The Knights of the Cross, or, Krzyzacy: Historical Romance

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  CHAPTER VII.

  The dawn was just beginning to whiten the trees, bushes and bouldersscattered in the fields, when the hired guide, walking beside Jurand'shorse, stopped and said:

  "Permit me to rest, knight, for I am out of breath. It is thawing andfoggy, but it is not far now."

  "You will conduct me to the road, and then return," replied Jurand.

  "The road will be to the right behind the forest, and you will soon seethe castle from the hill."

  Then the peasant commenced to strike his hands against his armpits,because he was chilled with the morning dampness; he then sat on a stone,because this exercise made him still more breathless.

  "Do you know whether the count is in the castle?" inquired Jurand.

  "Where else could he be, since he is ill?"

  "What ails him?"

  "People say that the Polish knights gave him a beating," replied the oldpeasant. And there was a feeling of satisfaction in his voice. He was aTeuton subject, but his Mazovian heart rejoiced over the superiority ofthe Polish knights.

  He presently added:

  "Hej! our lords are strong, but they have a hard task with them."

  But immediately after saying this, he looked sharply at the knight, as ifto convince himself that nothing bad would happen to him for the wordswhich he had heedlessly let slip and said:

  "You, lord, speak our language; you are no German?"

  "No," replied Jurand; "but lead on."

  The peasant arose, and again began to walk beside the horse. On the way,he now and then put his hand into a leathern pouch, pulled out a handfulof unground corn, and put it into his mouth, and when he had thussatisfied his first hunger, he began to explain why he ate raw grains,although Jurand was too much occupied with his own misfortune and his ownthoughts, to heed him.

  "God be blessed for that," he said. "A hard life under our German lords!They lay such taxes upon grist, that a poor man must eat the grain withthe chaff, like an ox. And when they find a hand-mill in a cottage, theyexecute the peasant, take whatever he has, bah! they do not pardon evenwomen and children.... They fear neither God nor the priests. They evenput the priest in chains for blaming them for it. Oh, it is hard underthe Germans! If a man does grind some grains between two stones, then hekeeps that handful of flour for the holy Sunday, and must eat like birdson Friday. But God be blessed for even that, because two or three monthsbefore the harvest there will not be even that much. It is not permittedto catch fish ... nor kill animals ... It is not as it is in Mazowsze."

  The Teutonic peasant complained, speaking partly to himself, and partlyto Jurand, and meanwhile they passed through a waste country, coveredwith limestone boulders, heaped with snow, and entered a forest, whichlooked grey in the morning light, and from which came a sharp, dampcoolness. It became broad daylight; otherwise it would have beendifficult for Jurand to travel along the forest road, which ran somewhatup hill, and was so narrow that his gigantic battle-horse could, in someplaces, hardly pass between the trunks. But the forest soon ended, and ina few "_Paters_," they reached the summit of a white hill, across themiddle of which ran a beaten road.

  "This is the road, lord," said the peasant; "you will find the way alone,now."

  "I shall," replied Jurand. "Return home, man." And putting his hand intoa leather bag, fastened in front of the saddle, he took from it a silvercoin and handed it to the guide. The peasant, accustomed more to blowsthan to gifts from the local Teutonic knights, could scarcely believe hiseyes, and catching the money, dropped his head to Jurand's stirrup andembraced it.

  "O Jesus, Mary!" he exclaimed: "God reward your honor!"

  "God be with you!"

  "God's grace be with you! Szczytno is before you."

  Then he once more bent down to the stirrup and disappeared. Jurandremained on the hill alone and looked in the direction indicated by thepeasant, at a grey, moist veil of fog, which concealed the world beforehim. Behind this fog was hidden that ominous castle, to which he wasdriven by superior force and misery. It is already near, then, and whatmust happen, must happen.... As that thought came into Jurand's heart, inaddition to his fear and anxiety about Danusia, and his readiness toredeem her from a foe's hands even with his own blood, he experienced anew, exceedingly bitter, and hitherto unknown feeling of humiliation. Andnow Jurand, at the mere mention of whose name the neighboring countstrembled, was riding to their command with a bowed head. He who haddefeated and trampled under foot so many of them, now felt himselfdefeated and trampled upon. It is true, they had not overcome him in thefield with courage and knightly strength, nevertheless he felt himselfsubdued. And it was to him something so unusual, that it seemed as if theentire order of the world were subverted. He was going to submit himselfto the Teutons, he, who would rather meet single-handed the entire Teutonforce, if it were not for Danusia's sake. Had it not happened already,that a single knight, having to choose between disgrace and death hadattacked whole armies? But he felt that he might meet disgrace, and, atthat thought, his heart groaned with agony as a wolf howls when it feelsthe dart within it.

