Генрик Сенкевич
The Deluge. Vol. 2
CHAPTER XXV
It was near midnight when Pan Andrei announced himself to the advanced pickets of the prince, but no one was sleeping in the whole camp. The battle might begin at any moment, therefore they had prepared for it carefully. Boguslav's troops had occupied Yanov itself; they commanded the road from Sokolka, which was held by artillery, managed by the elector's trained men. There were only three cannons, but abundance of powder and balls. On both sides of Yanov, among the birch groves, Boguslav gave orders to make intrenchments and to occupy them with double-barrelled guns and infantry. The cavalry occupied Yanov itself, the road behind the cannons, and the intervals between the trenches. The position was defensible enough, and with fresh men defence in it might be long and bloody; but of fresh soldiers there were only eight hundred under Kyritz; the rest were so wearied that they could barely stand on their feet. Besides, the howling of the Tartars was heard in Suhovola at midnight, and later in the rear of Boguslav's ranks; hence a certain fear was spread among the soldiers. Boguslav was forced to send in that direction all his light cavalry, which after it had gone three miles dared neither return nor advance, for fear of ambushes in the forest.
Boguslav, though fever together with violent chills was tormenting him more than ever, commanded everything in person; but since he rode with difficulty he had himself carried by four soldiers in an open litter. In this way he had examined the road as well as the birch groves, and was entering Yanov when he was informed that an envoy from Sapyeha was approaching.
They were already on the street. Boguslav was unable to recognize Kmita because of the darkness, and because Pan Andrei, through excess of caution on the part of officers in the advance guard, had his head covered with a bag in which there was an opening only for his mouth.
The prince noticed the bag when Kmita, after dismounting, stood near him; he gave command to remove it at once.
"This is Yanov," said he, "and there is no reason for secrecy." Then he turned in the darkness to Pan Andrei: "Are you from Pan Sapyeha?"
"I am."
"And what is Pan Sakovich doing there?"
"Pan Oskyerko is entertaining him."
"Why did you ask for a safe conduct when you have Sakovich? Pan Sapyeha is too careful, and let him see to it that he is not too clever."
"That is not my affair," answered Kmita.
"I see that the envoy is not over-given to speech."
"I have brought a letter, and in the quarters I will speak of my own affair."
"Is there a private question?"
"There will be a request to your highness."
"I shall be glad not to refuse it. Now I beg you to follow. Mount your horse; I should ask you to the litter, but it is too small."
They moved on. The prince in the litter and Kmita at one side on horseback. They looked in the darkness without being able to distinguish the faces of each other. After a while the prince, in spite of furs, began to shake so that his teeth chattered. At last he said, —
"It has come on me grievously; if it were – brr! – not for this, I would give other conditions."
Kmita said nothing, and only wished to pierce with his eyes the darkness, in the middle of which the head and face of the prince were outlined in indefinite gray and white features. At the sound of Boguslav's voice and at sight of his figure all the former insults, the old hatred, and the burning desire for revenge so rose in Kmita's heart that they turned almost to madness. His hand of itself sought the sword, which had been taken from him; but at his girdle he had the baton with an iron head, the ensign of his rank of colonel; the devil then began to whirl in his brain at once, and to whisper: "Cry in his ear who you are, and smash his head into bits. The night is dark, you will escape. The Kyemliches are with you. You will rub out a traitor and pay for injustice. You will rescue Olenka, Soroka – Strike! strike!"
Kmita came still nearer the litter, and with trembling hand began to draw forth the baton. "Strike!" whispered the devil; "you will serve the country."
Kmita had now drawn out the baton, and he squeezed the handle as if wishing to crush it in his hand. "One, two, three!" whispered the devil.
But at that moment Kmita's horse, whether because he had hit the helmet of the soldier with his nose, or had shied, it is enough that he stumbled violently. Kmita pulled the reins. During this time the litter had moved on several steps. The hair stood on the head of the young man.
"O Most Holy Mother, restrain my hand!" whispered he, through his set teeth. "O Most Holy Mother, save me! I am here an envoy; I came from the hetman, and I want to murder like a night assassin. I am a noble; I am a servant of Thine. Lead me not into temptation!"
"But why are you loitering?" asked Boguslav, in a voice broken by fever.
"I am here!"
"Do you hear the cocks crowing beyond the fences? It is needful to hurry, for I am sick and want rest."
Kmita put the baton behind his belt and rode farther, near the litter. Still he could not find peace. He understood that only with cool blood and self-command could he free Soroka; therefore he stipulated with himself in advance what words to use with the prince so as to incline and convince him. He vowed to have only Soroka in view, to mention nothing else, and especially not Olenka. And he felt how in the darkness a burning blush covered his face at the thought that perhaps the prince himself would mention her, and maybe mention something that Pan Andrei would not be able to endure or listen to.
