The Deluge- Volume 2

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  Here Pan Michael stopped, for Kmita had closed his eyes with his fists and was exclaiming,—

  “O Mother of God! To see such a thing once and then die!”

  “Such an attack my eyes will never see again,” continued the little knight. “We too were commanded to spring forward. I saw no more, but what I tell I heard from the mouth of a Swedish officer who was at the side of Karl and saw with his own eyes the end. That Forgell who fell into our hands afterward at Rava, rushed up to Karl. ‘O King,’ cried he, ‘save Sweden! save yourself! Aside, aside! Nothing can stop them!’ But Karl answered: ‘No use to yield; we must meet them or perish.’ Other generals rush up, implore, entreat, in vain. The king moved forward; they strike. The Swedes are broken more quickly than you can count ten. One fell, another was trampled, others were scattered like peas. The king defended himself single-handed. Kovalski rode up and knew Karl Gustav, for he had seen him twice before. A horseman shielded the king; but those who were present said that lightning does not kill more quickly than Kovalski cut him in two. Then the king rushed at Pan Roh.”

  Volodyovski again interrupted his narrative and breathed deeply; but Kmita cried at once,—

  “Oh, finish, or the soul will go out of me!”

  “They rushed at each other so that the breasts of the horses struck. They raged. ‘I look,’ said the officer; ‘the king with his horse is on the ground.’ He freed himself, touched the trigger of his pistol, missed. The king’s hat had fallen. Roh then made for the head of Karl Gustav,—had his sword raised; the Swedes were weak from terror, for there was no time to save Karl, when Boguslav rose as if from under the earth, fired into the very ear of Kovalski, broke his head and his helmet.”

  “O my God! he had not time to bring down the sword?” screamed Pan Andrei, tearing his hair.

  “God did not grant him that grace,” said Pan Michael. “Zagloba and I talked of what had happened. The man had served with the Radzivills from years of youth; he considered them his masters, and at sight of Radzivill it must be that he was confused. Perhaps the thought had never come to his head to raise a hand on Radzivill. It happens that way! Well, he paid with his life. Zagloba is a wonderful man, for he is not Roh’s uncle at all, and not his relative; still another man would not have been in such despair for a son. And, to tell the truth, there was no reason, for one might envy Kovalski such a glorious death; a noble and a soldier is born to give his life, if not on the present day then on the morrow; men will write of Kovalski, and posterity will celebrate his name.”

  Pan Michael was silent; after a while he made the sign of the cross and said,—

  “Eternal rest give him, O Lord, and may light shine on him forever!”

  “For the ages of ages!” said Kmita.

  Both whispered prayers for a certain time, maybe asking for themselves a similar death, if only not at the hands of Prince Boguslav. At last Pan Michael said,—

  “Father Pyekarski assured us that Roh went straight to heaven.”

  “Of course he did, and our prayers are not needed for him.”

  “Prayers are always needed; for they are inscribed to the credit of others, and maybe to our own.”

  “My hope is in the mercy of God,” said Kmita, sighing. “I trust that for what I have done in Prussia, even a couple of years will be taken from me in purgatory.”

  “Everything there is reckoned. What a man works out here with his sabre, the heavenly secretary records.”

  “I too served with Radzivill,” said Kmita, “but I shall not be confused at sight of Boguslav. My God, my God! Prostki is not far away! Remember, O Lord, that he is Thy enemy too, for he is a heretic who more than once has blasphemed Thy true faith.”

  “And is an enemy of the country,” added Pan Michael. “We have hope that his end is approaching. Zagloba, speaking in grief and in tears and as if inspired, foretold the same after that attack of the hussars. He cursed Boguslav so that the hair stood on the head of every man listening. Prince Michael Radzivill, who is marching with us against him, saw also in a dream two golden trumpets, which the Radzivills have on their shield, gnawed by a bear, and he said at once next day, ‘Misfortune will meet me or some other Radzivill.’”

  “By a bear?” asked Kmita, growing pale.

  “By a bear.”

  Pan Andrei’s face became clear as if a gleam of the morning dawn had fallen on it; he raised his eyes, stretched his hands toward heaven and said with a solemn voice,—

  “I have a bear on my shield. Praise to Thee, O Lord on high! Praise to Thee, Most Holy Mother! O Lord, O Lord! I am not worthy of this grace.”

  When he heard this Pan Michael was greatly moved, for he recognized at once that that was an omen from heaven.

  “Yendrek!” cried he, “to make sure, press the feet of Christ before the battle; and I will implore him against Sakovich.”

  “Prostki! Prostki!” repeated Kmita, as in a fever. “When do we move?”

  “Before day, and soon it will begin to dawn.”

  Kmita approached the broken window of the cottage and cried: “The stars are paling already. Ave, Maria.”

  Then came the distant crowing of a cock, and with it low trumpeting. A few “Our Fathers” later, movement began in the whole village. The clatter of steel was heard, and the snorting of horses. Dark masses of cavalry assembled on the highway.