  But he was a man with not only a body, but also a soul, of iron. He knewhow to subdue others, he knew also how to subdue himself.

  "I will not move," he said to himself, "until I have overcome this angerwith which I should rather lose than deliver my child."

  And he wrestled with his hard heart, his inveterate hatred and his desireto fight. Whoever had seen him on that hill, in armor, on a gigantichorse, would have said that he was some giant, wrought out of iron, andwould not have recognized that that motionless knight at that moment waswaging the hottest of all the battles of his life. But he fought withhimself until he had entirely overcome and felt that his will would notfail him. Meanwhile the mist thinned, although it did not disappearentirely, but finally something darker loomed through it.

  Jurand guessed that these were the walls of the castle of Szczytno. Atthe sight of it he still did not move from the place, but began to prayso fervidly and ardently as a man prays, when nothing is left for him inthe world but God's mercy. And when his horse did finally move, he feltthat some sort of confidence was beginning to enter his heart. He was nowprepared to suffer everything that could befall him. There came back tohis memory Saint George, a descendant of the greatest race in Cappadocia,who suffered various shameful tortures, and nevertheless not only did notlose any honor, but is placed on the right hand of God and appointedpatron of all knighthood. Jurand had sometimes heard tales of hisexploits from the abbots, who came from distant countries, and now hestrengthened his heart with these recollections.

  Slowly even, hope began to awaken in him. The Teutons were indeed famousfor their desire of revenge, therefore he did not doubt that they wouldtake vengeance on him for all the defeats which he had inflicted uponthem, for the disgrace which had fallen upon them after each encounter,and for the dread in which they had lived for so many years.

  But that very consideration increased his courage. He thought that theyhad captured Danusia only in order to get him; therefore of what usewould she be to them, after they had gotten him? Yes! They wouldundoubtedly seize him, and, not daring to keep him near Mazowsze, theywould send him to some distant castle, where perhaps he would have togroan until his life's end under ground, but they would liberate Danusia.Even if it should prove that they had got him insidiously and byoppression, neither the grand master nor the assembly would blame themvery much for that, because Jurand was actually very hard on the Teutons,and shed more of their blood than did any other knight in the world. Butthat same grand master would perhaps punish them for the imprisonment ofthe innocent girl, who was moreover a foster-daughter of the prince,whose favor he was seeking on account of the threatening war with thePolish king.

  And his hope constantly increased. At times it seemed to him almostcertain that Danusia would return to Spychow, under Zbyszko's powerfulprotection.... "He is a strong man," he thought; "he will not permitanybody to injure her." And he began to recall with affection
all he knewof Zbyszko: "He defeated the Germans at Wilno, fought single-handedagainst the Fryzjans whom he challenged with his uncle and quartered, healso beat Lichtenstein, saved the child from the wild bull, and hechallenged those four, whom he will surely not pardon." Here Jurandraised his eyes toward heaven and said: "I gave her to you, O Lord, andyou to Zbyszko!"

