With Fire and Sword

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  At length a party of dragoons appeared opposite, with an officer at the head. The soldiers pushed aside the throng, and the officer cried: “Out of the road! out of the road!” and struck with the side of his sword those who failed to clear the way quickly. Skshetuski recognized Kushel.

  The young officer greeted his acquaintance heartily. “What times! what times!” said he.

  “Where is the prince?” asked Pan Yan.

  “You would have killed him with anxiety if you had delayed. He is looking for you and your men intently. He is now at the Church of the Bernardines. I am sent out to keep order in the city; but the grozwayer has just taken it in hand, and I will go with you to the church. There is a council there at this moment.”

  “In the church?”

  “Yes. They will offer the command to the prince, for the soldiers declare that they will not defend the town under another leader.”

  “Let us go; I have urgent business also with the prince.”

  The united parties moved on. Along the road Skshetuski inquired about everything that was passing in Lvoff, and if defence was already determined on.

  “That is just the question under consideration,” said Kushel. “The citizens want to defend themselves. What times! People of insignificant position show more courage than nobles and soldiers.”

  “But the commanders, what has happened to them? Are they not here, and will there not be opposition to the prince?”

  “No, unless he makes it himself. There was a fitter time to give him the command; it is late now. The commanders dare not show their faces. Prince Dominik merely took refreshments in the archbishop’s palace, and went away immediately. He did well, for you cannot believe what hatred there is for him among the soldiers. He is gone already, and still they cry: ‘Give him up! We will cut him to pieces!’ It is sure he would not have escaped such a fate. The royal cup-bearer, Ostrorog, arrived here first, and he began to talk against the prince; but now he sits in silence, for a tumult rose against him. They laid all the blame on him to his face, and he only gulps his tears. In general it is awful, what is going on; such times have come. I say to you, thank God that you were not at Pilavtsi, that you did not flee from the place; for it is a real miracle to us who were there that we did not lose our senses altogether.”

  “And our division?”

  “Exists no longer,—scarcely anything is left; Vurtsel gone, Makhnitski gone, Zatsvilikhovski gone. Vurtsel and Makhnitski were not at Pilavtsi, for they remained in Konstantinoff. That Beelzebub, Prince Dominik, left them there so as to weaken the power of our prince. Old Zatsvilikhovski has vanished like a stone in water. God grant he has not perished!”

  “And of all the soldiers have many come here?”

  “In number sufficient, but what of that? The prince alone could use them, if he would take the command; they will obey no one else. The prince was terribly alarmed about you and the soldiers. This is the only sound squadron. We were already mourning for you.”

  “At present he is the happy man for whom people are mourning!”

  They rode in silence for a time, looking at the crowd and listening to the shouts and yells: “The Tartars! the Tartars!” In one place they beheld the terrible sight of a man torn to pieces by the mob on suspicion of being a spy. The bells were tolling incessantly.

  “Will the horde be here soon?” asked Zagloba.

  “The devil knows,—maybe to-day. This city will not defend itself long, for it cannot hold out. Hmelnitski is coming with two hundred thousand, besides Tartars.”

  “Caput!” answered Zagloba. “It would have been better for us to have gone on at breakneck speed. What have we gained so many victories for?”

  “Over whom?”

  “Over Krívonos, over Bogun,—devil knows whom else.”

  “But,” said Kushel, in a low voice, turning to Skshetuski, “Yan, has God not comforted you in any way? Have you not found the one whom you were seeking? Have you not at least learned something?”

  “No time to think of that,” said Skshetuski. “What do I and my affairs signify in view of what has happened? All is vanity, vanity, and death at the end.”

  “It seems to me that the whole world will perish before long,” said Kushel.

  Meanwhile they reached the Bernardine Church, which was blazing with light. Immense crowds stood before the door; but they could not enter, for a line of men with halberds closed the passage, admitting only the most important officers of the army.

  Skshetuski ordered his men to form a second line.

