Ogniem i mieczem. English

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  CHAPTER LVII.

  Volodyovski and Zagloba found all the forces of the Crown assembled atZbaraj, and waiting for the enemy. The cup-bearer of the Crown,Ostrorog, who had come from Konstantinoff, was there, andLantskoronski, castellan of Kamenyets, who had gained the first victoryat Bar; the third commander, Pan Firlei of Dombrovitsa, castellan ofBelsk, and Andrei Serakovski, secretary of the Crown; Konyetspolski,the standard-bearer, and Pshiyemski, commander of the artillery, awarrior specially expert in the capture and defence of towns; and withthem ten thousand troops, not counting a number of Prince Yeremi'ssquadrons previously quartered at Zbaraj.

  Pan Pshiyemski, on the southern side of the town and the castle and thetwo ponds, had laid out a strong camp, which he fortified in foreignfashion, and which it was only possible to capture in front; for at therear and two sides it was defended by the ponds, the castle, and theriver. In this camp the commanders intended to offer resistance toHmelnitski, and delay his avalanche till the king, with the rest of theforces and the national militia of all the nobility, should come. Butwas that plan possible of execution in view of the power of Hmelnitski?There was much doubt, and there were reasonable causes for thedoubt,--among them the disorder in the camp itself. First of all,secret contention was raging among the leaders. The commanders had comeagainst their will to Zbaraj, yielding in this to the desires of PrinceYeremi. They wished at first to make their defence at Konstantinoff;but when the news went forth that Yeremi would appear in his own persononly in case Zbaraj should be the point of defence, the soldiersdeclared immediately to the leaders of the Crown that they would go toZbaraj, and would not fight elsewhere. Neither persuasion nor theauthority of the baton availed; and in short the commanders discoveredthat if they should continue in longer resistance, the army, from theheavy hussar regiments to the last soldier of the foreign companies,would leave them and go over to the banners of Vishnyevetski. This wasone of those sad cases of military insubordination of increasingfrequency in that time, and caused by the incapacity of the leaders,their mutual disagreements, the unexampled terror before the power ofHmelnitski, and the defeats unheard of till then, especially the defeatof Pilavtsi.

  So the commanders had to march to Zbaraj, where the command, in spiteof the appointments made by the king, had by the force of circumstancepassed into the hands of Yeremi; for the army would obey onlyhim,--fight and perish under him alone. But that leader _de facto_ wasnot in Zbaraj yet; therefore unrest was increasing in the army,discipline was relaxed to the last degree, and courage fell. For it wasalready known that Hmelnitski, together with the Khan, was approachingwith forces the like of which the eyes of men had not seen since thedays of Tamerlane. Fresh tidings kept flying to the camp likeill-omened birds,--reports, each more recent and more terrible than thepreceding,--and weakened the manhood of the soldiers. There were fearsthat a panic like that of Pilavtsi might break out suddenly and scatterthat handful of an army which stood between Hmelnitski and the heart ofthe Commonwealth. The leaders themselves had lost their heads. Theircontradictory orders were not carried out, or if carried out, withunwillingness. In fact Yeremi alone could avert the catastrophe hangingover the camp, the army, and the country.

  Zagloba and Volodyovski dropped at once into the vortex of army life.They had barely appeared on the square when they were surrounded byofficers of various regiments, interrupting one another in theirinquiries for news. At sight of the Tartar captives, confidence enteredthe hearts of the curious. "The Tartars are plucked! Tartar prisoners!God gave a victory!" repeated some. "The Tartars are here, and Burlaiwith them!" cried others. "To arms! To the walls!" The news flewthrough the camp, and Kushel's victory was magnified along the road. Anincreasing throng gathered around the prisoners. "Kill them! What arewe to do with them?" Questions fell thick as flakes in a snow-storm.Kushel would give no answer, and went with a report to the quarters ofFirlei, the castellan of Belsk. Volodyovski and Zagloba were greeted atonce by their acquaintances of the Russian squadron; but they escapedas well as they could, for they were in haste to see Pan Yan.

  They found him in the castle with Zatsvilikhovski, two Bernardinepriests of the place, and Pan Longin Podbipienta. Skshetuski grew alittle pale on seeing them, and half closed his eyes, for he wasreminded of too much to see them without pain; still he gave a calm andeven joyful greeting, inquired where they had been, and was satisfiedwith the first convenient answer. Since he looked on the princess asdead, he wished for nothing, hoped for nothing, and not the slightestsuspicion entered his soul that their long absence related to her. Theymade no mention of the object of their journey, though Pan Longinlooked first on one and then on the other with an inquiring glance,sighed, and turned in his place, wishing to read even a shadow of hopeon their faces. But both were occupied with Pan Yan, whom Volodyovskiseized by the shoulders repeatedly; for his heart grew soft at thesight of that old and trusty friend, who had passed through so much andlost so much that he had almost nothing to live for.

  "We shall have all the old comrades together again," said he toSkshetuski, "and you will be happy with us. A war too will come, I see,such as has not been yet, and with it great delights for every soldiersoul. If God gives you health, you will lead the hussars many a time tocome."

  "God has already returned me my health, and I wish nothing more formyself than to serve while my service is needed."

  Skshetuski was in fact well, for youth and his sturdy strength hadconquered the illness within him. Grief had bitten his spirit, but itcould not bite his body. He had merely grown spare and pallid, so thathis forehead, cheeks, and nose seemed formed of church wax. The formerausterity had settled firmly on his face, and there was in it the rigidrepose that we note in the visage of the dead. An increasing number ofsilver threads wound through his dark beard. In other regards hediffered in nothing from the rest of men, except, contrary to soldiercustom, he avoided crowds, noise, and drinking. He conversed morereadily with monks, to whose discourse on the life of the cloister andthe life to come he listened with eagerness; but he performed hisservice with diligent care, for the expected siege occupied him equallywith all the others.

  Soon conversation touched on this subject, for no one in the camp,castle, and town thought of aught else. Old Zatsvilikhovski asked aboutthe Tartars and Burlai, with whom he had an acquaintance of ancientdate.

  "That's a great warrior," said he. "It is too bad that he should riseagainst the country with others. We served together at Khotim. He wasstill a youth, but already gave promise of ripening into an uncommonman."

  "But he is from the Trans-Dnieper, and leads men of that region," saidSkshetuski. "How is it, father, that he is now marching from the south,from the direction of Kamenyets?"

  "It seems," answered the old man, "that Hmelnitski fixed winterquarters for him there on purpose, since Tugai Bey remained on theDnieper, and that great murza has a hatred for him from former times.No one has cut up the Tartars like Burlai."

  "And now he will be a comrade to them?"

  "Yes," said Zatsvilikhovski, "such are the times. But Hmelnitski willwatch and keep them from devouring each other."

  "When do they expect Hmelnitski here, father?" asked Volodyovski.

  "Any day. But who can tell? The commanders should send out scout afterscout; but they do not. I was barely able to prevail on them to sendKushel to the south and Piglovski to Cholganski Kamen. I wished to gomyself, but there are counsels without end. They should send also thesecretary of the Crown with some squadrons. They would better hurry,lest it be too late. God give us the prince at the earliest moment, orwe shall be met by disgrace like that of Pilavtsi."

  "I saw those soldiers as we rode through the square," said Zagloba,"and I think there are more fools among them than good men. They shouldbe market-boys, not comrades to us who are enamoured of glory,esteeming it beyond our own lives."

  "What are you talking about?" blurted out the old man. "I do notbelittle your bravery, though once I was of another mind. But all thek
nights here are the first soldiers that the Commonwealth has ever had.Only a head is needed,--a leader! Lantskoronski is a good skirmisher,but no general; Firlei is old, and as to the cup-bearer, he and PrinceDominik made a reputation for themselves at Pilavtsi. What wonder thatno one wants to obey them! A soldier will shed his blood freely if surethat he will not be destroyed without need. But now, instead ofthinking of the siege, they are disputing about positions."

  "Are there provisions enough?" asked Zagloba, in alarm.

  "Not so many as are necessary; but we are still worse off forprovender. If the siege should last a month, there will be onlyshavings and stones for the horses."

  "There is still time to get provender," said Volodyovski.

  "Then go and tell them so. God give us the prince! I repeat."

  "You are not the only one who is sighing for him," interrupted PanLongin.

  "I know that," answered the old man. "Look out on the square! All atthe walls look with longing eyes toward Old Zbaraj; others in the townhave climbed the towers; and if any one cries in a joke, 'He iscoming,' they are mad with joy. A thirsty stag is not so eager forwater as we for the prince. Oh, if he could only get here beforeHmelnitski! But I think he must have been delayed."

  "We too pray, whole days at a time, for his coming," said one of theBernardines.