  And he gained still more confidence, judging that if God had given her tothe youth, then He would certainly not allow the Germans to mock him butsnatch her out of their hands, even if the entire Teuton power shouldoppose it. But then he commenced to think again about Zbyszko: "Bah! heis not only a mighty man but also as true as gold. He will guard her,love her, and Jesus! be good to her; but it seems to me, that, by hisside she will neither miss the princely court nor paternal love...." Atthat thought his eyelids became suddenly moist, and a great yearningfilled us heart. He would like to see his child once more at least in hislife, and at some future time die in Spychow near those two, and not inthe dark Teuton cells. "But God's will be done!" Szczytno was alreadyvisible. The walls became more distinct in the mist, the hour ofsacrifice was approaching; he therefore began to comfort himself, andsaid to himself: "Surely, it is God's will! but the end of life is near.A few years more or less, the result will be the same. Hej! I would liketo see both children yet, but, justly speaking, I have lived long enough.Whatever I had to experience, I did; whomever to revenge, I revenged. Andwhat now? Rather to God, than to the world; and since it is necessary tosuffer, then it is necessary. Danusia with Zbyszko, even when mostprosperous, will not forget. Surely, they will sometimes recollect andask: where is he? is he alive yet, or already in God's court of justice?They will inquire and perhaps find out. The Teutons are very revengeful,but also very greedy for ransom. Zbyszko would not grudge ransoming thebones at least. And they will surely order more than one mass. The heartsof both are honest and loving, for which may God and the Most Holy Motherbless them!"

  The road became not only broader but also more frequented. Wagons ladenwith lumber and straw were on the way to the town. Herders were drivingcattle. Frozen fish were carried on sledges from the lakes. In one placefour archers led a peasant on a chain to court for some offence, for hehad his hands tied behind him, and on his feet were fetters which,dragging in the snow, hardly enabled him to move. From his pantingnostrils and mouth escaped breath in the shape of wreaths of vapor, whilethey sang as they urged him on. Or seeing Jurand, they began to look athim inquisitively, apparently marvelling at the huge proportions of therider and horse; but, at the sight of the golden spurs and knightly belt,they lowered then crossbows as a sign of welcome and respect. The townwas still more populous and noisy, but everybody hastily got out of thearmed man's way, while he, traversing the main street, turned toward thecastle which, wrapped in clouds, seemed to sleep yet.

  Not everything around slept, at least not the crows and ravens, wholeflights of which were stirring on the elevation, which constituted theentrance to the castle, flapping their wings and crowing. On comingnearer, Jurand understood the cause of their gathering. Beside the roadleading to the gate of the castle, stood wide gallows, on which werehanging the bodies of four Mazovian peasants. There was not the leastbreath of wind, therefore the corpses, which seemed to be looking attheir own feet, did not sway at all, except when the black buds perchedupon their shoulders and heads, jostling one another, striking the ropesand pecking the bowed heads. Some of the hanged men must have been therefor a long time, because their skulls were entirely naked, and their legsvery much lengthened. At Jurand's approach, the flock arose with a greatnoise, but they soon turned in the air and began to settle on thecrossbeam of the gallows. Jurand passed them, crossing himself,approached the moat, and, stopping at the place where the drawbridge wasraised before the gate, sounded the horn.

  He sounded it a second and a third time and waited. There was no livingsoul upon the walls, nor could a voice be heard within the gates. After awhile though, a heavy flap, visible behind a grate built in stone nearthe castle gate, was raised with a crash, and in the opening appeared thebearded head of a German servant.

  "_Wer da?_" inquired a harsh voice.

  "Jurand of Spychow!" replied the knight.

  Immediately the flap was closed again and deep silence followed.

  Time passed. No movement was heard behind the gate, only the cawing ofbirds reached his ear from the direction of the gallows.

  Jurand stood yet a long time before he raised the horn and sounded itagain. But silence again was the sole response.

  Now he understood that he was kept before the gate by Teuton pride, whichknew no bounds before the defeated, in order to humiliate him like abeggar. He also guessed that he would have to wait thus until evening, oreven longer. Consequently his blood began to boil in the first moments;he was suddenly seized with the desire to dismount, pick up one of therocks which lay near the moat, and cast it at the grate. He and everyother Mazovian or Polish knight would have done so, under othercircumstances, and let them come then from behind the gate and fight him.But recollecting for what purpose he had come, he bethought himself anddesisted.

  "Have I not sacrificed myself for my child?" he said in his soul.

  And he waited.

