Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz Page 14

  “Despatch a messenger, then, to the prince with the answer and the advice,” said Skshetuski. “I must go; for I am on a mission, and I cannot alter the decision of the prince.”

  “Are you aware that this is a terribly dangerous expedition?” asked Zatsvilikhovski. “Even here the people are so excited that it is difficult for them to keep still. Were it not for the nearness of the army of the crown, the mob would rush upon us. But there you are going into the dragon’s mouth.”

  “Jonah was in the whale’s belly, not his mouth, and with God’s aid he came out in safety.”

  “Go, then! I applaud your courage. You can go to Kudák in safety, and there you will see what is to be done further. Grodzitski is an old soldier; he will give you the best of advice. And I will go to the prince without fail. If I have to fight in my old age, I would rather fight under him than any one else. Meanwhile I will get boats for you, and guides who will take you to Kudák.”

  Skshetuski slipped out, and went straight to his quarters on the square, in the prince’s house, to make his final preparations. In spite of the dangers of the journey mentioned by Zatsvilikhovski, the lieutenant thought of it not without a certain satisfaction. He was going to behold the Dnieper in its whole length, almost to the lower country and the Cataracts; and for the warrior of that time it was a sort of enchanted and mysterious land, to which every adventurous spirit was drawn. Many a man had passed his whole life in the Ukraine, and still was unable to say that he had seen the Saitch, — unless he wished to join the Brotherhood, and there were fewer volunteers among the nobility than formerly. The times of Samek Zborovski had passed never to return. The break between the Saitch and the Commonwealth which began in the time of Nalivaika and Pavlyuk had not lessened, but, on the contrary, had increased continually; and the concourse of people of family, not only Polish, but Russian, differing from the men of the lower country neither in speech nor faith, had greatly decreased. Such persons as the Bulygi Kurtsevichi did not find many imitators. In general, nobles were forced into the Brotherhood at that time either by misfortune or outlawry, — in a word, by offences which were inconvenient for repentance. Therefore a certain mystery, impenetrable as the fogs of the Dnieper, surrounded the predatory republic of the lower country. Concerning it men related wonders, which Pan Yan was curious to see with his own eyes. To tell the truth, he expected to come out of it safely; for an envoy is an envoy, especially from Prince Yeremi.

  While meditating in this fashion he gazed through the windows into the square. Meanwhile one hour had followed another, when suddenly it appeared to Pan Yan that he recognized a couple of figures going toward the Bell-ringers’ Corner to the wine-cellar of Dopula, the Wallachian. He looked more carefully, and saw Zagloba with Bogun. They went arm in arm, and soon disappeared in the dark doorway over which was the sign denoting a drinking-place and a wine-shop.

  The lieutenant was astonished at the presence of Bogun in Chigirin and his friendship with Zagloba.

  “Jendzian! are you here?” called he to his attendant.

  Jendzian appeared in the doorway of the adjoining room.

  “Listen to me, Jendzian! Go to the wine-shop where the sign hangs. You will find a fat nobleman with a hole in his forehead there. Tell him that some one wants to see him quickly. If he asks who it is, don’t tell him.”

  Jendzian hurried off, and in a short time Skshetuski saw him returning in company with Zagloba.

  “I welcome you,” said Pan Yan, when the noble appeared in the door of the room. “Do you remember me?”

  “Do I remember you? May the Tartars melt me into tallow and make candles of me for the mosques if I forget you! Some months ago you opened the door at Dopula’s with Chaplinski, which suited my taste exactly, for in the selfsame way I got out of prison once in Stamboul. And what is Pan Povsinoga, with the escutcheon Zervipludry, doing with his innocence and his sword? Don’t the sparrows always perch on his head, taking him for a withered tree?”

  “Pan Podbipienta is well, and asked to be remembered to you.”

  “He is a very rich man, but fearfully dull. If he should cut off three heads like his own, it would be only a head and a half, for he would cut off three half-heads. Pshaw! how hot it is, though it is only March yet! The tongue dries up in one’s throat.”

  “I have some excellent triple mead; maybe you would take a glass of it?”

  “It is a fool who refuses when a wise man offers. The barber has enjoined me to drink mead to draw melancholy from my head. Troublesome times for the nobility are approaching, — dies iræ et calamitatis. Chaplinski is breathless from fear; he visits Dopula’s no longer, for the Cossack elders drink there. I alone set my forehead bravely against danger, and keep company with those colonels, though their dignity smells of tar. Good mead! really very excellent! Where do you get it?”

