Then he reflected whether it were not better to leave them with the princess Alexandra, or with the princess Anna Danuta, or to take them to Spychow. It struck him more than once, that if Danuska were dead, it would be advisable to have Jagienka close to Zbyszko at Spychow, since Zbyszko, who loved Danuska above all other things would greatly mourn after his beloved. He was also sure that Jagienka's presence at Zbyszko's side would have the desired effect. He also remembered that Zbyszko in his boyhood, although his heart was after the woods in Mazowsze, was constantly longing for Jagienka. For these reasons, and fully believing that Danusia was lost, he often thought that in case of the abbot's demise, he would not send Jagienka to any other place; but as he was greedy to acquire landed property, he was therefore concerned about the property of the abbot. Surely, the abbot was displeased with them and promised to bequeath nothing to them; but after that he must have felt sorry and, before he died left something for Jagienka. He was sure that the abbot had bequeathed something to her, because he frequently spoke about it at Zgorzelice, and he would not overlook Zbyszko on account of Jagienka. Macko was also thinking of remaining for sometime at Plock, so as to investigate the will and attend to the matter, but other thoughts crossed his mind, and he said: "Should I longer be here looking after property, whilst my boy yonder is stretching out his hand and waiting for my help from some Knight of the Cross dungeon?"
In truth, there was only one course, and that was: to leave Jagienka under the care of the princess and the bishop, and beg them to look after her interest. But that plan did not please Macko. The girl has already considerable property of her own, and when her estate is increased by that which the abbot has bequeathed her, then as sure as there is a God some Mazur will take her, for she cannot hold out any longer. Zych, her defunct father, used to say of her, that she was in danger[112] even then. In such case, the old knight thought that both Danusia and Jagienka might fail Zbyszko. That of course was not to be thought of.
He will take one of the two, whichever God had decreed. Finally that plan to rescue Zbyszko he preferred to the others; and as to Jagienka, he resolved either to leave her in the care of Princess Danuta, or at Spychow, but not at the court at Plock where there was much glitter, and which was filled with handsome knights.
Overwhelmed with these thoughts, he proceeded quickly to the dwelling of the weaver, to inform Jagienka of the abbot's death. He was determined not to break the news to her suddenly, as it might greatly endanger her health. When he reached home both ladies were properly dressed and appeared as gay as birds; he sat down and ordered the servants to bring him a jug of brown beer; then he assumed a doleful air, and said:
"Do you hear the bells ringing in town? Guess, why are they ringing, since to-day is not Sunday, and you slept during matins. Would you like to see the abbot?"
"Surely! What a question?" answered Jagienka.
"Well, you shall see him as the king sees Cwiék."[113]
"Has he left the city?"
"He has left, but do you not hear the bells ringing?"
"Is he dead?" exclaimed Jagienka.
"Yes! say 'God rest his soul.' …"
Both ladies knelt down and began to chant: "God rest his soul," in a bell-like voice. Then tears streamed down Jagienka's cheeks, for she was very fond of the abbot, who, though of a violent temper, never harmed anybody, but did much good; he specially loved Jagienka, for he was her godfather, he loved her as one loves his own daughter. Macko remembered that the abbot was related to him and Zbyszko; he was also moved to tears and even cried. After his grief had subsided a little, he took the ladies and the Bohemian with him and went to the funeral services in the church.
It was a magnificent funeral. The bishop himself, Jacob of Kurdwanow, conducted it. There were present all the priests and monks of the diocese of Plock, all the bells were ringing, and prayers were said which none else but the clergy understood, for they were said in the Latin. Then the clergy and the laity went to the banquet at the bishop's palace.
Macko and his two girls (disguised as boys) also went to the banquet; he, as a relative of the deceased, and known to the bishop, was fully entitled to be present. The bishop also willingly received him as such, but immediately after the invitation he said to Macko:
"There is here a bequest of some forests for the Gradys of Bogdaniec. The rest he did not bequeath to the abbey and the cloister, but to his goddaughter, a certain Jagienka of Zgorzelice."
Macko, who did not expect much, was glad for the woodlands. The bishop did not observe that one of the youths accompanying the old knight at the mentioning of the name of Jagienka of Zgorzelice lifted up her tearful eyes, and said:
"May God recompense him, but I wish he were alive."
