In the council-chamber, the moment the Cossacks dragged Tatarchuk and young Barabash through the doors there was quiet, and the atamans occupied their former places near the wall; for a prisoner was led forth from the adjoining closet.
The shade fell upon his face; in the half-light could be seen only the tall figure, with simple and haughty bearing, though with hands bound together. But Gladki threw a bundle of twigs on the fire, and in a moment a bright flame shot up and covered with a clear light the face of the prisoner, who turned to Hmelnitski.
When he saw him Hmelnitski started. The prisoner was Pan Yan.
Tugai Bey spat out husks of sunflower-seeds, and muttered in Russian, —
“I know that Pole; he was in the Crimea.”
“Destruction to him!” cried Gladki.
“Destruction!” repeated Chernota.
Hmelnitski mastered his surprise, but turned his eyes to Gladki and Chernota, who under the influence of that glance grew quiet; then turning to the koshevoi, he said: “And I know him too.”
“Whence do you come?” asked the koshevoi of Pan Yan.
“I was coming with an embassy to you, kosheroi ataman, when robbers fell upon me at Hortitsa, and, in spite of customs observed among the wildest people, killed my men, and, regarding neither my office of envoy nor my birth, wounded me, insulted me, and brought me here as a prisoner; for which my lord, Prince Yeremi Vishnyevetski, will know how to demand of you account, koshevoi ataman.”
“And why did you dissemble? Why did you crush the head of a brave man? Why did you kill four times as many people as your own number? And you came with a letter to me to observe our preparations and report them to the Poles! We know also that you had letters to traitors in the Zaporojian army, so as to plan with them the destruction of that whole army; therefore you will be received, not as an envoy, but as a traitor, and punished with justice.”
“You deceive yourself, koshevoi, and you, self-styled hetman,” said the lieutenant, turning to Hmelnitski. “If I brought letters, every envoy does the same when he goes to strange places; for he takes letters from acquaintances to acquaintances, so that through them he may have society. And I came here with a letter from the prince, not to contrive your destruction, but to restrain you from deeds which are an unendurable outrage to the Commonwealth, and which in the end will bring ruin on you and the whole Zaporojian army. For on whom do you raise your godless hands? Against whom do you, who call yourselves defenders of Christianity, form an alliance with Pagans? Against the king, against the nobility, and the whole Commonwealth. You therefore, not I, are traitors; and I tell you that unless you efface your crimes with obedience and humility, then woe to you! Are the times of Pavlyuk and Nalivaika so remote? Has their punishment left your memory? Remember, then, that the patience of the Commonwealth is exhausted, and the sword is hanging over your heads.”
“Oh, you son of Satan!” shouted the koshevoi. “You bark to squeeze out and escape death; but your threatening and your Polish Latin won’t help you.”
Other atamans began to gnash their teeth and shake their sabres; but Skshetuski raised his head still higher, and said, —
“Do not think, atamans, that I fear death, or that I defend my life, or that I am exhibiting my innocence. Being a noble, I can be tried only by equals. Here I am standing, not before judges, but before bandits, — not before nobility, but before serfdom, — not before knighthood, but before barbarism; and I know well I shall not escape my death, with which you will fill the measure of your iniquity. Before me are death and torment; but behind me the power and vengeance of the Commonwealth, in presence of which you are all trembling.”
Indeed the lofty stature, the grandeur of his speech, and the name of the Commonwealth made a deep impression. The atamans looked at one another in silence. After a while it seemed to them that not a prisoner, but the terrible messenger of a mighty people, was standing before them.
Tugai Bey murmured: “That is an angry Pole!”
“An angry Pole!” said Hmelnitski.
A violent knocking at the door stopped further conversation. On the square the remains of Tatarchuk and Barabash had been disposed of; and the Brotherhood sent a new deputation. A number of Cossacks, bloody, panting, covered with sweat, drunk, entered the room. They stood near the door, and stretching forth their hands still steaming with blood, began to speak.
“The Brotherhood bow to the elders,” — here they bowed to their girdles,— “and ask that the Pole be given them to play with, as they played with Barabash and Tatarchuk.”
“Let them have the Pole!” cried Chernota.
