With Fire and Sword

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  “Are you mad, fellow?” roared Zagloba, shaking him like a pear-tree. “What Bogun?”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” called Jendzian, “why do you shake me so? Let me go, let me collect my wits, for I am losing my senses. You have turned everything over in my head. What Bogun should there be,—or don’t you know him?”

  “Speak, or I’ll stab you!” shouted Zagloba. “Where did you see Bogun?”

  “In Vlodava! What do you want of me?” cried the frightened young man. “Am I a robber?”

  Zagloba lost the thread of his thought, breath failed him, and he fell on the bench panting heavily. Volodyovski came to his aid.

  “When did you see Bogun?” asked Volodyovski.

  “Three weeks ago.”

  “Then he is alive?”

  “Why shouldn’t he be? He told me himself how you split him up, but he has recovered.”

  “And he told you that the young lady is at Rashkoff?”

  “Who else should tell me?”

  “Listen, Jendzian! it is a question here of the life of your master and the young lady. Did Bogun himself tell you that she was not in Kieff?”

  “My master, how could she be in Kieff when he secreted her at Rashkoff, and told Horpyna on peril of her life not to let her escape? But now he has given me a baton and his ring to go to her; for his wounds opened, and he had to lie down himself, it is unknown for how long.”

  Further words from Jendzian were interrupted by Zagloba, who sprang from the bench again, and seizing the remnant of his hair with both hands, began to shout like a madman: “My daughter is living,—by God’s wounds, she is living! They didn’t kill her in Kieff; she is alive, she is alive, my dearest!”

  And the old man stamped with his feet, laughed and sobbed. Finally, he seized Jendzian by the head, pressed him to his bosom and began to kiss him, so that the young fellow lost his head altogether.

  “Let me go, my master, for I am stifled! Of course she is alive—God grant us to go together for her, my master—But, my master!”

  “Let him go, let him tell his story, for we don’t understand anything yet,” said Volodyovski.

  “Speak, speak!” cried Zagloba.

  “Begin at the beginning, brother,” said Pan Longin, on whose mustaches, too, thick dew had settled down.

  “Permit me, gentlemen, to draw breath,” said Jendzian; “and I will close the window, for those wretches of nightingales are tearing away in the bushes at such a rate that it is impossible to speak.”

  “Mead!” cried Volodyovski to the servant.

  Jendzian closed the window with his usual deliberation, then turned to the company and said; “You will let me sit down, for I am tired.”

  “Sit down!” said Volodyovski, pouring to him from the decanter borne in by the servant. “Drink with us, for you deserve it for the news which you bring. If you will only speak as soon as possible!”

  “Good mead!” said he, raising the glass toward the light.

  “May you be split! will you talk?” shouted Zagloba.

  “You are angry at once, my master! I will talk if you wish; it is for you to command and me to obey, that’s why I am a servant. But I see that I must start from the beginning and tell everything in detail.”

  “Speak from the beginning!”

  “You remember, gentlemen, how the news of the taking of Bar came; how we thought then that the young lady was lost? So I returned to the Jendzians,—to my parents and my grandfather, who is now ninety years old—I speak correctly—no! ninety-and-one.”

  “May he be nine hundred!” burst out Zagloba.

  “May God give him as many years as possible! I thank you, my master, for the kind word. So I returned home to visit my parents, as I by the assistance of God had passed the robbers; for as you know, the Cossacks took me up in Chigirin last year, and considered me one of themselves because I nursed Bogun when wounded, and arrived at great intimacy with him; and at the same time I collected some little from those criminals,—some silver and precious stones.”

  “We know, we know!” said Volodyovski.

  “Well, I reached my parents, who were glad to see me, and couldn’t believe their eyes when I showed them all I had collected. I had to swear to my grandfather that I had come by it honestly. Then they were glad; for you must know that they have a lawsuit with the Yavorskis about a pear-tree which stands on the line between them,—half its branches are on the land of the Yavorskis, and half on ours. Now the Yavorskis shake the tree and our pears fall, and many of them go to them. They stick to it that those in the middle are theirs, and we—”

  “Don’t bring me to anger, fellow!” interrupted Zagloba, “and don’t speak of that which does not belong to the story!”

  “First, with your pardon, my master, I am no fellow, but a noble, though a poor one, and with an escutcheon as well as you, as Pan Volodyovski and Podbipienta, friends of Pan Skshetuski, will tell you; and I repeat that this lawsuit has lasted fifty years.”

  “Dear little fish!” said Podbipienta, sweetly; “but tell us about Bogun, not about pear-trees.”

  “Of Bogun?” said Jendzian. “Well, let it be about Bogun. That Bogun thinks, my master, that he has not a more faithful friend and servant than me, though he struck me in Chigirin; for it is true I nursed him, took care of him, when the Kurtsevichi had wounded him. I lied then when I said I did not like my master’s service and preferred to be with the Cossacks, for there was more profit among them; and he believed me. Why shouldn’t he believe me when I brought him to health? Therefore he took a wonderful fancy to me, and what is true, rewarded me most liberally, not knowing that I had sworn to have vengeance on him for the wrong he had done me in Chigirin; and if I did not stab him at once, it was only because it is not proper for a noble to stab an enemy lying in bed, as he would stick a pig.”