  The prayers and wishes of all the knighthood were soon to gain theirobject, though the following day brought still greater fears and wasfull of ominous prophecies. On Thursday, July 8, a terrific storm ragedover the town and the freshly raised ramparts of the camp. Rain fell intorrents. A part of the earthworks was swept away. Gnyezna and the twoponds overflowed. In the evening lightning struck the infantry undercommand of Firlei, castellan of Belsk, killed a number of men, and torethe banner to pieces. This was considered of evil omen,--an evidentsign of the anger of God, the more since Firlei was a Calvinist.Zagloba proposed that a deputation be sent to him with the request andprayer to become a Catholic, "for there could be no blessing of God foran army whose leader was living in disgusting errors hateful toHeaven." Many shared this opinion; and only the dignity of thecastellan's person and the command prevented the sending of thedeputation. But their courage fell all the more. The storm ragedwithout interruption. The bulwark, though strengthened with stones,willows, and stakes, became so soft that the cannon began to sink. Theywere obliged to put planks under the howitzers, mortars, and even underthe eight-pounders. In the deep ditches the water roared to the heightof a man. Night brought no rest. The storm drove to the east newgigantic piles of clouds which, concentrating and discharging withterrific noise in the heavens, cast out on Zbaraj their whole stock ofrain, thunder, and lightning. Only the servants remained in the tentsat the camp; soldiers, officers, and commanders, with the exception ofthe castellan of Kamenyets, took refuge in the town. If Hmelnitski hadcome with the storm, he would have taken the camp without a blow.

  Next day it was a little better, though rain was still falling. Aboutfive o'clock in the afternoon the wind drove away the clouds, the bluesky opened above the camp, and in the direction of Old Zbaraj asplendid seven-colored rainbow was shining. The mighty arc with one armextended beyond Old Zbaraj, while the other, seeming to drink in themoisture of the Black Forest, glittered, changed, and played on thebackground of fleeing clouds. That moment confidence entered allhearts. The knights returned to the camp and stood on the slipperybulwark to gladden their eyes with the sight of the rainbow.Immediately they began to talk loudly and to guess what this favorablesign might announce, when Volodyovski, standing with others over thevery ditch, covered his panther eyes with his hand and cried,--

  "Troops are coming from under the rainbow!"

  There was a stir as if a whirlwind had moved the human mass, and then asudden murmur. The words "Troops are coming!" flew like an arrow fromone end of the rampart to the other. The soldiers began to crowd andpush, gathering in groups. Murmurs rose and fell; still all handsrested above the eyes; all eyes were turned, strained with effort, intothe distance; hearts were throbbing; and all, holding the breath intheir breasts, were suspended between hope and fear. Then somethingbegan to sway, and swayed still more definitely, and rose out of thedistance, and approached still nearer, and became still more distinctlyvisible, till at last the banners, flags, and bunchuks appeared, latera forest of streamers. The eyes doubted no longer,--it was an army.Then one gigantic shout rose from the breasts of all, a shout ofinconceivable joy,--

  "Yeremi! Yeremi! Yeremi!"

  The oldest soldiers were simply seized with frenzy. Some threwthemselves from the ramparts, waded through the ditch, and hurried onfoot through the water-covered plain to the advancing regiments; othersrushed to their horses; some laughed; others wept, placing their handstogether and crying: "Our father is coming,--our savior, our chief!" Itmight have seemed that the siege was raised, Hmelnitski finished, andthe victory won.

  Meanwhile the regiments of the prince had drawn so near that thebanners could be distinguished. In advance came, as usual, the lightregiments of the prince's Tartars, the Cossacks, and the Wallachians,after them Makhnitski's foreign infantry, then the cannon of Vershul,the dragoons, and the heavy hussar regiments. The rays of the sunreflected on their armor and on the points of their upraised lances.All marched in unusual splendor, as if the halo of victory were aroundthem.

  Skshetuski, standing with Pan Longin on the ramparts, recognized fromafar his own squadron, which he had left in Zamost, and his fadedcheeks colored a little; he drew several deep breaths, as if he hadthrown some great weight from his breast, and his eyes grew glad; fordays of superhuman toil were near him too, as well as heroic struggleswhich heal the heart better than all, and hurl down painful memoriesdeeper and deeper somewhere into the bottom of the soul.

  The regiments continued to approach, and barely a thousand yardsseparated them from the camp. The officers too had hurried up in orderto witness the entrance of the prince; the three commanders also, andwith them Pan Pshiyemski, Pan Konyetspolski, Pan Marek Sobieski,starosta of Krasnostav, Pan Korf, and all the other officers, as wellof Polish as foreign command. All shared in the universal joy; andespecially Lantskoronski, one of the commanders, who was more a knightthan a general, but enamoured of military glory. He stretched his batonin the direction from which Yeremi was coming, and called in a voice soloud that all heard him,--

  "There is our supreme chief, and I am the first to give him my commandand my office."

  The regiments of the prince began to enter the camp. They were threethousand men in all; but the courage of the garrison increased by ahundred thousand, for they were the victors from Pogrebische,Nyemiroff, Makhnovka, and Konstantinoff. Then acquaintances and friendsgreeted one another. After the light regiments Vershul's artillery camein at last with difficulty, bringing twelve cannon. The prince, who hadsent his regiments from Old Zbaraj, entered after sunset. All that wasliving assembled to greet him. The soldiers, taking lamps, candles,torches, bits of pitch-pine, surrounded the prince's steed and barredhis advance. The horse was caught by the bridle, so that the warriorsmight sate their eyes with the sight of the hero; they kissed hisgarments, and almost bore him away on their shoulders. The excitementrose to that degree that not only soldiers of his own regiments but offoreign companies declared they would serve three months without pay.The throng became denser each moment, so that he was unable to move astep. He sat then on his white steed, surrounded by the soldiery as ashepherd by his flocks, and there was no end to shouts and applause.The evening was calm and clear, thousands of stars glittered in thedark sky, and then appeared favorable omens. Just as Lantskoronskiapproached the prince to deliver the baton into his hand, one of thestars, torn away from the sky and drawing after it a stream of light,fell with a noise, and was quenched in the direction of Konstantinoff,from which Hmelnitski had to come. "That is Hmelnitski's star!" shoutedthe soldiers. "A miracle! a miracle!" "An evident sign!" "Vivat Yeremivictor!" repeated a thousand voices. Then Lantskoronski approached andgave a sign with his h
and that he wanted to speak. Immediately therewas silence, and he said,--

  "The king gave me this baton, but into your more worthy hands do Iyield it, wishing to be first to obey your orders."

  "And we are with him," repeated two other commanders.

  Three batons were extended to the prince; but he drew back his hand,saying, "It was not I that gave them, and I will not receive them."

  "Let there be a fourth with the three," said Firlei.

  "Vivat Vishnyevetski! vivat the commanders!" shouted the knights. "Wewill die together!"

  At that moment the prince's steed raised his head, shook hispurple-stained mane, and neighed mightily, so that all the horses inthe camp answered him in one voice.

  This too was considered prophetic of victory. The soldiers had fire intheir eyes; their hearts were hot with thirst for battle; the quiver ofeagerness ran through their bodies. The officers shared the universalecstasy. Prince Ostrorog wept and prayed. Lantskoronski and thestarosta of Krasnostav began first to wave their sabres, encouragingthe soldiers, who, running to the edge of the rampart and stretchingout their hands in the darkness, shouted in the direction from whichthey expected the enemy,--

  "Come on, dog-brothers! You will find us ready for you!"

  That night no man slept in the camp, and till daybreak there wasthunder of shouts with the rushing to and fro of lamps and torches.

  In the morning Pan Serakovski, secretary of the Crown, came with ascouting-party from Cholganski Kamen, and brought news that the enemywere twenty-five miles from the camp. The party had a battle with asuperior force of Tartars, in which the two Mankovskis and Pan Oleksichhad fallen, with a number of good soldiers. The informants brought indeclared that behind this body the Khan and Hmelnitski were marchingwith all their forces. The day passed in waiting and preparations fordefence. The prince, having taken the command, without further delayput the army in order; he showed each part where to stand, how todefend itself, and how to give succor to the rest. The best spiritreigned in the camp, discipline was restored, and instead of the formerconfusion, antagonism of authority, and uncertainty, accuracy and orderwere everywhere present. Before mid-day all were in their places. Thepickets thrown out before the camp reported at intervals what was doingin the neighborhood. The camp attendants despatched to the adjacentvillages brought in provisions and forage, whatever was yet to befound. Soldiers standing on the ramparts chatted merrily and sang, andthey passed the night slumbering by the fires, sabre in hand, with thesame readiness as if the assault might begin at any moment.