  “Come,” said Kushel; “half the Commonwealth is in this church.”

  They entered. Kushel had not exaggerated greatly. All who were best known in the army and city had assembled for council, including the voevoda, the castellans, the colonels, the captains, officers of foreign regiments, the clergy, as many nobles as the church could hold, a multitude of military of the lower grades, and a number of the town councillors with the grozwayer at their head, who was the leader of the citizens. The prince too was present, the royal cup-bearer, and one of the commanders, the voevoda of Kieff, the starosta of Stobnik, Vessel, Artsishevski, and Osinski. They sat in front of the great altar, so that the public might see them. The council was held hastily and excitedly, as is usual on such occasions. Speakers stood on benches and implored the elders not to yield the city to the hands of the enemy without defending it. “Even if we have to perish, the city will detain the enemy, the Commonwealth will recover. What is needed for defence? There are walls, there are troops, there is determination,—only a leader is wanted.” And after speeches of this kind, through the crowd flew murmurs which passed into loud shouts; excitement seized the assembly. “We will perish, we will perish willingly!” they cry. “We will wipe out the disgrace of Pilavtsi, we will shield the fatherland!” And they began to shake their sabres, and the naked edges glittered in the blaze of the candles. Others cried: “Be quiet! Let the deliberations be orderly! Shall we defend or not defend?” “Defend! defend!” roared the assembly till the echo thrown back from the arches repeated, “Defend!” Who is to be the leader? Who should be the leader? “Prince Yeremi,—he is a leader, he is a hero! Let him defend the city; let the Commonwealth give him the baton. Long life to him!”

  Then such a thundering roar burst forth from a thousand lungs that the walls trembled and the glass rattled in the windows of the church.

  “Prince Yeremi! Prince Yeremi! Long life to Prince Yeremi! Long life, victory to him!”

  A thousand sabres flashed; all eyes were turned to the prince. He rose calmly with wrinkled brow. There was silence at once, as if only poppy-seeds were falling.

  “Gentlemen,” said the prince, with a resonant voice, which in that silence reached every ear, “when the Cymbri and the Teutons fell upon the Commonwealth of Rome no one would accept the consulate till Marius took it. But Marius had a right to take it, for there were no leaders appointed by the senate. And I in the present straits would not avoid power, since I wish to serve my dear country with my life; but I cannot accept the command since I should offend the country, the senate, and the authorities, and a self-elected chief I will not be. Among us is the man to whom the Commonwealth has given the baton of command,—the cup-bearer of the Crown.”

  Here the prince could speak no further; for hardly had he mentioned the cup-bearer when there rose a terrible din and the clattering of sabres. The crowd swayed and there was a burst as of powder on which a spark has fallen. “Away with him! Destruction to him! Pereat!” was heard in the throng. “Pereat! pereat!” was roared louder and louder. The cup-bearer sprang from his seat, pale, with drops of cold sweat on his forehead; and then threatening figures approached the stalls, near the altar, and ominous words were heard: “Give him here!”

  The prince, seeing whither this was tending, rose and stretched out his right hand. The crowds restrained themselves, thinking that he wishe
d to speak. There was silence in the twinkle of an eye. But the prince wished merely to allay the storm and tumult, not to permit the shedding of blood in the church. When he saw that the most threatening moment had passed, he took his seat again.

  On the second chair from the voevoda of Kieff sat the unfortunate cup-bearer; his gray hair had dropped upon his breast, his hands were hanging, and from his mouth came words interrupted by sobs: “O Lord, for my sins I accept the cross with resignation.”

  The old man might rouse pity in the hardest heart; but a crowd is generally pitiless. Again therefore the tumult began when the voevoda of Kieff rose and gave a sign with his hand that he wanted to speak. He was a partner in the victories of Yeremi, therefore they listened to him willingly. He turned to the prince then, and in the most feeling words adjured him not to reject the baton of command and not to hesitate to save the country. “When the Commonwealth is perishing, let laws slumber; let not the appointed chief save it, but him who has the most power to save. Take the command, then, invincible leader, take it and rescue, not this city alone, but the whole Commonwealth. Behold I, an old man, with the lips of the Commonwealth implore you, and with me all ranks of people,—all men, women, and children,—Save us! save us!”

