CHAPTER IX.

The road to the battlefield where Skirwoilla had routed the Germans was

easy, because they knew it, and so they soon reached it. Owing to the

insufferable stench arising from the unburied dead, they crossed it in a

hurry. As they did so, they drove away wolves, and large flights of

crows, ravens and jackdaws. Then they began to look for traces along the

road. Although a whole division had passed over it on the previous day,

nevertheless, the experienced Macko found upon the trampled road without

trouble, the imprint of gigantic hoofs leading in an opposite direction.

Then he explained to the younger and less experienced companions-in-arms:

"It is fortunate that there has been no rainfall since the battle. Only

look here. Arnold's horse carrying an unusually big man must also be

exceedingly large; this too is easily observed, that the imprint of the

horse's feet on this side of the road is much deeper, owing to the

galloping in his flight; whilst the tracks marking the previous march on

the other side of the road are not so deep, because the horse walked

slowly. Let those who have eyes look how the marks of the horseshoes are

visible. God grant that we may track those dog-brothers successfully,

provided they have not already found shelter somewhere behind walls!"

"Sanderus said," replied Zbyszko, "that there are no forts in this

neighborhood, and it is actually so; because the Knights of the Cross

have only recently taken possession of this region and have not had

enough time to build in it. Then where can they hide themselves? All the

peasants who dwelt in these lands joined Skirwoilla, because they belong

to the same stock as the Zmudzians.... The villages, Sanderus said, these

same Germans destroyed by fire and the women and children are hidden in

the thick forest. Provided we do not spare our horses we shall yet

overtake them."

"We must spare the horses, for even if we overtake them our safety

afterward depends upon our horses," said Macko.

"Sir Arnold," interrupted Sanderus, "received a blow between his

shoulder-blades in battle. He took no notice of it at first, but kept on

fighting and slaying, but they were obliged to dress it afterward; as is

always the case, at first one does not feel the blows but they pain later

on. For this reason he cannot exert himself too much to run fast and it

may be that he is even obliged to rest himself."

"You said that there are no other people with them?" inquired Macko.

"There are two who lead the litter, the _comthur_ and Sir Arnold. There

were quite a number of men with them, but the Zmudzians killed them."

"Let our men lay hold of the two fellows who are with the litter," said

Zbyszko. "You, uncle, manage old Zygfried, and I will pounce upon

Arnold."

"Well," replied Macko, "I shall be able to manage Zygfried, because,

thank God, there is still strength in these bones. But as far as your

task is concerned, I should say, do not be so self-confident, for that

knight seems to be a giant."

"O well! We shall see," replied Zbyszko.

"You are strong, that I don't dispute, but there are stronger men than

you are. Did you observe our own knights whom we met at Krakow? Could you

conquer Pan Powala of Taczew, Paszko Zlodziej of Biskupice, and Zawisza

Czarny, eh? Don't be too rash, but consider the facts."

"Rotgier also was a strong man," murmured Zbyszko.

"Will there be any work for myself?" asked the Bohemian. But he received

no reply, because Macko was thinking about something else.

"If God blesses us we shall be able to reach the Mazowiecki wilderness.

We shall be safe there, and all trouble will be at an end."

But after a while he sighed when he reflected that even there affairs

would not be entirely ended, there would yet be something to attend to

for the unfortunate Jagienka.

"Hey!" he murmured, "God's decrees are wonderful. I had often thought

about it. Why did it not occur to you to get married quietly, and let me

live with you peacefully. That would have been the most happy course. But

now we are the only ones among the noblemen of the kingdom, who are

wandering in various regions and wilds, instead of attending to our homes

as God commands."

"Well, that is true, but it is God's will," replied Zbyszko.

Then they proceeded on their journey for a while in silence. The old

knight turned again to his nephew:

"Do you rely on that vagabond? Who is he?"

"He is a fickle man and perhaps he is a rogue, but he wishes me well, and

I am not afraid of treachery from him."

