enough or deadly enough to destroy the root and seed of that lowly breed.”
“But father, the Mongols spare the house and property of no one, not even the king’s palaces! You told me once yourself how they crushed the kings to death beneath the boards upon which they sat eating their meals.”
“That is all for the good also! Let them crush the kings, those cunning ravens! But they did not crush a single boyar, I repeat once more, they are our allies!”
“But father, would you want to be allied with those barbarians, drunk on the blood of our Ukrainian race?”
“Why should I concern myself who they are and what they’re like? Through them lies our only salvation. I don’t care if they are Lucifer’s helpers in person, if they only aid me!”
Peace-Renown blanched and stared at her father fearfully. The change in him was startling. In the blood-red flare of the bonfires which lighted up the entire region, his face looked fantastic, monstrous wild and the red glow reflected on his helmet turned it into a wreath of blood encasing his face. They both had dismounted from their horses and stood on the steep bank of the mountain, staring at each other.
“How terrible you look in this light, father,” whispered Peace-Renown. “Why, I hardly recognize you!”
“Why don’t you speak frankly, daughter,” replied the father with a wild, mirthless laugh. “I know what you wanted to say! You wanted to say to me, ‘I cannot go on with you any further, father, I will leave you, traitor to our country, and I will return to my beloved, faithful Berkut!’ Go on, say it, and leave me! I will go where fate awaits me and will to the end of my days continue to strive for your welfare.” The bitter, harsh tone of the boyar’s reproach softened in the end, grown tremulous with emotion, so that Peace-Renown burst into unrestrained weeping and throwing her arms around her father’s neck, sobbed:
92