  Meanwhile something black appeared in the loopholes of the wall. Thereappeared heads covered with fur, dark hoods and even iron bars, frombehind which curious eyes gazed at the knight. More came every moment,because the terrible Jurand, waiting solitarily before the Teuton gate,was an unusual sight for the garrison. Whoever had seen him hitherto, hadseen death, but now he could be looked at in safety. The heads constantlymultiplied till at last all the loopholes near the gate were occupied byservants. Jurand thought that also the superiors must be looking at himthrough the grates of the windows in the adjacent tower, and he turnedhis eyes in that direction, but there the windows were cut in deep walls,and it was impossible to see through them. But in the apertures, thegroup of people who at first looked at him silently, began to talk. Oneafter another repeated his name, here and there laughter was heard, gruffvoices shouted as if at a wolf, louder and more insolently, and when,apparently, nobody among them interfered, they finally began to throwsnow at the standing knight. He moved his horse as if involuntarily andthen for a moment the throwing of snow ceased, voices quieted down, andeven some heads disappeared behind the walls. Surely, Jurand's name musthave been very menacing! Soon, however, even the most cowardly bethoughtthemselves that a moat and a wall separated them from that terribleMazovian, therefore the rough soldiery again commenced to throw not onlysmall lumps of snow, but also ice, and even shards and stones, whichrebounded with a clang from the armor which covered the horse.

  "I have sacrificed myself for the child," repeated Jurand to himself.

  And he waited. Noontime arrived, the walls were deserted, because theretainers were called to dinner. A few, those that had to be on guard,ate their meal on the wall, and, after having eaten, entertainedthemselves with throwing the picked bones at the hungry knight. They alsobegan to tease and question each other who would dare to descend andstrike him with the fist in the neck, or with the handle of the lance.Others, returning from their meal, called to him that if he dislikedwaiting he could hang himself, because there was a vacant hook on thegallows with a ready rope. And amidst such mockery, cries, bursts oflaughter and cursing, the afternoon hours passed. The short wintry daygradually drew toward evening, and the drawbridge was still up and thegate remained closed.

  But toward evening a wind arose, dispersed the mist, cleared the sky andrevealed the sunset glow.

  The snow became dark-blue, and then violet. There was no frost, but thenight promised to be fair. The walls were again deserted by all but theguard; the rooks and crows departed from the gallows to the forests.Finally the sky darkened and complete silence followed.

  "They will not open the gate before nightfall," thought Jurand.

  And for a moment he thought to return to the city, but he soon gave upthat idea. "They want me to stand he
re," he said to himself. "If Ireturn, they will certainly not let me go home, but surround and captureme, and then they will say that they owe me nothing, because they took meby force, and if I should ride over them, even then I must return...."

  The great endurance of the Polish knights for cold, hunger and hardships,so admired by foreign chroniclers, frequently enabled them to performdeeds which the less hardy people from the west could not undertake.Jurand possessed that endurance to a still greater degree than others;therefore, although hunger had long since began to gripe him, and theevening frost penetrated his fur, which was covered with iron plates, hedetermined to wait, even if he had to die before this gate.

  But suddenly, before it became entirely dark, he heard behind him thesound of footsteps in the snow.

  He looked back: there were coming toward him, from the direction of thecity, six men, armed with lances and halberds; in their midst walked aseventh man supporting himself on a weapon.

  "They will perhaps open the gate for them and then I shall ride in withthem," thought Jurand. "They will not try to take me by force, nor killme, because there are too few; should they attack me, however, it willprove that they do not mean to keep their promise, and then--woe tothem!"

  Thus thinking, he raised the steel axe hanging at his saddle, so heavy,that its weight was too great for the two hands of an ordinary man, andmoved toward them.

  But they did not think of attacking him. On the contrary, the servantsplanted their lances and halberds in the snow, and as the night was notentirely dark yet, Jurand saw that the handles somewhat trembled in theirhands.

  The seventh, who appeared to be the superior, put out his left armquickly, and turning his hand upward, said:

  "Are you the knight Jurand of Spychow?"

  "Yes."

  "Do you wish to hear my message?"

  "I listen."

  "The powerful and religious Count von Danveld ordered me to tell you,lord, that until you dismount, the gate will not be opened for you."

  Jurand remained motionless for a while, then he dismounted, the horsebeing instantly taken away by one of the archers.

  "The arms must be surrendered to us," again said the man with the weapon.