Macko turned and said angrily:
"Be silent, otherwise you will shame yourself."
But he suddenly stopped, his eyes glistened with amazement, then his face assumed wolfish fierceness, when at a distance from him opposite the door, through which the princess Alexandra had just entered, he observed the figure, dressed in court uniform, of Kuno of Lichtenstein, the very man by whom Zbyszko had nearly lost his life in Krakow.
Jagienka had never seen Macko in such a condition. His face was contracted like the jaws of a fierce dog, his teeth glistened beneath his moustache, and in a moment he tightened his belt and moved toward the hateful Knight of the Cross.
But when about midway he checked himself and began to pass his broad hands through his hair; he reflected in time, that Lichtenstein might only be a guest in the court of Plock, or an envoy, therefore, if he were to strike him without apparent reason, the very thing which happened to Zbyszko on his way from Tyniec to Krakow might be repeated here.
Thus possessing more reason than Zbyszko, he restrained himself, adjusted the belt to its previous place, relaxed the muscles of his face and waited, and when the princess, after greeting Lichtenstein, entered into a conversation with the bishop, Macko approached her and bowed deeply. He reminded her who he was, and that he had been once engaged in the service of his benefactress as the carrier of letters.
The princess did not recognize him at first, but she remembered the letters and the whole affair. She also was acquainted with the occurrences in the neighboring Mazovian court. She had heard of Jurand, of the imprisonment of his daughter, of Zbyszko's marriage, and of his deadly fight with Rotgier. These things interested her greatly, so much so that it seemed to her one of those knight-errant stories or one of the minstrel songs in Germany, and the rybalt songs in Mazowsze. Indeed, the Knights of the Cross were not inimical to her, as they were to princess Anna Danuta, the wife of Prince Janusz, more especially because they wished to get her on their side, they strove to outvie each other in rendering her homage and adulation, and overwhelmed her with munificent gifts, but in the present case her heart beat for her favorite, whom she was ready to help; above all, she was glad that she had before her a man who could give her an accurate account of the events.
But Macko, who had already resolved to obtain, by whatever means possible, the protection and the princely influence, seeing that she was listening attentively, told her Zbyszko's and Danusia's ill luck. The narrative brought tears to her eyes, specially when she felt more than anybody the misfortune of her niece, and from her very soul she pitied her.
"I have never heard a more woeful story," said the princess, at last, "the greatest sorrow to my mind is, that he has married her, that she was already his, yet he knew no happiness. However, are you sure that he knew her not."
"Hey! Almighty God!" exclaimed Macko. "If he only knew her, he was bed-ridden when he married her in the evening, and the following morning she was carried off."
"And, do you think that the Knights of the Cross did it? It was said here, that those who actually did it were robbers, and the Knights of the Cross recaptured her, but it turned out to be another girl. They also spoke of a letter which Jurand had written…"
"Human justice did not decide it, but divine. That was a great thing, that knight Rotgier, who conquered the strongest, fell by the hand of a comparative child."
"Well, a fine child he is," said the princess, with a smile, "his valor is a safeguard in his travels. It is a grievance, true, and your complaints are just, but three out of those four opponents are dead, and the remaining old one has also, according to the information I have received, been nearly killed."
"And Danuska? And Jurand?" replied Macko. "Where are they? God only knows whether something ill has happened to Zbyszko, who was on the road to Malborg."
"I know, but the Knights of the Cross are not such out-and-out dog-brothers as you think them to be. In Malborg nothing evil can happen to your nephew, whilst he is at the side of the grand master and his brother Ulrych, who is an honorable knight. Your nephew undoubtedly is provided with letters from Prince Janusz. Unless whilst there he challenged one of the knights and succumbed. At Malborg there are always present a great number of the most valorous knights from all parts of the world."
"Ay! My nephew does not fear them much," said the old knight. "If they only did not cast him in prison, or kill him treacherously, as long as he has an iron weapon in his hand he is not afraid of them. Only once he found himself facing one stronger than himself, but he stretched him in the lists, and that was the Mazovian Prince Henryk who was bishop here and who was enamored of the handsome Ryngalla. But Zbyszko was then a mere youth. For this reason he would be the only one, as sure as amen in prayer, to challenge this one whom I also have vowed to challenge and who is present here."