  Here followed an incident which moved all hearts. A woman in mourning approached the altar, and casting at the feet of the prince her golden ornaments and jewels, knelt before him, and sobbing loudly, cried out: “We bring you our goods; we give our lives into your hands. Save us, save us; for we perish!”

  At the sight of this senators, soldiers, and then the whole throng roared with a mighty cry, and there was one voice in that church: “Save us!”

  The prince covered his face with his hands; and when he raised his head tears were glittering in his eyes. Still he hesitated. What would become of the dignity of the Commonwealth if he should accept the command?

  Then rose the cup-bearer of the Crown. “I am old,” said he, “unfortunate, and crushed. I have a right to resign the charge which is beyond my powers, and to place it on younger shoulders. Here in the presence of this crucified God and of all the knighthood, I deliver the baton to you,—take it.” And he extended the insignia to Vishnyevetski.

  A moment of such silence followed that flies on the wing could be heard. At last the solemn voice of Yeremi was heard: “For my sins—I accept it.”

  Then a frenzy of enthusiasm ruled the assembly. The crowds broke the benches, fell at the feet of Vishnyevetski, cast down their money and treasures before him. The news spread like lightning through the whole city. The soldiers were losing their senses from joy, and shouted that they wished to go against Hmelnitski, the Tartars, the Sultan; the citizens thought no longer of surrender, but of defence to the last drop of blood; the Armenians brought money of their own accord to the city hall, before anything was said of a levy; the Jews in the synagogue raised an uproar of thanksgiving; the guns on the walls thundered forth the glad tidings; along the streets was firing of muskets, pistols, and guns. Shouts of “Long life!” continued all night. Any one not knowing the state they were in might suppose that the city was celebrating a triumph or some solemn festival. And still three hundred thousand enemies—an army greater than any which the German Emperor or the King of France could place in the field, an army wilder than the legions of Tamerlane—might at any moment invest the walls of that city.

  CHAPTER XLIII.

  A week later, on the morning of the 6th of October, news as unexpected as terrible burst upon Lvoff. Prince Yeremi, with the greater part of the army, had left the city secretly and had gone it was unknown whither.

  Crowds gathered before the archbishop’s palace; they would not believe the report at first. The soldiers insisted that if the prince had gone, he had gone without doubt at the head of a powerful division on a reconnoissance of the surrounding country. It appeared, they said, that lying spies had spread reports announcing Hmelnitski and the Tartars at any moment; for since September 26 ten days had passed, and the enemy was not yet in sight. The prince wished undoubtedly to convince himself of the danger by actual inspection, and after obtaining intelligence would return without fail. Besides, he had left a number of regiments, and everything was ready for defence.

  The last was true. Every disposition had been made, the places marked out, the cannon planted on the walls. In the evening Captain Tsikhotski arrived at the head of fifty dragoons. He was surrounded immediately by the curious, but would not speak with the crowd, and went directly to General Artsishevski. Both called the grozwayer, and after consultation they went to the city hall. There Tsikhotski informed the astonished councillors that the prince had gone, not to return.

  At the first moment the hands of all dropped at their sides, and some insolent lips uttered the word, “Traitor!” But that moment Artsishevski, an old leader famed for achievements in the Dutch service, rose and began to speak as follows to the military and the councillors:—

