With Fire and Sword

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  The colonels returned to their regiments, and soon after were marching at the head of them into the camp. Soldiers of the picked regiments of the prince hurried out like ants to look at their new comrades. The royal dragoons, under Captain Giza, marched in front with heavy Swedish helmets and lofty crests. They rode Podolian horses, but matched and well fed. These men, fresh and rested, with bright and glittering uniforms, had a splendid appearance in comparison with the emaciated regiments of the prince, in tattered uniforms, faded from rain and sun. After these followed Osinski with his regiment, and in the rear Koritski. A murmur of applause was heard among the prince’s cavalry at the sight of the deep German ranks. Their collars red, on their shoulders shining muskets, they marched thirty in a rank, with the step of a single man, strong and thundering. Tall, sturdy fellows all of them,—old soldiers who had been in more than one country and in more than one battle, for the most part veterans of the Thirty Years’ War, skilled, disciplined, and experienced.

  When they marched up to the prince, Osinski cried, “Halt!” and the regiment stood as if foot-bound to the earth; the officers raised their staffs, the standard-bearer raised his standard, and waving it three times, lowered it before the prince. “Vorwärts!” commanded Osinski, “Vorwärts!” repeated the officers, and the regiments advanced again. In the same way but in almost better form, did Koritski present his troops. At the sight of all this the soldiers’ hearts were rejoiced; and Yeremi, judge beyond judges, put his hands on his hips with delight, looked, and smiled,—for infantry was just what he wanted, and he was sure that it would be difficult for him to find better in the whole world. He felt increased in power, and hoped to accomplish great things in war. The suite began to speak of different military topics and of the various kinds of soldiers to be seen in the world.

  “The Zaporojian infantry is good, especially behind intrenchments,” said Sleshinski; “but these are better, for they are better drilled.”

  “Of course a great deal better!” said Migurski.

  “But they are heavy men,” said Vershul. “If I had to do it, I should undertake to tire them out with my Tartars in two days, so that on the third I could slaughter them like sheep.”

  “What are you talking about? The Germans are good soldiers.”

  To this Pan Longin Podbipienta answered in his singing Lithuanian voice: “How God in his mercy has endowed different nations with different virtues! As I hear, there is no cavalry in the world better than ours, and again neither our infantry nor the Hungarian can be compared with the German.”

  “Because God is just,” remarked Zagloba. “For instance, he gave you a great fortune, a big sword, and a heavy hand, but small wit.”

  “Zagloba has fastened on him like a horse-leech,” said Pan Yan, smiling.

  But Podbipienta contracted his eyes and spoke with the mildness usual to him: “An outrage to hear! And he gave you too long a tongue.”

  “If you maintain that God did ill in giving me what I have, then you will go to hell with your virtue, for you wish to oppose his will.”

  “Oh, who can out-talk you? You talk and talk.”

  “Do you know how a man is different from an animal?”

  “How?”

  “By reason and speech.”

  “Oh, he has given it to him, he has given it to him!” said Mokrski.

  “If you don’t understand why in Poland there is better cavalry and among the Germans better infantry, I will explain it to you.”

  “Why is it? why is it?” asked several voices.

  “This is why: When the Lord God created the horse he brought him before men, so that they should praise his works. And on the bank stood a German, for the Germans are always pushing themselves everywhere. The Lord God showed the horse to the German, and asked: ‘What is this?’ ‘Pferd!’ answered the German. ‘What!’ exclaimed the Creator; ‘do you say “Pfe!” to my work? But you will never ride on this creature, you lubber!—or if you do, you will ride like a fool.’ Having said this, the Lord made a present of the horse to the Pole, This is why the Polish cavalry is the best. Then the Germans began to hurry after the Lord on foot and to beg forgiveness of him, and that is why the Germans have become the best infantry.”

  “You have calculated everything very cleverly,” said Podbipienta.

  Further conversation was interrupted by new guests, who hurried up with the tidings that approaching the camp were forces which could not be Cossacks, for they were not from Konstantinoff, but from an entirely different direction,—from the river Zbruch. Two hours later those troops came on with such a thundering of trumpets and drums that the prince became angry and sent an order to them to be quiet, for the enemy was in the neighborhood. It turned out that they were followers of Samuel Lashch, commander of the royal vanguard, an officer of the king, for the rest a celebrated adventurer, wrongdoer, turbulent, quarrelsome, but a great soldier. He led eight hundred men of the same stamp as himself,—part nobles, part Cossacks, all of whom deserved hanging according to sound justice. But Yeremi was not afraid of the insubordination of these warriors, trusting that in his hands they would turn into obedient lambs, and make up in bravery and daring for their other defects.

  It was a lucky evening. On the previous day the prince, weighed down by the expected departure of the voevoda of Kieff, had determined to defer the war till the arrival of reinforcements, and to retreat to some quiet place for a time. To-day he was again at the head of nearly twelve thousand men; and although Krívonos had five times that number, still since the greater part of the rebel forces was formed of the rabble, the two armies might be considered of equal strength. Now the prince had no thought of rest. Shutting himself up with Lashch, the voevoda of Kieff, Zatsvilikhovski, Makhnitski, and Osinski, he held a council on the conduct of the war. It was determined to give Krívonos battle on the morrow, and if he did not appear himself, to go in search of him.

