him, as wolves with their

female.

Still they gave way, falling more frequently on the plain. When the cry

of "Allah!" thundering from the field, announced that the janissaries

had formed, Skshetuski rushed on the raging Tugai Bey, and struck him

on the head with a double-handed sword. But it was evident either that

the knight had not regained his whole strength, or perhaps the helmet

forged in Damascus withstood the blow; it is enough that the blade

turned on the head, and striking with the side was shivered to

fragments. But that instant darkness covered the eyes of Tugai Bey; he

dropped into the arms of his Nogais, who, seizing their leader, hurried

away on two sides with a terrible uproar, like a cloud blown by a

mighty wind. All the prince's cavalry was then in front of the

Silistrian and Rumelian janissaries and Mohammedanized Serbs, who

together with the janissaries formed one great quadrangle, and were

withdrawing slowly to the tabor with their front to the enemy,

bristling with muskets, lances, javelins, battle-axes, and swords.

The squadrons of armored dragoons and the Cossacks of the prince rushed

on like a whirlwind; and in the very front, with a roar and heavy

tramp, Skshetuski's hussars. He flew on himself in the first rank, and

at his side Pan Longin on his Livonian mare, his terrible broadsword in

his hand.

A red ribbon of fire flies from one end of the quadrangle to the other;

bullets whistle in the ears of the riders; here and there a man groans,

here and there a horse falls. The line of cavalry is broken, but pushes

on,--is approaching. The janissaries now hear the snorting and blown

breath of the horses; the quadrangle forms more closely still, and

inclines its wall of spears, held by sinewy arms, against the furious

chargers. How many points are in that wall? With how many deaths does

it threaten the knights?

Just then a certain hussar of gigantic size rushes upon the wall of the

quadrangle with an irresistible impulse; in a moment the forefeet of

his great horse are in the air; and the knight with his steed falls

into the middle of the throng, splintering lances, overturning men,

breaking, mashing, destroying. As an eagle swoops on a flock of white

partridges, and they, crouching before him in a timid group, become the

prey of the robber, who grasps them in his talons and his beak, so Pan

Longin Podbipienta, falling into the midst of the enemy, rages with his

broadsword. And never has a whirlwind made such destruction in a young

and thick forest as he is making in the throng of janissaries. He is

terrible; his form assumes superhuman proportions. His mare becomes

a species of dragon, snorting flame from her nostrils; and the

double-handed sword triples itself in the hands of the knight.

Kislar-Bak, a gigantic aga, hurls himself upon him and falls, cut in

two. In vain do the strongest men put forth their hands, stopping him

with their spears. They die as if struck by lightning. He tramples

them, pushes on to the densest throng, and when he strikes they fall,

like grass beneath the scythe. An open space is made; the uproar of

terror is heard,--groans, the thunder of blows, the biting of steel on

the helmets, and the snorting of the infernal mare.

"A div! a div!"[20] cried terrified voices.

That instant the iron mass of the hussars, with Skshetuski at the head

of it, bore down the gate opened by the Lithuanian. The walls of the

quadrangle burst, like the walls of a falling house, and the masses of

janissaries rushed fleeing in every direction.

It was not a moment too soon, for the Nogais under Subahazi were

returning to the fight like bloodthirsty wolves, and from the other

side Hmelnitski, rallying the men of Belotserkoff, was coming to the

aid of the janissaries; but now everything was in confusion. Cossacks,

Tartars, renegade Serbs, janissaries, fled in the greatest disorder and

panic to the tabors, giving no resistance. The cavalry pressed on them,

cutting as they came. Those who did not perish in the first furlong

perished in the second. The pursuit was so envenomed that the squadrons

went ahead of the rear ranks of the fugitives; their hands grew weary

from hewing. The fugitives threw away arms, banners, caps, and even

coats. The white caps of the janissaries covered the field, like snow.

The entire chosen force of Hmelnitski's infantry, cavalry, artillery,

the auxiliary Tartar and Turkish divisions formed one disorderly mass;

distracted, wild, blinded with terror, whole companies fled before one

man. The hussars, having broken the infantry and cavalry, had done

their work; now the dragoons and light squadrons emulated them, and

with Volodyovski and Kushel at their head extended this catastrophe,

passing human belief. Blood covered the terrible field, and plashed

like water under the violent blows of the horse-hoofs, sprinkling the

armor and faces of the knights.