  The lord of Spychow hesitated. Perhaps they would attack him unarmed, andkill him like a beast; or capture and cast him under ground? But after amoment he thought that if it were to be so, they would have sent moremen. But should they throw themselves on him, they would not destroy hisarmor at once, and then he could wrench a weapon from the nearest andkill them all before assistance could arrive. They knew him well.

  "And even if they should wish to shed my blood," he said to himself, "Icame for no other purpose than that."

  Thus thinking, he threw down first the axe, then the sword, and finallythe _misericordia_, and waited. They took everything, and then the manwho had addressed him previously, withdrawing several steps, stopped andbegan to speak in an insolent, loud voice:

  "For all the wrongs you have done to the Order, you must, by the count'sorders, put on this sack cloth which I leave here, tie around your neckthe scabbard of your sword with a rope, and wait humbly at the gate untilthe count's grace orders it to be opened for you."

  And the next moment Jurand remained alone in the darkness and silence. Inthe snow before him the penitential robe and rope showed black while hestood long, feeling something in his soul dissolving, breaking,agonizing, dying, and that shortly he would be a knight no more, Jurandof Spychow no more, but a beggar, a slave without a name, without fame,without respect.

  Therefore, a long time passed before he approached the penitential robe,and said:

  "How can I do otherwise? Christ, Thou knowest they will kill the innocentchild, if I do not do all they order. And Thou also knowest that I wouldnot do that for the sake of my own life! Disgrace is a distastefulthing!... distasteful!--but Thou also wast disgraced of old. Well then,in the name of the Father and of the Son...."

  He then bent down, put on the robe in which were cut the openings for thehead and hands, then he tied around his neck the scabbard of his sword,and dragged himself to the gate.

  He did not find it open; but now it was immaterial to him whether theyopened it sooner or later. The castle sank into nocturnal silence, onlythe guards called now and then to each other on the bastions. In thetower near the gate there was light in one window high up; the otherswere dark.

  The night hours flew one after another, on the sky appeared the crescentmoon and threw light upon the gloomy walls of the castle. It became soquiet that Jurand was able to hear his own heart-beats. But he stiffenedand became entirely petrified, as if his soul were taken from him, andtook no account of anything. One thought remained with him, that he hadceased to be a knight, Jurand of Spychow, but what he was he did notknow.... Sometimes it also seemed to him that in the middle of the nightdeath was coming to him across the snow from those hanged men that he hadseen in the morning....

  Suddenly he quivered and awoke entirely.

  "O gracious Christ! what is that?"

  From the high window in the adjacent tower, the sounds of a lute, hardlyheard at first, reached his ear. Jurand, while on the way to Szczytno,was sure that Danusia was not in the castle, and yet this sound of thelute at night aroused his heart in an instant. It seemed to him that heknew those sounds, and that nobody else was playing but she--his child!his darling.... He therefore fell upon his knees, clasped his hands topray, and listened shivering, as in a fever.

  Just then a half-childish and as if ardently longing voice began to sing:

  "Had I the dear little wings Of a gosling, I would fly To Jasiek at Szlonsk."

  Jurand wished to reply, to utter the dear name, but his words wereimprisoned in his throat, as if an iron band squeezed them. A sudden waveof pain, tears, longing, suffering, collected in his breast; he thereforecast himself down with his face in the snow and began in ecstasy to callupon heaven in his soul, as if in thankful prayer:

  "O Jesus! I hear my child once again! O Jesus!" ...

  And weeping began to tear his gigantic body. Above, the longing voicecontinued to sing amid the undisturbed silence of the night:

  "Would that I might sit In the little Szlonsk garden To gaze upon little Jasiek The poor orphan!"

  In the morning a stout, bearded German retainer began to prod the ribs ofthe knight lying at the gate.

  "Upon your feet, dog!... The gate is open, and the count orders you toappear before him."

  Jurand awoke, as if from sleep. He did not catch the man by the throat,he did not crush him in his iron hands, he had a quiet and almost humbleface; he arose, and, without saying a word, followed the soldier throughthe gate.

  He had hardly crossed, when a clang of chains was heard, and the bridgebegan to be drawn up again, while in the gateway itself fell a heavy irongrating.

  END OF PART FOURTH.

  PART FIFTH.