"If so let him ride in front, for if he overtakes them he will not be

scared. Let him tell them that he is fleeing from captivity, and they

will easily believe him. This is the best way, because if they chanced to

see us they might evade us and hide themselves, or have time enough to

prepare for defence."

"He is afraid and will not travel by himself at night," replied Zbyszko.

"But during the daytime I am sure that that plan is the best one to

adopt. I will tell him to stop and wait for us three times during the

day. If we do not find him at the appointed places then it will be a sign

that he is already with them, and following up his tracks we will fall

upon them unexpectedly."

"But will he not warn them?"

"No. He is more friendly to me than to them. I will also tell him that

when we surprise them we will also bind him, so that he may escape their

revenge later on. Let him not recognize us at all...."

"Do you intend to preserve those fellows alive?"

"How else should it be?" replied Zbyszko, somewhat anxiously. "You

see.... If it were in our country, at home in Mazowsze, we would

challenge them, as I challenged Rotgier, to mortal combat; but this

cannot be here in their own country.... What concerns us here is Danuska

and speed. In order to avoid trouble all must be done quietly afterward

we will do as you said and push on as fast as our horses can go, to the

wilds of Mazowsze. But attacking them unexpectedly we might find them

unarmed, yes, even without their swords. Then how could we kill them? I

am afraid of reproach. We are now both of us, belted knights, so are

they...."

"It is so," said Macko. "Yet it may lead to an encounter."

But Zbyszko contracted his brow and in his face was depicted that

determination so characteristic of the looks of the men of Bogdaniec, for

at that moment he looked as if he were Macko's own son.

"What I should also like," he said, in low tones, "is to have that bloody

dog Zygfried crushed under Jurand's feet! May God grant it!"

"Grant it, God! grant it!" immediately repeated Macko.

Whilst conversing, they covered a considerable stretch of the road until

nightfall. It was a starry night, but there was no moon. They were

obliged to halt the horses, breathe, and refresh the men with food and

sleep. Zbyszko informed Sanderus before resting that he was to proceed in

front in the morning. Sanderus willingly assented; but reserved to

himself, in case of an attack by wolves or people, the right to run back

to Zbyszko. He also asked him for permission to make four stations

instead of three, because in solitude fear always took hold of him, even

in pious countries. How much more so in such an abominable wilderness as

the one where they found themselves now?

When they had refreshed themselves with food, they lay down to sleep upon

skins near a small camp-fire, which they built about half a furlong from

the road. The servants alternately guarded the horses, which, after they

were fed, rolled upon the ground and then slept, resting their heads upon

each other's necks. But no sooner did the first ray illuminate the woods

with a silvery hue, than Zbyszko arose and awoke the others, and at dawn

they continued their march. The tracks of the hoofs of Arnold's immense

stallion were easily recovered, because the usual muddy ground had dried

up from drought. Sanderus went on ahead and soon disappeared.

Nevertheless, they found him about half way between sunrise and noon, at

the waiting place. He told them that he had not seen any living soul,

only one large aurochs, but was not scared and did not run away, because

the animal got out of his way. But he declared that shortly before, he

had seen a peasant bee-keeper, but had not detained him, for fear that in

the depths of the forest there might be more of them. He had attempted to

question him, but they had not been able to make themselves understood.

As time went by, Zbyszko became somewhat troubled.

"What will happen," he said, "if I arrive in the higher and drier region,

where, owing to the hard, dry road, the traces of the fugitives will be

lost? or, if the pursuit shall last too long and lead to an inhabited

region where the people have long since accustomed themselves to the

servitude of the Knights of the Cross; an attack and capture of Danusia

by them is more than probable, because, although Arnold and Zygfried did

not erect forts, or fortify their towns, the inhabitants would surely

take their part."

Happily that fear turned out to be groundless, because they did not find

Sanderus at the appointed second post, but found instead an incision in

the form of a cross, apparently newly cut into the bark of an adjacent

pine tree. They looked at each other and their hearts began to beat

faster. Macko and Zbyszko immediately dismounted, in order to discover

the tracks upon the ground; they examined carefully, but it did not last

long, because they were plainly discernible.

