CHAPTER III
Father Wyszoniek feared that even at Jurand's next awakening, he might be stupefied and might not recover consciousness for a long time. Meanwhile he promised the princess and Zbyszko to let them know when the old knight could speak, and himself retired after they left. In fact Jurand first awoke on the second Holy Day just before noon, but fully conscious. The princess and Zbyszko were present. Therefore, sitting on the bed, he looked at and recognized her and said:
"Your Highness … for God's sake, am I in Ciechanow?"
"And you overslept the Holy Day," replied the lady.
"The snows covered me. Who saved me?"
"This knight: Zbyszko of Bogdaniec. You remember him in Krakow…"
And Jurand gazed with his sound eye at the youth for a moment and said:
"I remember … but where is Danusia?"
"She did not ride with you?" anxiously inquired the princess.
"How could she ride with me, when I did not go to her?"
Zbyszko and the princess looked at each other, believing him to be still speaking under the influence of the fever. Then the lady said: "Wake up, for God's sake! There was no girl with, you?"
"Girl? With me?" inquired Jurand in amazement.
"Because your people perished, but she could not be found among them."
"Why did you leave her in Spychow?"
He then again repeated, but now with alarm in his voice:
"In Spychow? Why, she is with you, Your Highness, not with me!"
"However you sent a letter for her to the Forest Court."
"In the name of the Father and Son!" replied Jurand. "I did not send for her at all."
Then the princess suddenly became pale:
"What is that?" she said, "are you positive that you are speaking in your right senses?"
"For God's mercy, where is the child?" exclaimed Jurand, starting up.
Father Wyszoniek, on hearing this, quickly left the room, while the princess continued:
"Listen: There arrived an armed retinue and a letter from you to the Forest Court, for Danusia. The letter stated that you were knocked down in a conflagration by a falling beam … that you were half blinded and that you wished to see the child… They took Danusia and rode away…"
"My head swims!" exclaimed Jurand. "As there is a God in Heaven, there was no fire in Spychow, nor did I send for her!"
At that moment Father Wyszoniek returned with the letter, which he handed to Jurand and inquired: "Is not this your clerkly writing?"
"I do not know."
"And the seal?"
"It is mine."
"What does the letter say?"
Father Wyszoniek read the letter while Jurand listened, tearing his hair and finally saying: "The writing is counterfeited! … the seal is false!.. my soul! They have captured my child and will destroy her!"
"Who are they?"
"The Teutons!"
"For God's sake! The prince must be informed! He shall send messengers to the master!" exclaimed the princess. "Merciful Jesus, save her and help!" … and she left the room screaming.
Jurand jumped out of bed and began hurriedly to clothe his gigantic frame. Zbyszko sat as if petrified, but in a few moments his tightly set teeth began to gnash with rage.
"How do you know that the Teutons captured her?" asked Father Wyszoniek.
"By the Passion of our Lord, I'll swear!"
"Wait! … It may be so. They came to complain about you to the Forest Court."
"They wanted to take revenge on you…"
"And they captured her!" suddenly exclaimed Zbyszko. Then he hurried out of the room, and running to the stables he ordered horses to be saddled and harnessed to wagons, not knowing well himself why he did so. He only knew that it was necessary to go to Danusia's assistance – at once – and as far as Prussia – and there to tear her out of the foe's hands or perish.
He then returned to the room to tell Jurand that the weapons and horses would soon be ready. He was sure that Jurand would accompany him. His heart was burning with rage, pain and sorrow, – but at the same time he did not lose hope; it seemed to him that he and the formidable knight of Spychow together would be able to accomplish everything – and that they were equal to attacking the whole Teutonic force.
In the room, besides Jurand, he met Father Wyszoniek and the princess, also the prince and de Lorche, as well as the old knight of Dlugolas, whom the prince, having heard of the affair, summoned also to council on account of his wisdom and extensive knowledge of the Teutons, who had kept him for a number of years in slavery.
"It is necessary to set about it prudently, so as not to commit a sin in blind fury and so lose the girl," said the knight of Dlugolas.
"A complaint must be instantly filed with the master and I will ride thither, if His Highness will give me a letter to him."
