The Knights of the Cross/Volume 2/Chapter 70

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

CHAPTER LXX.

They did not remain long in Cracow, and would have remained there a shorter time had it not been for the prayer of Yasko, who wanted to look at the people and the city, for all seemed a marvellous dream to him. But the old knight was in an immense hurry to return to his domestic hearth and his fields, so even prayers did not avail much, and on Assumption Day both had returned,—one to Bogdanets, the other to Zgorzelitse.

And thenceforward life began to drag on for them rather monotonously, filled with the toil of land management and every-day work in the country. In Zgorzelitse, which was low, and especially in Yagenka's Mochydoly, the harvest was excellent; but in Bogdanets, because of the dry year, the crops turned out to be thin, and no great labor was needed to collect them. In general there was not much tilled land in Bogdanets, for the property was under forest, and because of the long absence of the owners even those plots which the abbot had fitted for ploughing by grubbing up roots were abandoned through lack of workmen. The old knight, though sensitive to every loss, did not take this to heart overmuch at that time, for he knew that with money it would be easy to introduce order and arrangement in all things,—if only there was some one for whom to work and labor. But just this uncertainty poisoned his days and his industry. He did not let his hands drop, however: he rose before day, he rode out to the herds, looked at the work in the field and the forest, he even selected a place for the castle and was choosing out timber for building; but when after a warm day the sun was dissolving in the golden and ruddy gleams of evening, a terrible yearning would seize the man, and, besides yearning, a fear such as he had never experienced till those days. "I am running about here, I am toiling," said he to himself; "while off there my poor boy is lying in some field, perhaps pierced by a spear, and wolves in packs are snapping their teeth at him." At this thought his heart straitened with great love and great pain. He listened then carefully to hear the sound of horse hoofs which announced the daily coming of Yagenka, for through pretending in her presence that he had good hope, he gained it for himself and strengthened his suffering soul somewhat.

She appeared each day, usually toward evening, with a crossbow at her saddle, and with a spear, against attack when going home. It was not a thing at all possible that she should ever find Zbyshko at Bogdanets unexpectedly, since Matsko did not dare to look for him before a year or a year and a half had passed; but evidently even that hope was hidden in the girl, for she did not appear as she had in the old time, in a skirt girded with a strip of tape, in a sheepskin coat wool outward, and with leaves in her dishevelled hair, but with a beautifully braided tress, and her bosom covered with colored cloth of Sieradz.

Matsko always went out to meet her, and his first question was ever the same as if some one had written it down for him. "But what?" And her first answer was, "Well, nothing!" He conducted her then to a large room, and they chatted, near the fire, about Zbyshko, Lithuania, the Knights of the Cross, the war,—talking always in a circle, always about the same things,—and never did these conversations annoy either one of them; on the contrary, they never had enough of those subjects.

And so it continued for months. It happened that Matsko rode to Zgorzelitse, but Yagenka went oftener to Bogdanets.

Sometimes, when there was disturbance in the neighborhood, or when old he-bears in a rage were inclined to attack, Matsko conducted the girl home. When well armed the old man, thanks to uncommon strength, feared no wild beasts, since he was more dangerous to them than they could be to him. At such times he rode stirrup to stirrup with Yagenka, and frequently the pine forest gave forth a threatening sound from the depth of it, but they, oblivious of everything which might happen, conversed only of Zbyshko: where was he? what was he doing? had he killed, or would he kill quickly, as many Knights of the Cross as he had promised Danusia and her mother? would he return soon? Yagenka put questions to Matsko which she had put hundreds of times to him, and he answered them with as much thought and attention as though he heard them then for the first time.

"Do you say," inquired she, "that a battle in the field is not so dangerous for a knight as the taking of castles?"

"But look, what happened to Vilk? Against a beam of wood thrown from a wall no armor can save a man; but on the field, if a knight has proper training, he may avoid surrender though ten be against him."

"But Zbyshko? Has he good armor?"

"He has a number of suits of good armor, but that taken from the Frisians is the best, because it was forged in Milan. A year ago it was a little large, but now it is just right for him."

"Then against armor like that no weapon prevails, does it?"

