Pan Michael: An Historical Novel of Poland, the Ukraine, and Turkey

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  CHAPTER LIII.

  Next morning, at daybreak, the little knight went to Knyahin andcaptured Buluk Pasha,--a notable warrior among the Turks. The whole daypassed for him in labor on the field, a part of the night in counselwith Pan Pototski, and only at first cock-crow did he lay down hiswearied head to sleep a little. But he was barely slumbering sweetlyand deeply when the thunder of cannon roused him. The man Pyentka, fromJmud, a faithful servant of Pan Michael, almost a friend, came into theroom.

  "Your grace," said he, "the enemy is before the town."

  "What guns are those?" asked the little knight.

  "Our guns, frightening the Pagans. There is a considerable partydriving off cattle from the field."

  "Janissaries or cavalry?"

  "Cavalry. Very black. Our side is frightening them with the Holy Cross;for who knows but they are devils?"

  "Devils or no devils, we must be at them," said the little knight. "Goto the lady, and tell her that I am in the field. If she wishes to cometo the castle to look out, she may, if she comes with Pan Zagloba, forI count most on his discretion."

  Half an hour later Pan Michael rushed into the field at the head ofdragoons and volunteer nobles, who calculated that it would be possibleto exhibit themselves in skirmishing. From the old castle the cavalrywere to be seen perfectly, in number about two thousand, composed inpart of spahis, but mainly of the Egyptian guard of the Sultan. In thislast served wealthy and generous mamelukes from the Nile. Their mail ingleaming scales, their bright kefis, woven with gold, on their heads,their white burnooses and their weapons set with diamonds, made themthe most brilliant cavalry in the world. They were armed with darts,set on jointed staffs, and with swords and knives greatly curved.Sitting on horses as swift as the wind, they swept over the field likea rainbow-colored cloud, shouting, whirling, and winding between theirfingers the deadly darts. The Poles in the castle could not look atthem long enough.

  Pan Michael pushed toward them with his cavalry. It was difficult,however, for both sides to meet with cold weapons, since the cannon ofthe castle restrained the Turks, and they were too numerous for thelittle knight to go to them, and have a trial beyond the reach ofPolish cannon. For a time, however, both sides circled around at adistance, shaking their weapons and shouting loudly. But at last thisempty threatening became clearly disagreeable to the fiery sons of thedesert, for all at once single horsemen began to separate from the massand advance, calling loudly on their opponents. Soon they scatteredover the field, and glittered on it like flowers which the wind drivesin various directions. Pan Michael looked at his own men.

  "Gracious gentlemen," said he, "they are inviting us. Who will go tothe skirmish?"

  The fiery cavalier, Pan Vasilkovski, sprang out first; after him PanMushalski, the infallible bowman, but also in hand-to-hand conflict anexcellent skirmisher; after these went Pan Myazga of the escutcheonPrus, who during the full speed of his horse could carry off afinger-ring on his lance; after Pan Myazga galloped Pan TeodorPaderevski, Pan Ozevich, Pan Shmlud-Plotski, Prince Ovsyani, and PanMurkos-Sheluta, with a number of good cavaliers; and of the dragoonsthere went also a group, for the hope of rich plunder incited them, butmore than all the peerless horses of the Arabs. At the head of thedragoons went the stern Lusnia; and gnawing his yellow mustache, he waschoosing at a distance the wealthiest enemy.

  The day was beautiful. They were perfectly visible; the cannon on thewalls became silent one after another, till at last all firing hadceased, for the gunners were fearful of injuring some of their own men;they preferred also to look at the battle rather than fire at scatteredskirmishers. The two sides rode toward each other at a walk, withouthastening, then at a trot, not in a line, but irregularly, as suitedeach man. At length, when they had ridden near to each other, theyreined in their horses, and fell to abusing each other, so as to rouseanger and daring.

  "You'll not grow fat with us, Pagan dogs!" cried the Poles. "Your vileProphet will not protect you!"

  The others cried in Turkish and Arabic. Many Poles knew both languages,for, like the celebrated bowman, many had gone through grievouscaptivity; therefore when Pagans blasphemed the Most Holy Lady withspecial insolence, anger raised the hair on the servants of Mary, andthey urged on their horses, wishing to take revenge for the insult toher name.

  Who struck the first blow and deprived a man of dear life?