  “I got this in Lubni. Are there many Cossack elders here?”

  “Who is not here? Fedor Yakubovich, Old Filon Daidyalo, Danilo Nechai, and their eye in the head, Bogun, who became my friend as soon as I outdrank him and promised to adopt him. Chigirin is filled with the odor of them. They are looking which way to turn, for they do not dare yet to take the side of Hmelnitski openly. But if they do not declare for him, it will be owing to me.”

  “How is that?”

  “While drinking with them I bring them over to the Commonwealth and argue them into loyalty. If the king does not give me a crown estate for this, then believe me there is no justice in the Commonwealth, nor reward for services; and in such a case it would be better to breed chickens than to risk one’s head pro bono publico.”

  “It would be better for you to risk your head fighting with them; but it appears to me you are only throwing away your money for nothing in treating them, for in that way you will never win them.”

  “I throw money away! For whom do you take me? Isn’t it enough for me to hobnob with trash, without paying their scores? I consider it a favor that I allow them to pay mine.”

  “And that fellow Bogun, what is he doing here?”

  “He? He keeps his ears open to hear reports from the Saitch, like the rest. That is why he came here. He is the favorite of all the Cossacks. They are after him like monkeys, for it is certain that the Pereyasláv regiment will follow him, and not Loboda. And who knows, too, whom Krechovski’s registered Cossacks will follow? Bogun is a brother to the men of the lower country when it is a question of attacking the Turks or the Tartars; but this time he is calculating very closely, for he confessed to me, in drink, that he was in love with a noblewoman, and intended to marry her. On this account it would not befit him, on the eve of marriage, to be a brother to slaves. He wishes, too, that I should adopt him and give him my arms. That is very excellent triple mead!”

  “Take another drink of it.”

  “I will, I will. They don’t sell such mead as that behind tavern-signs.”

  “You did not ask, perhaps, the name of the lady whom Bogun wants to marry?”

  “Well, my dear sir, what do I care about her name? I know only that when I put horns on Bogun, she will be Madame Deer. In my youthful years I was a fellow of no ordinary beauty. Only let me tell you how I carried off the palm of martyrdom in Galáts. You see that hole in my forehead? It is enough for me to say that the eunuchs in the harem of the local pasha made it.”

  “But you said the bullet of a robber made it.”

  “Did I? Then I told the truth; for every Turk is a robber, as God is my aid!”

  Further conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Zatsvilikhovski.

  “Well, my dear lieutenant,” said the old man, “the boats are ready, you have trusty men for attendants; you can start, in God’s name, this moment, if you like. And here are the letters.”

  “Then I’ll tell my people to be off for the shore at once.”

  “But where are you going?” asked Zagloba.

  “To Kudák.”

  “It will be hot for you there.”

  The lieutenant
did not hear his prophecy, for he went out of the room into the court, where the Cossacks with horses were almost ready for the road.

  “To horse and to the shore!” commanded Pan Yan. “Put the horses on the boats, and wait for me.”

  Meanwhile the old man said to Zagloba: “I hear that you court the Cossack colonels, and drink with them.”

  “For the public good, most worthy standard-bearer.”

  “You have a nimble mind, but inclining rather to disgrace. You wish to bring the Cossacks to your side in their cups, so they may befriend you in case they win.”

  “Even if that were true, having been a martyr to the Turks, I do not wish to become one to the Cossacks; and there is nothing wonderful in that, for two mushrooms would spoil the best soup. And as to disgrace, I ask no one to drink it with me, — I drink it alone; and God grant that it taste no worse than this mead. Merit, like oil, must come to the top.”

  At that moment Skshetuski returned. “The men have started already,” said he.

  Zatsvilikhovski poured out a measure. “Here is to a pleasant journey!”

  “And a return in health!” added Zagloba.

  “You will have an easy journey, for the water is tremendous.”

  “Sit down, gentlemen, and drink the rest. It is not a large vessel.”

  They sat down and drank.