  At daylight something dark began to appear in the direction ofVishnyovets. The bells in the town rang en alarm, and in the camp theprolonged plaintive sound of the trumpets roused the soldiers towakefulness. The infantry regiments mounted the ramparts, the cavalrytook position in the intervals, ready to rush forward at the signal ofattack, and through the whole length of the ditch ascended slenderstreaks of smoke from the lighted matches.

  At this moment the prince appeared on his white steed. He was in silverarmor, but without a helmet. Not the least concern was visible on hisforehead, but gladness shone out of his eyes and his face.

  "We have guests, gentlemen, we have guests!" he repeated, riding alongthe ramparts.

  Silence followed, and then could be heard the waving of banners, whichthe light breath of air now raised and now wound around the staffs.Meanwhile the enemy came so near that it was possible to take them inwith the eye.

  This was the first wave; not Hmelnitski himself, with the Khan, but areconnoitring party made up of thirty thousand chosen Tartars, armedwith bows, muskets, and sabres. Having captured fifteen hundred mensent out for provisions, they went in a dense mass from Vishnyovets;then, stretching out in a long crescent, they began to ride around fromthe opposite side toward Old Zbaraj.

  The prince, satisfied that this was merely a party, ordered the cavalryout of the intrenchments. The voices of command were heard; theregiments began to move and issue from behind the ramparts like beesfrom a hive. The plain was soon filled with men and horses. From adistance could be seen the captains riding around the squadrons andputting them in line of battle. The horses snorted playfully, andsometimes their neighing went through the ranks. Then from out thismass pushed forth two squadrons of Tartars and Cossacks, and advancedon a light trot; their bows shook on their shoulders, and their capsglittered. They rode in silence: and at their head was the red Vershul,whose horse reared under him as though wild, throwing his front hoofsin the air as if wishing to escape the bit and spring at once into thetumult. The blue of heaven was unspotted by a cloud; the day was clear,transparent, and the assailants were visible as on the palm of thehand.

  Now there appeared from the side of Old Zbaraj a small wagon-train ofthe prince, which had not succeeded in entering with the army, and washurrying with all its might to escape capture at a blow by the Tartars.Indeed it had not escaped their glance, and the long crescent movedswiftly toward it. Cries of "Allah!" flew to the ears of the infantryon the ramparts; the squadrons of Vershul shot on like a whirlwind tothe rescue.

  But the crescent arrived at the train sooner, and engirdled it in amoment as if with a black ribbon; and simultaneously several thousandof the horde turned with an unearthly howl to surround Vershul in likemanner. Here might be noted the experience of Vershul and the skill ofhis soldiers. Seeing that they were flanking him on right and left, hedivided his forces into three parts and sprang to the sides; then hedivided them into four, then into two; and each time the enemy had toturn with his whole line, for he had no opponent in front and his wingswere already broken. The fourth time they met breast to breast; butVershul struck with all his force in the weakest part, burst through,and immediately found himself in the rear of the enemy, whom he left,and rushed like a tempest to the train, regardless of pursuit.

  Old soldiers, beholding this from the ramparts, stood with armoredhands on their hips, crying: "May the bullets strike them, only theprince's captains lead in that style!"

  Then Vershul struck in the form of a sharp wedge the ring surroundingthe tabor, and pierced it as an arrow pierces a man. In the twinkle ofan eye he was in the centre. Now instead of two battles there ragedone, but all the more stubborn. It was a marvellous sight. In thecentre of the plain was a small tabor, like a moving fortress, throwingout long streaks of smoke and vomiting fire; without, a black andwildly moving swarm, as one gigantic eddy followed another, horsesfleeing without riders; within, noise, uproar, and the thunder of guns.In one place some were rushing through others, in another theystruggled unbroken. As a wild boar at bay defends himself with hiswhite tusks and tears the raging dogs, so that tabor in the midst ofthe cloud of Tartars defended itself desperately, hoping thatassistance greater than Vershul's would come from the camp.

  The red coats of the dragoons of Kushel and Volodyovski soon twinkledon the field. You would have said they were red leaves of flowersdriven by the wind. They rushed to the cloud of Tartars and disappearedin it as in a black forest; so for a time they were invisible, but theuproar increased. The troops wondered why the prince did not send forceenough at once to the succor of the surrounded; but he delayed, wishingto show exactly what he sent, and in this way to raise their courageand prepare them for still greater perils.

  However, the fire in the tabor grew weak; it was evident they had notime to load, or the barrels of the muskets had grown hot. The shoutsof the Tartars increased continually; the prince therefore gave asignal, and three hussar squadrons--one (his guard) under Skshetuski,the second under the starosta of Krasnostav, the third a royal squadronunder Piglovski--rushed to the battle from the camp. They struck themas an axe strikes; they broke the ring of Tartars at once, threw themback, scattered them, pressed them to the woods, re-dispersed and drovethem more than a mile from the camp. The little tabor entered theintrenchments in safety, amidst joyous shouts and the thunder ofcannon.

  The Tartars, however, feeling that Hmelnitski and the Khan werefollowing, did not disappear altogether, but c
ame again, and shouting"Allah!" galloped around the whole camp, occupying at the sametime the roads, highways, and villages, from which pillars of blacksmoke were soon rising to the sky. Many of their skirmishers camenear the trenches; against these the soldiers of the prince and thequarter-soldiers rushed out at once, singly and in parties, especiallyfrom the Tartar, Wallachian, and dragoon squadrons.

  Vershul was unable to take part in the skirmishes; for, struck sixtimes in the head while defending the tabor, he lay as if dead in thetent. Volodyovski, red as a lobster, though untouched, stillunsatisfied, took his place, and moved first to the field. Theseskirmishes, at which the infantry and heavy cavalry looked from thecamp as at a spectacle, lasted till evening. Sometimes one sideexcelled, sometimes the other; they fought in groups or singly;captives were taken alive. But Pan Michael, as soon as he struck anyone and finished him, turned again, and his red uniform circled overthe whole field of battle. At last Skshetuski pointed him out from adistance to Lantskoronski as a curiosity, for as often as he met with aTartar it might be said that lightning had struck that man. Zagloba,though beyond the hearing of Pan Michael, encouraged him with shoutsfrom the ramparts. From time to time he turned to the soldiers standingaround, and said,--

  "Look, gentlemen! I taught him to use the sabre. Well done! If he goeson, with God's help, he will equal me soon."

  But now the sun had gone down, and each skirmisher began to withdrawslowly from the field, on which remained only bodies of horses and men.From the town the first sounds of the "Ave Maria" were heard.

  Night fell gradually; still darkness did not come, for fires in thecountry about gave light. Zalostsitse, Barzyntse, Lublyanki, Striyovka,Kretovitse, Zarudzie, Vakhlovka were burning; and the whole vicinity,as far as the eye could reach, was blazing in one conflagration. Thesmoke in the night became red; the stars were shining on the rosybackground of the sky. Clouds of birds rose from the forests, thickets,and ponds with a tremendous noise, circled in the air lighted by theburning, and looked like flying flames. The cattle in the camp,terrified by the unusual spectacle, began to bellow plaintively.

  "It cannot be," said old soldiers to one another in the trenches, "thatthe Tartars of that party have set such fires; surely Hmelnitski, withthe Cossacks and the whole horde, are advancing."

  These were not empty surmises, for Pan Serakovski had broughtintelligence on the preceding day that the Zaporojian hetman and theKhan were in the rear of that party. They were expected therefore withcertainty. The soldiers were in the trenches to a man; the citizenswere on the roofs and towers; all hearts were unquiet; women weresobbing in the churches, stretching out their hands to the most holysacrament. Uncertainty, worse than all, oppressed with immeasurableweight the town, the castle, and the camp.

  But it did not last long. Night had not fallen completely when thefirst ranks of the Cossacks and Tartars appeared on the horizon; thenthe second, third, tenth, hundredth, thousandth. You would have saidall the forests and groves had torn themselves suddenly from theirroots, and were marching on Zbaraj. In vain did the eye seek the end ofthose ranks; as far as the eye reached swarms of men and horses wereblackening, vanishing in the smokes and fires of the distance. Theymoved like clouds, or like locusts which cover the whole country withtheir terrible moving mass. Before them went the threatening rumble ofhuman voices, like wind in a forest among the branches of the ancientpines; then, halting about a mile and a quarter away, they began tosettle down and make fires for the night.

  "You see the fires," whispered the soldiers; "they extend farther thana horse could go in one journey."