"I will give the letter, and go with it," said the prince. "We will not allow the child to be lost, so help me God and Holy Cross! The master dreads war with the Polish king, and he is anxious to win over Semka, my brother and myself… They did not capture her at his command – and he will order her return."
"And if it was by his orders?" inquired Father Wyszoniek.
"Although he is a Teuton, there is more honesty in him than in the others," replied the prince; "and, as I told you, he would rather accommodate me than make me angry now. The Jagiellonian power is no laughter. Hej! They poured hog's grease under our skin as long as they could, but they did not perceive that if also we Mazurs should assist Jagiello, then it would be bad…"
But the knight of Dlugolas said, "That is true. The Teutons do nothing foolishly; therefore, I think that if they have captured the girl, it is either to disarm Jurand, or to demand a ransom, or to exchange her." Here he turned to the knight of Spychow:
"Whom have you now among your prisoners of war?"
"Herr von Bergow," replied Jurand.
"Is he important?"
"It seems so."
De Lorche, hearing the name von Bergow, began to inquire about him, and, having found out, said: "He is a relative of the Duke of Geldryi, a great benefactor of the Order, and devoted to the Order from his birth."
"Yes," said the knight of Dlugolas, translating his words to those present. "Von Bergow held high rank in the Order."
"Danveld and von Löve strongly demanded him," remarked the prince.
"Whenever they opened their mouths, they said that von Bergow must be free. As God is in Heaven they undoubtedly captured the girl, in order to liberate von Bergow."
"Hence they will return her," said the prince.
"But it would be better to know where she is," replied the knight of Dlugolas. "But suppose the master asks: 'Whom shall I order to return her?' what shall we say then?"
"Where is she?" said Jurand, in a hollow voice. "They certainly are not keeping her on the border, for fear that I might recover her, but they have taken her somewhere to a far secret hold or to the sea."
But Zbyszko said: "I will find and recover her."
The prince now suddenly burst out with suppressed anger: "Villains carried her off from my court, disgracing me as well, and this shall not be forgiven as long as I live. I have had enough of their treacheries! enough of their assaults! I would rather have wolves for neighbors! But now the master must punish these lords and return the girl, and send messengers with apologies to me, otherwise I will send out a call to arms!"
Here he struck the table with his fist and added:
"Owa! The lord of Plock will follow me, and Witold and King Jagiello's forces! Following enough! Even a saint would snort away his patience. I have had enough!"
All were silent, waiting until his anger had quieted down; but Anna Danuta rejoiced that the prince took Danusia's affair so to heart; she knew that he was long-suffering, but stubborn also, and when he once undertook anything he never relinquished it until he attained his object.
Then Father Wyszoniek rose to speak. "There was of old a rule in the Order," he said, "that no lord was permitted to do anything on his own responsibility without the permission of the assembly or the master. Therefore God gave them such extensive territories that they almost exceed all other earthly powers. But now they know neither obedience, truth, honesty, nor belief. Nothing but greed and such ravage as if they were wolves and not human beings. How can they obey the master's commands or those of the assembly, if they do not even obey God's commandments? Each one resides in his castle like an independent prince – and one assists another in doing evil. I shall complain to the master – but they will deny it. The master will order them to restore the girl, but they will refuse to do so, or they will say: 'She is not here, because we have not captured her.' He will command them to take oath and they will do so. What shall we do then?"
"What to do?" rejoined the knight of Dlugolas. "Let Jurand go to Spychow. If they did carry her off for ransom, or to exchange her for von Bergow, then they must and will inform no one but Jurand."
"Those who used to visit the Forest Court captured her," said the priest.
"Then the master will submit them to trial, or order them to give Jurand the field."
"They must give me the field," exclaimed Zbyszko, "because I challenged them first!"
And Jurand removed his hands from his face and inquired: "Which of them were in the Forest Court?"
"There were Danveld, old von Löve, and two brethren, Godfried and Rotgier," replied the priest.
"They made complaint and wished the prince to order you to release von Bergow from imprisonment. But the prince, being informed by de Fourcy that the Germans were the first to attack you, rebuked and dismissed them without satisfaction."
"Go to Spychow," said the prince, "because they will apply to you there. They failed to do it till now, because this young knight's follower crushed Danveld's arm when bearing the challenge to them. Go to Spychow, and if they apply, inform me. They will send your daughter back in exchange for von Bergow, but I shall nevertheless take vengeance, because they disgraced me also by carrying her off from my court."