  “You will see a curious country,” said Zatsvilikhovski. “Greet Pan Grodzitski in Kudák for me. Ah, that is a soldier! He lives at the end of the world, far from the eyes of the hetman, and he maintains such order that God grant its like might be in the whole Commonwealth. I know Kudák and the Cataracts well. Years ago I used to travel there, and there is gloom on the soul when one thinks of what is past and gone; but now—”

  Here the standard-bearer rested his milk-white head on his hand, and fell into deep thought. A moment of silence followed, broken only by the tramp of horses heard at the gate; for the rest of Skshetuski’s men were going to the boats at the shore.

  “My God!” said Zatsvilikhovski, starting from his meditation; “and there were better times formerly, though in the midst of turmoil. I remember Khotím, twenty-seven years ago, as if it were to-day! When the hussars under Lyubomirski moved to attack the janissaries, then the Cossacks in the trenches threw up their caps and shouted to Sahaidachny, till the earth trembled, ‘Let us die with the Poles!’ And what do we see to-day? To-day the lower country, which should be the first bulwark of Christendom, lets Tartars into the boundaries of the Commonwealth, to fall upon them when they are returning with booty. It is still worse; for Hmelnitski allies himself directly with Tartars, with whom he will murder Christians.”

  “Let us drink by reason of this sorrow!” said Zagloba. “What triple mead this is!”

  “God grant me the grave as soon as possible!” said the old man, continuing. “Mutual crimes will be washed out in blood, but not blood of atonement, for here brother will murder brother. Who are in the lower country? Russians. Who in the army of Prince Yeremi? Russians. Who in the retinues of the magnates? Russians. And are there few of them in the king’s camp? And I myself, — who am I? Oh, unhappy Ukraine! pagans of the Crimea will put the chain upon thy neck, and thou wilt pull the oar in the galley of the Turk!”

  “Grieve not so, worthy standard-bearer,” said Pan Yan; “if you do, tears will come to our eyes. A fair sun may shine upon us yet!”

  In fact, the sun was going down that very moment, and its last rays fell with a red gleam on the white hair of the old man. In the town the bells began to ring “Ave Maria” and “Praise to God.”

  They left the house. Skshetuski went to the Polish church, Zatsvilikhovski to the Russian, and Zagloba to Dopula’s at the Bell-ringers’ Corner.

  It was dark when they met again at the shore by the landing. Skshetuski’s men were sitting already in the boats. The ferrymen were still carrying in packages. The cold wind blew from the neighboring point where the river entered the Dnieper, and the night gave no promise of being very pleasant. By the light of the fire burning on the bank, the water of the river looked bloody, and seemed to be running with immeasurable speed somewhere into the unknown gloom.

  “Well, happy journey to you!” said the old man, pressing the lieutenant’s hand heartily; “but be careful of yourself!”

  “I will neglect nothing. God grant us soon to meet!”

  “Either in Lubni or the prince’s camp.”

  “Then you will go without fail to the prince?”

  Zatsvilikhovski shrugged his shoulders. “What am I to do? If there is war, then war!”

  “Be in good health.”

  “God guard you!”

  “Vive, valeque!” said Zagloba. “And if the water bears you all the way to Stamboul, then give my respects to the Sultan. Or rather, let the devil take him! That was very respectable triple mead. Brr! how cold it is!”

  “Till we meet again!”

  “Till we see each other!”

  “May God conduct you!”

  The oar creaked and plashed against the water, the boats moved on. The fire burning on the shore began to recede quickly. For a long time Skshetuski saw the gray form of the standard-bearer lighted up by the flame of the fire, and a certain sadness pressed his heart. The water is bearing him on, but far away from well-wishing hearts and from the loved one; from known lands it is bearing him as mercilessly as fate, but into wild places and into darkness.

  They sailed through the mouth of the Tasma into the Dnieper. The wind whistled; the oars plashed monotonously and sadly. The oarsmen began to sing.

  Skshetuski wrapped himself in a burka, and lay down on the bed which the soldier had fixed for him. He began to think of Helena, — that she was not yet in Lubni, that Bogun was behind, and he departing. Fear, evil presentiments, care, besieged him like ravens. He began to struggle with them, struggled till he was wearied; thoughts tormented him; something wonderful was blended with the whistle of the wind, the plash of the oars, and the songs of the oarsmen, — he fell asleep.

  CHAPTER IX.

  Next morning Pan Yan woke up fresh, in good health, and cheerful. The weather was wonderful. The widely overflowed waters were wrinkled into small ripples by the warm, light breeze. The banks were in a fog, and were merged in the plain of waters in one indistinguishable level.

