The Knights of the Cross/Volume 1/Chapter 31

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

CHAPTER XXXI.

But news of what had happened in Schytno preceded Brother Rotgier and roused astonishment and alarm in Tsehanov. Neither the prince himself nor any one of his court could understand what had happened. A little while earlier, just as Mikolai of Dlugolyas was starting for Malborg with a letter from the prince complaining bitterly that Danusia had been stolen by disorderly comturs of the boundary, and asking with a threat almost to send her back straightway, a letter came from the master of Spyhov, announcing that his daughter had not been taken by Knights of the Cross, but by ordinary bandits of the border, and that soon she would be freed for a ransom. The envoy did not start, for it did not occur to any one that Knights of the Cross had forced such a letter from Yurand under threat of killing his daughter. It was difficult to understand what had happened if one believed the letter, for marauders of the boundary, as subjects of the prince and the Order, attacked one another in summer, not in winter, when snow would show their traces. Usually they fell upon merchants, or robbed throughout villages, seizing people, and driving their herds away; but to attack the prince himself and bear off his foster child, the daughter of a powerful knight who roused terror everywhere, was a deed which seemed simply beyond human credence. But to that, as to other doubts, the answer was Yurand's letter with his seal, and brought this time by a man whom they knew to have started from Spyhov. In view of these facts no suspicion was possible, but the prince fell into such rage as no one had seen for a long time, and commanded his men to hunt down bandits along every border, inviting also the Prince of Plotsk to do likewise, and spare no punishment on the turbulent.

Just at this juncture came news of what had happened in Schytno.

And passing from mouth to mouth it arrived with tenfold increase. Yurand, it was said, had gone with five others to Schytno; he had rushed in through the open gate and committed such slaughter that few of the garrison were left among the living. It was said that they had to send for aid to neighboring castles, and summon the best of the knights and armed bodies of footmen, who only after a siege of two days had succeeded in bursting into the fortress and cutting down Yurand, together with his comrades. It was said too that very likely these troops would cross the boundary, and a great war come undoubtedly.

The prince, who knew how very anxious the Grand Master was that in case of war with the Polish king the forces of the two Mazovian principalities should be neutral, did not believe these reports, for to him it was no secret that if the Knights of the Cross began war against the Prince of Plotsk, or against him, no human power could restrain Poland; hence the Grand Master feared war. He knew that war must come, but being of peaceful nature he wished delay, and moreover he knew that to measure himself with the power of Yagello he needed forces such as the Order had never put forth up to that time; he needed besides to assure himself of aid from the princes and knighthood, not only of Germany, but of all Western Europe.

The prince had no fear of war, therefore, but he wished to know what had happened, what he was to think really of the event in Schytno, of the disappearance of Danusia, and of all those tidings brought in from the boundary; hence, though he could not endure the Order, he was glad when one evening the captain of the archers announced that a Knight of the Cross had come and requested an audience.

He received him haughtily, and, though he knew at once that the man was one of those brothers who had been at the hunting-lodge, he feigned not to remember him, and inquired who he was, whence he had come, and why he had visited Tsehanov.

"I am Brother Rotgier," answered he, "and had the honor not long since to bow down to the knees of your Princety Grace."

"Since you are a brother, why have you not the insignia of the Order on your person?"

The Knight explained that he had not put on a white mantle because had he done so he would have been captured or slain beyond doubt by the knights of Mazovia. "In all the world elsewhere," said he. "in all other principalities and kingdoms, the cross on a mantle wins good-will and hospitality from people, in Mazovia alone does the cross expose to certain destruction him who bears it"

"Not the cross exposes you," broke in the prince, angrily, "for we also kiss the cross, but your own criminality. And if somewhere else men receive you better than we do, it is because you are less known to them."

Then seeing that the knight was greatly offended by these words, he inquired,—

"Hast thou been in Schytno, or knowst thou what has happened there?"

"I have been in Schytno, and I know what has happened there," answered Rotgier, "and I have come hither not as the envoy of any one, but for this reason only, that the experienced and pious comtur of Insburg said to me: 'Our Grand Master loves the pious prince and confides in his honesty, hence while I hasten to Malborg do thou go to Mazovia and explain to him the wrongs and insults inflicted upon us, explain our misfortune. Be sure that that just ruler will not favor the disturber of peace, the savage attacker who shed as much Christian blood as if he were serving not the Saviour, but Satan.'"