  "Jesus and Mary!" said Zagloba to Skshetuski. "I tell you there is alion in me and I feel no alarm; but I would that a blazing thunderboltmight crush them all before morning. As God is dear to me, there aretoo many of them. Unless perhaps in the valley of Jehoshaphat therewill not be a greater crowd. And tell me, what do those scoundrelswant? Would not every dog-brother of them be better at home, workinghis serfage peaceably for his land? What fault is it of ours if God hasmade us nobles and them trash, and commanded them to obey? Tfu! I ambeside myself with rage. I am a mild-mannered man, soft as a plaster;but let them not rouse me to anger! They have had too much freedom, toomuch bread; they have multiplied like mice in a barn; and now they aredying to get at the cats. Ah, wait! There is one cat here calledYeremi, and another called Zagloba. What do you think, will those twoenter upon negotiations? If the rebels had surrendered with obedience,then their lives might be granted, might they not? One thing disturbsme continually,--are there provisions enough in the camp? Oh, to thedevil! Look, gentlemen; fires beyond fires, and still fires! May blackdeath fall on such a crowd!"

  "Why talk about treaties," said Skshetuski, "when they think they haveus all under their hands, and will get us to-morrow?"

  "But they won't get us, will they?" asked Zagloba.

  "Well, the will of God for that. In any case, since the prince is here,it won't come easy to them."

  "You have consoled me indeed. I do not care that it should not comeeasy to them, but that it should not come at all."

  "It is no small pleasure for a soldier not to yield his life fornothing."

  "True, true! But may lightning strike the whole affair, and yourconsolation with it!"

  At that moment Podbipienta and Volodyovski approached.

  "They say that the Cossacks with the horde are half a million strong,"said the Lithuanian.

  "I wish that you had lost your tongue," said Zagloba; "you have broughtgood tidings."

  "It is easier to kill them in assault than in the field," continued PanLongin, mildly.

  "Now that our prince and Hmelnitski have met at last, there will be notalk about negotiations. Either master or monk.[18] To-morrow will bethe day of judgment," said Volodyovski, rubbing his hands.

  He was right. In that war the two most terrible lions had not yet stoodeye to eye. One had crushed the hetmans and the commanders; the otherpowerful Cossack atamans. On the footsteps of both followed victory;each was a terror to his enemies. But whose side will be weightiest ina direct encounter? This was to be decided now. Vishnyevetski lookedfrom the intrenchments on the countless myriads of Tartars andCossacks, and strove in vain to embrace them with the eye. Hmelnitskilooked from the field on the castle and camp, thinking in his soul: "Mymost terrible enemy is there; when I have finished with him, who canoppose me?"

  It was easy to guess that the conflict between these two men would belong and stubborn, but the result could not be doubtful. That prince inLubni and Vishnyovets stood at the head of fifteen thousand troops,counting the camp-servants; while the peasant chieftain was followed bymobs, from the Sea of Azoff and the Don to the mouth of the Danube. TheKhan too marched with him at the head of the Crimean, Belgorod, Nogai,and Dobrudja hordes; men marched with him who dwelt on the tributariesof the Dniester and the Dnieper, men from the lower country, and acountless rabble from the steppes, ravines, woods, towns, hamlets,villages, and farms, and all who had formerly served in privateregiments or those of the Crown; Cherkes,[19] Wallachians, Silistrians,Rumelians, Turks, bands of Serbs and Bulgarians were also in that host.It might appear that a new migration of nations had abandoned thedreary abodes on the steppes, and were moving westward to win freshlands and found a new kingdom.

  This was the relation of the struggling forces,--a handful againstlegions, an island against the sea. No wonder then that many a heartwas beating with alarm. Not only in that town, not only in that cornerof the land, but in the whole Commonwealth they looked on that lonelytrench, surrounded by a deluge of wild warriors, as the tomb of greatknights and their mighty chief.

  Hmelnitski too looked on it in just the same way; for scarcely were thefires well kindled in his camps, when a Cossack envoy began to wave awhite flag before the trenches, to sound a trumpet, and cry out not toshoot.

  The guards went and brought him in at once.

  "From the hetman to Prince Yeremi," said he to them.

  The prince had not yet dismounted, and
was on the bulwark with face ascalm as the sky. The flames were reflected in his eyes, and investedhis delicate white countenance with rosy light. The Cossack standingbefore the face of the prince lost his speech; his legs trembled underhim, and a shiver went through his body though he was an old wolf ofthe steppes and had come as an envoy.

  "Who are you?" asked the prince, fixing his calm glance upon him.

  "I am the sotnik Sokol,--from the hetman."

  "And why have you come?"

  The sotnik began to make bows as low as the stirrups of the prince."Pardon me, lord! I tell what has been commanded me. I am to blame innothing."

  "Speak boldly!"

  "The hetman commanded me to inform you that he has come as a guest toZbaraj, and will visit you in the castle to-morrow."

  "Tell him that not to-morrow, but to-day I give a feast in the castle,"answered the prince.

  In fact an hour later the mortars were thundering salutes, joyousshouts were raised; all the windows of the castle shone with a thousandgleaming lights.

  The Khan, hearing the salutes of the cannon and the sound of trumpetsand drums, went out in front of the tent in company with his brotherNureddin, the Sultan Galga, Tugai Bey, and many murzas, and later sentfor Hmelnitski.

  The hetman, though he had been drinking, appeared at once. Bowing andplacing his fingers to his forehead, his beard, and his breast, hewaited for the question.

  The Khan looked long at the castle, shining in the distance like agigantic lantern, and nodded his head slightly. At last he passed hishand over his thin beard, which fell in two long tresses upon hisweasel-skin shuba, and asked, pointing to the gleaming windows,--

  "Zaporojian hetman, what is that?"

  "Most mighty Tsar," answered Hmelnitski, "that is Prince Yeremi givinga feast."

  The Khan was astonished. "A feast?"

  "He is giving a feast for the slain of to-morrow," said Hmelnitski.

  That moment new discharges thundered from the castle, the trumpetssounded, and mingled shouts reached the worthy ears of the Khan. "Godis one!" muttered he. "There is a lion in the heart of that infidel."And after a moment of silence he added: "I should rather be with himthan with you."

  Hmelnitski trembled. He paid for the indispensable Tartar friendship,and besides was not sure of his terrible ally. Any whim of the Khan,and all the hordes might turn against the Cossacks, who would be lostbeyond redemption. Hmelnitski knew this, and knew too that the Khan wasaiding him really for the sake of plunder, gifts, and unfortunatecaptives, and still looking upon himself as a legitimate monarch, wasashamed in his soul to stand on the side of rebellion against a king,on the side of such a "Hmel" against such a Vishnyevetski. The hetmanof the Cossacks often got drunk, not from habit alone, but fromdesperation.

  "Great monarch," said he, "Yeremi is your enemy. It was he who took theTrans-Dnieper from the Tartars; he hanged, murdered murzas like wolveson the trees, as a terror; he intended to visit the Crimea with fireand sword."

  "And have you not done damage in the uluses?" asked the Khan.

  "I am your slave."

  The blue lips of Tugai Bey began to quiver. He had among the Cossacks adeadly enemy, who in his time had cut a whole chambul to pieces andalmost captured him. The name of that man was pressing to his mouthfrom the implacable power of revengeful memories; he did not restrainhimself, and began to snarl in a low voice: "Burlai! Burlai!"

  "Tugai Bey," said Hmelnitski, immediately, "you and Burlai, at theexalted and wise command of the Khan, poured water on your swords thepast year."

  A new salvo of artillery from the castle interrupted furtherconversation.

  The Khan stretched out his hand and described a circle with itenclosing Zbaraj, the town, the castle, and the trench. "To-morrow willthat be mine?" asked he, turning to Hmelnitski.

  "To-morrow they will die there," answered Hmelnitski, with eyesfastened on the castle. Then he bowed again, and touched with his handhis forehead, beard, and breast, considering the conversation ended.

  The Khan wrapped himself in his weasel-skin shuba,--for the night wascool, though in July,--and said, turning toward the tent: "It is latealready!"

  Then all began to nod as if moved by one power, and he went to the tentslowly and with dignity repeating in a low voice: "God is one!"

  Hmelnitski withdrew also, and on the road to his quarters muttered:"I'll give you the castle, the town, booty, and captives; but Yeremiwill be mine, even if I have to pay for him with my life."

  Gradually the fires began to grow dim and die, gradually the dullmurmur of thousands of voices grew still; but here and there was heardthe report of a musket, or the calling of Tartar herdsmen driving theirhorses to pasture. Then those voices were silent, and sleep embracedthe countless legions of Tartars and Cossacks.

  But at the castle there was feasting and revelry as at a wedding. Inthe camp all expected that the storm would take place on the morrow.Indeed the throngs of the mob, Cossacks, Tartars, and other wildwarriors marching with Hmelnitski had been moving from early morning,and approached the trenches like dark clouds rolling to the summit of amountain. The soldiers, though they had tried in vain the day before tocount the fires, were benumbed now at the sight of this sea of heads.This was not yet a real storm, but an examination of the field, theintrenchments, the ditch, the ramparts, and the whole Polish camp. Andas a swollen wave of the sea, which the wind urges from afar, rolls,advances, rears itself, foams, strikes with a roar and then falls back,so did they strike in one place and another, withdraw, and strikeagain, as if testing the resistance, as if wishing to convincethemselves whether the very sight of them by numbers alone would notcrush the spirit of the enemy before they would crush the body.