The fleeing crowds were resting in the centre of their tabors when the

trumpets called back the cavalry of the prince. The knights returned

with singing and shouts of joy, counting on the way with their

streaming sabres the corpses of the enemy. But who could with a cast of

his eye estimate the extent of the defeat? Who could count all when at

the trench itself bodies were lying to the height of a man? Soldiers

were as if dizzy from the odor of the blood and the sweat. Fortunately

from the side of the ponds there was rather a strong breeze, which

carried the odor to the tents of the enemy.

Thus ended the first meeting of the terrible Yeremi and Hmelnitski.

But the storm was not ended; for while Vishnyevetski was repulsing the

attacks directed against the right wing of the camp, Burlai on the left

barely missed becoming master of the ramparts. Having surrounded the

town and the castle in silence at the head of his warriors of the

Trans-Dnieper, he pushed on to the eastern pond, and fell violently

upon Firlei's quarters. The Hungarian infantry stationed there were

unable to withstand the attack, for the ramparts at that pond were not

yet completed; the first squadron fled from its banner; Burlai sprang

to the centre, and after him his men, like an irresistible torrent. The

shouts of victory reached the opposite end of the camp. The Cossacks,

rushing after the fugitive Hungarians, scattered a small division of

cavalry, captured a number of cannon, and were coming to the quarters

of the castellan of Belsk, when Pan Pshiyemski at the head of a number

of German companies hurried to the rescue. Stabbing the flag-bearer

with a single thrust, he seized the flag, and hurled himself on

the enemy. Then the Germans closed with the Cossacks. A fearful

hand-to-hand struggle raged, in which on one side the fury and crushing

numbers of Burlai's legions, on the other the bravery of the old lions

of the Thirty Years' War, were contending for superiority. In vain

Burlai pressed into the densest ranks of the combatants, like a wounded

wild boar. Neither the contempt of death with which the Cossacks fought

nor their endurance could stop the irresistible Germans, who going

forward in a wall, struck with such force that they swept them out of

their places, pushed them against the trenches, decimated them, and

after half an hour's struggle drove them beyond the ramparts.

Pshiyemski, covered with blood, first planted the banner on the

unfinished bulwark.

Burlai's position was now desperate,--he had to retreat on the same

road by which he had come; and since Yeremi had crushed the assailants

on his right wing, he could easily cut off Burlai's whole division. It

is true that Mrozovetski had come to his aid with his mounted Cossacks

of Korsún; but at that moment the hussars of Konyetspolski, supported

by Skshetuski returning from the attack on the janissaries, fell upon

Burlai, hitherto retreating in order.

With a single onset they scattered his forces, and then began a fearful

slaughter. The Cossacks, having the road to the camp closed, had open

to them only the road to death. Some without asking for quarter

defended themselves with desperation, in groups or singly; others

stretched forth their hands in vain to the cavalry, thundering like a

hurricane over the field. Then began pursuit, artifice, single

struggles, search for the enemy hidden in holes or uneven places.

Tar-buckets were now thrown out from the trenches to light up the

field. These flew like fiery meteors with flaming manes. By the aid of

these red gleams they finished the remainder of the Trans-Dnieper

Cossacks.

Subahazi, who had shown wonders of valor that day, sprang to the aid of

the Cossacks; but the brave Marek Sobieski, starosta of Krasnostav,

stopped him on the spot, as a lion stops a wild buffalo. Burlai saw now

that there was no salvation for him from any side. But, Burlai, thou

didst love thy Cossack glory beyond life; therefore thou didst not seek

for safety. Others escaped in the darkness, hid themselves in openings,

slipped out between the feet of horses; but he still sought the enemy.

He cut down with his own hand Pan Dombka and Pan Rusitski, and the

young lion Pan Aksak, the same who had covered himself with undying

glory at Konstantinoff; then Pan Savitski; then he stretched out

together two winged hussars upon their native earth. At last, seeing a

noble enormous in size coursing over the field and roaring like an

aurochs, he sprang forward and went at him like a glittering flame.