  “Well, well,” said Volodyovski, “we know that too, but how did you find him this time?”

  “It was this way: When we had pushed the Yavorskis to the wall (they will have to go out with packs on their backs, it cannot be otherwise), I thought: ‘Well, it is time for me to look for Bogun and pay him for the wrong he did me.’ I left my parents in secret, and my grandfather; and he (there is good metal in him) said: ‘If you have taken an oath, then go; if not, you will be a fool.’ I went, for I thought to myself besides: ‘When I find Bogun maybe I shall learn something about the lady, if she is alive; and afterward when I shoot him and go to my master with the news, that too will not be without a reward.’”

  “Certainly it will not; and we will reward you also,” said Volodyovski.

  “And from me, brother, you will have a horse with trappings,” added Podbipienta.

  “I thank you most kindly,” said the delighted young man; “a present is a fitting return for good news, and I won’t drink away what I get from anybody—”

  “Oh, the devil take me!” muttered Zagloba.

  “You went away from your home and friends then?” suggested Volodyovski.

  “I did; and on the way I thought: ‘Where shall I go unless to Zbaraj, for it is not far from Bogun, and I can hear more readily of my master.’ I go through Beloe to Vlodava, and in Vlodava I find my little horse terribly used up,—I halt for refreshment. There was a fair in the place; all the inns were full of nobles. I go to townspeople; nobles there too! Then a Jew says to me: ‘I have a room, but a wounded noble has taken it. Then I say: ‘This has happened well, for I know how to nurse, and your barber, as it is fair-time, cannot get through his work.’ The Jew said then that the noble took care of himself, did not wish to see any man; still he went afterward to inquire. It is evident the noble was worse, for he gave orders to admit me. I enter, and I look to see who lies in the bed. Bogun! I bless myself in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost! I was frightened; but he recognized me at once, was very glad (for he takes me as his friend), an
d says he: ‘God sent you to me! I’ll not die this time.’ And I say: ‘What are you doing here, my master?’ But he put his finger on his lips, and only afterward did he tell me of what had happened to him,—how Hmelnitski sent him to the king, who at that time was a prince,—sent him from before Zamost, and how Pan Volodyovski cut him up at Lipki.”

  “Did he remember me pleasantly?” asked Volodyovski.

  “I cannot say, my master, otherwise than pleasantly enough. ‘I thought,’ says he, ‘that he was some little cur; but it turns out that he is a hero of the first water, who almost cut me in two.’ But when he thinks of Pan Zagloba, then he grits his teeth in great anger, because he urged you on to this fight—”

  “May the hangman light him!” said Zagloba, “I am not afraid of him.”

  “We returned then to our former familiarity, yes, even to greater. He told me all,—how near he had been to death; how they removed him to the mansion at Lipki, taking him for a noble, and he gave himself out as Pan Hulevich from Podolia; how they cured him and treated him with great kindness, for which he swore gratitude to them till death.”

  “And what was he doing in Vlodava?”

  “He was going to Volynia; but in Parcheva his wounds opened, for the wagon turned over with him, and he had to stop, though in great fear, for they might easily cut him to pieces there. He told me this himself. ‘I was,’ said he, ‘sent with letters; but now I have no papers, nothing but a baton; and if they should discover who I am, not only the nobles would cut me to pieces, but the first commandant would hang me without asking permission of any man.’ I remember that when he told me that, I said to him: ‘It is well to know that the first commandant would hang you.’ ‘And how is that?’ asked he. ‘So as to be cautious and say nothing to any man, in which I also will serve you.’ Then he began to thank me and to assure me of gratitude, and that reward would not miss me. Then he said: ‘I have no money, but what jewels I have I will give you, and later I will cover you with gold; only render me one more service.’”

  “And now we are coming to the princess?” said Volodyovski.

  “Yes, my master, I must tell everything in detail. When he said that he had no money, I lost all heart for him, and thought to myself: ‘Wait! I’ll render you a service.’ He said: ‘I am sick, I have not strength for the journey, but a long and dangerous road awaits me. If I go to Volynia,—and it is not far from here,—then I shall be among my own; but to the Dniester I cannot go, for my strength is insufficient, and it is necessary to pass through an enemy’s country, near castles and troops. Do you go for me!’ ‘To what place?’ I ask. ‘To Rashkoff, for she is hidden there with a sister of Donyéts, Horpyna.’ I ask, ‘Is it the princess?’ ‘Yes,’ says he, ‘I hid her there where the eye of man cannot see her; it is pleasant for her there, and she sleeps like the Princess Vishnyevetska, on golden cushions.’”

  “Tell me quickly, in God’s name!” shouted Zagloba.

  “What is done quickly is done in the devil’s fashion,” answered Jendzian. “When I heard that, my master, how I rejoiced! But I did not show it, and I say: ‘Is she surely there, for it must be a long time since you took her to the place?’ He began to swear that Horpyna was devoted to him, would keep her ten years till his return, and that the princess was there as God is in heaven; for neither Poles nor Tartars nor Cossacks could come, and Horpyna would not disobey his order.”