  They fired cannon too, and the balls began to fall thickly about thecamp, from which answer was given with eight-pounders and small arms.At the same time there appeared a procession on the ramparts with themost holy sacrament in order to freshen the benumbed soldiers. Thepriest Mukhovetski carried the gilded monstrance; holding it with bothhands above his face and sometimes raising it on high, he moved onunder a baldachin, calm, with closed eyes and an ascetic face. At hisside walked two priests supporting him under the arms,--Yaskolski,chaplain of the hussars, a famous soldier in his time, in military artas experienced as any chief; and Jabkovski, also an ex-soldier, agigantic Bernardine, second in strength only to Pan Longin in the wholecamp. The staffs of the baldachin were supported by four nobles, amongwhom was Zagloba; before the baldachin walked sweet-faced young girlsscattering flowers. They passed over the whole length of the ramparts,and after them the officers of the army. The hearts of the soldiersrose, daring came to them, fire entered their souls at the sight of themonstrance shining like the sun, at the sight of the calmness of thepriest, and those maidens clothed in white. The breeze carried aboutthe strengthening odor of the incense burned in the censers; the headsof all were bent down with humility. Mukhovetski from time to timeelevated the monstrance and his eyes to heaven, and intoned the hymn,"Before so great a sacrament."

  The powerful voices of Yaskolski and Jabkovski continued, "We fall onour faces;" and the whole army sang, "Let the old give place to the newlaw with its testament!" The deep bass of the cannon accompanied thehymn, and at times the cannon-balls flew past, roaring above thebaldachin and the priests; sometimes the balls striking lower in theramparts scattered earth on the people, so that Zagloba wriggled andpressed up to the staff. Fear affected especially his hair. When theprocession halted for prayer there was silence, and the balls could beheard distinctly flying like great birds in a flock. Zagloba merelyreddened the more; the priest Yaskolski looked to the field, and unableto restrain himself muttered, "They should rear chickens and keep awayfrom cannon!" for in truth the Cossacks had very bad gunners, and he,as a former soldier, could not look calmly on such clumsiness and wasteof powder. Again they went on till they reached the other end of theramparts, where there had been no great pressure from the enemy. Tryinghere and there, especially from the western pond
, to see if they couldnot create a panic, the Tartars and Cossacks drew back at last to theirown positions, and remained in them without sending out evenskirmishers. Meanwhile the procession had freshened the minds of thebesieged completely.

  It was evident that Hmelnitski was waiting for the arrival of histabor; still he felt so sure that the first real storm would besufficient, that he barely ordered a few trenches to be made for thecannon and did not undertake other earthworks to threaten the besieged.The tabor arrived the following day, and took its place near the camp,wagon after wagon, in a number of tens of rows a mile in length, fromVernyaki to Dembini. With it came also new forces; namely, the splendidZaporojian infantry, almost equal to the Turkish janissaries in stormsand attacks, and far more capable than the Cossacks or the mob.

  The memorable day, Tuesday, July 13, was passed in feverishpreparations on both sides. There was no doubt that the assault wouldtake place, for the trumpets, drums, and kettle-drums were sounding thealarm from daybreak in the Cossack camp; among the Tartars a greatsacred drum, called the balt, was roaring like thunder. The eveningcame, calm and clear, but from both ponds and the Gnyezna thin mistswere rising; at length the first star began to twinkle in the sky.

  At that moment sixty Cossack cannon bellowed with one voice; thecountless legions rushed with a terrible cry to the ramparts, and thestorm began. It appeared to the soldiers standing on the ramparts thatthe ground was quivering under their feet; the oldest rememberednothing like it.

  "Jesus and Mary! what is that?" asked Zagloba, standing near Skshetuskiamong the hussars, in the interval of the rampart; "those are not mencoming against us."

  "Of course you know they are not men; the enemy are driving oxen ahead,so that we may spend the first shots on them."

  The old noble became as red as a beet, his eyes were coming out of hishead, and from his mouth burst one word, in which all the rage, all theterror, all that he could think at that moment was included:"Scoundrels!"

  The oxen, as if mad, urged by wild, half-naked herdsmen with clubs andburning brands, were insane from fear; they ran forward with an awfulbellowing, now crowding together, now hurrying on, now scattering orturning to the rear; urged with shouts, burned with fire, lashed withrawhides, they rushed again toward the ramparts. At last Vurtsel's gunsbegan to vomit iron and fire; then smoke hid the light, the air wasred, the terrified cattle were as if cut by a thunderbolt. Half of themfell, and over their bodies went the enemy.

  In front ran captives with bags of sand to fill the ditch; they werestabbed from behind with pikes and scorched with musketry fire. Thesewere peasants from around Zbaraj, who had been unable to take refuge inthe town before the avalanche came,--young men as well as old, andwomen. All ran forward with a shriek, a cry, a stretching of hands toheaven, and a wailing for mercy. Hair stood on end from the howl, butpity was dead upon earth at that hour. On one side the pikes ofCossacks were entering their shoulders; on the other the balls ofVurtsel mashed the unfortunates, grape-shot tore them to pieces, dugfurrows among them. They ran on, fell, rose again, and went forward;for the Cossack wave pushed them,--the Cossack, the Turk, and theTartar. The ditch was soon filled with bodies, blood, and sand-bags; atlast it was evened, and the enemy rushed over with a shout.

  The regiments pushed on, one after another; by the light of thecannon-fire were to be seen the officers urging forward new regimentsto the ramparts. The choicest men rushed to the quarters and troops ofYeremi, for at that point Hmelnitski knew the greatest resistance wouldbe. The kurens of the Saitch therefore came up; after them theformidable men of Pereyaslav, with Loboda. Voronchenko led the regimentof Cherkasi, Kulak the Karvoff regiment, Nechai the Bratslav, Stepkathe Uman, Mrozovetski the Korsun regiment; also the men of Kalnik went,and the strong regiment of Belotserkoff,--fifteen thousand men in all,and with them Hmelnitski himself, in the fire, red as Satan, exposinghis broad breast to the bullets, with the face of a lion and the eye ofan eagle,--in chaos, smoke, confusion, slaughter, and tempest, inflames, observant of everything, ordering everything.

  After the Zaporojians went the wild Cossacks of the Don; next, Cherkesfighting with knives; Tugai Bey led chosen Nogais; after them Subahazi,Belgorod Tartars; then Kurdluk, swarthy men of Astrakhan, armed withgigantic bows and arrows, one of which was almost equal to a spear.They followed one another so closely that the hot breath of thosebehind was blown on the necks of those in front.

  How many of them fell before they reached the ditch filled with thebodies of the captives, who shall tell, who shall relate? But theyreached and crossed it, and began to clamber on the ramparts. Then youwould have said that that starry night was the night of the LastJudgment. The cannon, unable to strike the nearest, bellowed unceasingfire on the farther ranks. Bombs, describing arcs of fire through theair, fell with a hellish laughter, making bright day in the darkness.The German infantry with the Polish land regiments, and at their sidethe dismounted dragoons of Vishnyevetski poured fire and lead into thefaces and breasts of the Cossacks.

  The first ranks wished to fall back, but pressed from behind they couldnot; they died in their tracks. Blood spattered under the feet of theadvancing. The rampart grew slippery; hands, feet, and breasts wentsliding upon it. Men grasped it, and again fell covered with smoke,black from soot, stabbed, cut, careless of wounds and death. In placesthey fought with cold weapons. Men were as if beside themselves fromfury, with grinning teeth and blood-covered faces. The living battledon top of the quivering mass of wounded and dying. Commands were notheard; nothing was heard but a general and terrible roar, in which allsounds were merged,--the thunder of guns, the cough of the wounded, thegroans, and the whistling of bombs.

  This gigantic struggle without quarter lasted whole hours. Around therampart rose another rampart of corpses, which hindered the approach ofthe assailants. The Zaporojians were cut almost to pieces, the men ofPereyaslav were lying side by side around the ramparts; the Karvoff,Bratslav, and Uman regiments were decimated; but others pressed on,pushed forward themselves from behind by the guard of the hetman, theRumelian Turks and Tartars of Urum Bey. But disorder rose in the ranksof the assailants when the Polish land infantry, the Germans, and thedragoons drew back not a step. Panting, dripping with blood, carriedaway with the rage of battle, streaming in sweat, half mad with thesmell of blood, they tore over one another at the enemy, just as ragingwolves rush to a flock of sheep. At that juncture Hmelnitski pressed onagain with the remnants of his first regiments and with the wholeforce, as yet intact, of the Belotserkoff Tartars, the Turks andCherkes.