"Let him not mention her," said he to himself; "let him not allude to her, for in that is his death and mine. Let him have mercy upon himself, if he lacks shame."
Pan Andrei suffered terribly; his breath failed him, and his throat was so straitened that he feared lest he might not be able to bring forth the words when he came to speak. In this stifling oppression he began the Litany.
After a time relief came; he was quieted considerably, and that grasp as it were of an iron hand squeezing his throat was relaxed.
They had now arrived at the prince's quarters. The soldiers put down the litter; two attendants took the prince by the armpits; he turned to Kmita, and with his teeth chattering continually, said, —
"I beg you to follow. The chill will soon pass; then we can speak."
After a while they found themselves in a separate apartment in which heaps of coals were glowing in a fireplace, and in which was unendurable heat. His servants placed Prince Boguslav on a long campaign arm-chair covered with furs, and brought a light. Then the attendants withdrew. The prince threw his head back, closed his eyes, and remained in that position motionless for a time; at last he said, —
"Directly, – let me rest."
Kmita looked at him. The prince had not changed much, but the fever had pinched his face. He was painted as usual, and his cheeks touched with color; but just for that reason, when he lay there with closed eyes and head thrown back, he was somewhat like a corpse or a wax figure. Pan Andrei stood before him in the bright light. The prince began to open his lids lazily; suddenly he opened them completely, and a flame, as it were, flew over his face. But it remained only an instant; then again he closed his eyes.
"If thou art a spirit, I fear thee not," said he; "but vanish."
"I have come with a letter from the hetman," answered Kmita.
Boguslav shuddered a little, as if he wished to shake off visions; then he looked at Kmita and asked, —
"Have I been deceived in you?"
"Not at all," answered Pan Andrei, pointing with his finger to the scar.
"That is the second!" muttered the prince to himself; and he added aloud, "Where is the letter?"
"Here it is," said Kmita, giving the letter.
Boguslav began to read, and when he had finished a marvellous light flashed in his eyes.
"It is well," said he; "there is loitering enough! Tomorrow the battle – and I am glad, for I shall not have a fever."
"And we, too, are glad," answered Kmita.
A moment of silence followed, during which these two inexorable enemies measured each other with a certain terrible curiosity. The prince first resumed the conversation.
"I divine that it was you who attacked me with the Tartars?"
"It was T."
"And did you not fear to come here?"
Kmita did not answer.
"Did you count on our relationship through the Kishkis? For you and I have our reckonings. I can tear you out of your skin, Sir Cavalier."
"You can, your highness."
"You came with a safe-conduct, it is true. I understand now why Pan Sapyeha asked for it. But you have attempted my life. Sakovich is detained there; but Sapyeha has no right to Sakovich, while I have a right to you, cousin."
"I have come with a prayer to your highness."
"I beg you to mention it. You can calculate that for you everything will be done. What is the prayer?"
"You have here a captive soldier, one of those men who aided me in carrying you off. I gave orders, he acted as a blind instrument. Be pleased to set that man at liberty."
Boguslav thought awhile.
"I am thinking," said he, "which is greater, – your daring as a soldier, or your insolence as a petitioner."
"I do not ask this man from you for nothing."
"And what will you give me for him?"
"Myself."
"Is it possible that he is such a precious soldier? You pay bountifully, but see that that is sufficient; for surely you would like to ransom something else from me."
Kmita came a step nearer to the prince, and grew so awfully pale that Boguslav, in spite of himself, looked at the door, and notwithstanding all his daring he changed the subject of conversation.
"Pan Sapyeha will not entertain such an agreement. I should be glad to hold you; but I have guaranteed with my word of a prince your safety."
"I will write by that soldier to the hetman that I remain of my own will."
"And he will declare that, in spite of your will, I must send you. You have given him services too great. He will not set Sakovich free, and Sakovich I prize higher than you."
"Then, your highness, free that soldier, and I will go on my word where you command."
"I may fall to-morrow; I care nothing for treaties touching the day after."
"I implore your highness for that man. I – "
"What will you do?"
"I will drop my revenge."
"You see, Pan Kmita, many a time have I gone against a bear with a spear, not because I had to do so, but from desire. I am glad when some danger threatens, for life is less dull for me. In this case I reserve your revenge as a pleasure; for you are, I must confess, of that breed of bears which seek the hunter themselves."
"Your highness," said Kmita, "for small mercies God often forgives great sins. Neither of us knows when it will come to him to stand before the judgment of Christ."
"Enough!" said the prince. "I compose psalms for myself in spite of the fever, so as to have some merit before the Lord; should I need a preacher I should summon my own. You do not know how to beg with sufficient humility, and you go in round-about ways. I will show you the method myself: strike to-morrow in the battle on Sapyeha, and after to-morrow I will let out the soldier and forgive you your sins. You betrayed Radzivill; betray now Sapyeha."