  “I have heard the injurious word, which I wish no one had spoken, for even despair cannot justify it. The prince has gone and will not return. But what right have you to force a leader on whose shoulders the salvation of a whole country rests to defend your city only? What would have happened if the enemy had surrounded in this place the remaining forces of the Commonwealth? There are neither supplies of food nor of arms for so many troops here. I tell you this,—and you may trust in my experience,—that the greater the force shut up here, the shorter the defence would be; for hunger would overpower you sooner than the enemy. Hmelnitski cares more for the person of the prince than for your city; therefore, when he discovers that Vishnyevetski is not here, that he is collecting new troops and may come with relief, he will let you off more easily, and agree to terms. You are murmuring today; but I tell you that the prince, by leaving this city and threatening Hmelnitski from outside, has saved you and your children. Bear up, and defend yourselves! If you can detain the enemy some time, you may save your city, and you will render a memorable service to the Commonwealth; for during that time the prince will collect forces, arm other fortresses, rouse the torpid Commonwealth, and hasten to your rescue. He has chosen the only road of salvation; for if he had fallen here, with his army overcome by hunger, then nothing could stop the enemy, who might march on Cracow, on Warsaw, and flood the whole country, finding resistance in no place. Therefore, instead of murmuring, hurry to the walls, defend yourselves and your children, your city and the whole Commonwealth!”

  “To the walls! to the walls!” repeated many of the more daring.

  The grozwayer, an energetic and bold man, answered: “Your determination pleases me; and you know that the prince did not go away without planning defence. Every one here knows what he has to do, and that has happened which should have happened. I have the defence in hand, and I will defend to the last.”

  Hope returned again to timid hearts. Seeing this, Tsikhotski said in conclusion,—

  “His Highness informs you also that the enemy is at hand. Lieutenant Skshetuski struck on a party of two thousand Tartars whom he defeated. The prisoners say that a great power is marching behind them.”

  This news made a deep impression. A moment of silence followed; all hearts beat more quickly.

  “To the walls!” said the grozwayer.

  “To the walls! to the walls!” repeated the officers and citizens present.

  Meanwhile a tumult was raised outside the windows; the uproar of a thousand voices, which mingled in one undistinguishable roar like the sound of the waves of the sea. Suddenly the doors of the hall were thrown open with a crash, and a number of citizens burst into the room; and before the councillors had time to inquire what had happened, shouts were raised: “Flames in the sky! flames in the sky!”

  “The word has become flesh,” said the grozwayer. “To the walls!”

  The hall was deserted. Soon the thunder of cannon shook the walls, announcing to the inhabitants of the city, the s
uburbs and villages beyond, that the enemy was coming. In the east the heavens were red as far as the eye could see. One would have said that a sea of fire was approaching the city.

  The prince meanwhile had thrown himself on Zamost, and having dispersed on the road the party which Tsikhotski had mentioned to the citizens, occupied himself with repairing and arming that fortress, naturally strong, which he made impregnable in a short time. Skshetuski, with Pan Longin and a part of the squadron, remained in the fortress with Pan Weyher, the starosta of Volets. The prince went to Warsaw to obtain from the Diet means to assemble new forces, and also to take part in the election which was near. The fortunes of Vishnyevetski and the whole Commonwealth hung upon that election; for if Prince Karl were chosen the war party would win, and the prince would receive chief command of all the forces of the Commonwealth, and it would perforce come to a general struggle for life and death with Hmelnitski. Prince Kazimir, though famous for his bravery and altogether a military man, was justly considered an adherent of the policy of Ossolinski, the chancellor, therefore of the policy of negotiations with the Cossacks, and considerable concessions to them. Neither brother was sparing of promises, and each struggled to gain partisans for himself; considering therefore the equal power of both parties, no one could foresee the result of the election. The partisans of the chancellor feared that Vishnyevetski, thanks to his increasing fame and the favor which he possessed among the knighthood and the nobles, would carry the balance of minds to the side of Prince Karl; Yeremi, for these reasons, desired to support his candidate in person. Therefore he hastened to Warsaw, sure that Zamost would be able to hold in check for a long time the whole power of Hmelnitski and the Crimea. Lvoff, according to every probability, might be considered safe; for Hmelnitski could in no wise spend much time in capturing that city, since he had before him the more powerful Zamost, which barred his way to the heart of the Commonwealth.