  The cannon from the ramparts ceased to thunder, and the bombs to flash;hand-weapons alone were heard through the whole length of the westernrampart. Discharges flashed up anew. Finally, musketry fire alsostopped. Darkness covered the combatants. No eye could see what wasdoing there, but something was turning in the darkness like thegigantic body of a monster cast down in convulsions. Even from thecries it could not be told whether it gave forth the sounds of triumphor despair. At times these sounds also ceased, and then could be heardonly one measureless groan, as if it were going out on every side, fromunder the earth, over the earth, in the air, higher and higher, as ifspirits were flying away with groans from that field of conflict. Butthese were short pauses: after such a moment the uproar and howls rosewith still greater power, ever hoarser and more unearthly.

  Then again thundered the fire of musketry. Makhnitski with the rest ofthe infantry was coming to aid the wearied regiments. The trumpetsbegan to sound a retreat in the rear ranks of the Cossacks.

  Now came a pause; the Cossack regiments withdrew a furlong from theramparts, and stood protected by the corpses of their own men. But ahalf-hour had not passed when Hmelnitski rushed on again and hurriedhis men to the assault a third time.

  But this time Prince Yeremi appeared on the rampart himself, onhorseback. It was easy to know him, for the banner and bunchuk of thehetman were waving above his head, and before and behind him were bornea number of tens of torches, shining with blood-colored
gleams.Immediately they opened the artillery on him; but the awkwardcannoneers sent the balls far beyond the Gnyezna, and he stood calm andgazed upon the approaching clouds.

  The Cossacks slackened their gait as if bewitched by the sight."Yeremi! Yeremi!" passed in a low murmur, like the sound of a breeze,through the deep ranks. Standing on the rampart in the midst of theblood-colored torches, that terrible prince seemed to them like a giantin a myth tale of the people; therefore a quiver ran over their weariedlimbs, and their hands made signs of the cross.

  He stood motionless. He beckoned with the gilded baton, and immediatelyan ominous flight of bombs sounded in the air, and fell into theadvancing ranks. The host twisted like a mortally wounded dragon; a cryof terror flew from one end of the line to the other.

  "On a run! on a run!" commanded the Cossack colonels.

  The dark mass rushed with all its impetus to the ramparts under whichrefuge from the bombs could be found; but they had not passed half theinterval when the prince, ever visible as on the palm of the hand,turned somewhat to the west and again beckoned with his baton.

  At this signal, from the side of the pond, through the space between itand the ramparts, the cavalry began to push forth, and in the flash ofan eye they poured out on the edge of the shore-level. By the light ofthe bombs were perfectly visible the great banners of the hussars ofSkshetuski and Zatsvilikhovski, the dragoons of Kushel and Volodyovski,with the prince's Tartars, led by Roztvorovski. After them pushed outstill new regiments of the prince's Cossacks and the Wallachians ofBykhovets. Not only Hmelnitski, but the last camp-follower of theCossacks, knew in one moment that the daring chief had determined tohurl his entire cavalry into the enemy's flank.

  That moment the trumpets sounded a retreat in the ranks of theCossacks. "Face to the cavalry! Face to the cavalry!" was heard inalarmed voices. Hmelnitski endeavored simultaneously to change thefront of his troops and defend himself from cavalry with cavalry. Butthere was no time. Before he could arrange his ranks the prince'sregiments had started, moving as if on wings, shouting "Kill! slay!"with rustling of banners, whistling of plumes, and the iron rattle ofarms. The hussars thrust their lances into the wall of the enemy, andfollowed themselves, like a hurricane, overturning and crushingeverything on the road. No human power, no command, no leader couldhold the infantry on which their first impetus came. Wild panic seizedthe picked guard of the hetman. The men of Belotserkoff threw downtheir muskets, pikes, scythes, sabres, and shielding their heads withtheir hands in helplessness of terror, with the roar of beasts, theyrushed against the Tartars in the rear. But the Tartars received themwith a storm of arrows. So they rushed to the flank, and ran along thetabor under the infantry fire and the cannon of Vurtsel, covering theground so thickly that it was rare when one did not fall upon another.

  But now the wild Tugai Bey, aided by Subahazi and Urum Murza, struckwith rage on the onrush of hussars. He did not hope to break; he wishedmerely to restrain them till the Silistrian and Rumelian janissariesmight form in a quadrangle and protect the men of Belotserkoff from thefirst panic. He sprang at them as if into smoke, and flew on in thefront rank, not as a leader, but as a simple Tartar; he cut andkilled,--exposed himself with the others. The crooked sabres of theNogais rang upon chain-mail and breastplates, and the howl of thewarriors drowned all other voices. But they could not hold out. Pushedfrom their places, crushed with the terrible weight of the ironhorsemen, against whom they were unaccustomed to stand with open front,they were driven toward the janissaries, hacked with long swords,whirled from their saddles, thrust through, beaten down, twisted likepoisonous reptiles; but they defended themselves with such venom thatin fact the onset of the hussars was stopped. Tugai Bey rushed like adestroying flame, and the Nogais went with him, as wolves with theirfemale.

  Still they gave way, falling more frequently on the plain. When the cryof "Allah!" thundering from the field, announced that the janissarieshad formed, Skshetuski rushed on the raging Tugai Bey, and struck himon the head with, a double-handed sword. But it was evident either thatthe knight had not regained his whole strength, or perhaps the helmetforged in Damascus withstood the blow; it is enough that the bladeturned on the head, and striking with the side was shivered tofragments. But that instant darkness covered the eyes of Tugai Bey; hedropped into the arms of his Nogais, who, seizing their leader, hurriedaway on two sides with a terrible uproar, like a cloud blown by amighty wind. All the prince's cavalry was then in front of theSilistrian and Rumelian janissaries and Mohammedanized Serbs, whotogether with the janissaries formed one great quadrangle, and werewithdrawing slowly to the tabor with their front to the enemy,bristling with muskets, lances, javelins, battle-axes, and swords.

  The squadrons of armored dragoons and the Cossacks of the prince rushedon like a whirlwind; and in the very front, with a roar and heavytramp, Skshetuski's hussars. He flew on himself in the first rank, andat his side Pan Longin on his Livonian mare, his terrible broadsword inhis hand.

  A red ribbon of fire flies from one end of the quadrangle to the other;bullets whistle in the ears of the riders; here and there a man groans,here and there a horse falls. The line of cavalry is broken, but pusheson,--is approaching. The janissaries now hear the snorting and blownbreath of the horses; the quadrangle forms more closely still, andinclines its wall of spears, held by sinewy arms, against the furiouschargers. How many points are in that wall? With how many deaths doesit threaten the knights?

  Just then a certain hussar of gigantic size rushes upon the wall of thequadrangle with an irresistible impulse; in a moment the forefeet ofhis great horse are in the air; and the knight with his steed fallsinto the middle of the throng, splintering lances, overturning men,breaking, mashing, destroying. As an eagle swoops on a flock of whitepartridges, and they, crouching before him in a timid group, become theprey of the robber, who grasps them in his talons and his beak, so PanLongin Podbipienta, falling into the midst of the enemy, rages with hisbroadsword. And never has a whirlwind made such destruction in a youngand thick forest as he is making in the throng of janissaries. He isterrible; his form assumes superhuman proportions. His mare becomesa species of dragon, snorting flame from her nostrils; and thedouble-handed sword triples itself in the hands of the knight.Kislar-Bak, a gigantic aga, hurls himself upon him and falls, cut intwo. In vain do the strongest men put forth their hands, stopping himwith their spears. They die as if struck by lightning. He tramplesthem, pushes on to the densest throng, and when he strikes they fall,like grass beneath the scythe. An open space is made; the uproar ofterror is heard,--groans, the thunder of blows, the biting of steel onthe helmets, and the snorting of the infernal mare.

  "A div! a div!"[20] cried terrified voices.

  That instant the iron mass of the hussars, with Skshetuski at the headof it, bore down the gate opened by the Lithuanian. The walls of thequadrangle burst, like the walls of a falling house, and the masses ofjanissaries rushed fleeing in every direction.

  It was not a moment too soon, for the Nogais under Subahazi werereturning to the fight like bloodthirsty wolves, and from the otherside Hmelnitski, rallying the men of Belotserkoff, was coming to theaid of the janissaries; but now everything was in confusion. Cossacks,Tartars, renegade Serbs, janissaries, fled in the greatest disorder andpanic to the tabors, giving no resistance. The cavalry pressed on them,cutting as they came. Those who did not perish in the first furlongperished in the second. The pursuit was so envenomed that the squadronswent ahead of the rear ranks of the fugitives; their hands grew wearyfrom hewing. The fugitives threw away arms, banners, caps, and evencoats. The white caps of the janissaries covered the field, like snow.The entire chosen force of Hmelnitski's infantry, cavalry, artillery,the auxiliary Tartar and Turkish divisions formed one disorderly mass;distracted, wild, blinded with terror, whole companies fled before oneman. The hussars, having broken the infantry and cavalry, had donetheir work; now the dragoons and light squadrons emulated them, andwith Volodyovski and Kushel at their head extended this catastrophe,pas
sing human belief. Blood covered the terrible field, and plashedlike water under the violent blows of the horse-hoofs, sprinkling thearmor and faces of the knights.