Zagloba, for it was he, bellowed still louder from fear, and turned his

horse in flight. What hair he had left stood straight on his head; but

still he did not lose his presence of mind. Stratagems were flashing

through his head like lightning, and at the same time he roared with

all his power: "Whoever believes in God!" and he drove like a whirlwind

toward the thickest mass of Polish cavalry. Burlai was heading him off

from the side, as a bow the string. Zagloba closed his eyes, and in his

head a voice was roaring, "I shall perish now with my fleas!" He heard

behind him the rushing of the horse, saw that no one was coming to his

aid, that there was no escape, and that no other hand but his own could

tear him from the grasp of Burlai. But in that last moment, almost in

the agony of death, his despair and terror suddenly turned to rage; he

bellowed as no wild bull has ever bellowed, and wheeling his horse in

his tracks, turned against his opponent.

"You are pursuing Zagloba!" cried he, pushing on with drawn sabre.

At that moment a new lot of burning tar-buckets was thrown from the

trenches, and there was light. Burlai saw and was astounded. He was not

astounded at hearing the name, for he had never heard it in his life

before; but he was astounded when he recognized the man whom a short

time before he had feasted in Yampol as the friend of Bogun. But just

that unfortunate moment of surprise destroyed the brave leader of the

Cossacks, for before he recollected himself Zagloba cut him on the

temple, and with one blow rolled him from his horse.

This was in view of the whole army. A joyful shout from the hussars

answered a cry of terror from the Cossacks, who seeing the death of

their old lion of the Black Sea, lost the rest of their courage, and

abandoned all resistance. Those who were not rescued by Subahazi

perished to a man; no prisoners were taken in that night of terror.

Subahazi fled to the camp, pursued by Sobieski and the light cavalry.

The assault along the whole line of trenches was repulsed; only near

the Cossack tabor was the cavalry sent out by the prince in pursuit

still at work.

A shout of triumph and joy shook the whole camp of the attacked, and

mighty cries went up to heaven. The bloody soldiers, covered with

sweat, dust, black from powder, with raging faces and brows still

contracted, with fire still unquenched in their eyes, stood leaning on

their weapons, catching the air with their breasts, ready again to rush

to the fight if the need should come. But the cavalry too returned

gradually from the bloody harvest near the tabor. Then the prince

himself rode out on the field, and behind him the commanders, the

standard-bearer, Marek Sobieski, and Pshiyemski. All that brilliant

retinue moved slowly along the intrenchment.

"Long live Yeremi!" cried out the army. "Long live our father!"

The prince, without helmet, inclined his head and his baton on every

side. "I thank you, gentlemen, I thank you!" repeated he, in a clear,

ringing voice. Then he turned to Pshiyemski. "This trench," said he,

"encloses too much space."

Pshiyemski nodded his head in sign of agreement.

The victorious leaders rode from the western to the eastern pond,

examining the battle-field, the injuries done to the ramparts by the

enemy, and the ramparts themselves.

Immediately after the retinue of the prince, the soldiers, carried away

by enthusiasm, bore Zagloba in their arms to the camp, as the greatest

conqueror of the day. Borne aloft by twenty sturdy arms, appeared the

form of the warrior, who, purple, sweating, waving his arms to keep his

balance, cried with all his power,--

"Ha! I gave him pepper. I pretended to flee, so as to lure him on. He

won't bark at us any more, the dog-brother! It was necessary to show an

example to the younger men. For God's sake, be careful, or you will let

me fall and kill me! Hold on tight; you have something to hold! You may

believe me, I had work with him. To-day every trash was thrusting

itself on nobles; but they have got their own. Be careful! Devil take

it, let me down!"

"Long life to him, long life!" cried the nobles.

"To the prince with him!" repeated others.

"Long life to him! long life to him!"

The Zaporojian hetman, rushing into his camp, roared like a wounded

wild beast; he tore the coat on his breast and disfigured his face. The

officers who had escaped the defeat surrounded him in gloomy silence,

without bringing a word of consolation, and madness almost carried him

away. Foam was on his lips; he drove his heels into the ground, and

with both hands tore his hair.

"Where are my regiments, where are my heroes?" asked he, in a hoarse

voice. "What shall I tell the Khan, what Tugai Bey? Give me Yeremi! Let

them put my head on the stake!"

The officers were gloomily silent.

"Why have the soothsayers promised victory? Off with the heads of the

witches! Why have they said that I should get Yeremi?"

Generally when the roar of that lion shook the camp the colonels were

silent; but now that the lion was conquered, trampled, and fortune

seemed to be forsaking him, defeat gave insolence to the officers.