"What the hand of man has made may be destroyed by the hand of man also. Against Milan armor is the Milan sword, or the arrows of the English."

"The arrows of the English?" asked Yagenka, with alarm.

"But have I not told thee of them? There are no better archers on earth than the English, unless those of the Mazovian wilderness; but the Mazovians have not such good bows as the English. An English arrow will go through the best armor a hundred yards distant. I saw them at Vilno. And not a man of them missed, and there were some who could hit a falcon while flying."

"Oh, the sons of Pagans! How did you manage them?"

"There was no other way but to rush straight at them. They handle halberds well, the dog-ears, but hand to hand our man will take care of himself."

"Besides, the hand of God guarded you, and now it will guard Zbyshko."

"I pray often in this way: 'O Lord God, thou hast created and settled us in Bogdanets, so guard us henceforth and let us not perish.' Ha! it is God's business now to protect us. Indeed, it is no small affair to manage the whole world and miss nothing, but first we must bring ourselves into notice as best we can by being bountiful to the holy church, and, second, God's mind is not man's mind."

Thus did they converse frequently, giving consolation and hope to each other. Meanwhile days, weeks, and months flowed by. In the autumn Matsko had an affair with old Vilk. There had been from of old a boundary dispute between the Vilks and the abbot, about a forest clearing which the abbot, when he held the mortgage on Bogdanets, had seized and cleared of roots. In his day he had challenged even the two Vilks to a duel with lances or long swords, but they had no wish to fight with a churchman, and before the court they could effect nothing. Old Vilk claimed that land now; and Matsko, who was not so eager for anything on earth as for land, following his own impulse, and roused also by the thought that barley would grow on that fresh soil to perfection, would not hear of surrender. They would have gone to law beyond doubt had they not met by chance at the priest's house in Kresnia. There, when old Vilk, after a harsh dispute, said at last on a sudden, "I will rely on God rather than people; He will take revenge on your family for the injustice done me," the stubborn Matsko grew mild immediately; he became pale, was silent for a moment, and said then to his quarrelsome neighbor,—

"Listen, it was not I who began this affair, but the abbot. God knows which side is right; but if you intend to say evil words against Zbyshko, take the place, and may God so give health and happiness to Zbyshko as I from my heart give this land to you."

And he stretched his hand out to Vilk, who, knowing him from of old, was greatly astonished, for he did not even suspect what love for his nephew was hidden in that heart which seemed so hard to him. For a long time he could not utter a syllable, till at last, when the priest of Kresnia, pleased at such a turn of affairs, made the sign of the cross on them, Vilk said,—

"If that be the case, it is different! I am old and have no one to whom I could leave property. I was not thinking of profit, but of justice. If a man meets me with kindness, I will add to him even out of my own store. But may God bless your nephew so that in old age you may not weep over him as I over my one son!"

They threw themselves into each other's arms then, and for a long time they disputed over this, who was to take the newly cleared land. But Matsko let himself be persuaded at last, since Vilk was alone in the world, and had really no one to whom he might leave the property.

Then Matsko invited his neighbor to Bogdanets, where he entertained him with food and drink generously, for he had in his own soul immense gladness. He was comforted by the hope that barley would come up on that new land most splendidly, and also by the thought that he had turned God's disfavor from Zbyshko.

"If he returns, he will have no lack of land and cattle," thought Matsko.

Yagenka was no less pleased with that settlement.

"Now then," said she, after hearing how all was ended, "if the Lord Jesus wishes to show that concord is dearer to Him than quarrels, He must bring back Zbyshko unharmed to you."

At this Matsko's face grew as bright as if a sun-ray had fallen on it.

"So I think too!" said he. "The Lord Jesus is allpowerful, there is no doubt of that, and there are ways to win the heavenly powers, but a man must have prudence."

"You have never lacked that," said the girl, raising her eyes to him. And after a while, as if she had thought over something, she said,—

"But you do love that Zbyshko of yours! You love him! Hei! you do love him."

"Who would not love him?" replied the old knight. "And thou? Dost thou hate him?"

Yagenka did not answer directly; but as she was sitting on a bench by Matsko's side, she moved up still nearer, and turning her head away punched him then slightly with her elbow.

"Give peace!" said she; "how have I offended you!"