Sanderus had apparently deviated from the road into the forest, and

followed the prints of the huge horse-hoofs, which, owing to the dry

condition of the turfy soil, were not so deeply impressed, but

sufficiently visible. The heavy horse disturbed at every step the pine

needles which were blackened at the margins of the impressions.

Other marks did not escape Zbyszko's keen sight. Then he and Macko

mounted their horses, and, together with the Bohemian, silently began

taking counsel as though the enemy were quite near them.

The Bohemian's advice was that they should advance on foot at once, but

they did not agree to that, because they did not know the distance they

would have to traverse in the woods. The footmen, however, had to proceed

carefully in advance, and signal in case something occurred, so that they

might be in readiness.

They moved onward among the woods in some trepidation, and another

incision upon a pine tree assured them that they had not lost Sanderus'

tracks. Very soon they also discovered a path, showing that people

frequently passed that way, and they were convinced that they were in the

neighborhood of some forest habitation, and within it was the object of

their search.

The sun was getting low, and shed a golden hue upon the trees of the

forest. The evening promised to be serene; silence reigned in the woods

because beast and birds had retired to rest, only here and there, among

the little top branches of the trees, squirrels moved to and fro looking

quite red in the last beams of the sun. Zbyszko, Macko, the Bohemian and

the attendants, closely followed each other, knowing that their men were

considerably in advance and would warn them in proper time; the old

knight spoke to his nephew in not very subdued tones.

"Let us calculate from the sun," he said. "From the last station to the

place where we found the first incision, we covered a great distance.

According to Krakow time it would be about three hours.... Then Sanderus

must be by this time among them, and has had time enough to tell them his

adventure, provided he has not betrayed us."

"He has not betrayed us," replied Zbyszko.

"Provided they believe him," continued Macko; "if they do not, then it

will be bad for him."

"But why should they not believe him? Do they know of us? Him they know.

It often happens that prisoners escape from captivity."

"But what concerns me is this: if he told them that he ran away they

might fear he would be pursued, and they would move on at once."

"No, he will succeed in casting dust in their eyes by telling them that

such a long pursuit would not be undertaken."

They were silent for a while, then it seemed to Macko that Zbyszko was

whispering to him; he turned and asked:

"What do you say?"

But Zbyszko had said nothing to Macko, but looking upward, said:

"Only if God would favor Danuska and the courageous enterprise in her

behalf."

Macko also began to cross himself; but he had scarcely made the first

sign of the cross, when from the hazelnut thickets one of the scouts

approached him suddenly and said:

"A pitch-burning cabin! They are there!"

"Stop!" whispered Zbyszko, and dismounted at once. Macko, the Bohemian,

and the attendants, also dismounted; three of the latter received orders

to hold the horses in readiness and take care that they, God forbid, did

not neigh. "I left five men," said Macko. "There will be the two

attendants and Sanderus, whom we shall bind in a moment, and, should any

one show fight, then, at his head!"

Then they advanced, and, as they moved on, Zbyszko said to his uncle:

"You take the old man, Zygfried; and I, Arnold."

"Only take care!" replied Macko. Then he beckoned to the Bohemian,

reminding him to be ready at a moment's notice to be on hand to assist

his master.

The Bohemian nodded assent. Then he breathed deeply and felt for his

sword to see whether it could be easily unsheathed.

But Zbyszko observed it and said:

"No! I command you to hasten at once to the litter and not move from it

for a single moment whilst the fight is going on."

They went quickly but silently through the hazelnut thickets. But they

had not gone far, when at a distance of not quite two furlongs, the

growth ceased suddenly, revealing a small field upon which were

extinguished pitch-burning heaps, and two earthen shanties, or huts,

where the pitch-burners had dwelt before the war. The setting sun

brightly illuminated the lawn, the pitch-burning heaps, and the two

detached shanties--in front of one of which the two knights were sitting

upon the ground; and in front of the other were Sanderus and a bearded,

red-headed fellow. These two were occupied in polishing the coats of mail

with rags. Besides this, the two swords were lying at Sanderus' feet

ready to be cleaned afterward.