Here the prince began to get angry again, for the Teutons had entirely exhausted his patience, and after a moment he added:
"Hej! They blew and blew the fire, but they will end by burning their mouths."
"They will deny it," repeated the priest Wyszoniek.
"If they once inform Jurand that the girl is with them, then they will not be able to deny it," somewhat impatiently replied Mikolaj of Dlugolas. "He believes that they are not keeping her on the border, and that, as Jurand has justly pointed out, they have carried her to some distant castle or to the seashore, but if there be proof that they are the perpetrators, then they will not disclaim it before the master."
But Jurand said in a strange and, at the same time, terrible tone:
"Danveld, von Löve, Godfried and Rotgier."
Mikolaj of Dlugolas also recommended that experienced and shrewd people be sent to Prussia, to find out whether Jurand's daughter was there, and if not, whither she had been taken; then the prince took the staff in his hand and went out to give the necessary orders; the princess again turned to Jurand to speak encouraging words:
"How are you?" she inquired.
He did not reply for a moment, as if he had not heard the question, but then he suddenly said:
"As if one had struck me in an old wound."
"But trust in God's mercy; Danusia will come back as soon as you return von Bergow to them. I would willingly sacrifice my own blood."
The princess hesitated whether to say anything about the marriage now, but, considering a little, she did not wish to add new worries to Jurand's already great misfortunes, and at the same time she was seized with a certain fear. "They will look for her with Zbyszko; may he find an occasion to tell him," she said to herself, "otherwise he may entirely lose his mind." She therefore preferred to discuss other matters.
"Do not blame us," she said. "People wearing your livery arrived with a writing under your seal, informing us that you were ill, that your eyes were closing, and that you wished to look once more upon your child. How could we oppose it and not obey a father's command?"
But Jurand embraced her feet. "I do not blame anybody, gracious lady."
"And know also that God will return her to you, because His eye is upon her. He will send her succor, as He did at the last hunt, when a fierce wild bull attacked us – and Jesus inspired Zbyszko to defend us. He almost lost his own life, and was ill for a long time afterward, but he saved Danusia and me, for which he received a girdle and spurs from the prince. You see!.. God's hand is over her. Surely, the child is to be pitied! I, myself, am greatly grieved. I thought she would arrive with you, and that I should see the dear child, but meanwhile" … and her voice trembled, tears fell from her eyes, and Jurand's long repressed despair burst out for a moment, sudden and terrible as a tempest. He took hold of his long hair, and began to beat his head against the wall, groaning and repeating in husky tones: "Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!"
But Zbyszko sprang to his side, and shaking him by the shoulders with all his might, exclaimed:
"We must go! To Spychow!"
CHAPTER IV
"Whose retinue is this?" inquired Jurand, suddenly starting from musing, as if from sleep, beyond Radzanow.
"Mine," replied Zbyszko.
"And did all my people perish?"
"I saw them dead in Niedzborz."
"Have you no old comrades?"
Zbyszko made no reply, and they traveled on in silence, but hurriedly, because they wanted to get to Spychow as quickly as possible, hoping possibly to meet some Teutonic messengers there. To their good fortune the frosts set in again, and the highways were firm, so that they could make haste.