"You cannot withstand Yeremi," muttered Stepka.

"You are destroying us and yourself," added Mrozovetski.

The hetman sprang at them like a tiger. "And who gained Jóltiya Vodi,

who Korsún, who Pilavtsi?"

"You!" answered Voronchenko, roughly, "but Vishnyevetski was not

there."

Hmelnitski tore his hair. "I promised the Khan lodgings in the castle

to-night!" howled he, in despair.

To this Kulak replied: "What you promised the Khan concerns your head.

Have a care lest it drop from your neck; but do not push us to the

storm, do not destroy servants of God! Surround the Poles with

trenches, put ramparts round your guns, or woe to you!"

"Woe to you!" repeated gloomy voices.

"Woe to you!" answered Hmelnitski.

And thus they conversed, terrible as thunders. At last Hmelnitski

staggered, and threw himself on a bundle of sheepskins covered with

carpet in the corner of the tent. The colonels stood around him with

hanging heads, and silence lasted for a long time. At length the hetman

looked up, and cried hoarsely: "Gorailka!"

"You will not drink!" said Vygovski, "The Khan will send for you."

At that time the Khan was about five miles from the field of battle,

without knowledge of what was passing. The night was calm and warm. He

was sitting at the tent in the midst of mullahs and agas in expectation

of news; while waiting, he was eating dates from a silver plate

standing near. At times he looked at the starry heavens and muttered,

"Mohammed Rosulla!"

Meanwhile Subahazi, on a foaming horse, rushed in, breathless, and

covered with blood. He sprang from the saddle, and approaching quickly,

began to make obeisance, waiting for a question.

"Speak!" said the Khan, with his mouth full of dates.

The words were burning Subahazi's mouth like flame, but he dared not

speak without the usual titles. He began therefore in the following

fashion, bowing continually,--

"Most mighty Khan of all the hordes, grandson of Mohammed, absolute

monarch, wise lord, fortunate lord, lord of the tree commended from the

east to the west, lord of the blooming tree--"

Here the Khan waved his hand and interrupted. Seeing blood on

Subahazi's face, and in his eyes pain, sorrow, and despair, he spat out

the uneaten dates on his hand and gave them to one of the mullahs, who

took them as a mark of extraordinary honor and began to eat them. The

Khan said,--

"Speak quickly, Subahazi, and wisely! Is the camp of the unbeliever

taken?"

"God did not give it."

"The Poles?"

"Victorious."

"Hmelnitski?"

"Beaten."

"Tugai Bey?"

"Wounded."

"God is one!" said the Khan. "How many of the Faithful have gone to

Paradise?"

Subahazi raised his arm and pointed with a bloody hand to the sparkling

heavens. "As many as of those lights at the foot of Allah," said he,

solemnly.

The heavy face of the Khan became purple; rage seized him by the

breast. "Where is that dog," inquired he, "who promised that I should

sleep to-night in the castle? Where is that venomous serpent whom God

will trample under my foot? Let him stand before me and give an account

of his disgusting promises."

A number of murzas hurried off for Hmelnitski. The Khan calmed himself

by degrees, and at last said: "God is one!" Then he turned to Subahazi.

"There is blood on thy face!"

"It is the blood of the unbeliever," answered the warrior.

"Tell how you shed it, and console our ears with the bravery of the

believers."

Here Subahazi began to give an extended account of the whole battle,

praising the bravery of Tugai Bey, of Galga, of Nureddin; he was

not silent either of Hmelnitski, but praised him as well as the

others,--the will of God alone and the fury of the unbelievers were the

causes of the defeat. But one circumstance struck the Khan in the

narrative; namely, that they did not fire at the Tartars in the

beginning of the battle, and that the cavalry of the prince attacked

them only when at last they stood in the way.

"Allah! they did not want war with me," said the Khan, "but now it is

too late."

So it was in reality. Prince Yeremi, from the beginning of the battle,

had forbidden to fire at the Tartars, wishing to instil into the

soldiers that negotiations with the Khan were already commenced, and

that the hordes were standing on the side of the mob merely for show.

It was only later that it came to meeting the Tartars by the force of

events.

The Khan shook his head, thinking at that moment whether it would not

be better yet to turn his arms against Hmelnitski, when the hetman

himself stood suddenly before him. Hmelnitski was now calm, and came up

with head erect, looking boldly into the eyes of the Khan; on his face

were depicted daring and craft.

