The Knights of the Cross/Volume 2/Chapter 46

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

CHAPTER XLVI.

For Matsko and Zbyshko, who had served formerly under Vitold, and had seen warriors enough from Jmud and Lithuania, this camp had no new sight; but Hlava looked at it curiously, as he considered what might be expected of those men in battle, and compared them with the knighthood of Germany and Poland.

The camp stood on a plain surrounded by swamps and a pine forest, hence defended from attack perfectly, since no other army could wade through those treacherous morasses. The plain itself on which the huts stood was muddy and sticky, but they had covered it with fir and pine branches crosswise, and so thickly that men rested on them as firmly as on dry earth. For Prince Skirvoillo they had built hurriedly "numi," or Lithuanian huts of round logs and earth; for the more considerable people a number of huts had been made of branches; common men, warriors, were sitting around fires beneath the open sky, having as defence against changes of weather and rain only sheepskins and hides which they wore on their naked bodies. In the camp no one was sleeping yet, for the men, having no work to do since the last defeat, had slept in the daytime. Some were sitting or lying around bright fires, fed by dry wood and the branches of briars; others were digging in the half-dead and ash-covered embers, from which came the odor of the usual food of Lithuanians, roasted turnips, and also the odor of partly cooked flesh. Between the fires were seen piles of arms, placed conveniently, so that in case of need it would be easy for each man to grasp his own weapon. Hlava looked curiously at spears with long, narrow heads forged of tempered metal; at clubs of young oak-trees, into which spikes or flints had been driven, at short-handled axes, like those of Poland, which mounted knights used, and axes with handles almost as long as those of a halberd, with which men on foot fought. There were also bronze weapons handed down from old times when iron was little used in those remote regions. Some swords were of bronze also, but most were of good steel brought from Novgorod. Hlava took in his hands spears, swords, axes, pitchy bows which had been scorched; by the light of the camp-fires he tested their quality. There were not many horses near the fires, for they were feeding at a distance in the forest and on fields under guard of watchful herdsmen; but as the most distinguished boyars wished to have their steeds near by, there were in the camp some tens of them fed from the hands of slaves. Hlava wondered at the shape of those animals, small beyond comparison, with strong necks, and in general so strange that Western knights considered them a distinct beast of the forest, more like unicorns than genuine horses.

"Bulky war steeds are of no use here," said the experienced Matsko, thinking of his old campaigns with Vitold, "for a big horse will mire at once in soft places, but one of these little nags will go through any place, almost as a man would."

"But on the field," said Hlava, "these beasts cannot overtake the great German horses."

"They can indeed. And besides, the German will not escape his Jmud enemy, nor will he overtake him, for the Jmud horse is as swift, if not swifter, than the Tartar."

"Still to me this is wonderful; the Tartar captives whom I saw brought in by the knight Zyh were not large, and any horse might bear one of them, but these are sturdy fellows."

The men were in truth well-bodied. By the fires were evident, under skins and coats of sheepskin, broad breasts and strong shoulders. Man for man they were rather thin, but tall and bony; in general they surpassed in size the inhabitants of other parts of Lithuania, for they lived on richer and better lands, where famines, which tortured that region at one time and another, put themselves in evidence more rarely. The Grand Prince's castle was in Vilno; to Vilno went princes from the East and the West; embassies went there, foreign merchants went; so the citizens of the place and the inhabitants of the region about grew acquainted with foreigners somewhat. In Jmud the foreigner appeared only under the form of a Knight of the Cross, or a Knight of the Sword, who brought into remote forest villages conflagration, captivity, baptism in blood; hence each man there was sterner, ruder, and closer to the old time, more unbending toward every new thing, more a defender of old customs, old ways of warfare, and the ancient religion, because the religion of the Cross was taught, not by a mild herald of the gospel, with an apostle's love, but by an iron-clad German monk, having in him the soul of an executioner.

Skirvoillo, and the more important princes and boyars, had become Christian already, since they had followed the example of Yagello and Vitold. Others, even the rudest and wildest warriors, carried in their bosoms a dim feeling that the end and the death of their old world and old faith was coming; and were ready to bend their heads before the Cross, should it only be a cross not raised by Germans, not raised by hands that were detested. "We implore baptism," cried they to all princes and peoples; "but remember that we are human, that we are not wild beasts to be given away, bought and sold." Meanwhile, since the old faith was dying, as a fire dies when no one casts a fresh stick on it, and since hearts were turned from the new faith which German preponderance represented, in their souls a vacuum was created, and fear with dreadful sorrow for the past, and deep sadness. Hlava, who from childhood had grown up in the joyous bustle of soldiers' life, with songs and sounding music, saw for the first time a camp so mournful and so silent. Scarcely here and there, near the fires of Skirvoillo' s remotest huts, were heard the sounds of a pipe or a whistle, or the words of a low song hummed by a "burtinikas." The warriors were listening with bowed heads and eyes fixed on the light. Some were squatted in groups around the fires, with their elbows resting on their knees and their faces hidden by their hands, and covered with skins, like ravening beasts of the forest. But when they raised their heads toward the passing knights, a gleam of light from the fire showed blue eyes and mild faces, not at all fierce or robber-like, but resembling much more the faces of wronged and sad children. At the outskirts of the camping-ground, on mosses, lay those wounded warriors whom they had been able to bring in from the last battle. Soothsayers, or so-called "labdarysi" and "seitons," were muttering incantations above them and dressing their wounds, to which they applied healing herbs as the men lay there patiently in silence, enduring pain and torment. From among distant trees, from the direction of fields and meadows came the whistling of horseherds; at intervals wind rose, whirling the smoke of the camp around and filling with its voice the dark forest. As night advanced the fires became dimmer and died out; silence came down and intensified that picture of gloom and of mental depression.