Saying this, he glanced in the direction of Lichtenstein, who was conversing with the governor (Waywode) of Plock.
But the princess wrinkled her brow and said in stern and dry tones, as she always did when in an angry mood:
"Whether you vowed or not, you must remember that he is our guest and whosoever wishes to be our guest must observe decorum."
"I know, most gracious lady," replied Macko. "For that reason when I adjusted my belt and went to meet him, I restrained myself and thought of obedience."
"He will obey. He is important among his own people, even the master builds upon his counsel and nothing is denied to him. May God grant that your nephew does not meet him at Malborg, especially as Lichtenstein is a determined and revengeful person."
"He could not well recognize me because he did not see me often. We had helmets on when we were at Tyniec, after that I went only once to see him in the Zbyszko affair and that was in the evening. I observed just now that he looked at me, but seeing that I was engaged in a lengthy conversation with Your Grace, he turned his eyes in an opposite direction. He would have recognized Zbyszko, but he only looked at me and very likely he did not hear of my vow, and has to think of more important challenges."
"How so?"
"Because it may be that other powerful knights challenged him, such as Zawisza of Garbow, Powala of Taczew, Marcin of Wrocimowice, Paszko Zlodziej, and Lis of Targowisko. Every one of those, gracious lady, and ten like them. So much the more so if they are numerous. It would be better for him not to have been born, than to have one of those swords over his head. I shall not only try to forget the challenge, but I have resolved to endeavor to go with him."
"Why?"
Macko's face assumed a cunning expression like that of a fox.
"That he might give me a safe conduct to travel through the country belonging to the Knights of the Cross, that will enable me to render assistance to Zbyszko in case of need."
"Does such proceeding deserve praise?" inquired the princess with a smile.
"Yes! It does," replied Macko. "If for instance in time of war I were to attack him from the rear without warning him to face me I should disgrace myself; but in time of peace if one hangs the enemy upon a hook no knight need be reproached for such an act."
"Then I will introduce you," replied the princess. She beckoned to Lichtenstein and introduced Macko; she was of opinion that even if Lichtenstein should recognize Macko nothing serious would result.
But Lichtenstein did not recognize him, because when he had seen him at Tyniec he had his helmet on, and after that he had spoken to Macko only once, and that in the evening, when Macko had begged him to forgive Zbyszko.
However he bowed proudly, the more so because when he saw the two exquisitely dressed youths, he thought that they were not Macko's, his face brightened up a little and he assumed a haughty demeanor as he always did when he spoke to inferiors.
Then the princess pointing at Macko, said: "This knight is going to Malborg. I have given him a recommendation to the grand master, but he heard of your great influence in the Order; he would also like to have a note from you."
Then she went to the bishop, but Lichtenstein fixed his cold, steely eyes upon Macko, and asked:
"What motive induces you, sir, to visit our religious and sober capital?"
"An upright and pious motive," replied Macko, looking at Lichtenstein. "If it were otherwise the gracious princess would not have vouched for me. But apart from pious vows, I wish also to know your grand master, who causes peace in the land and who is the most celebrated knight in the world."
"Those whom your gracious and beneficent princess recommends will not complain of our poor hospitality. Nevertheless, as far as your wishes to know the master is concerned, it is not an easy matter. About a mouth ago, he left for Danzig, thence he was to go to Königsberg, and from that place proceed to the frontier, where, although a lover of peace, he is obliged to defend the property of the Order against the violence of the treacherous Witold."
Hearing this, Macko was apparently so much grieved, that Lichtenstein, who noticed it, said:
"I see that you were quite as anxious to see the grand master as to fulfil your religious vows."
"Yes! I am, I am," replied Macko. "Is war against Witold a sure thing?"
"He, himself, began it; he has sworn to help the rebels."
There was silence for a moment.
"Ha! May God help the Order as it deserves!" said Macko. "I see I cannot make the grand master's acquaintance; let me at least fulfil my vow."
But in spite of these words, he did not know what to do, and with deep grief he asked himself:
"Where shall I look for Zbyszko, and where shall I find him?"