  The fleeing crowds were resting in the centre of their tabors when thetrumpets called back the cavalry of the prince. The knights returnedwith singing and shouts of joy, counting on the way with theirstreaming sabres the corpses of the enemy. But who could with a cast ofhis eye estimate the extent of the defeat? Who could count all when atthe trench itself bodies were lying to the height of a man? Soldierswere as if dizzy from the odor of the blood and the sweat. Fortunatelyfrom the side of the ponds there was rather a strong breeze, whichcarried the odor to the tents of the enemy.

  Thus ended the first meeting of the terrible Yeremi and Hmelnitski.

  But the storm was not ended; for while Vishnyevetski was repulsing theattacks directed against the right wing of the camp, Burlai on the leftbarely missed becoming master of the ramparts. Having surrounded thetown and the castle in silence at the head of his warriors of theTrans-Dnieper, he pushed on to the eastern pond, and fell violentlyupon Firlei's quarters. The Hungarian infantry stationed there wereunable to withstand the attack, for the ramparts at that pond were notyet completed; the first squadron fled from its banner; Burlai sprangto the centre, and after him his men, like an irresistible torrent. Theshouts of victory reached the opposite end of the camp. The Cossacks,rushing after the fugitive Hungarians, scattered a small division ofcavalry, captured a number of cannon, and were coming to the quartersof the castellan of Belsk, when Pan Pshiyemski at the head of a numberof German companies hurried to the rescue. Stabbing the flag-bearerwith a single thrust, he seized the flag, and hurled himself onthe enemy. Then the Germans closed with the Cossacks. A fearfulhand-to-hand struggle raged, in which on one side the fury and crushingnumbers of Burlai's legions, on the other the bravery of the old lionsof the Thirty Years' War, were contending for superiority. In vainBurlai pressed into the densest ranks of the combatants, like a woundedwild boar. Neither the contempt of death with which the Cossacks foughtnor their endurance could stop the irresistible Germans, who goingforward in a wall, struck with such force that they swept them out oftheir places, pushed them against the trenches, decimated them, andafter half an hour's struggle drove them beyond the ramparts.Pshiyemski, covered with blood, first planted the banner on theunfinished bulwark.

  Burlai's position was now desperate,--he had to retreat on the sameroad by which he had come; and since Yeremi had crushed the assailantson his right wing, he could easily cut off Burlai's whole division. Itis true that Mrozovetski had come to his aid with his mounted Cossacksof Korsun; but at that moment the hussars of Konyetspolski, supportedby Skshetuski returning from the attack on the janissaries, fell uponBurlai, hitherto retreating in order.

  With a single onset they scattered his forces, and then began a fearfulslaughter. The Cossacks, having the road to the camp closed, had opento them only the road to death. Some without asking for quarterdefended themselves with desperation, in groups or singly; othersstretched forth their hands in vain to the cavalry, thundering like ahurricane over the field. Then began pursuit, artifice, singlestruggles, search for the enemy hidden in holes or uneven places.Tar-buckets were now thrown out from the trenches to light up thefield. These flew like fiery meteors with flaming manes. By the aid ofthese red gleams they finished the remainder of the Trans-DnieperCossacks.

  Subahazi, who had shown wonders of valor that day, sprang to the aid ofthe Cossacks; but the brave Marek Sobieski, starosta of Krasnostav,stopped him on the spot, as a lion stops a wild buffalo, Burlai saw nowthat there was no salvation for him from any side. But, Burlai, thoudidst love thy Cossack glory beyond life; therefore thou didst not seekfor safety. Others escaped in the darkness, hid themselves in openings,slipped out between the feet of horses; but he still sought the enemy.He cut down with his own hand Pan Dombka and Pan Rusitski, and theyoung lion Pan Aksak, the same who had covered himself with undyingglory at Konstantinoff; then Pan Savitski; then he stretched outtogether two winged hussars upon their native earth. At last, seeing anoble enormous in size coursing over the field and roaring like anaurochs, he sprang forward and went at him like a glittering flame.

  Zagloba, for it was he, bellowed still louder from fear, and turned hishorse in flight. What hair he had left stood straight on his head; butstill he did not lose his presence of mind. Stratagems were flashingthrough his head like lightning, and at the same time he roared withall his power: "Whoever believes in God!" and he drove like a whirlwindtoward the thickest mass of Polish cavalry. Burlai was heading him offfrom the side, as a bow the string. Zagloba closed his eyes, and in hishead a voice was roaring, "I shall perish now with my fleas!" He heardbehind him the rushing of the horse, saw that no one was coming to hisaid, that there was no escape, and that no other hand but his own couldtear him from the grasp of Burlai. But in that last moment, almost inthe agony of death, his despair and terror suddenly turned to rage; hebellowed as no wild bull has ever bellowed, and wheeling his horse inhis tracks, turned against his opponent.

  "You are pursuing Zagloba!" cried he, pushing on with drawn sabre.

  At that moment a new lot of burning tar-buckets was thrown from thetrenches, and there was light. Burlai saw and was astounded. He was notastounded at hearing the name, for he had never heard it in his lifebefore; but he was astounded when he recognized the man whom a shorttime before he had feasted in Yampol as the friend of Bogun. But justthat unfortunate moment of surprise destroyed the brave leader of theCossacks, for before he recollected himself Zagloba cut him on thetemple, and with one blow rolled him from his horse.

  This was in view of the whole army. A joyful shout from the hussarsanswered a cry of terror from the Cossacks, who seeing the death oftheir old lion of the Black Sea, lost the rest of their courage, andabandoned all resistance. Those who were not rescued by Subahaziperished to a man; no prisoners were taken in that night of terror.

  Subahazi fled to the camp, pursued by Sobieski and the light cavalry.The assault along the whole line of trenches was repulsed; only nearthe Cossack tabor was the cavalry sent out by the prince in pursuitstill at work.

  A shout of triumph and joy shook the whole camp of the attacked, andmighty cries went up to heaven. The bloody soldiers, covered withsweat, dust, black from powder, with raging faces and brows stillcontracted, with fire still unquenched in their eyes, stood leaning ontheir weapons, catching the air with their breasts, ready again to rushto the fight if the need should come. But the cavalry too returnedgradually from the bloody harvest near the tabor. Then the princehimself rode out on the field, and behind him the commanders, thestandard-bearer, Marek Sobieski, and Pshiyemski. All that brilliantretinue moved slowly along the intrenchment.

  "Long live Yeremi!" cried out the army. "Long live our father!"

  The prince, without helmet, inclined his head and his baton on everyside. "I thank you, gentlemen, I thank you!" repeated he, in a clear,ringing voice. Then he turned to Pshiyemski. "This trench," said he,"encloses too much space."

  Pshiyemski nodded his head in sign of agreement.

  The victorious leaders rode from the western to the eastern pond,examining the battle-field, the injuries done to the ramparts by theenemy, and the ramparts themselves.

  Immediately after the retinue of the prince, the soldiers, carried awayby enthusiasm, bore Zagloba in their arms to the camp, as the greatestconqueror of the day. Borne aloft by twenty sturdy arms, appeared theform of the warrior, who, purple, sweating, waving his arms to keep hisbalance, cried with all his power,--

  "Ha! I gave him pepper. I pretended to flee, so as to lure him on. Hewon't bark at us any more, the dog-brother! It was necessary to show anexample to the younger men. For God's sake, be careful, or you will letme fall and kill me! Hold on tight; you have something to hold! You maybelieve me, I had work with him. To-day every trash was thrustingitself on nobles; but they have got their own. Be careful! Devil takeit, let me down!"

  "Long
life to him, long life!" cried the nobles.

  "To the prince with him!" repeated others.

  "Long life to him! long life to him!"

  The Zaporojian hetman, rushing into his camp, roared like a woundedwild beast; he tore the coat on his breast and disfigured his face. Theofficers who had escaped the defeat surrounded him in gloomy silence,without bringing a word of consolation, and madness almost carried himaway. Foam was on his lips; he drove his heels into the ground, andwith both hands tore his hair.

  "Where are my regiments, where are my heroes?" asked he, in a hoarsevoice. "What shall I tell the Khan, what Tugai Bey? Give me Yeremi! Letthem put my head on the stake!"

  The officers were gloomily silent.