  Pan Mushalski pierced first with an arrow a young bey, with a purplekefi on his head, and dressed in a silver scaled armor, clear asmoonlight. The painful shaft went under his left eye, and entered hishead half the length of its shaft; he, throwing back his beautiful faceand spreading his arms, flew from the saddle. The archer, putting hisbow under his thigh, sprang forward and cut him yet with the sabre;then taking the bey's excellent weapons, and driving his horse with theflat of his sword toward the castle, he called loudly in Arabic,--

  "I would that he were the Sultan's own son. He would rot here beforeyou would play the last kindya."

  When the Turks and Egyptians heard this they were terribly grieved, andtwo beys sprang at once toward Mushalski; but from one side Lusnia, whowas wolf-like in fierceness, intercepted their way, and in the twinkleof an eye bit to death one of them. First he cut him in the hand; andwhen the bey stooped for his sabre, which had fallen, Lusnia almostsevered his head with a terrible blow on the neck. Seeing which, theother turned his horse swift as wind to escape, but that moment PanMushalski took the bow again from under his thigh, and sent after thefugitive an arrow; it reached him in his flight, and sank almost to thefeathers between his shoulders.

  Pan Shmlud-Plotski was the third to finish his enemy, striking him witha sharp hammer on the helmet. He drove in with the blow the silver andvelvet lining of the steel; and the bent point of the hammer stuck sotightly in the skull that Pan Plotski could not draw it forth for atime. Others fought with varied fortune; still, victory was mainly withthe nobles, who were more skilled in fencing. But two dragoons fellfrom the powerful hand of Hamdi Bey, who slashed then Prince Ovsyaniwith a curved sword through the face, and stretched him on the field.Ovsyani moistened his native earth with his princely blood. Hamditurned then to Pan Sheluta, whose horse had thrust his foot into theburrow of a hamster. Sheluta, seeing death inevitable, chose to meetthe terrible horseman on foot, and sprang to the ground. But Hamdi,with the breast of his horse, overturned the Pole, and reached the armof the falling man with the very end of his blade. The arm dropped;that instant Hamdi rushed farther through the field in search ofopponents.

  But in many there was not courage to measure with him, so greatly andevidently did he surpass all in strength. The wind raised his whiteburnoose on his shoulders, and bore it apart like the wings of a birdof prey; his gilt worked armor threw an ominous gleam on his almostblack face, with its wild and Hashing eyes; a curved sabre glitteredabove his head, like the sickle of the moon on a clear night.

  The famed archer let out two arrows at him; but both merely sounded onhis armor with a groaning, and fell without effect on the grass. PanMushalski began to hesitate whether to send forth a third shaft againstthe neck of the steed, or rush on the bey with his sabre. But while hewas thinking of this on the way, the bey saw him and urged on his blackstallion.

  Both met in the middle of the field. Pan Mushalski, wishing to show hisgreat strength and take Hamdi alive, struck up his sword with apowerful blow and closed with him; he seized the bey's throat with onehand, with the other his pointed helmet, and drew him from his horse.But the girth of his own saddle broke; the incomparable bowman turnedwith it, and dropped to the ground. Hamdi struck the falling man withthe hilt of his sword on the head and stunned him. The spahis andmamelukes, who had feared for Hamdi, shouted with joy; the Poles weregrieved greatly. Then the opposing sides sprang toward one another indense groups,--one side to seize the bowman, the other to defend evenhis body.

  So far the little knight had taken no part in the skirmish, for hisdignity of colonel did not permit that; but seeing
the fall ofMushalski and the preponderance of Hamdi, he resolved to avenge thearcher and give courage to his own men. Inspired with this thought, heput spurs to his horse, and swept across the field as swiftly as asparrow-hawk goes to a flock of plover, circling over stubble. Basia,looking through a glass, saw him from the battlements, and cried atonce to Zagloba, who was near her,--

  "Michael is flying! Michael is flying!"

  "You see him," cried the old warrior. "Look carefully; see where hestrikes the first blow. Have no fear!"

  The glass shook in Basia's hand. Though, as there was no dischargein the field yet from bows or janissary guns, she was not alarmedover-much for the life of her husband, still, enthusiasm, curiosity,and disquiet seized her. Her soul and heart had gone out of her bodythat moment, and were flying after him. Her breast was heaving quickly;a bright flush covered her face. At one moment she had bent over thebattlement so far that Zagloba seized her by the waist, lest she mightfall to the fosse.

  "Two are flying at Michael!" cried she.

  "There will be two less!" said Zagloba.