It was easy to foresee that if the grand master had left Malborg and gone to war, it was useless to look for Zbyszko there. In any case it was necessary to get the most accurate information of his whereabouts. Old Macko was very anxious about it, but he was a man of ready resource, and he resolved to lose no time, but continue his march next morning. Having obtained a letter from Lichtenstein with the aid of Princess Alexandra in whom the comthur had boundless confidence, it was not a difficult task to obtain. He therefore received a recommendation to the starosta of Brodnic, and to the Grand Szpitalnik of Malborg, for which he presented a silver goblet to Lichtenstein, a treasure procured in Breslau, like that which the knights were accustomed to have near their beds filled with wine, so that in case of sleeplessness they might have at hand a remedy for sleep and at the same time pleasure. This act of Macko's liberality somewhat astonished the Bohemian, who knew that the old knight was not too eager to lavish presents on anybody, especially on Germans, but Macko said:
"I did it because I have vowed, and must fight him, and by no means could I do it to one who has done me some service. To recompense good with evil is not our custom."
"But such a magnificent goblet! It is a pity," replied the Bohemian, apparently vexed.
"Don't fear. I do nothing without premeditation," said Macko; "for if the Lord enables me to overthrow (kill) that German, I shall get back not only the goblet, but a great many good things I shall acquire with it."
Then they, including Jagienka, began to take counsel among themselves concerning further action. Macko thought of leaving Jagienka and Sieciechowa with Princess Alexandra at Plock, owing to the abbot's will, which was in the possession of the bishop. But Jagienka was entirely opposed to it; she was even determined to travel by herself; there was no necessity to have a separate room for night quarters, neither to observe politeness, nor safety, and various other causes. "Surely I did not leave Zgorzelice to rusticate at Plock. The will is at the bishop's and cannot be lost, and as far as they are concerned, when it will be shown that there is need to remain on the road, it will be of greater advantage to be left in the care of Princess Anna, than with Princess Alexandra, because at the former court the Knights of the Cross are not frequent visitors, and Zbyszko is more appreciated there." Upon that Macko truly observed that reason does not belong to women, and that it is unbecoming for a girl "to command" as though she possessed reason. Nevertheless he did not persist in his opposition, and relented entirely when Jagienka had taken him aside and, with tears in her eyes, said:
"You know!.. God sees my heart, that every morning and evening I pray for that young lady, Danuska, and for Zbyszko's welfare. God in heaven knows it best. But you and Hlawa said that she had perished already, that she would never escape the hands of the Knights of the Cross alive. Therefore if this has to be so, then I…"
Here she somewhat hesitated and tears streamed down her cheeks and she became silent.
"Then I want to be near Zbyszko…"
Macko was moved by the tears and words, yet he replied:
"If Danusia is lost, Zbyszko will be so much grieved, that he will care for none else."
"I don't wish that he should care for me, but I would like to be near him."
"You know well that I should like to be myself near him as well as you do, but he would in the first instance be unmindful of you."
"Let him be unmindful. But he will not be," she replied, with a smile, "for he will not know that it was myself."
"He will recognize you."
"He will not know me. You did not recognize me. You will tell him too that it was not I but Jasko, and Jasko is exactly like myself. You will tell him that I have grown up and it will never occur to him that it is anybody else but Jasko…"
Then the old knight remembered somebody upon his knees before him and that kneeling one had the appearance of a boy; then there was no harm in it, specially that Jasko really had exactly the same face, and his hair after the last cutting had again grown up and he carried it in a net just as other noble young knights. For this reason Macko gave way, and the conversation turned to matters concerning the journey. They were to start on the following day. Macko decided to enter into the country of the Knights of the Cross, to draw near to Brodnic to get information there, and if the grand master was still, in spite of Lichtenstein's opinion, at Malborg, to proceed there, and if not there, to push on along the frontiers of the country of the Knights of the Cross in the direction of Spychow, inquiring along the road about the Polish knight and his suit. The old knight even expected that he would easily get more information of Zbyszko at Spychow, or at the court of Prince Janusz of Warsaw, than elsewhere.
