The Knights of the Cross/Volume 2/Chapter 48

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The Knights of the Cross (1918)
by Henryk Sienkiewicz, translated by Jeremiah Curtin
Volume II, Chapter XLVIII
Henryk Sienkiewicz1703882The Knights of the Cross — Volume II, Chapter XLVIII1918Jeremiah Curtin

CHAPTER XLVIII.

Zbyshko asked hurriedly how they were moving, how many cavalry there were, how many men on foot, and above all, how far away they were. From the answer of the Jmud man he learned that the detachment was not greater than one hundred and fifty warriors; of these, fifty were horsemen not under the lead of a Knight of the Cross, but of some knight who was a layman and a foreigner; that they were advancing in rank, bringing behind them wagons on which was a supply of wheels; that in front of the division, at a distance of two shots of an arrow, was a guard formed of eight men, who left the road frequently to examine trees and bushes, and finally that they were about a mile and a quarter distant.

Zbyshko was not very glad that they were advancing in rank. He knew from experience how difficult it was to break united Germans, and how such a "union" could defend itself while retreating and fight like a wild boar surrounded, by hunting-dogs. On the other hand he was pleased at the intelligence that they were not farther away than a mile and a quarter, for he inferred from this that the detachment which he had sent forward had gained the rear and that in case of German defeat this detachment would let no living soul escape. For the advance guard he did not care much; thinking beforehand that they would come, he had ordered the Jmud warriors either to let them pass without notice, or, if some tried to examine the forest, to snatch them up to the last man in silence.

This command proved superfluous. The guard appeared quickly. Hidden by mounds near the road, the Jmud men saw those soldiers perfectly, and saw how, halting at the turns, they talked with one another. The leader, a sturdy, red-bearded German, imposing silence by a nod, began to listen. In a moment it was clear that he hesitated as to this: should he search the forest? At last, when he heard nothing but the hammering of woodpeckers, it was evident that to his thinking the birds would not work with that freedom were any one concealed near them; hence he waved his hand and led on the avant-guard.

Zbyshko waited till they vanished beyond the next turn; then he went to the edge of the road quietly at the head of the heavy-armored men, among whom were Matsko, Hlava, the two nobles from Lenkavitsa, three young knights from Tsehanov, and some tens of the weightiest and best-armed nobles among the Jmud men. Further concealment was not greatly needed; hence Zbyshko intended, the moment that Germans appeared, to spring into the middle of the roadway, strike on them, and break their circle. Should that succeed and the general battle be turned into a series of duels, he might be sure that the Jmud men would master the Germans.

Again followed a moment of silence, interrupted only by the usual forest whisper. But soon there came to the ear of the warriors, from the eastern part of the roadway, the voices of people. Confused and rather distant, it changed by degrees into something more expressive and nearer.

Zbyshko at that moment led his detachment to the middle of the roadway and placed it there in wedge form. He stood himself at the head of it, having immediately behind him both Matsko and Hlava. In the next rank were three men, beyond them four others. They were all armed properly; lacking, it is true, the strong "wood" or lances of the knighthood,—those lances were a great hindrance in forest fighting,—but they held in their hands the short and for the first onset the easiest weapon, the Jmud spear, and had swords and axes at their saddles for battling in a throng of warriors.

Hlava put forward his ear anxiously, listened, and then whispered to Matsko,—

"Perdition take their mother! they are singing."

"But it is a wonder to me that the pine wood is closed before us and that we cannot see them from this place," replied Matsko.

To this, Zbyshko, who considered further concealment or even quiet talking as needless, turned and said,—

"That is because the road goes along the river and turns frequently. We shall see them all on a sudden; that will be better."

"Some one is singing a pleasant song!" put in Hlava.

In fact the Germans were singing a song far from religious; this was easy to discern from its note. After listening to it one discovered also that only a few tens of men were singing; and only one phrase was repeated by all, but this phrase went through the forest like thunder.

And so they came on to death, gladsome and full of rejoicing.

"We shall soon see them," said Matsko.

That instant his face became dark and was wolf-like, in some sort, for the soul in him had grown merciless and unforgiving; besides, he had not paid yet for that wound from a crossbow which he received when journeying to save Zbyshko, bearing with him a letter from Vitold's sister to the Grand Master. Hence his heart sprang up and the desire for vengeance flowed around it as if it had been in boiling water.

"It will not be well for the man who meets him first," thought Hlava, as he cast his eye on the old knight.

Meanwhile the breeze brought up clearly the phrase which all were repeating in their chorus: "Tándaradéi! tándaradéi!" and right away Hlava heard the words of a song known to him:—

"Bi den rôsen er wol mac,
Tándaradéi!
Merken wa mir'z houlet lac."

Now the song stopped, for on both sides of the road was given forth a multitude of croaks as loud and resonant as if a congress of ravens had been opened in that corner of the forest.