  The air began to be filled with light; a pale gleam was silvering the points of the spears, twinkling on the naked sabres, bringing out of the shade mustached threatening faces, helmets, kolpaks, Tartar sheepskin caps, fur cloaks, quivers. At last the advance with Kmita in the vanguard was moving toward Prostki; the troops stretched in a long line over the road, and marched quickly.

  The horses in the first ranks fell to snorting greatly, after them others, as a good portent for the soldiers.

  White mists hid the meadows yet, and the fields.

  Round about was silence; only land-rails were playing in the grass, wet with dew.

  CHAPTER LI.

  September 6, the Polish troops arrived at Vansosh and disposed themselves for rest, so that before battle horses and men might gain strength. Pan Gosyevski, the hetman, decided to halt there four or five days; but events interfered with his reckoning.

  Babinich, as a man knowing the boundary well, was sent on a reconnoissance; he was given two light Lithuanian squadrons and a fresh chambul of Tartars, for his own Tartars were over-much wearied.

  Gosyevski enjoined on him earnestly, before starting, to obtain an informant and not to return empty-handed. But Babinich merely laughed, thinking to himself that he needed no urging, and that he would bring prisoners, even if he had to find them in the intrenchments of Prostki.

  In fact, he returned in forty-eight hours, bringing a number of Prussians and Swedes, and among them an officer of note, Von Rössel, captain in a Prussian regiment under Boguslav.

  The party was received in the camp with great applause. There was no need of torturing the captain, for Babinich had already done that on the road by putting the sword-point to his throat. From his statements it transpired that not only the Prussian regiments of Count Waldeck were in Prostki, but also six Swedish regiments under command of Major-General Israel; of these, four were of cavalry under Peters, Frytjotson, Tauben, and Ammerstein, with two of infantry under the brothers Engel. Of Prussian regiments, which were very well equipped, besides that of Count Waldeck himself, there were four,—those of the Prince of Wismar, Bruntsl, Konnaberg, General Wahlrat,—with four squadrons of Boguslav’s command, two being of Prussian nobles, and two of his own men.

  Supreme command was held by Count Waldeck; in reality, however, he obeyed in everything Prince Boguslav, to whose influence the Swedish general Israel also yielded.

  But the most important intelligence given by Rössel was this,—that two thousand chosen infantry of Pomerania were hastening from Elko to
reinforce Prostki; but Count Waldeck, fearing lest these men might be taken by the horde, wished to leave the fortified camp, join the Pomeranians, and then make intrenchments a second time. Boguslav, according to Rössel, was so far rather strongly opposed to leaving Prostki, and only during the last days began to incline toward this action. Gosyevski on hearing this news was greatly rejoiced, for he was certain that victory would not miss him. The enemy might defend themselves for a long time in the intrenchments, but neither the Swedish nor the Prussian cavalry could resist the Poles in the open field.

  Prince Boguslav seemed to understand this fact as well as Gosyevski, and for this special reason he did not much approve Waldeck’s plans. But he was too vain not to yield before even the reproach of excessive caution. Besides, he was not distinguished for patience. It might be reckoned almost with certainty that he would grow weary of waiting in trenches, and would seek fame and victory in the open field. Gosyevski had simply to hasten his advance on the enemy at the moment when they were leaving the intrenchments.

  So thought he; so thought other colonels, such as Hassan Bey, who led the horde; Voynillovich, who led the king’s regiment; Korsak, a light-horse colonel; Volodyovski, Kotvich, and Babinich. All agreed on one point,—that it was necessary to give up further rest, and march in the night; that is, in a few hours. Meanwhile Korsak sent his banneret, Byeganski, to Prostki to inform the advancing army every hour of what was taking place in the camp. Volodyovski and Babinich took Rössel to their quarters to learn something more of Boguslav. The captain was greatly alarmed at first, for he felt still at his throat Kmita’s sabre-point, but wine soon loosened his tongue. Since he had served once in the Commonwealth in a foreign command, he had learned Polish; therefore he was able to answer the questions of the little knight, who did not know German.

  “Have you been long in the service of Prince Boguslav?” asked Volodyovski.

  “I do not serve in his army,” answered Rössel, “but in the elector’s regiment, which was put under his command.”

  “Then do you know Pan Sakovich?”

  “I have seen him in Königsberg.”

  “Is he with the prince?”

  “He is not; he remained in Taurogi.”

  Volodyovski sighed and moved his mustaches. “I have no luck, as usual,” said he.

  “Be not grieved, Michael,” said Babinich. “You will find him; if not, I shall.”

  Then he turned to Rössel: “You are an old soldier; you have seen both armies, and you know our cavalry of old: what do you think,—on whose side will be victory?”

  “If they meet you outside the trenches, on yours; but you cannot take the trenches without infantry and cannon, especially since everything is done there with Radzivill’s head.”