Zbyshko gave out orders to the men whom he had brought, and with whom he could speak easily, for among them was a small number of Plotsk people; then he turned to his attendant, Hlava, and said,—

"Thou hast seen enough; it is time to sleep now."

"Of course I have seen enough," answered Hlava, "but I do not rejoice much at what I have seen, for it is evident in a moment that the people are beaten."

"Twice; four days ago at the castle, and the next day at the crossing. And now Skirvoillo wants to go for the third time, to pass through the third defeat."

"How is it that he does not understand that with such troops he cannot succeed against Germans? Pan Matsko told me, and now I myself see, that they must be poor men for combat."

"In this thou art mistaken, for they are warlike as few men on earth are. But they fight in a crowd, while the Germans fight in ranks. If you break the German line, a Jmud man will put down a German quicker than a German can put down a Jmud man. The Germans know this, close in, and stand like a stone wall."

"As to taking castles, of course there is no word to be said of that," remarked Hlava.

"Well, there are no materials for doing so," answered Zbyshko. "Prince Vitold has the materials, and till he comes we shall not get any castle, unless by chance or through treason."

Thus conversing, they reached the tent, before which a large fire was kept up by servants, and in it smoked meat prepared by them. It was damp in the tent and cold, so that both knights, and with them Hlava, sat down before the fire on rawhides. After they had refreshed themselves they tried to sleep, but sleep they could not. Matsko turned from side to side, and saw that Zbyshko, sitting near the fire, had embraced both knees with his arms.

"Listen!" said he. "Why didst thou advise to go far away to Ragneta, and not near by to this Gotteswerder? Why didst thou propose that?"

"Because something told my soul that Danusia is in Ragneta—and there they are less on guard than here."

"There was no time to talk long, for I myself was weary, and after the defeat thou wert collecting men through the forest. But now tell me truly: Dost thou wish to search for that girl?"

"That is no girl; she is my wife."

Then silence came, for Matsko knew well that there was no reply to that answer. If Danusia had been only Yurand's daughter he would, beyond doubt, have asked Zbyshko to think no more of her; but in view of the sacredness of marriage, it was simply a duty to search for her, and Matsko would not have put such a question had it not been that he had seen neither the betrothal nor the wedding, and thought always of Yurand's daughter as a maiden.

"Ah!" said he, after a while, "all that I could inquire of thee for two days past I have inquired, and thou hast said that thou knowest nothing."

"I have said so because I know nothing, save this, that God's anger is on me."

Hlava, straightening up from the bearskin, rose, and turning his ear, began to listen carefully and with curiosity.

"While sleep does not take sense from me," said Matsko, "talk on. What hast thou seen, what hast thou done, what hast thou accomplished in Malborg?"

Zbyshko put back the hair which, uncut in front for a long time, reached down over his brow, sat a while in silence, and then began,—

"Ah, if God would only let me know as much of my Danusia as I know of Malborg! You ask what I saw there? I saw the measureless strength of the Order, supported by all kings and all nations, and which is such that I know not whether anything on earth has power to conquer it. I saw a castle which no one save perhaps the Roman Cæsar can equal. I saw treasures beyond calculation, I saw arms, I saw armored monks, knights, and soldiers as numerous as ant-swarms, and relics as many as the Holy Father in Rome has. I tell you that the soul just grew benumbed in me, for I thought thus: how is any one to attack them; who can overcome them; who can stand against them; who are the people who will not be broken by the strength of those Knights of the Order?"

"We! perdition take their mother!" cried Hlava, unable to restrain himself.

Zbyshko's words seemed strange also to Matsko, and though he wished to learn all about the adventures of his nephew, he interrupted him.

"But hast thou forgotten Vilno?" asked he. "And are the times few that we have fought shield to shield, face to face with them? And hast thou forgotten what ill-success they had in meeting us—and how they complained of our stubbornness, saying that it was not enough to sweat horses and break lances, that they had to take our lives, or give their own up? There were men from foreign lands also who challenged us—but all went away in disgrace. Why hast thou grown there thus softened?"

"I have not grown softened, for I fought in Malborg where men met with sharp lances. But you do not know all the strength of those people."

The old man grew angry.