  It was already dark night; but since the recent rains, so annoying to the soldiers at Makhnovka, the weather had continued to be splendid. On the dark vault of the heavens glittered swarms of golden stars. The moon appeared on high and whitened all the roofs of Rosolovtsi. No one in the camp thought of sleeping. All were conjecturing about to-morrow’s battle, and preparing for it; chatting in ordinary fashion, singing, and promising themselves great pleasure. The officers and the most distinguished attendants, all in excellent humor, gathered around a great fire, and passed the time with their cups.

  “Tell us further,” said they to Zagloba; “when you were crossing the Dnieper, what did you do, and how did you reach Bar?”

  Zagloba emptied a quart cup of mead, and said,—

  “‘Sed jam nox humida cœlo præcipitat Suadentque sidera cadentia somnos, Sed si tantus amor casus cognoscere nostros, Incipiam …’

  Gentlemen, if I should begin to tell all in detail, ten nights would not suffice, and surely mead would be required; for an old throat, like an old wagon, needs lubrication. It is enough if I tell you that I went to Korsún, to the camp of Hmelnitski himself with the princess, and took her out of that hell in safety.”

  “Jesus, Mary! Did you enchant them?” cried Zatsvilikhovski.

  “It is true that I enchanted them,” said Zagloba, “for I learned that hellish art when I was still in youthful years from a witch in Asia, who, having fallen in love with me, divulged all the secret tricks of her black art. But I could not enchant much, for it was trick against trick. Around Hmelnitski are swarms of soothsayers and wizards, who have brought so many devils into his service that he uses them to work as he would peasants. When he goes to sleep, a devil has to pull his boots off; when his clothes are dusty, a devil beats them with his tail; when he is drunk, Hmelnitski gives this or that devil a box on the snout, saying, ‘You don’t do your work well.’”

  The pious Pan Longin crossed himself, and said: “With them the power of hell; with us the power of heaven.”


  “T was afraid the black fellows would betray me to Hmelnitski,—tell who I was, and whom I was conducting; but I conjured them into silence with certain words. I was afraid too that Hmelnitski would know me, for I had met him in Chigirin a year before, twice at Dopula’s. There were also other colonels whom I knew; but my stomach had fallen in, my beard had grown to my waist, my hair to my shoulders, my disguise had changed the rest, no one recognized me.”

  “Then you saw Hmelnitski himself, and spoke with him?”

  “Did I see Hmelnitski? Just as I see you. More than that; he sent me as a spy into Podolia to distribute his manifestoes among the peasants on the road. He gave me a baton as a safeguard against the Tartars, so that from Korsún I went everywhere in safety. Peasants or men from below met me. I put the staff under their noses, and said, ‘Smell this, children, and go to the devil!’ Then I ordered them everywhere to give me plenty to eat and drink, and they did; and wagons, too, for which I was glad; and I was always looking after my poor princess, lest she might give out after such great fatigues and terror. I tell you, gentlemen, that before we arrived at Bar she had recovered to such a degree that there were few people in Bar who didn’t gaze at her. There are many pretty girls in that place, for the nobles have assembled there from distant regions, but in comparison with her they are as owls to a jay. The people admire her, and you would if you could see her.”

  “It must be they couldn’t help it,” said little Pan Volodyovski.

  “But why did you go to Bar?” asked Migurski.

  “Because I said to myself, I will not stop till I come to a safe place. I had no confidence in small castles, thinking that the rebellion might reach them. But if it should go to Bar, it would break its teeth there. Pan Andrei Pototski has built up strong walls, and cares as much for Hmelnitski as I do for an empty glass. Do you think that I did badly in going so far from the conflagration? If I had not, that Bogun would surely have pursued; and if he had caught up, I tell you he would have made tidbits of me for the dogs. You don’t know him, but I do. May the devil fly away with him! I shall have no peace till they hang the man. God grant him that happy end—amen! And surely there is no one with whom he has such an account as with me. Brrr! When I think of it a chill passes over me; so that now I am forced to use stimulants, though by nature I am opposed to drink.”

  “What do you say?” interrupted Podbipienta. “Why, my dear brother, you take up liquid like a well-sweep.”

  “Don’t look into the well, my dear man, for you will see nothing wise at the bottom. But a truce to this! Travelling then with the baton and manifestoes of Hmelnitski, I met no great hindrances. When I came to Vinnitsa, I found there the troops of Pan Aksak, now present in this camp; but I had not put off my minstrel skin yet, for I feared the peasantry. But I got rid of the manifestoes. There is a saddler there called Suhak, a Zaporojian spy, who was sending intelligence to Hmelnitski. Through this fellow I sent off the manifestoes; but I wrote such sentences on the backs of them that Hmelnitski will surely order the saddler to be flayed when he reads them. But right under the very walls of Bar such a thing happened to me that I came very near being lost at the shore of refuge.”

  “How was that? How?”