Toward evening Jurand spoke again, and began to inquire about those brethren of the Order who were at the Forest Court, and Zbyszko narrated everything – their complaints, their departure, the death of de Fourcy, his follower's action in crushing Danveld's arm so terribly, and, as he spoke, one circumstance recurred strikingly to his mind, namely the presence in the Forest Court of that woman who brought the healing balsams from Danveld. During the bait, he commenced therefore to inquire of the Bohemian and Sanderus about her, but neither knew exactly what had become of her. It seemed to them, that she had left either in company with those people, who came for Danusia, or soon after them. It now occurred to Zbyszko's mind, that this might have been some one sent for the purpose of warning the people in case Jurand should happen to be at the court in person. In that case they would not claim to have come from Spychow, but could have prepared another missive to give to the princess instead of Jurand's fictitious letter. All this had been arranged with hellish dexterity, and the young knight, who so far had known the Teutons only from the battlefield, thought for the first time, that the fist was not sufficient for them, but that they must be overcome with the head as well. This was a sullen thought for him, because his great sorrow and pain had become concentrated into a desire for fight and blood. Even help for Danusia in his mind took the form of a series of battles either in troops or singly; and now he perceived that it might be necessary to restrain his desire for revenge and splitting of heads, like a bear on a chain, and seek new means of saving and recovering Danusia. While thinking of this, he felt sorry that Macko was not with him. Macko was as cunning as he was brave. He secretly determined to send Sanderus from Spychow to Szczytno, in order to find that woman and to try to learn from her what had happened to Danusia. He said to himself that, even if Sanderus wished to betray him, he could do little harm in the matter, and on the contrary might render great service, because his trade gained admittance for him everywhere. However, he wished to consult Jurand first, but postponed it until their arrival in Spychow, the more so because night came on, and it seemed to him, that Jurand, sitting on a knight's high saddle, had fallen asleep from fatigue, exhaustion and great anxiety. But Jurand rode with a bowed head only because misfortune weighed it down. And it was apparent that he was constantly thinking of it, with a heart full of terrible dread, because he finally said:
"I would rather be frozen under Niedzborz! It was you that dug me out?"
"I, with others."
"And at the hunt, you saved my child?"
"What should I have done?"
"Will you help me now, too?"
And there burst forth in Zbyszko at the same time such love for Danusia and such great hatred toward the Teuton wrongdoers, that he rose in his saddle and began to speak through tightly set teeth, as though with difficulty:
"Listen to what I say: even if I have to bite the Prussian castles with my teeth, I will do it and get her."
Then followed a moment's silence.
The vengeful and uncontrollable nature of Jurand also seemed to awake in full force under the influence of Zbyszko's words, because he began to gnash his teeth in the darkness and after a while to repeat again the names: Danveld, von Löve, Rotgier and Godfried! And he thought in his soul that if they wanted him to restore von Bergow, he would do so; if they demanded an additional payment he would give it, even if he had to throw into the price Spychow entire; but then, woe to those who had raised their hands against this his only child!
Throughout the whole night, sleep did not close their eyelids for a moment. At dawn, they scarcely recognized each other, to such an extent had their faces changed during this single night. At length Jurand was struck by that pain and inveterate hatred on Zbyszko's face and therefore said: "She saved you and snatched you from death – I know. But you also love her?"
Zbyszko looked directly into his eyes with an almost defiant expression and replied: "She is my wife."
Upon that, Jurand stopped his horse and looked at Zbyszko, blinking his eyes with astonishment.
"What do you say?" he inquired.
"I say that she is my wife and I am her husband."
The knight of Spychow brushed his eyes with his sleeve, as if he were dazed by a sudden thunder-stroke, and after awhile, without a word of reply, he urged his horse forward to the head of the troop and rode on silently.
CHAPTER V
But Zbyszko, riding behind him, could not stand it very long, and said to himself: "I would rather have him burst forth in anger, than become embittered." He therefore rode up to him and jogging his stirrup against his, he commenced to speak: "Listen how it happened. You know what Danusia did for me in Krakow, but you do not know that they proposed to me Jagienka of Bogdaniec, the daughter of Zych of Zgorzelice. My uncle, Macko, was in favor of it, also her parents and Zych; a relative, an abbot, a wealthy man as well… What is the use of many words? – an honest girl and a beautiful woman and the dowry respectable also. But it could not be. I felt sorry for Jagienka, but still more so for Danusia – and I set out to her to Mazowsze, because, I tell you frankly, I could not live any longer without her. Recollect the time when you yourself loved – recollect it! and it will not seem strange to you."
Here Zbyszko broke off, waiting for a word from Jurand, but as the latter remained silent, he continued:
"God gave me an opportunity at the Forest Court to save the princess and Danusia from a wild bull while hunting. And the princess immediately said: 'Now Jurand will not object any more, because how could he refuse to reward such a deed?' But I did not wish to take her even then without your parental consent. Yet! I was weak… because the terrible animal injured me so much, that it almost killed me. But then, as you know, those people came for Danusia, in order to take her, as it seemed, to Spychow, and I was still unable to leave my bed. I thought I should never see her again. I thought that you would take her to Spychow and give her to some one else. You objected to me at Krakow … and I already thought that I should die. Ah! great God, what a night I passed. Nothing but worry; nothing but grief! I thought that if she also left me, the sun would rise no more. Consider human love and human grief!"