"Approach, traitor!" said the Khan.

"The hetman of the Cossacks approaches, and he is not a traitor, but a

faithful ally, to whom you have pledged assistance not in victory

alone," said Hmelnitski.

"Go pass the night in the castle! Go pull the Poles out of the trenches

as you promised me!"

"Great Khan of all the hordes!" said Hmelnitski, with a powerful voice,

"you are mighty, and except the Sultan the mightiest on earth; you are

wise and powerful, but can you send forth an arrow from your bow to the

stars, or can you measure the depth of the sea?"

The Khan looked at him with astonishment.

"You cannot," continued Hmelnitski, with still more force; "so can I

not measure all the pride and insolence of Yeremi! If I could dream

that he would not be terrified at you, O Khan, that he would not be

submissive at sight of you, would not beat with his forehead before

you, but would raise his insolent hand against your person, shed the

blood of your warriors, and insult you, O mighty monarch, as well as

the least of your murzas,--if I could have dared to think that, I

should have shown contempt to you whom I honor and love."

"Allah!" said the Khan, more and more astonished.

"But I will tell you this," continued Hmelnitski, with increasing

assurance in his voice and his manner: "you are great and powerful;

nations and monarchs from the east to the west incline before you and

call you a lion; Yeremi alone does not fall on his face before your

beard. If then you do not rub him out, if you do not bend his neck and

ride on his back, your power is in vain, your glory is empty; for they

will say that one Polish prince has dishonored the Tsar of the Crimea

and received no punishment,--that he is greater, that he is mightier

than you."

Dull silence followed; the murzas, the agas, and the mullahs looked on

the face of the Khan, as on the sun, holding the breath in their

breasts. He had his eyes closed, and was thinking. Hmelnitski was

resting on his baton and waiting confidently.

"You have said it," answered the Khan at last. "I will bend the neck of

Yeremi; I will sit on his back as on a horse, so it may not be said

from the east to the west that an unbelieving dog has disgraced me."

"God is great!" cried the murzas, with one voice.

Joy shot from the eyes of Hmelnitski. At one step he had averted

destruction hanging over his head, and turned a doubtful ally into a

most faithful one. At every moment that lion knew how to turn himself

into a serpent.

Both camps till late at night were as active as bees warmed by the

spring sun in the swarming-season, while on the battle-field slept--an

endless and eternal sleep--the knights thrust through with spears, cut

with swords, pierced with arrows and bullets. The moon rose, and began

her course over the field of death, was reflected in pools of stiffened

blood, brought forth from the darkness every moment new piles of slain,

passed from some bodies, came quietly to others, looked into open and

lifeless eyeballs, lighted up blue faces, fragments of broken weapons,

bodies of horses; and her rays grew pale, at times very pale, as if

terrified with what they saw. Along the field there ran here and there,

alone and in little groups, certain ominous figures,--camp-followers

and servants, who had come to plunder the slain, as jackals follow

lions. But superstitious fear drove them away at last. There was

something awful and mysterious in that field covered with corpses, in

that calmness and quiet of human forms recently alive, and in that

silent harmony with which Poles, Turks, Tartars, and Cossacks lay side

by side. The wind at times rustled in the bushes growing over the

field, and to the soldiers watching in the trenches it seemed that

those were the souls of the slain, circling above their bodies. It was

said in fact that when midnight had struck in Zbaraj, over the whole

field, from the bulwark of the Poles to the tabor of the Cossacks,

there rose with a rustle as it were a countless flock of birds. Wailing

voices were heard also in the air, enormous sighs, which made men's

hair stand on end, and groans. Those who were yet to fall in that

struggle, and whose ears were more open to cries from beyond the earth,

heard clearly the Polish spirits, when flying away, cry: "Before thy

eyes, O Lord, we lay down our sins;" and the Cossacks groan: "O Christ,

O Christ, have mercy on us!" As they had fallen in a war of brothers,

they could not fly straight to light eternal, but were predestined to

fly somewhere in the dark distance, and hover in the wind over this

vale of tears, to weep and groan by night, till the full remission of

their offences,--till they should receive pardon at the feet of Christ,

and oblivion for their sins.

But at that time the hearts of men grew harder yet, and no angel of

peace flew over the field.