And now he narrated how everything had happened in Schytno. How Yurand, invited by the brothers to see if the girl taken from the bandits was his daughter, instead of showing gratitude, had fallen upon them madly; killed Danveld, Brother Gottfried, the Englishman Hugo, Von Bracht, and two noble youths, not counting soldiers; how the brothers, remembering God's commands, and not wishing to kill any one, were forced at last to entangle in a net the raging maniac, who then turned his weapons on himself and wounded his own body dreadfully; finally how, not only in the castle, but in the town, there were people who in the midst of the winter storm heard on that night after the battle laughter and hideous voices crying out in the air: "Our Yurand! The enemy of the Cross! the spiller of innocent blood! Our Yurand!"

The whole narrative, but especially the last words of it, made a deep impression on all. Terror simply seized them. Has Yurand, thought they, really summoned unclean powers?—and deep silence fell on them. The princess, who was present, and who, loving Danusia, bore in her heart an incurable sorrow, turned to Rotgier with this sudden query,—

"You say, Knight, that when you had rescued the idiot you thought her Yurand's daughter, and therefore invited him to Schytno."

"True, Gracious Lady," answered Rotgier.

"But how could you think so, since you had seen Yurand's real daughter with me in the hunting-lodge?"

At this Rotgier was confused, for he was not prepared for the question. The prince rose and fixed a stern glance on him; Mikolai of Dlugolyas, Mrokota, Yasko, and other Mazovian knights sprang at once toward him, asking one after another in threatening voices,—

"How could you think so? Say, German! How was that possible?"

But Rotgier rallied.

"We brothers of the Order," said he, "do not raise our eyes on women. At the lodge there were damsels not a few in attendance on the Gracious Princess, but who among them was Yurand's daughter no man of us knew."

"Danveld knew her," said Mikolai. "He conversed with her even, at the hunt."

"Danveld is standing in the presence of God," answered Rotgier, "and I will say only this of him, that on the morning after his death blooming roses were found on his coffin. As the season is winter no human hand could have put them there."

Again silence followed.

"How did ye know that Yurand's daughter was stolen?" inquired the prince.

"The very godlessness and insolence of the deed caused it to be bruited about in all places. Hence on hearing of it we had a mass celebrated in thanksgiving that it was only an ordinary damsel and not one of your Grace's children that was stolen from the hunting-lodge."

"But it is a wonder to me that ye could consider an idiot girl to be the daughter of Yurand."

To this Brother Rotgier answered,—

"Danveld said, 'Satan often betrays his servants, so perhaps he transformed Yurand's daughter.'"

"But the bandits could not, as they are ignorant people, forge a letter from Father Kaleb and put Yurand's seal on it. Who could have done that?"

"The evil spirit."

Again no one was able to find an answer. Rotgier looked carefully into the eyes of the prince, and said,—

"In truth these questions are as swords in my breast, for suspicion and doubt is contained in them. But confident in the justice of God and the power of truth, I ask your Princely Grace: Did Yurand himself suspect us of this deed, and if he suspected us why did he, before we invited him to Schytno, search the whole boundary for bandits so as to ransom his daughter from them?"

"Well," said the prince, "as to truth, though thou hide it from people, thou wilt not hide it from God. Yurand held you guilty at first, but afterward—afterward he had another idea."

"See how the brightness of truth conquers darkness," said Rotgier. And he looked around the hall with the glance of a victor, for he thought that in the heads of the Knights of the Cross there was more wit and keenness than in Polish heads, and that the Polish race would serve always as plunder and nourishment for the Order, just as a fly must be plunder and nourishment for a spider. So, casting aside his former pliancy, he approached the prince, and demanded in a voice which was haughty and insistent,—

"Reward us, Lord, for our losses, for the injustice inflicted on us, for our tears and our blood! This son of hell was thy subject, hence in the name of God, from whom comes the power of kings and princes, in the name of justice and the Cross, repay us for our wrongs and our blood!"

The prince looked at him with amazement.

"By the dear God," said he, "what dost thou wish? If Yurand shed blood in his rage, must I answer for his rage?"

"He was thy subject, in thy principality are his lands, his villages, and his castle in which he imprisoned servants of the Order; hence let those lands at least and that godless castle become henceforth the property of the Order. Of course this will be no fitting return for the noble blood shed by him, of course it will not raise the dead to life, but it may even in part still God's anger and wipe away the infamy which otherwise will fall on this whole principality. O Lord! Everywhere the Order possesses lands and castles with which the favor and piety of Christian princes have endowed it, but it has not a hand's-breadth in your dominions. Let the injustice done us, which calls to God for vengeance, be redeemed even in this way, so that we may say that here too live people who have in their hearts the fear of God."