And, for a moment, tears almost choked Zbyszko's voice, but, having a courageous heart, he controlled himself and said:
"The people arrived for her in the evening and wanted to take her immediately, but the princess ordered them to wait until morning. Just then Jesus inspired me with the idea of presenting the princess with my compliments and asking her for Danusia. I thought that if I died I should have that consolation at least. Remember that the girl had to leave, while I remained ill and nearly dying. There was also no time to ask for your permission. The prince was no longer in the Forest Court, the princess therefore weighed both sides because she had nobody to take counsel with. But they, together with Father Wyszoniek at last took pity upon me, and Father Wyszoniek performed the ceremony… God's power, God's right!.."
But Jurand interrupted, gloomily: "And God's punishment!"
"Why should there be punishment?" inquired Zbyszko. "Consider only, they had sent for her before the ceremony, and whether it had been performed or not, they would have carried her off nevertheless."
But Jurand again replied nothing, and rode on alone, gloomy, and with such a stony face, that though Zbyszko at first felt the relief that confession of a long concealed thing always produces, at length he was seized with fear and said to himself, with constantly increasing fear, that the old knight was bitterly angered, and that thenceforth they would be strangers and foes to each other. And there came upon him a moment of great depression. He had never felt so badly since his departure from Bogdaniec. It seemed to him now that there was no hope of reconciliation with Jurand, nor, what was far worse, of saving Danusia, that all was of no avail, and that in the future still greater misfortunes and miseries would befall him. But this depression of spirits lasted a short while only, and, in accordance with his nature, it soon changed into anger, and a desire for quarreling and fight. "He does not want peace," he said to himself, thinking of Jurand, "then let there be discord, let come what will!" And he was ready to fly at Jurand's face. He also longed for a fight with anybody for anything, merely to do something, merely to give vent to his grief, bitterness and anger, and so find some relief.
Meanwhile they arrived at an inn at a ford called Swietlik, where Jurand, on his return from the prince's court, usually allowed his people and horses to rest. He did so now also involuntarily. After a while he and Zbyszko found themselves alone in a separate chamber. Suddenly Jurand stopped before the young knight and, fixing his eyes upon him, inquired:
"Did you wander about for her sake?"
The other almost harshly retorted:
"Do you suppose that I shall deny it?" And he looked straight into Jurand's eyes, ready to meet anger with anger. But there was no indignation in the old warrior's face; there was only almost boundless grief.
"And you saved my child?" he inquired, after a moment, "and dug me out?"
But Zbyszko looked at him in astonishment and fear that his mind was wandering, because Jurand repeated exactly the same questions that he had already asked.
"Be seated," he said, "because it seems to me that you are still weak."
But Jurand raised his hands, placed them on Zbyszko's shoulders, and so drew him suddenly with all his strength to his breast; the other, recovering from a momentary amazement, clasped him round the waist and they embraced each other for a long time, because mutual anxiety and mutual woe united them.
After relaxing their hold, Zbyszko again embraced the older knight's knees, and began to kiss his hands with tears in his eyes.
"Will you not object to me?" he asked.
To that Jurand replied: "I did oppose you, because in my soul I consecrated her to God."
"You devoted her to God, and God to me. His will!"
"His will!" repeated Jurand. "But now we need mercy also."
"Whom will God help, if not a father who seeks his daughter; if not a husband who seeks his wife? He will certainly not assist robbers."
"But they captured her nevertheless," answered Jurand.
"Then you will return von Bergow to them."
"I shall return all they wish."
But at the thought of the Teutons, the old passion soon awoke in him and enfolded him like a flame, because he added after a moment through his clenched teeth:
"I shall also add to it what they do not want."
"I also swore their ruin," replied Zbyszko, "but now we must make haste to Spychow."
And he commenced to hasten the saddling of the horses. Accordingly, after they had eaten their oats, and the men had warmed themselves in the rooms, they started out, although it was growing dark outside. As the way was long, and a severe frost had set in for the night, Jurand and Zbyszko, who had not yet regained their strength, traveled in sledges. Zbyszko told about Uncle Macko, for whom his heart yearned, and regretted that he was not present, because his courage as well as craft might be of use, the latter qualification being more necessary against such foes than courage. At last he turned to Jurand and inquired:
"And are you cunning?.. Because I am not."