“No,” cried others, “let them wait! He is an envoy!”
“To destruction with him!” answered a number of voices.
Then all were silent, waiting for the answer of the koshevoi and Hmelnitski.
“The Brotherhood ask; and if he is not given, they will take him themselves,” said the deputies.
Skshetuski seemed lost beyond redemption, when Hmelnitski inclined to the ear of Tugai Bey and whispered, —
“He is your captive. The Tartars took him, he is yours. Will you let him be taken from you? He is a rich nobleman, and besides Prince Yeremi will ransom him with gold.”
“Give up the Pole!” cried the Cossacks, with increasing violence.
Tugai Bey straightened himself in his seat and stood up. His countenance changed in a moment; his eyes dilated like the eyes of a wildcat, they began to flash fire. Suddenly he sprang like a tiger in front of the Cossacks who were demanding the prisoner.
“Be off, clowns, infidel dogs, slaves, pig-eaters!” bellowed he, seizing by the beard two of the Zaporojians and pulling them with rage. “Be off, drunkards, brutes, foul reptiles! You have come to take my captive, but this is the way I’ll treat you.” So saying, he pulled some by the beard; at last he threw one down and began to stamp on him with his feet. “On your faces, slaves! I will send you into captivity, I will trample the whole Saitch under foot as I trample you! I will send it up in smoke, cover it with your carcasses.”
The deputies drew back in fear; their terrible friend had shown what he could do.
And, wonderful thing in Bazaluk, there were only six thousand of the horde! It is true that behind them stood the Khan and all the power of the Crimea; but in the Saitch itself there were several thousand Cossacks besides those whom Hmelnitski had already sent to Tomakovka, — but still not one voice was raised in protest against Tugai Bey. It might be that the method with which the terrible murza had defended his captive was the only one practicable, and that it brought conviction at once to the Zaporojians, to whom the aid of the Tartars was at that time indispensable.
The deputation went out on the square, shouting to the crowd that they would not play with the Pole, for he was Tugai Bey’s captive and Tugai Bey said he himself was wild! “He has pulled our beards!” cried they. On the square they began immediately to repeat: “Tugai Bey is wild!” “Is wild!” cry the crowd, plaintively,— “is wild, is wild!” In a few minutes a certain shrill voice began to sing near the fire, —
“Hei, hei!
Tugai Bey
Is wild, roaring wild.
Hei, hei!
Tugai Bey,
Don’t get wild, my friend!”
Immediately thousands of voices repeated: “Hei, hei! Tugai Bey!” And at once rose one of those songs which afterward spread over the whole Ukraine, as if the wind had carried it, and was sung to the sound of lyre and teorban.
But suddenly the song was interrupted; for through the gates, from the side of Hassan Pasha, rushed a number of men who broke through the crowd, shouting, “Out of the way! out of the way!” and hastened with all speed to the council-house. The atamans were preparing to go out when these new guests fell into the room.
“A letter to the hetman!” shouted an old Cossack. “We are from Chigirin. We have rushed on night and day with the letter. Here it is!”
Hmelnitski took the letter from the hands of the
Cossack, and began to read. Suddenly his face changed; he stopped the reading, and said with a piercing voice, —
“Atamans! The Grand Hetman Pototski sends his son Stephen with his army against us. War!”
In the room there rose a wonderful sound, — uncertain whether of joy or amazement. Hmelnitski stepped forward into the middle of the room, and put his hand on his hip; his eyes flashed lightning, his voice was awful and commanding, —
“Atamans, to the kurens! Fire the cannon from the tower! Break the liquor-barrels! We march at daybreak to-morrow!”
Prom that moment the common council ceased, the rule of atamans and the preponderance of the Brotherhood were at an end. Hmelnitski assumed unlimited power. A little while before, through fear that his voice might not be obeyed, he was forced to destroy his opponents by artifice, and by artifice defend the prisoner. Now he was lord of life and death for them all.
So it was ever. Before and after expeditions, even if the hetman was chosen, the multitude still imposed its will on the atamans and the koshevoi for whom opposition was coupled with danger. But when the campaign was declared, the Brotherhood became an army subject to military discipline, the atamans officers, and the hetman a dictator in command. Therefore, when they heard the orders of Hmelnitski, the atamans went at once to their kurens. The council was at an end.