The prince was astonished still more on hearing this, and only after long silence did he answer,—

"By the wounds of God! But if this Order of yours is seated here, by whose favor is it here if not by the favor of my ancestors? Have ye not enough yet of those towns, lands, and regions which belonged to our people formerly and which to-day are yours? Besides, Yurand's daughter is living yet, for no one has informed you of her death. Do ye wish then to seize an orphan's dowry and right with an orphan's bread some wrong done you?"

"Lord, thou recognizest the wrong," said Rotgier, "then give satisfaction as thy princely conscience and thy just soul dictates."

And again he was glad in heart, for he thought: "Now not merely will they not complain, they will take counsel how to wash their hands of the affair and squeeze out of it. No one will reproach us with anything, and our fame will be like the white mantle of the Order, stainless."

Meanwhile the voice of old Mikolai was heard unexpectedly,—

"They accuse thee of greed, and God knows with justice, for in this case thou carest more for profit than the honor of the Order."

"That is true!" answered the Mazovian knights in a chorus.

Rotgier advanced a number of steps, raised his head haughtily, and said, measuring them with a lofty glance,—

"I have not come here as an envoy, but as a witness in a cause, and as a Knight of the Cross, ready to defend the honor of the Order with my own blood to the last breath of life. Whoso dares then in the face of what Yurand himself has said to accuse the Order of taking part in the seizure of his daughter, let him take up this knightly challenge, and stand here before the judgment of God!"

Then he cast down before him his gauntlet of a knight, which fell on the floor. They stood in deep silence, for though more than one man would have been delighted to dint a sword on the shoulder of the German, they feared the judgment of God. It was a secret to no one that Yurand had testified explicitly that the Knights of the Order had not stolen his daughter, hence every man thought in his soul that truth, and therefore victory, would be on the side of Rotgier.

The knight grew more and more haughty, and, resting his hand on his hip, he inquired,—

"Is there a man who will take up this gauntlet?"

That moment some knight whom no one had seen enter, at the door had been listening to the conversation, stepped into the middle of the room, took up the gauntlet, and said,—

"I am here!"

When he had spoken thus he cast his own gauntlet straight into Rotgier s face, and began in a voice which in the universal silence spread through the hall like thunder,—

"In the presence of God, in the presence of the worthy prince, and in presence of all the honorable knighthood of this land, I tell thee, Knight of the Cross, that thou liest like a dog against truth and justice—and I challenge thee into the lists to do battle on foot, or on horseback, with lances, with axes, with short swords or long ones—and not to loss of freedom, but to the last breath of life, to the death!"

In that hall one might have heard a fly on the wing. All eyes were turned to Rotgier, and to the challenging knight whom no one knew, for he had a helmet on his head, without a visor, it is true, but with round side pieces which went below his ears, covering the upper part of his face altogether and shading the lower part deeply. The Knight of the Cross was not less astonished than others. Confusion, pallor, and wild anger flashed across his face in succession, like lightning across a night sky. He seized the glove, which, slipping from his face, had caught on a link of his shoulder-piece, and inquired—

"Who art thou who callest on the justice of God?"

The other man unfastened the buckle under his chin, raised his helmet, from under which appeared a bright, youthful face, and said,—

"Zbyshko of Bogdanets, the husband of Yurand's daughter."

All were astounded, and Rotgier with the rest, for no one save the prince and princess, with Father Vyshonek and De Lorche, knew of Danusia's marriage. The Knights of the Cross felt certain that except her father, Danusia had no natural defender, but at that moment Pan de Lorche, came forward and said,—

"On my knightly honor I testify to the truth of his words; whoso dares to doubt it to him I say: here is my gauntlet."

Rotgier was a stranger to fear, and in his heart anger was storming at that moment; he would perhaps have raised that gauntlet also, but remembering that the man who had cast it down was himself a great lord, and a relative of the Count of Guelders, he restrained his anger; he did this all the more since the prince rose and said with a frown,—

"It is not permitted to raise the gauntlet, for I too testify that this knight has spoken truly."

When Rotgier heard this he bowed, and then said to Zbyshko,—

"If it be thy choice, then on foot, in closed barriers, with axes."

"I challenged thee the first time in that way," replied Zbyshko.

"God grant victory to justice!" cried the knights of Mazovia.