"Is this the last word of your highness? By all the saints, I implore you!"
"No! Devil take you! And you change in the face – But don't come too near, for, though I am ashamed to call attendants – look here! You are too bold!"
Boguslav pointed at a pistol-barrel peeping from under the fur with which it was covered, and looked with sparkling eyes into Kmita's eyes.
"Your highness!" cried Kmita, almost joining his hands in prayer, but with a face changed by wrath.
"You beg, but you threaten," said Boguslav; "you bend your neck, but the devil is gnashing his teeth at me from behind your collar. Pride is gleaming in your eyes, and in your mouth it sounds as in a cloud. With your forehead to the Radzivill feet when you beg, my little man! Beat with your forehead on the floor, then I will answer."
Pan Andrei's face was as pale as a piece of linen; he drew his hand over his moist forehead, his eyes, his face; and he spoke with such a broken voice, as if the fever from which the prince suffered had suddenly sprung upon him.
"If your highness will free for me that old soldier, I am ready to fall at your feet."
Satisfaction gleamed in Boguslav's eyes. He had brought down his enemy, bent his proud neck. Better food he could not give to his revenge and hatred.
Kmita stood before him with hair erect in his forelock, trembling in his whole body. His face, resembling even in rest the head of a hawk, recalled all the more an enraged bird of prey. You could not tell whether at the next moment he would throw himself at the feet, or hurl himself at the breast of the prince. But Boguslav not taking his eyes from him, said, —
"Before witnesses! before people!" And he turned to the door. "Hither!"
A number of attendants, Poles and foreigners, came in; after them officers entered.
"Gracious gentlemen!" said the prince, "behold Pan Kmita, the banneret of Orsha and envoy of Pan Sapyeha, who has come to beg a favor of me, and he wishes to have all you gentlemen as witnesses."
Kmita tottered like a drunken man, groaned, and fell at Boguslav's feet. The prince stretched his feet purposely so that the end of his riding-boot touched the forehead of the knight.
All looked in silence, astonished at the famous name, as well as at this, – that he who bore it was now an envoy from Pan Sapyeha. All understood, too, that something uncommon was taking place.
The prince rose, and without saying a word passed into the adjoining chamber, beckoning to two attendants to follow him.
Kmita rose. His face showed no longer either anger or rapacity, merely indifference and insensibility. He appeared unconscious of what was happening to him, and his energy seemed broken completely.
Half an hour passed; an hour. Outside the windows was heard the tramp of horses' feet and the measured tread of soldiers; he sat continually as if of stone.
Suddenly the door opened. An officer entered, an old acquaintance of Kmita's from Birji, and eight soldiers, – four with muskets, four without firearms, – with sabres.
"Gracious Colonel, rise!" said the officer, politely.
Kmita looked on him wanderingly. "Glovbich!" said he, recognizing the officer.
"I have an order," answered Glovbich, "to bind your hands and conduct you beyond Yanov. The binding is for a time, then you will go free; therefore I beg you not to resist."
"Bind!" answered Kmita.
And he permitted them to tie him. But they did not tie his feet. The officer led him out of the room and on foot through Yanov. Then they advanced for about an hour. On the road some horsemen joined them. Kmita heard them speaking in Polish; the Poles, who served with Boguslav, all knew the name of Kmita, and therefore were most curious to know what would happen to him. The party passed the birch grove and came to an open field, on which Pan Andrei saw a detachment of the light Polish squadron of Boguslav.
The soldiers stood in rank, forming a square; in the middle was a space in which were two foot-soldiers holding horses harnessed to draw, and some men with torches.
By the light of the torches Pan Andrei saw a freshly sharpened stake lying on the ground with the large end fastened in a great log.
A shiver passed through Kmita involuntarily. "That is for me," thought he; "Boguslav has ordered them to draw me on the stake with horses. He sacrifices Sakovich to his vengeance."
But he was mistaken; the stake was intended first for Soroka.
By the quivering flames Pan Andrei saw Soroka himself; the old soldier was sitting there at the side of the log on a stool, without a cap and with bound hands, guarded by four soldiers. A man dressed in a short shuba without sleeves was at that moment giving him in a shallow cup gorailka, which Soroka drank eagerly enough. When he had drunk, he spat; and since at that very moment Kmita was placed between two horsemen in the first rank, Soroka saw him, sprang from the stool and straightened himself as if on military parade.
For a while they looked the one at the other. Soroka's face was calm and resigned; he only moved his jaws as if chewing.
"Soroka!" groaned Kmita, at last.
"At command!" answered the soldier.