Soon the roar of cannon from the gates leading from Hassan Pasha to the square of the Saitch shook the walls of the room, and spread with gloomy echoes through all Chertomelik, giving notice of war.
It opened also an epoch in the history of two peoples; but that was unknown to the drunken Cossacks as well as to the Zaporojian hetman himself.
CHAPTER XII.
Hmelnitski and Skshetuski went to spend the night at the house of the koshevoi, and with them Tugai Bey, for whom it was too late to return to Bazaluk. The wild bey treated the lieutenant as a captive who was to be ransomed for a large sum, and therefore not as a slave; and with greater respect indeed than he would have shown perhaps to Cossacks, for he had seen him formerly as an envoy at the court of the Khan. In view of this the koshevoi asked Pan Yan to his own house, and also changed his bearing toward him. The old koshevoi was a man devoted body and soul to Hmelnitski, who had conquered and taken possession of him. He had observed that Hmelnitski seemed anxious to save the life of the captive at the time of the council; but he was more astonished when, after having barely entered the room, Hmelnitski turned to Tugai Bey.
“Tugai Bey,” said he, “how much ransom do you think of getting for this captive?”
Tugai Bey looked at Skshetuski and answered: “You said this was a man of distinction, and I know that he was an envoy of the terrible prince, and the terrible prince is fond of his own men. Bismillah! one pays and the other pays — together—” here Tugai Bey stopped to think— “two thousand thalers.”
Hmelnitski answered: “I will give you two thousand thalers.”
The Tartar was silent for a moment. His black eyes appeared to pierce Hmelnitski through and through. “You will give three,” said he.
“Why should I give three when you asked two yourself?”
“For if you wish to have him, it is important for you; and if it is important, you will give three.”
“He saved my life.”
“Allah! that is worth a thousand more.”
Here Skshetuski interfered in the bargain. “Tugai Bey,” said he, with anger, “I can promise you nothing from the prince’s treasury; but even if I had to injure my own fortune, I would give you three. I have almost that much saved in the prince’s hands, and a good village, which will be sufficient. And I do not want to thank this hetman for my freedom and life.”
“And whence dost thou know what I shall do with thee?” asked Hmelnitski; and then turning to Tugai Bey, he said: “The war will begin. You will send to the prince, and before the return of your messenger much water will flow down the Dnieper, but I will take you the money myself to Bazaluk to-morrow.”
“Give four, and I will not say another word to the Pole,” answered Tugai, impatiently.
“I will give four, on your word.”
“Hetman,” said the koshevoi, “I will count it out this minute. I have it here under the wall, maybe more.”
“To-morrow you will take it to Bazaluk,” said Hmelnitski.
Tugai Bey stretched himself and yawned. “I am sleepy,” said he. “To-morrow before daylight I must start for Bazaluk. Where am I to sleep?”
The koshevoi showed him a pile of sheepskins against the wall. The Tartar threw himself on this bed, and a little later was snorting like a horse.
Hmelnitski walked a number of times across the room, and said: “Slumber escapes my eyelids; I cannot sleep. Give me something to drink, most worthy koshevoi.”
“Gorailka or wine?”
“Gorailka. I cannot sleep.”
“It is cockcrow already,” said the koshevoi.
“It is late. Go you to sleep, old friend! Drink and go!”
“Here is to fame and success!”
“To success!”
The koshevoi wiped his lips with his sleeve, then gave his hand to Hmelnitski, and going to the other corner of the room buried himself almost in sheepskins, for his blood had grown cold through age. Soon his snoring answered the snoring of Tugai Bey.
Hmelnitski sat at the table, sunk in silence. Suddenly he started up, looked at Skshetuski, and said: “Well, worthy lieutenant, you are free.”
“I am thankful to you, Zaporojian hetman, though I do not conceal from you that I should prefer to thank some one else for my freedom.”
“Then do not thank. You saved my life, I return you good; now we are even. And I must tell you also that I will not let you go immediately unless you give me the word of a knight that when you have returned you will say nothing of our preparation or power or of anything you have seen in the Saitch.”