The Germans were astonished at this. Whence could so many of those birds have flown in, and why did all their voices come from the ground, and not from the treetops?

The first rank of soldiers just showed itself on the turn and stopped, as if planted, at sight of unknown horsemen out there in front of them.

That instant Zbyshko bent toward his saddle bow, spurred his horse and rushed forward,—

"At them!"

After him shot on the others. From both sides of the forest rose the dreadful cry of Jmud warriors. About two hundred paces divided Zbyshko's men from the Germans, who in one twinkle lowered a forest of spears against the onriders; at the same instant the farther German ranks faced the two sides of the forest with equal swiftness, to defend themselves against two flank attacks. The Polish knights would have admired that accuracy had there been time for admiration, and had not their horses swept them with the highest speed against the levelled, gleaming lances.

Through a chance, which for Zbyshko was fortunate, the German cavalry found itself in the rear of the detachment, near the wagons. They moved, it is true, at once toward the infantry, but could neither pass through nor ride around it, and consequently could not defend it from the first onset. Meanwhile crowds of Jmud warriors attacked the mounted Germans, rushing out of the thicket like a swarm of stinging wasps whose nest has been hit by the foot of a heedless traveller. Zbyshko struck with his men on the infantry. But his blow had no effect. The Germans put the ends of their heavy lances and halberds on the ground and held them with such firmness and so evenly that the lighthorse of the Jmud men had not force to break that wall. Matsko's horse, struck by a halberd in the shank, reared on its hind-legs and then dug the earth with its nostrils. For a moment death was hanging over the old knight, but, experienced in all struggles and every adventure, he drew his foot out of the stirrups and grasped with his strong hand the sharp German spear, which, instead of entering his bosom, was used to support him; next he sprang out among the horses, and drawing his sword, struck right and left at spears and halberds, just as a keen falcon dashes savagely at a flock of long-billed storks. Zbyshko's horse was stopped in its speed and almost stood on its hind-legs. Zbyshko leaned on his spear for support and broke it, so he too took his sword. Hlava, who believed in the axe above all weapons, hurled his at the Germans, and was for a moment defenceless. One of the nobles from Lenkavitsa perished; at sight of this, rage so seized the other that he howled like a wolf, and, reining back his bloody horse till it reared, drove the beast toward the midst of the enemy at random. The boyars of Jmud hewed with their blades against the large and small spears, from behind which gazed the faces of soldiers, transfixed as it were with amazement, and also contracted by stubbornness and resolution. But the line did not break. The Jmud men, who struck at the flanks, sprang back at once from the Germans as from porcupines. They returned, it is true, but could effect nothing.

Some climbed in a twinkle into the trees at the roadside and began to shoot from bows into the midst of the soldiers. whose leaders, seeing this, gave command to withdraw toward the cavalry. The German crossbows now gave answer, and from moment to moment a Jmud man hidden among branches fell to the earth like a ripe pine cone, and dying, tore with his hands the moss of the forest, or squirmed like a fish when 't is swept out of water. Surrounded on all sides, the Germans could not indeed count on victory; seeing, however, the seriousness of their own defence, they thought that even a handful might push out of those straits and escape to the riverside.

The thought came to no man to yield himself, for never having spared prisoners themselves, they knew that they could not count on the pity of a people brought to despair and to uprising. Hence they retreated in silence, man at the side of man, shoulder to shoulder, now raising, now lowering their lances and halberds, cutting, thrusting, or shooting from crossbows in so far as the confusion of battle permitted, approaching always their cavalry, which was fighting a life and death battle with other legions of the enemy.

Then something unlooked-for took place, something which settled the fate of the desperate struggle. That noble of Lenkavitsa, whom frenzy had seized at the death of his brother, bent forward, without dismounting, and raised the corpse from the earth, wishing evidently to secure it and put it somewhere in safety, so as to find it more easily when the battle was over. But that same moment a new wave of frenzy rushed to his head and deprived him entirely of reason; for, instead of leaving the road, he struck straight on the Germans and hurled the corpse onto their lance points, which, fastened now in its breast, sides, and bowels, went down beneath the burden. Before the soldiers could pull out their lances, the madman had rushed through the gap in their ranks unresisted, overturning men in his course like a tempest.

In a twinkle tens of hands were stretched toward him, tens of spears pierced the flanks of his horse; but meanwhile the ranks were broken, and before they could close again, one of the Jmud men, the one happening nearest, rushed in, after him Zbyshko, after him Hlava; and the awful struggle grew and increased every instant. Other nobles grasped also dead bodies and whirled them on to the German lance points. Jmud men attacked again from the two flanks. The whole detachment, up to that time well-ordered, shook like a house in which the walls are bursting, opened like a log when a wedge is driven into it, and finally dropped apart.