  While Jendzian was telling the story, Zagloba trembled as in a fever, the little knight nodded his head joyfully, Podbipienta raised his eyes to heaven.

  “That she is there is certain,” continued the youth, “for the best proof is that he sent me to her. But I put it off at first so as to betray nothing, and I ask: ‘Why should I go?’ ‘Because I am not able to go. If,’ says he, ‘I go from Vlodava to Volynia alive, I will have her taken to Kieff, for our Cossacks have the upper hand there everywhere. And you,’ says he, ‘go to Horpyna, and give her the order to take the princess to the monastery of the Holy Virgin in Kieff.’”

  “Well, it was not to Nikolai the Good then,” burst out Zagloba. “I saw at first that Yerlich was a hypochondriac, or that he lied.”

  “To the Holy Virgin,” said Jendzian. “‘I’ll give you my ring,’ says he, ‘and baton and knife, and Horpyna will know what they mean, for we have agreed about them; and God has sent you,’ says he, ‘all the more because she knows you,—knows that you are my best friend. Go at once; don’t fear the Cossacks, but look out for the Tartars, if there are any, and avoid them, for they will not respect the baton. Money, ducats, are buried in the ravine; take them out at once. Along the road you need only say, “Bogun’s wife is travelling,” and you will want for nothing. Besides,’ says he, ‘the witch is able to help herself. Only go, for my sake! Whom besides can I—unfortunate man!—send, whom can I trust, in this strange country, among enemies?’ He begged, my master, till he almost shed tears. Finally the beast asked me to take an oath that I would go; and I took the oath, but in my mind I added: ‘With my master!’ Then he rejoiced, and gave me the baton, the ring, and the knife at once, and whatever jewels he had; and I took them too, for I thought, better that they be with me than with a robber. At parting he told me what ravine is above the Valadinka, how to go and how to turn so exactly, that I could get there with my eyes bound; which you will see yourselves if you go with me, as I think you will.”

  “Immediately! to-morrow!” said Volodyovski.

  “What! to-morrow? We will order the horses to be saddled at daylight to-day.”

  Joy seized the hearts of all. At one moment could be heard cries of gratitude to heaven, at another the joyful rubbing of hands; then new questions put to Jendzian, to which he answered with his usual deliberation.

  “May the bullets strike you!” cried Zagloba; “what a servant Skshetuski has in you!”

  “Well, what of it?” asked Jendzian.

  “He will cover you with gold.”

  “I think too that I shall not be without a reward, though I serve my master out of faithfulness.”

  “What did you do with Bogun?” asked Volodyovski.

  “This, my master, was for me the greatest torment, that he lay sick again, and I could not put a knife into him, for my master would blame me for that. Such was my luck! What had I to do? He had told me all he had to tell, had given me all he had to give, so to my head for wit. ‘Why,’ say I to myself, ‘should such a villain walk through the world? He imprisons a lady, and struck me in Chigirin. Better that he should not be, and let the hangman light his way. For,’ I thought to myself, ‘if he gets well, he will be after us with his Cossacks.’ Not thinking long then, I went to Pan Rogovski, the commandant, who is in Vlodava with his squadron, and I told him that it was Bogun, the worst of the rebels. They must have hanged him before this time.”

  Having said this, Jendzian laughed stupidly enough, and looked on the audience as if waiting for applause; but how astonished was he when answered by silence! After some time Zagloba muttered, “No more of this!” but on the contrary Volodyovski kept silent, and Pan Longin began to click with his tongue, shake his head, and at last he said,—

  “You have acted ignobly,—what is called ignobly!”

  “How so, my master?” asked the astonished Jendzian; “should I have stabbed him?”

  “And that would have been ugly, and this ugly. I know not which is better, to be a murderer or a Judas.”

  “What do you say, my master? Is it to be a Judas to give up a rebel who is an enemy of the king and the whole Commonwealth?”

  “True, but still the deed is ignoble. What did you say the name of that commandant is?”

  “Pan Rogovski. They said his name was Jakob.”

  “Ah, that’s the same man!” muttered the Lithuanian. “A relative of Pan Lashch, and an enemy of Skshetuski.”

  But this remark was not heard, for Zagloba began,—

  “Gentlemen, there i
s no reason for delay. God has so arranged through this youth, and has so directed, that we shall seek her under better conditions than hitherto. Praise be to God! We must leave in the morning. The prince has gone away already, but we must start without his permission, for there is no time to wait. Volodyovski will go; I with him, and Jendzian; but you, Pan Longin, would better stay, for your stature and your simplicity of soul might betray us.”

  “No, brother; I’ll go too,” said the Lithuanian.

  “For her safety you must stay at home. Whoever has seen you will not forget you for a lifetime. We have the baton, it is true, but they would not believe you, even with the baton. You suffocated Pulyan in sight of Krívonos’s whole rabble; and since such a pillar has stood before them, they would recognize it. You cannot go with us. You wouldn’t find three heads there, and the one you have wouldn’t help us much; you would ruin the undertaking.”

  “Sad,” said the Lithuanian.