“I see only this, that you offer me useless fruit of freedom to taste. I will not give you such a word; for by giving it, I should act precisely as those who go over to the enemy.”
“My life and the safety of the Zaporojian army lie in this, that the Grand Hetman should not move on us with all his forces, which he would not be slow to do should you inform him of our power. Be not surprised, then, if I detain you until I find myself out of danger, unless you give your word. I know what I have undertaken; I know how formidable is the power opposed to me, — the two hetmans, your terrible prince (who is a whole army himself), the Zaslavskis and Konyetspolskis and all those kinglets who keep their feet on the Cossack neck! Not small was my labor, nor few the letters I wrote before I succeeded in putting their watchfulness to sleep; now I cannot allow you to rouse it. Since the masses of the people, with the Cossacks of the towns, and all who are oppressed in faith and freedom will take my side, as well as the Zaporojian army and the Khan of the Crimea, I expect to manage the enemy, for my power will be considerable; but most of all do I trust in God, who has beheld the injustice done, and who sees my innocence.”
Here Hmelnitski drank a glass of vudka, and began to walk unquietly around the table. Skshetuski measured him with his eyes, and spoke with power, —
“Do not blaspheme, Zaporojian hetman, by calling upon God and his divine protection; for in truth you will only bring down upon yourself his anger and swift punishment. Is it right for you to call the Highest to your defence, — you, who for the sake of your private squabbles and the injustice done you raise such a terrible storm, kindle the flame of civil war, and join yourself with Pagans against Christians? For what will happen? Whether victorious or vanquished, you will shed a sea of human blood and tears, you will desolate the land worse than locusts, you will shake the Commonwealth, you will raise your hand against majesty, you will desecrate the altars of the Lord; and all this because Chaplinski took some land from you, and threatened you when he was drunk! What do you not attempt? What do you not devote to your private interests? You call upon God; and though I am in your power
, though you can take my life and freedom, I tell you that you are a Satan. Call not God to your assistance, for hell alone can give you aid!”
Hmelnitski grew purple and reached for his sword. He looked at the lieutenant like a lion about to roar and spring on his victim, but he restrained himself. Fortunately, he was not drunk yet. Perhaps, also, disquiet had seized him, maybe certain voices called from his soul to turn from the road; for suddenly, as if wishing to defend himself before his own thoughts, he said, —
“From another I should not have endured such speech, but do you have a care that your boldness does not exhaust my patience. You frighten me with hell, you speak to me of private interests and of treason. And from whence do you know that I have risen to avenge private wrongs alone? Where should I find assistance, where those thousands who have, already taken my side and who are taking it, if I wished merely to redress wrongs of my own? Look around at what is going on in the Ukraine. Oh, rich land, motherland, native land! And who in her is sure of to-morrow, who in her is happy, who is not robbed of his faith, spoiled of his freedom; who in her is not weeping and sighing? — save only the Vishnyevetskis, the Pototskis, the Zaslavskis, Kalinovskis, Konyetspolskis, and a handful of nobles! For them are crown estates, dignities, land, and people, — for them happiness and golden freedom; and the rest of the nation in tears stretch forth their hands to heaven waiting for the pity of God, since the pity of the king cannot help them. How many, even of the nobility, unable to bear this intolerable oppression, have fled to the Saitch, as I myself have fled? I want no war with the king, I want no war with the Commonwealth! It is the mother, and he is the father. The king is a merciful lord; but the kinglets! — with them it is impossible for us to live; their extortions, their rents, meadow-taxes, mill-taxes, eye and horn taxes, their tyranny and oppression exercised through the agency of Jews, cry for vengeance. What thanks has the Zaporojian army received for great services rendered in numerous wars? Where are the Cossack rights? The king gave them, the kinglets took them away. Nalivaika quartered! Pavlyuk burned in a brazen bull! The blood is not dry on the wounds inflicted by the sabres of Jolkevski and Konyetspolski! The tears have not dried for those killed and empaled an stakes; and now look! What is gleaming in the sky?” — here Hmelnitski pointed through the window at the flaming comet,— “The anger of God, the scourge of God! And if I have to be the scourge of God on earth, then let the will of God be done! I will take the burden on my shoulders.”
Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz Page 18