"Look," said Macko, forcibly grasping Zbyszko's arm to detain him if

possible for another moment, "he has taken the coats of mail and swords

purposely. Well, that one with the grey head must be...."

"Forward!" suddenly shouted Zbyszko.

And like a whirlwind he rushed into the clearing; the others did the

same, but they only succeeded in reaching Sanderus. The terrible Macko

caught hold of old Zygfried by the breast, bent him backward and in a

moment held him under him. Zbyszko and Arnold grasped each other like two

hawks, with their arms intertwined and began to struggle fiercely with

each other. The bearded German, who was with Sanderus, sprang toward the

sword, but he did not use it. Wit, Macko's servant, struck him with the

back of his axe, and stretched him upon the ground. Then they began to

bind Sanderus, according to Macko's order, but he, although he well knew

that it was so arranged beforehand, began to bellow as terribly as a

yearling calf whose throat is being cut by the butcher's knife.

But Zbyszko, though so strong that he could squeeze a branch of a tree

and cause the sap to run out, felt that he was not grasped by human

hands, but was in the hug of a bear. He also felt that if it were not for

the cost of mail which he had on, in case of having to fight with the

sword, the German giant would have crushed his ribs and perhaps the

spinal column too. The young knight lifted him a little from the ground,

but Arnold lifted him up higher still, and gathering all his strength he

tried to throw him to the ground so that he might not be able to rise

again.

But Zbyszko also clutched him with such terrible force that blood issued

from the German's eyes. Then he crooked his leg between Arnold's knees,

bent him sideways and struck him in the hollow of the knee, which threw

him to the ground. In reality both fell to the ground, the young knight

underneath; but at the same moment, Macko, who was observing all this,

threw the half doubled-up Zygfried into the hands of an attendant, and

rushed toward the prostrate fighters, and in the twinkling of an eye he

had bound the feet of Arnold with a belt; then he jumped, and sat down

upon him as upon a wild boar, took the _misericordia_ from his side, and

plunged it deep into his throat.

Arnold screamed horribly, and his hands involuntarily withdrew from

Zbyszko's sides. Then he began to moan not only with the pain of the

wound, but he also felt an indescribable pain in his back: where he had

received a blow from a club in his previous fight with Skirwoilla.

Macko grasped him with both hands and dragged him off Zbyszko, and

Zbyszko got up from the ground and sat down; he tried to stand up but

could not; he sat thus without being able to rise, for some time. His

face was pale and covered with perspiration. His eyes were bloodshot and

his lips were blue; and he looked in front of him as though half dazed.

"What is the matter?" asked Macko, in alarm.

"Nothing, but I am very tired. Help me to get up."

Macko put his hands under Zbyszko's arms and lifted him up at once.

"Can you stand?"

"I can."

"Do you feel pain?"

"Nothing, but I am short of breath."

Meanwhile the Bohemian, seeing apparently that the struggle in the farm

yard was all over, appeared in front of the hut, dragging the woman

servant of the Order by the neck. At that sight, Zbyszko forgot his

fatigue, his strength returned to him at once, and he rushed to the hut

as though he had never struggled with the terrible Arnold.

"Danuska! Danuska!" cried Zbyszko; but no answer came.

"Danuska! Danuska!" he repeated; then he remained silent. It was dark

within, for that reason he could see nothing at first. But instead, he

heard, proceeding from behind the stones which were heaped up behind the

fireplace, a quick and audible panting, like that of a little animal

hiding.

"Danuska! For God's sake. It is I! Zbyszko!"

Then he observed in the darkness, her eyes, wide open, terrified and

bewildered.

He rushed toward her and pressed her in his arms, but she did not

entirely recognize him, and tore herself away from his embrace, and began

to repeat in a subdued whisper:

"I am afraid! I am afraid! I am afraid!"

END OF PART SEVENTH.

PART EIGHTH.