  Jendzian, when he woke, rubbed his eyes and was frightened. He looked around with astonishment, and seeing shore nowhere, cried out, —

  “Oh, for God’s sake! my master, we must be out on the sea.”

  “It is the swollen river, not the sea,” answered Pan Yan; “you will find the shores when the fog rises.”

  “I think we shall be travelling before long in the Turkish land.”

  “We shall travel there if we are ordered, but you see we are not sailing alone.”

  And in the twinkle of an eye were to be seen many large boats and the narrow Cossack craft, generally called chaiki, with bulrushes fastened around them. Some of these were going down the river, borne on by the swift current; others were being urged laboriously against the stream with oars and sail. They were carrying fish, wax, salt, and dried cherries to towns along the river, or returning from inhabited neighborhoods laden with provisions for Kudák, and goods which found ready sale in the bazaar at the Saitch. From the mouth of the Psel down the banks of the Dnieper was a perfect desert, on which only here and there wintering-posts of the Cossacks whitened. But the river formed a highway connecting the Saitch with the rest of the world; therefore there was a considerable movement on it, especially when the increase of water made it easy for vessels, and when the Cataracts, with the exception of Nenasytets, were passable for craft going with the current.

  The lieutenant looked with curiosity at that life on the river. Meanwhile his boats were speeding on quickly to Kudák. The fog rose, and the shore appeared in clear outline. Over the heads of the travellers flew millions of water-birds, — pelicans, wild geese, storks, ducks, gulls, curlews, and mews. In the reeds at the side of
the river was heard such an uproar, such a plashing of water, such a sound of wings, that you would have said there was either a war or a council of birds. Beyond Kremenchug the shores became lower and open.

  “Oh, look, my master!” cried Jendzian, suddenly; “the sun is roasting, but snow lies on the fields.”

  Skshetuski looked, and indeed on both sides of the river, as far as the eye could reach, some kind of a white covering glittered in the rays of the sun.

  “Hallo! what is that which looks white over there?” asked he of the pilot.

  “Cherry-trees!” answered the old man.

  In fact there were forests of dwarf cherry-trees, with which both shores were covered from beyond the mouth of the Psel. In autumn the sweet and large fruit of these trees furnished food to birds and beasts, as well as to people losing their way in the Wilderness. This fruit was also an article of commerce which was taken in boats to Kieff and beyond. When they went to the shore, to give the oarsmen time to rest, the lieutenant landed with Jendzian, wishing to examine the bushes more closely. The two men were surrounded by such an intoxicating odor that they were scarcely able to breathe. Many branches were lying on the ground. In places an impenetrable thicket was formed. Among the cherry-trees were growing, also luxuriantly, small wild almond-trees covered with rose-colored blossoms, which gave out a still more pungent odor. Myriads of black bees and yellow bees, with many-colored butterflies, were flitting over this variegated sea of blossoms, the end of which could not be seen.

  “Oh, this is wonderful, wonderful!” said Jendzian. “And why do not people live here? I see plenty of wild animals too.”

  Among the cherry-trees gray and white rabbits were running, and countless flocks of large blue-legged quails, some of which Jendzian shot; but to his great distress he learned from the pilot that their flesh was poisonous. On the soft earth tracks of deer and wild goats were to be seen, and from afar came sounds like the grunting of wild boars.

  When the travellers had sated their eyes and rested, they pushed on farther. The shores were now high, now low, disclosing views of fine oak forests, fields, mounds, and spacious steppes. The surrounding country seemed so luxuriant that Skshetuski involuntarily repeated to himself the question of Jendzian: “Why do not people live here?” But for this there was need of some second Yeremi Vishnyevetski to occupy those desert places, bring them to order, and defend them from attacks of Tartars and men from the lower country. At points the river made breaches and bends, flooded ravines, struck its foaming wave against cliffs on the shore, and filled with water dark caverns in the rocks. In such caverns and bends were the hiding-places and retreats of the Cossacks. The mouths of rivers were covered with forests of rushes, reeds, and plants, which were black from the multitude of birds; in a word, a wild region, precipitous, in places sunken, but waste and mysterious, unrolled itself before the eyes of our travellers. Movement on the water became disagreeable; for by reason of the heat swarms of mosquitoes and insects unknown in the dry steppe appeared, — some of them as large as a man’s finger, and whose bite caused blood to flow in a stream.