  “Then do you consider him such a great leader?”

  “Not only is that my opinion, but it is the general opinion in both armies. They say that at Warsaw the Most Serene King of Sweden followed his advice, and therefore won a great battle. The prince, as a Pole, has a better knowledge of your method of warfare and can manage more quickly. I saw myself that the King of Sweden after the third day of battle embraced him in front of the army and kissed him. It is true that he owed his life to him; for had it not been for the shot of the prince— But it is a terror to think of it! He is besides an incomparable knight, whom no man can meet with any weapon.”

  “H’m!” said Volodyovski, “maybe there is such a man.”

  When he had said this, his mustaches trembled threateningly. Rössel looked at him, and grew suddenly red. For a time it seemed that either he would burst a blood-vessel or break into laughter; but at last he remembered that he was in captivity, and controlled himself quickly. But Kmita with his steel eyes looked at him steadily and said,—

  “That will be shown to-morrow.”

  “But is Boguslav in good health?” asked Volodyovski; “for the fever shook him a long time, and must have weakened him.”

  “He is, and has been this long time, as healthy as a fish, and takes no medicine. The doctor at first wanted to give him many preservatives, but immediately after the first came a paroxysm. Prince Boguslav gave orders to toss that doctor up from sheets; and that helped him, for the doctor himself got a fever from fright.”

  “To toss him up from sheets?” asked Volodyovski.

  “I saw it myself,” answered Rössel. “Two sheets were placed one above the other, and the doctor put in the centre of them. Four strong soldiers took the sheets by the corners, and threw up the poor doctor. I tell you, gentlemen, that he went nearly ten ells into the air, and he had hardly come down when they hurled him up again. General Israel, Count Waldeck, and the prince were holding their sides from laughter. Many of the officers too were looking at the spectacle, till the doctor fainted. Then the prince was free of his fever, as if some hand had removed it.”

  Though Pan Michael and Babinich hated Boguslav, still they could not restrain themselves from laughter when they heard of this joke. Babinich struck his knees and cried,—

  “Ah, the scoundrel! how he helped himself!”

  “I must tell Zagloba of this medicine,” said Pan Michael.

  “It cured him of the fever,” said Rössel; “but what is that, when the prince does not restrain sufficiently the impulses of his blood, and therefore will not live to ripe age?”

  “I think so too,” muttered Babinich. “Such as he do not live long.”

  “Does he give way to himself in the camp?” asked Pan Michael.

  “Of course,” answered Rössel. “Count Waldeck laughed, saying that his princely grace takes with him waiting-maids. I saw myself two handsome maidens; his attendants told me that they were there to iron his lace—but God knows.”

  Babinich, when he heard this, grew red and pale; then he sprang up, and seizing Rössel by the arm began to shake him violently.

  “Are they Poles or Germans?”

  “Not Poles,” said the terrified Rössel. “One is a Prussian noblewoman; the other is a Swede, who formerly served the wife of General Israel.”

  Babinich looked at Pan Michael and drew a deep breath; the little knight was relieved too, and began to move his mustaches.

  “Gentlemen, permit me to rest,” said Rössel. “I am dreadfully tired, for the Tartar led me ten miles with a lariat.”

  Kmita clapped his hands for Soroka, and committed the prisoner to him; then he turned with quick step to Pan Michael.

  “Enough of this!” said he. “I would rather perish a hundred times than live in this ceaseless alarm and uncertainty. When Rössel mentioned those women just now, I thought that some one was going at my temple with a club.”

  “It is time to finish!” said Volodyovski, shaking his sabre.

  At that moment trumpets sounded at the hetman’s quarters; soon trumpets answered in all the Lithuanian squadrons, and pipes in the chambuls.

  The troops began to assemble, and an hour later were on the march.

  Before they had gone five miles a messenger hurried up from Byeganski of Korsak’s squadron, with intelligence for the hetman that a number of troopers had been seized from a considerable body occupied in collecting on that side of the river all the wagons and horses of the peasants. Interrogated on the spot, they acknowledged that the tabor of the whole army was to leave Prostki about eight o’clock in the morning, and that commands were issued already.

  “Let us praise God and urge on our horses,” said Gosyevski. “Before evening that army will be no longer in existence.”

  He sent the horde neck and head to push with utmost endeavor between Waldeck’s troops and the Pomeranian infantry hastening to aid them. After the horde went Lithuanians; being mainly of the light squadrons, they came right after the horde.

  Kmita was in the front rank of the Tartars, and urged on his men till the horses were steaming. On the road he bowed down on the saddle, struck
his forehead on the neck of his horse, and prayed with all the powers of his soul,—

  “Grant me, O Christ, to take vengeance, not for my own wrongs, but for the insults wrought on the country! I am a sinner; I am not worthy of Thy grace; but have mercy on me! Permit me to shed the blood of heretics, and for Thy praise I will fast and scourge myself every week on this day till the end of my life.”