  “I met some drunken soldiers, wild fellows, who heard how I called the princess, ‘Your Ladyship,’ for I was not so careful then, being near our own people. And they began: ‘What sort of minstrel is that? What sort of a lad is it whom he calls “Your Ladyship”?’ Then they looked at the princess, and saw she was as beautiful as a picture. ‘Bring her nearer to us,’ said they. I pushed her behind me into the corner, and to the sabre—”

  “That is a wonder,” said Volodyovski,—"that you, dressed as a minstrel, had a sabre at your side.”

  “That I had a sabre? And who told you that I had a sabre? I had not; but I grabbed a soldier’s sabre that lay on the table,—for it was in a public house at Shipintsi, I stretched out two of my assailants in the twinkle of an eye. The others rushed on me. I cried, ‘Stop, you dogs, for I am a noble!’ Next moment they called out, ‘Stop! stop! Scouts are coming!’ It appeared that they were not scouts, but Pani Slavoshevska with an escort, whom her son was conducting, with fifty horsemen,—young fellows. These stopped my enemies. I went to the lady with my story, and roused her feelings so that she opened the floodgates of her eyes. She took the princess into her carriage, and we entered Bar. But do you think this is the end? No!”

  Suddenly Sleshinski interrupted the narrative. “But, look! is that the dawn? What is it?”

  “Oh, it cannot be the dawn,” said Skshetuski. “Too early.”

  “It is toward Konstantinoff.”

  “Yes. Don’t you see it is brighter?”

  “As I live, a fire!”

  At these words the faces of all became serious. They forgot the narrative and sprang to their feet.

  “Fire! Fire!” repeated several voices.

  “That is Krívonos who has come from Polónnoe.”

  “Krívonos with all his forces.”

  “The advance guard must have set fire to the town or the neighboring villages.”

  Meanwhile the trumpets sounded the alarm in low notes. Just then old Zatsvilikhovski appeared suddenly among the knights. “Gentlemen,” said he, “scouts have come with news. The enemy is in sight! We move at once. To your posts! to your posts!”

  The officers hurried with all speed to their regiments. The attendants put out the fires, and in a few moments darkness reigned in the camp. But in the distance from the direction of Konstantinoff the heavens reddened each moment more intensely and over a broader space. In this gleam the stars grew paler and paler. Again the trumpets sounded low. “To horse!” was heard through the mouthpiece. Indistinct masses of men and horses began to move. Amid the silence were heard the tramp of horses, the measured step of infantry, and finally the dull thump of Vurtsel’s cannon; from moment to moment the clatter of muskets or the voices of command were heard. There was something threatening and ominous in that night march, in those voices, murmurs, clatter of steel, the gleam of armor and swords. The regiments descended to the Konstantinoff road, and moved over it toward the conflagration like a great dragon or serpent making its way through the darkness. But the luxuriant July night was drawing to a close. In Rosolovtsi the cocks began to crow, answering one another through the whole town. Five miles of road divided Rosolovtsi from Konstantinoff, so that before the army on its slow march had passed half the interval dawn rose behind the brightness of the conflagration, pale as if frightened, and filled the air more and more with light, winning from the darkness forests, woods, groves, the whole line of the highway and the troops marching upon it. It was possible to distinguish clearly the people, the horses, and the close ranks of infantry. The cool morning breeze rose and quivered among the flags above the heads of the knights.

  Vershul’s Tartars marched in front, behind them Ponyatovski’s Cossacks, then the dragoons, Vurtsel’s artillery, the infantry and hussars last. Zagloba rode near Skshetuski; but he was somewhat uneasy in the saddle, and it was apparent that alarm was seizing him, in view of the approaching battle.

  “Listen a moment!” said he to Skshetuski, in a low whisper as if he feared some one might overhear him.

  “What do you say?”

  “Will the hussars strike first?”

  “You say that you are an old soldier, and you don’t know that hussars are reserved to decide the battle at the moment when the enemy is straining his utmost power?”

  “I know that, I know that, but I wanted to be sure.”

  A moment of silence ensued. Then Zagloba lowered his voice still more, and inquired further: “Is this Krívonos with all his forces?”

  “Yes.”

  “How many men is he leading?”

  “Sixty thousand, counting the mob.”

  “Oh, the devil take him!” said Zagloba.

&nb
sp; Pan Yan smiled under his mustache.

  “Don’t think that I am afraid,” whispered Zagloba. “But I have short breath, and don’t like a crowd, for it is hot, and as soon as it is hot I can do nothing. I like to take care of myself in single combat. Not the head, but the hands win in this place. Here I am a fool in comparison with Podbipienta. I have on my stomach here those two hundred ducats which the prince gave me; but believe me I would rather have my stomach somewhere else. Tfu! tfu! I don’t like these great battles. May the plague bruise!”

  “Nothing will happen to you. Take courage!”

  “Courage? That is all I am afraid of. I fear that bravery will overcome prudence in me. I am too excitable. Besides, I have had a bad omen: when we sat by the fire two stars fell. Who knows, maybe one of them is mine.”

  “For your good deeds God will reward you and keep you in health.”