And again silence followed. What had they to say at such a moment? Then the executioner, who had given Soroka the vodka, approached him.
"Well, old man,"' said he, "it is time for you!"
"And you will draw me on straight?"
"Never fear."
Soroka feared not; but when he felt on his shoulder the hand of the executioner, he began to pant quickly and loudly. At last he said, —
"More gorailka!"
"There is none!"
Suddenly one of the soldiers pushed out of the rank and gave a canteen, —
"Here is some; give it to him."
"To the rank!" commanded Glovbich.
Still the man in the short shuba held the canteen to Soroka's mouth; he drank abundantly, and after he had drunk breathed deeply.
"See!" said he, "the lot of a soldier after thirty years' service. Well, if it is time, it is time!"
Another executioner approached and they began to undress him.
A moment of silence. The torches trembled in the hands of those holding them; it became terrible for all.
Meanwhile from the ranks surrounding the square was wrested a murmur of dissatisfaction, which became louder each instant: "A soldier is not an executioner; he gives death himself, but does not wish to see torture."
"Silence!" cried Glovbich.
The murmur became a loud bustle, in which were heard single words: "Devils!" "Thunders!" "Pagan service!"
Suddenly Kmita shouted as if they had been drawing him on to the stake, —
"Stop!"
The executioner halted involuntarily. All eyes were turned to Kmita.
"Soldiers!" shouted Pan Andrei, "Prince Boguslav is a traitor to the king and the Commonwealth! You are surrounded, and to-morrow you will be cut to pieces. You are serving a traitor; you are serving against the country! But whoso leaves this service leaves the traitor; to him forgiveness of the king, forgiveness of the hetman! Choose! Death and disgrace, or a reward to-morrow! I will pay wages, and a ducat a man, – two ducats a man! Choose! It is not for you, worthy soldiers, to serve a traitor! Long life to the king! Long life to the grand hetman of Lithuania!"
The disturbance was turned into thunder; the ranks were broken. A number of voices shouted, —
"Long life to the king!"
"We have had enough of this service!"
"Destruction to traitors!"
"Stop! stop!" shouted other voices.
"To-morrow you will die in disgrace!" bellowed Kmita.
"The Tartars are in Suhovola!"
"The prince is a traitor!"
"We are fighting against the king!"
"Strike!"
"To the prince!"
"Halt!"
In the disturbance some sabre had cut the ropes tying Kmita's hands. He sprang that moment on one of the horses which were to draw Soroka on the stake, and cried from the horse, —
"Follow me to the hetman!"
"I go!" shouted Glovbich. "Long life to the king!"
"May he live!" answered fifty voices, and fifty sabres glittered at once.
"To horse, Soroka!" commanded Kmita.
There were some who wished to resist, but at sight of the naked sabres they grew silent. One, however, turned his horse and vanished from the eye in a moment. The torches went out. Darkness embraced all.
"After me!" shouted Kmita. An orderless mass of men moved from the place, and then stretched out in a long line.
When they had gone two or three furlongs they met the infantry pickets who occupied in large parties the birch grove on the left side.
"Who goes?"
"Glovbich with a party!"
"The word?"
"Trumpets!"
"Pass!"
They rode forward, not hurrying over-much; then they went on a trot.
"Soroka!" said Kmita.
"At command!" answered the voice of the sergeant at his side.
Kmita said nothing more, but stretching out his hand, put his palm on Soroka's head, as if wishing to convince himself that he was riding there. The soldier pressed Pan Andrei's hand to his lips in silence.
Then Glovbich called from the other side, —
"Your grace! I wanted long to do what I have done to-day."
"You will not regret it!"
"I shall be thankful all my life to you."
"Tell me, Glovbich, why did the prince send you, and not a foreign regiment, to the execution?"
"Because he wanted to disgrace you before the Poles. The foreign soldiers do not know you."
"And was nothing to happen to me?"
"I had the order to cut your bonds; but if you tried to defend Soroka we were to bring you for punishment to the prince."
"Then he was willing to sacrifice Sakovich," muttered Kmita.
Meanwhile Prince Boguslav in Yanov, wearied with the fever and the toil of the day, had gone to sleep. He was roused from slumber by an uproar in front of his quarters and a knocking at the door.
"Your highness, your highness!" cried a number of voices.
"He is asleep, do not rouse him!" answered the pages.
But the prince sat up in bed and cried, —
"A light!"
They brought in a light, and at the same time the officer on duty entered.
"Your highness," said he, "Sapyeha's envoy has brought Glovbich's squadron to mutiny and taken it to the hetman."
Silence followed.
"Sound the kettle-drums and other drums!" said Boguslav at last; "let the troops form in rank!"
The officer went out; the prince remained alone.
"That is a terrible man!" said he to himself; and he felt that a new paroxysm of fever was seizing him.