The battle was changed in one moment into slaughter. The long German lances and halberds were useless in the onrush. On the other hand, the swords of the horsemen bit the skulls and the necks of the German footmen. The horses reared in the crowds of people, overturning and trampling the unfortunate soldiers. For horsemen it was easy to strike from above, so they cut without halting or resting. From the sides of the road rushed forth crowd after crowd of wild warriors in wolfskins, and with a wolf's thirst for blood in their bosoms. Their howls drowned voices imploring for pity, and drowned also the groans of the dying. The conquered threw away their weapons; some tried to escape to the forest; some, feigning death, fell on the earth there; some stood erect, with faces as pale as snow and with blinking eyes; others prayed; one, whose mind seemed lost from terror, began to play on a whistle, then raising his eyes up, he laughed till Jmud swords laid his skull open. The pine woods ceased to sound, as if terrified at the slaughter.

At last the handful of men of the Order melted. But for a time was heard in the brushwood the sound of brief fights, or the sharp cry of terror. Zbyshko and Matsko, and behind them all the light-horse, rushed now at the German cavalry, which, defending itself yet, had formed in a circle, for in that way the Germans always defended themselves when the enemy succeeded in meeting them with greater forces. The cavalry, sitting on good horses and in better armor than the footmen, fought bravely and with persistence which deserved admiration. There was no white mantle among them; they were mainly of the middle and smaller nobles of Prussia, whose duty it was to stand in line at command of the Order. Their horses were for the greater part armored, some with breast armor, and all in iron frontlets with a steel horn from the middle of the forehead. Leadership over them was held by a tall, slender man, in dark-blue armor and a helmet of the same shade with closed visor.

From the forest depth a shower of arrows was falling on them, but these shafts dropped harmless from their visors, hard shoulder-pieces, and breastplates. A wave of Jmud men on foot and on horseback had surrounded them closely, but they defended themselves, cutting and thrusting with their long sword-blades so stubbornly that before their horses' hoofs lay a garland of corpses. The foremost attacking ranks wished to withdraw, but, pushed from behind, were unable. Round about came a crush and a trample. Eyes were dazed by the glitter of spears and the shining of sword-blades. Horses whined, bit, and stood on their hind-legs. The boyars of Jmud rushed in with Zbyshko, Hlava, and the Mazovians. Under their heavy blows the "circle" bent and swayed, like a forest in a strong wind, while they, like woodmen chopping where trees are thick, pushed forward slowly in the heat and the hard work.

Matsko gave command now to collect on the battle-field the long German halberds, and arming with these, about thirty warriors broke a way with them through the crowd to the Germans. "Strike the legs of the horses!" cried he, and a ghastly result ensued. The German knights could not reach these men with their swords, while the halberds cut the horses' legs terribly. The blue knight saw that the end of the battle was coming, and that nothing was left but to break through that crowd which cut off the road to retreat; if not, he and his party must perish.

He chose the first; at his command and in one twinkle a line of knights turned front to the side from which they had started. The Jmud men were at once on their backs, till the Germans, putting their shields on their shoulders, cut in front and at both sides, broke the ring which surrounded them, spurred on their beasts, and rushed like a hurricane eastward. Just then they were met by that detachment which was coming up toward the battle, but crushed by superior arms and horses, it fell flat before the Germans, like wheat beneath a wind storm. The road to the castle was open, but rescue was uncertain and distant, for the Jmud horses were swifter than those of the Germans. The blue knight understood this to perfection.

"Woe!" said he to himself; "not a man will escape, though I buy his life with my own blood!"

Thus thinking, he ordered those nearest to hold in their horses, and without noting whether any obeyed, he turned face to the enemy.

Zbyshko raced up first; the German struck at him and hit the side-piece of the helmet which covered his cheek, but did not crack it, and did not injure his face any. Zbyshko, instead of answering with a blow, seized the knight by the middle, and wishing to take him alive at all costs, strove to drag the man from his saddle; but his own stirrup broke from excessive weight, and both combatants went to the earth. For a while they struggled, fighting with hands and feet; but soon the stronger and younger man mastered his opponent, and, pressing his bowels with his knees, held him there, as a wolf holds a dog which has dared to thrust a face up before him in the thicket. And he held him beyond need, for the German fainted. Meanwhile Matsko and Hlava ran up; when he saw them, Zbyshko shouted,—

"Come and bind him! He is some knight—and belted!" Hlava sprang from his horse, but seeing how helpless the knight was, did not bind him, but opened his armor, took off his girdle with a misericordia which hung from it, cut the strap binding his helmet, and came finally to the screw which held the visor. But barely had he looked on the face of the knight when he sprang up.

"Oh, my lord! but just look!" cried he.

"De Lorche!" called out Zbyshko.

But De Lorche lay there pale, with sweating face and closed eyes, corpselike and motionless.