Accordingly, they moved on the following day. Spring was fully ushered in, so that the floods of the Skrwy and Drwency obstructed the way, so much so that it took them ten days to travel from Plock to Brodnic. The little town was orderly and clean. But one could see at a glance the German barbarity by the enormously constructed gallows,[114] which was erected out of town on the road to Gorczenice, and which was occupied by the hanging corpses of the executed, one of which was the body of a woman. Upon the watch-tower and upon the castle floated the flag with the red hand on a white field. The travelers did not find the count at home, because he was at the head of the garrison which was drafted of the neighboring noblemen, at Malborg. That information Macko got from a blind old Knight of the Cross, who was formerly the count of Brodnic, but later on he attached himself to the place and castle, and he was the last of his line. When the chaplain of the place read Lichtenstein's letter to the count, he invited Macko as his guest; he was very familiar with the Polish language, because he lived in the midst of a Polish population, and they easily carried on their conversation in that language. In the course of their conversation Macko was informed that the count had left for Malborg six weeks before, being summoned as an experienced knight to a council of war. Moreover he knew what happened in the capital. When he was asked about the young Polish knight, he had heard of such a one, he said, who at first had roused admiration because, in spite of his youthful appearance, he already appeared as a belted knight. Then he was successful at a tourney which, according to custom, the grand master ordained, for foreign guests, before his departure for the war. Little by little he even remembered that the manly and noble, yet violent brother of the master, Ulrych von Jungingen, had become very fond of the young knight and had taken him under his care, provided him with "iron letters," after which the young knight apparently departed toward the east. Macko was overjoyed at the news, because he had not the slightest doubt that the young knight was Zbyszko. It was therefore useless to go to Malborg, for although the grand master, as well as other officials of the Order, and knights who remained at Malborg might furnish more accurate information, they could by no means tell where Zbyszko actually was. On the other hand Macko himself knew better where Zbyszko might be found, and it was not difficult to suppose that he was at that moment somewhere in the neighborhood of Szczytno; or in case he had not found Danusia there, he was making research in distant eastern castles and county seats.
Without losing any more time, they also moved toward the east and Szczytno. They progressed well on the road, the towns and villages were connected by highways which the Knights of the Cross, or rather the merchants of the towns, kept in good condition, and which were as good as the Polish roads, which were under the care of the thrifty and energetic King Kazimierz. The weather was excellent, the nights were serene, the days bright, and about noon a dry and warm zephyr-like wind blew which filled the human breast with health-giving air. The cornfields assumed a green hue, the meadows were covered with abundant flowers, and the pine forests began to emit a smell of rosin. Throughout the whole journey to Lidzbark, thence to Dzialdowa, and further on to Niedzborz, they did not see a single cloud. But at Niedzborz they encountered a thunderstorm at night, which was the first one of the spring, but it lasted only a short time, and in the morning it cleared up and the horizon was brightened with rosy golden hues. It was so brilliant that the land, as far as the eye could reach, appeared like one carpet brocaded with jewels. It seemed as though the whole country smiled back to the sky and rejoiced because of abundant life.
In such a pleasant morning they wended their course from Niedzborz to Szczytno. It was not far from the Mazovian frontier. It was an easy matter to return to Spychow. There was a moment when Macko wanted to do it, but considering the whole matter he desired to push onward toward the terrible nest of the Knights of the Cross, in which Zbyszko's loss was terribly guarded. He then engaged a guide and ordered him to lead them directly to Szczytno; although there was no need of a guide, because the road from Niedzborz was a straight one, marked with white milestones.
The guide was a few steps in advance. Behind him were Macko and Jagienka on horseback; some distance behind them were the Bohemian and Sieciechowa, and farther back were the wagons surrounded by armed men. It was an exquisite morning. The rosy glow had not yet disappeared from the horizon, although the sun had already risen and changed into opals the dewdrops upon the trees and grasses.
"Are you not afraid to go to Szczytno?" asked Macko.
"I am not afraid," replied Jagienka, "God is with me, because I am an orphan."