  Indeed, two spahis came out against the little knight. Judging from hisuniform, they knew that he was a man of note, and seeing the smallstature of the horseman they thought to win glory cheaply. The fools!they flew to sure death; for when they had drawn near he did not evenrein in his horse, but gave them two blows, apparently as light as whena mother in passing gives a push apiece to two children. Both fell onthe ground, and clawing it with their fingers, quivered like two lynxeswhich death-dealing arrows have struck simultaneously.

  The little knight flew farther toward horsemen racing through thefield, and began to spread dreadful disaster. As when after Mass a boycomes in with a pewter extinguisher fixed to a staff, and quenches oneafter another the candles on the altar, and the altar is buried inshadow, so Pan Michael quenched right and left brilliant horsemen,Egyptian and Turkish, and they sank in the darkness of death. ThePagans recognized a master above masters, and their hearts sank withinthem. One and another withdrew his horse, so as not to meet with theterrible leader; the little knight rushed after the fugitives like avenomous wasp, and pierced one after another with his sting.

  The men at the castle artillery began to shout joyously at sight ofthis. Some ran up to Basia, and borne away with enthusiasm, kissed thehem of her robe; others abused the Turks.

  "Basia, restrain yourself!" cried Zagloba, every little while, holdingher continually by the waist; but Basia wanted to laugh and cry, andclap her hands, and shout and look, and fly to her husband in thefield.

  He continued to carry off spahis and Egyptian beys till at last criesof "Hamdi! Hamdi!" were heard throughout the whole field. The adherentsof the Prophet called loudly for their greatest warrior to measurehimself with that terrible little horseman, who seemed to be deathincarnate.

  Hamdi had seen the little knight for some time; but noting his deeds,he was simply afraid of him. It was a terror to risk at once his greatfame and young life against such an ominous enemy; therefore he feignednot to see him, and began to circle around at the other end of thefield. He had just finished Pan Yalbryk and Pan Kos when despairingcries of "Hamdi! Hamdi!" smote his ear. He saw then that he could hidehimself no longer, that he must win immeasurable glory or lay down hislife; at that moment he gave forth a shout so shrill that all the rocksanswered with an echo, and he urged on toward the little knight a horseas swift as a whirlwind.

  Pan Michael saw him from a distance, and pressed also with his heelshis Wallachian bay. Others ceased the armed argument. At the castleBasia, who had seen just before all the deeds of the terrible Hamdi,grew somewhat pale, in spite of her blind faith in the little knight,the unconquerable swordsman; but Zagloba was thoroughly at rest.

  "I would rather be the heir of that Pagan than that Pagan himself,"said he to Basia, sententiously.

  Pyentka, the slow Lithuanian, was so certain of his lord that not theleast anxiety darkened his face; but seeing Hamdi rushing on, he beganto hum a popular song,--

  "O thou foolish, foolish house-dog, That's a gray wolf from the forest. Why dost thou rush forward to him If thou canst not overcome him!"

  The men closed in the middle of the field between two ranks, looking onfrom a distance. The hearts of all died in them for a moment. Thenserpentine lightning flashed in the bright sun above the heads of thecombatants; but the curved blade flew from the hand of Hamdi like anarrow urged by a bowstring; he bent toward the saddle, as if piercedwith a blade-point, and closed his eyes. Pan Michael seized him by theneck with his left hand, and placing the point of his sabre at thearmpit of the Egyptian, turned toward his own men. Hamdi gave noresistance; he even urged his horse forward with his heel, for he feltthe point between his armpit and the armor. He went as if stunned, hishands hanging powerless, and from his eyes tears began to fall. PanMichael gave him to the cruel Lusnia, and returned himself to thefield.

  But in the Turkish companies trumpets and pipes were sounded,--a signalof retreat to the skirmishers. They began to withdraw toward their ownforces, taking with them shame, vexation, and the memory of theterrible horseman.

  "That was Satan!" said the spahis and mamelukes to one another. "Whosomeets that man, to him death is predestined! Satan, no other!"

  The Polish skirmishers remained awhile to show that they held thefield; then, giving forth three shouts of victory, they withdrew undercover of their guns, from which Pan Pototski gave command to renewfire. But the Turks began to retreat altogether. For a time yet theirburnooses gleamed in the sun, and their colored kefis and glitteringhead-pieces; then the blue sky hid them.

  On the field of battle there remained only the Turks and Poles slainwith swords. Servants came out from the castle to collect and bury thePoles. Then ravens came to labor at the burial of the Pagans, but theirstay was not long, for that evening new legions of the Prophetfrightened them away.