"But dost thou know all the Polish strength? Hast thou seen our banners assembled? Thou hast not. But the German strength rests on injustice to man, and on treachery; for there is not a finger's length of land where they are that belongs to them. Our princes took them in as a beggar is taken to a house—where gifts are given him; but they, when they had grown in strength, bit the hand that fed them, as a shameless mad dog might do. They gathered in lands, they took cities by treachery, that is where their strength lies! But though all the kings on earth went to aid them, the day of judgment and vengeance is approaching them."

"You asked me to tell what I saw, and now you are angry. Better let me be silent," said Zbyshko.

Matsko muttered for a time as if angry, but after a while calmed himself, and continued,—

"Well, the case is like this: A pine-tree, immense, as a tower, stands in the forest before a man; he thinks: 'That will stand for the ages of ages;' but let him give a good blow with the back of an axe, the tree will sound hollow, and the dust of decay will drop from it. Such is the might of the Order. I asked thee to tell what thou hast done there, what thou hast accomplished. Hast thou met a man at sharp lances?—tell that to me."

"I have. With insolence and impoliteness did they receive me in the first days, for it was known to them that I had met Rotgier. Perhaps something ill would have happened me had I not gone with a letter from Prince Yanush; besides, De Lorche, whom they reverence, guarded me from their malice. But later came feasts and tournaments, during which the Lord Jesus blessed me. You have heard that Ulrich, the Grand Master's brother, took me into his affection and gave a written command from the Master himself to deliver Danusia into my hands."

"People told us," replied Matsko, "that his saddle-girth burst, and seeing this thou didst refuse to strike him."

"I raised my lance point, and from that moment he loved me. Ei, dear God! but he gave me strong letters, with which I might go from castle to castle and search. I thought that the end of my torment and trouble had come but now I am helpless here, sitting in a wild region, suffering in loneliness; day after day I am sadder and more tormented."

Here he was silent for a while, then he hurled a piece of wood into the fire with all his might, so that sparks shot up, and a burning brand with them.

"Yes," said he, "if that poor girl is groaning here somewhere in a castle, and thinks that I have forgotten her, may sudden death not escape me!"

And so much was there burning in him of evident impatience and pain that again he threw wood into the fire, as if carried away by a blind sudden pang, and all were astonished greatly, for they had not supposed that he loved Danusia to that extent.

"Restrain thyself!" exclaimed Matsko. "How was it with that letter? Did the comturs wish to disobey the Grand Master?"

"Command yourself, lord," said Hlava. "God will comfort you—perhaps quickly."

Tears glittered in Zbyshko's eyes, but he composed himself somewhat.

"The traitors opened castles and prisons," said he. "I went to all places. I searched till the war broke out then,—in Gerdavy Von Heideck, the voyt told me that military law changed everything, that letters of safe-conduct given in peace time were meaningless. I challenged him right there, but he would not meet me, and gave command to put me out of the castle."

"And in others?" inquired Matsko.

"From all the same answer. In Krolevets the comtur, who is Von Heideck's chief, was unwilling even to read the Master's letter; he declared that war was war, and told me to be off while I had a sound head on my shoulders. I asked for information in other parts—the same story everywhere."

"I know now," said the old knight. "It is clear that thou wilt effect nothing; thou hast chosen to come here, where at least revenge may succeed with thee."

"True. I thought also that I might take captives and seize some castles, but these men cannot take castles."

"Hei! wait till Prince Vitold himself comes; then it will be otherwise."

"God grant him to us."

"He will come. I heard at the Mazovian court that he will come, and perhaps the king will come too, and bring all the strength that is in Poland."

Further speech between them was interrupted by Skirvoillo, who came out of the shade unexpectedly and said,—

"We are marching to the conflict!"

When they heard this the knights stood up quickly. Skirvoillo approached his immense head to their faces and said in a low voice,—

"We have news: reinforcements are marching to New Kovno. Two Knights of the Cross are leading on soldiers with cattle and provisions. Let us stop them!"

"Then shall we cross the Niemen?" inquired Zbyshko.

"Yes. We know the ford."

"And do they know in the castle of those reinforcements?"

"They know, and will go out to meet them; on those who go out you will strike."

Then he explained where they were to lie in ambush, and in such wise as to hit unexpectedly on those who sallied forth from the castle. His plan was that two battles should take place at the same time, to avenge the defeats suffered recently; this might be carried out with the greater ease, since the enemy felt entirely safe after victory. Hence he designated the time of action and the places to which they must hurry; the rest he left to their bravery and foresight. They were delighted in heart, for they saw at once that he spoke to them as an accurate and experienced warrior. When he had finished he commanded to follow him and returned to his cabin, in which princes and boyar captains were waiting. There he repeated his orders, issued new ones, and raising to his lips a tube of carved wolf-bone, gave a shrill and far-sounding whistle, which was heard from one end of the camp to the other.

At that moment something boiled up along the dying fire places; here and there sparks glittered, then small flames appeared which rose and increased every instant, and in the light of them were seen forms of wild warriors assembling around the fires with their weapons. The forest shook and roused itself. Soon from the depth began to come the calling of horseherds as they drove in their beasts to the camp ground.