  "Why have the soothsayers promised victory? Off with the heads of thewitches! Why have they said that I should get Yeremi?"

  Generally when the roar of that lion shook the camp the colonels weresilent; but now that the lion was conquered, trampled, and fortuneseemed to be forsaking him, defeat gave insolence to the officers.

  "You cannot withstand Yeremi," muttered Stepka.

  "You are destroying us and yourself," added Mrozovetski.

  The hetman sprang at them like a tiger. "And who gained Joltiya Vodi,who Korsun, who Pilavtsi?"

  "You!" answered Voronchenko, roughly, "but Vishnyevetski was notthere."

  Hmelnitski tore his hair. "I promised the Khan lodgings in the castleto-night!" howled he, in despair.

  To this Kulak replied: "What you promised the Khan concerns your head.Have a care lest it drop from your neck; but do not push us to thestorm, do not destroy servants of God! Surround the Poles withtrenches, put ramparts round your guns, or woe to you!"

  "Woe to you!" repeated gloomy voices.

  "Woe to you!" answered Hmelnitski.

  And thus they conversed, terrible as thunders. At last Hmelnitskistaggered, and threw himself on a bundle of sheepskins covered withcarpet in the corner of the tent. The colonels stood around him withhanging heads, and silence lasted for a long time. At length the hetmanlooked up, and cried hoarsely: "Gorailka!"

  "You will not drink!" said Vygovski, "The Khan will send for you."

  At that time the Khan was about five miles from the field of battle,without knowledge of what was passing. The night was calm and warm. Hewas sitting at the tent in the midst of mullahs and agas in expectationof news; while waiting, he was eating dates from a silver platestanding near. At times he looked at the starry heavens and muttered,"Mohammed Rosulla!"

  Meanwhile Subahazi, on a foaming horse, rushed in, breathless, andcovered with blood. He sprang from the saddle, and approaching quickly,began to make obeisance, waiting for a question.

  "Speak!" said the Khan, with his mouth full of dates.

  The words were burning Subahazi's mouth like flame, but he dared notspeak without the usual titles. He began therefore in the followingfashion, bowing continually,--

  "Most mighty Khan of all the hordes, grandson of Mohammed, absolutemonarch, wise lord, fortunate lord, lord of the tree commended from theeast to the west, lord of the blooming tree--"

  Here the Khan waved his hand and interrupted. Seeing blood onSubahazi's face, and in his eyes pain, sorrow, and despair, he spat outthe uneaten dates on his hand and gave them to one of the mullahs, whotook them as a mark of extraordinary honor and began to eat them. TheKhan said,--

  "Speak quickly, Subahazi, and wisely! Is the camp of the unbelievertaken?"

  "God did not give it."

  "The Poles?"

  "Victorious."

  "Hmelnitski?"

  "Beaten."

  "Tugai Bey?"

  "Wounded."

  "God is one!" said the Khan. "How many of the Faithful have gone toParadise?"

  Subahazi raised his arm and pointed with a bloody hand to the sparklingheavens. "As many as of those lights at the foot of Allah," said he,solemnly.

  The heavy face of the Khan became purple; rage seized him by thebreast. "Where is that dog," inquired he, "who promised that I shouldsleep to-night in the castle? Where is that venomous serpent whom Godwill trample under my foot? Let him stand before me and give an accountof his disgusting promises."

  A number of murzas hurried off for Hmelnitski. The Khan calmed himselfby degrees, and at last said: "God is one!" Then he turned to Subahazi."There is blood on thy face!"

  "It is the blood of the unbeliever," answered the warrior.

  "Tell how you shed it, and console our ears with the bravery of thebelievers."

  Here Subahazi began to give an extended account of the whole battle,praising the bravery of Tugai Bey, of Galga, of Nureddin; he wasnot silent either of Hmelnitski, but praised him as well as theothers,--the will of God alone and the fury of the unbelievers were thecauses of the defeat. But one circumstance struck the Khan in thenarrative; namely, that they did not fire at the Tartars in thebeginning of the battle, and that the cavalry of the prince attackedthem only when at last they stood in the way.

  "Allah! they did not want war with me," said the Khan, "but now it istoo late."

  So it was in reality. Prince Yeremi, from the beginning of the battle,had forbidden to fire at the Tartars, wishing to instil into thesoldiers that negotiations with the Khan were already commenced, andthat the hordes were standing on the side of the mob merely for show.It was only later that it came to meeting the Tartars by the force ofevents.

  The Khan shook his head, thinking at that moment whether it would notbe better yet to turn his arms against Hmelnitski, when the hetmanhimself stood suddenly before him. Hmelnitski was now calm, and came upwith head erect, looking boldly into the eyes of the Khan; on his facewere depicted daring and craft.

  "Approach, traitor!" said the Khan.

  "The hetman of the Cossacks approaches, and he is not a traitor, but afaithful ally, to whom you have pledged assistance not in victoryalone," said Hmelnitski.

  "Go pass the night in the castle! Go pull the Poles out of the trenchesas you promised me!"

  "Great Khan of all the hordes!" said Hmelnitski, with a powerful voice,"you are mighty, and except the Sultan the mightiest on earth; you arewise and powerful, but can you send forth an arrow from your bow to thestars, or can you measure the depth of the sea?"

  The Khan looked at him with astonishment.

  "You cannot," continued Hmelnitski, with still more force; "so can Inot measure all the pride and insolence of Yeremi! If I could dreamthat he would not be terrified at you, O Khan, that he would not besubmissive at sight of you, would not beat with his forehead beforeyou, but would raise his insolent hand against your person, shed theblood of your warriors, and insult you, O mighty monarch, as well asthe least of your murzas,--if I could have dared to think that, Ishould have shown contempt to you whom I honor and love."

  "Allah!" said the Khan, more and more astonished.

  "But I will tell you this," continued Hmelnitski, with increasingassurance in his voice and his manner: "you are great and powerful;nations and monarchs from the east to the west incline before you andcall you a lion; Yeremi alone does not fall on his face before yourbeard. If then you do not rub him out, if you do not bend his neck andride on his back, your power is in vain, your glory is empty; for theywill say that one Polish prince has dishonored the Tsar of the Crimeaand received no punishment,--that he is greater, that he is mightierthan you."

  Dull silence followed; the murzas, the agas, and the mullahs looked onthe face of the Khan, as on the sun, holding the breath in theirbreasts. He had his eyes closed, and was thinking. Hmelnitski wasresting on his baton and waiting confidently.

  "You have said it," answered the Khan at last. "I will bend the neck ofYeremi; I will sit on his back as on a horse, so it may not be saidfrom the east to the west that an unbelieving dog has disgraced me."

  "God is great!" cried the murzas, with one voice.

  Joy shot from the eyes of Hmelnitski. At one step he had averteddestruction hanging over his head, and turned a doubtful ally into amost faithful one. At every
moment that lion knew how to turn himselfinto a serpent.

  Both camps till late at night were as active as bees warmed by thespring sun in the swarming-season, while on the battle-field slept--anendless and eternal sleep--the knights thrust through with spears, cutwith swords, pierced with arrows and bullets. The moon rose, and beganher course over the field of death, was reflected in pools of stiffenedblood, brought forth from the darkness every moment new piles of slain,passed from some bodies, came quietly to others, looked into open andlifeless eyeballs, lighted up blue faces, fragments of broken weapons,bodies of horses; and her rays grew pale, at times very pale, as ifterrified with what they saw. Along the field there ran here and there,alone and in little groups, certain ominous figures,--camp-followersand servants, who had come to plunder the slain, as jackals followlions. But superstitious fear drove them away at last. There wassomething awful and mysterious in that field covered with corpses, inthat calmness and quiet of human forms recently alive, and in thatsilent harmony with which Poles, Turks, Tartars, and Cossacks lay sideby side. The wind at times rustled in the bushes growing over thefield, and to the soldiers watching in the trenches it seemed thatthose were the souls of the slain, circling above their bodies. It wassaid in fact that when midnight had struck in Zbaraj, over the wholefield, from the bulwark of the Poles to the tabor of the Cossacks,there rose with a rustle as it were a countless flock of birds. Wailingvoices were heard also in the air, enormous sighs, which made men'shair stand on end, and groans. Those who were yet to fall in thatstruggle, and whose ears were more open to cries from beyond the earth,heard clearly the Polish spirits, when flying away, cry: "Before thyeyes, O Lord, we lay down our sins;" and the Cossacks groan: "O Christ,O Christ, have mercy on us!" As they had fallen in a war of brothers,they could not fly straight to light eternal, but were predestined tofly somewhere in the dark distance, and hover in the wind over thisvale of tears, to weep and groan by night, till the full remission oftheir offences,--till they should receive pardon at the feet of Christ,and oblivion for their sins.

  But at that time the hearts of men grew harder yet, and no angel ofpeace flew over the field.