"There is no faith there. The worst dog was Danveld whom Jurand killed together with Godfried… The Bohemian told me so. The second after Danveld, was Rotgier, who succumbed by Zbyszko's axe, but the old man is a ruthless tyrant, and is sold to the devil… They know not kindness. However, I am of opinion that if Danuska has perished she did so by his own hands. They also say that something happened to her. But the princess said in Plock that she extricated herself. It is with him that we shall have to contend at Szczytno… It is well that we have a letter from Lichtenstein, and as it appears they, the dog-brothers, are afraid of him more than they are of the master himself… They say that he has great authority and is particularly strict, and is very revengeful, he never forgives even the slightest offence… Without this safe conduct I would not travel so peacefully to Szczytno…"
"What is his name?"
"Zygfried von Löve."
"God grant that we may manage him too."
"God grant it!"
Macko smiled for a moment and then said:
"The princess also told me in Plock: 'Ye grieve and complain like lambs against wolves, but in this instance three of the wolves are dead, because the innocent lambs strangled them.' She spoke the truth; it is actually so."
"What about Danuska and her father?"
"I told the princess the very same thing. But I am really glad, since it is demonstrated that it is not safe to harm us. We know already how to handle the helve of an axe, and fight with it. As to Danuska and Jurand, it is true, I think, and so does the Bohemian, that they are no more in this world, but in reality nobody can tell. I am very sorry for Jurand, for he grieved very much for his daughter, and if he perished, it was a hard death."
"If such a thing is mentioned to me," said Jagienka, "I always think of papa, who also is no more."
Then she lifted up her eyes and Macko nodded his head and said:
"He rests with God in everlasting bliss, for there is not a better man than he was in our whole kingdom…"
"Oh there was none like him, none!" sighed Jagienka.
Further conversation was interrupted by the guide, who suddenly checked his stallion, turned and galloped toward Macko and shouted in a strange and frightened voice:
"O, for God's sake! Look there, Sir Knight; who is there on the hillside advancing toward us?"
"Who? Where?" asked Macko.
"Look there! A giant or something of that kind…"
Macko and Jagienka reined in their horses, looked in the direction indicated by the guide, and they indeed descried, about the middle of the hill, a figure, which appeared to be of more than human proportions.
"To tell the truth the man seems to be huge," murmured Macko.
Then he frowned, and suddenly spat and said:
"Let the evil charm be upon the dog."
"Why are you conjuring?" asked Jagienka.
"Because I remember that it was on just such a fine morning when Zbyszko and I were on the road from Tyniec to Krakow we saw such a giant. They said then that it was Walgierz Wdaly. Bah! It was shown afterward that it was the lord of Taczew. Still, nothing good resulted from it. Let the evil charm be upon the dog."
"This one is not a knight, because he is not on horseback," said Jagienka, straining her eyes. "I even see that he is not armed, but holds a staff in his left hand…"
"And he is groping in front of him, as though it were night."
"And can hardly move; surely he must be blind?"
"As sure as I live, he is blind – blind!"
They urged their horses forward, and in a little while they halted in front of the beggar who was slowly coming down the hill and feeling his way with his staff. He was indeed an immense old man, and appeared to them, even when they were near him, a giant. They were convinced that he was stone blind. Instead of eyes he had two red hollows. His right hand was wanting; instead of it he carried a bandage of dirty rags. His hair was white and falling down upon his shoulders, and his beard reached his belt.
"He has neither food, nor companion, not even a dog, but is feeling the way by himself," exclaimed Jagienka. "For God's sake, we cannot leave him here without assistance. I do not know whether he will understand me, but I shall try to talk to him in Polish."
Then she jumped from her horse and approached the beggar, and began to look for some money in her leather pouch which was suspended from her belt.
The beggar, when he heard the noise and tramping of the horses, stretched his staff in front of him and lifted up his head as blind men do.
"Praised be Jesus Christ," said the girl. "Do you understand, little grandfather, in the Christian fashion?"
But on hearing her sweet, young voice, he trembled; a strange flush appeared on his face as though from tender emotion; he covered his hollow orbits with his eyebrows, and suddenly threw down his staff and fell on his knees, with outstretched arms, in front of her.
"Get up! I will assist you. What ails you?" asked Jagienka in astonishment.
But he did not reply, but tears rolled down his cheeks, and he groaned:
"A! – a! – a!.."
"For the love of God – Can you not say something?"
"A! – a!"
Then he lifted up his hand, with which he made first the sign of the cross, then passed his left hand over his mouth.