"Neither am I," retorted Jurand. "I did not fight them with craft, but with this hand and that which remained in me."
"I understand that," said the young knight. "I understand it because I love Danusia and because they carried her off. If, God forbid…"
And he did not finish, because the mere thought made him feel not a human but a wolfs heart in his breast. For some time they rode silently over a white, moonlight-flooded road; then Jurand commenced to speak as if to himself:
"If they only had any reason to take revenge on me – I would not say! But gracious God! they had none… I waged war with them in the field, when sent on an embassy by our prince to Witold, but here I was like a neighbor to neighbors… Bartosz Natecz captured, chained and imprisoned under ground in Kozmin forty knights who attacked him. The Teutons were compelled to pay half a wagonful of money for them. While I, when a German guest happened to come on his way to the Teutons, received and rewarded him like one knight another. Frequently also, the Teutons came against me across the swamps. I was not hard on them then, and they did to me what I would not do even to-day to my greatest foe…"
And terrible recollections began to tear him with increasing force, his voice died away for an instant in his breast, then he said, half groaning: "I had only one, like a ewe lamb, like the heart in my breast, and they captured her like a dog on a rope, and she died there… Now again, the child … Jesus, Jesus!"
And again there was silence. Zbyszko raised his youthful, perplexed face toward the moon, then again looked at Jurand and inquired:
"Father!.. It would be far better for them to earn men's esteem than their vengeance. Why do they commit so much wrong on all nations and all people?"
But Jurand spread his hands apart as if in despair, and replied with a choked voice: "I do not know…"
Zbyszko meditated for a time over his own question, presently however his thoughts turned to Jurand.
"People say that you wreaked a worthy vengeance," he said.
Jurand meanwhile controlled his anguish, bethought himself and said:
"But I swore their ruin … and I also swore to God that if He would permit me to glut my vengeance I would surrender to Him the child that was left to me. This is the reason why I objected to you. But now I do not know: was it His will, or did you awaken His anger by your action?"
"No," said Zbyszko. "I told you once before that even if the ceremony had not been performed, yet the scoundrels would have carried her off. God accepted your vow, and presented me with Danusia, because without His will we could accomplish nothing."
"Every sin is against God's will."
"A sin is, but not the sacrament. Because the sacrament is God's matter."
"Therefore there is no help."
"And God be blessed there is not! Therefore do not complain, because nobody would help you against the robbers so well as I will. You will see! In any case I shall pay them for Danusia, but even if one of those who captured your deceased be still alive, leave him to me and you shall see!"
But Jurand shook his head.
"No," he answered, gloomily, "none of those will be alive…"
For a time only the snorting of horses and the smothered echo of the hoofs striking against the beaten road was audible.
"Once at night," continued Jurand, "I heard a voice, as if coming from a wall, saying to me: 'Enough vengeance!' but I did not obey, because it was not the voice of the deceased."
"And whose voice could that be?" inquired Zbyszko, anxiously.
"I do not know. In Spychow frequently something talks in the walls, and sometimes moans, because many have died there in chains underground."
"And what does the priest tell you?"
"The priest sanctified the castle and also ordered me to relinquish vengeance, but that could not be. I became too hard on them, and then they themselves sought revenge. They lay in ambush and challenged me in the field… And so it was this time. Meineger and von Bergow were the first to challenge me."
"Did you ever accept ransom?"
"Never! Of those I have captured, von Bergow will be the first to come out alive."
The conversation ceased, because they now turned from the broad highway into a narrower road, on which they traveled for a long time in silence on account of its tortuous course, and because in some places the snow formed drifts difficult to traverse. In the spring or summer, on rainy days, this road must have been almost impassable.
"Are we approaching Spychow already?" asked Zbyszko.
"Yes," answered Jurand. "There is a good deal of forest yet, and then begin the morasses, in the centre of which is the castle… Beyond the morasses are the marshes and dry fields, while the castle can be approached only by the dike. The Germans wished to capture me repeatedly, but they could not, and their bones rot among the forest weeds."