The Deluge- Volume 2 Page 38

  “Your worthiness, I will tell what I have in my heart; he hates who sends secret assassins.”

  Pan Sapyeha was astonished in his turn.

  “I send assassins against Prince Boguslav?”

  “That is the case!”

  “You have gone mad!”

  “The other day they caught, beyond Yanov, a murderer who once made an attack on the life of the prince. Tortures brought him to tell who sent him.”

  A moment of silence followed; but in that silence Pan Sapyeha heard how Kmita, standing behind him, repeated twice through his set lips, “Woe, woe!”

  “God is my judge,” answered the hetman, with real senatorial dignity, “that neither to you nor your prince shall I ever justify myself; for you were not made to be my judges. But do you, instead of loitering, tell directly what you have come for, and what conditions your prince offers.”

  “The prince, my lord, has destroyed Horotkyevich, has defeated Pan Krishtof Sapyeha, taken Tykotsin; therefore he can justly call himself victor, and ask for considerable advantages. But regretting the loss of Christian blood, he desires to return in quiet to Prussia, requiring nothing more than the freedom of leaving his garrisons in the castles. We have also taken prisoners not a few, among whom are distinguished officers, not counting Panna Anusia Borzobogati, who has been sent already to Taurogi. These may be exchanged on equal terms.”

  “Do not boast of your victories, for my advance guard, led by Pan Babinich here present, pressed you for a hundred and fifty miles; you retreated before it, lost twice as many prisoners as you took previously; you lost wagons, cannon, camp-chests. Your army is fatigued, dropping from hunger, has nothing to eat; you know not whither to turn. You have seen my army; I did not ask to have your eyes bound purposely, that you might know whether you are able to measure forces with us. As to that young lady, she is not under my guardianship, but that of Pan Zamoyski and Princess Griselda Vishnyevetski. The prince will reckon with them if he does her any injustice. But speak with wisdom; otherwise I shall order Pan Babinich to march at once.”

  Sakovich, instead of answering, turned to Kmita: “Then you are the man who made such onsets on the road? You must have learned your murderous trade under Kmita—”

  “Learn on your own skin whether I practised well!”

  The hetman again frowned. “You have nothing to do here,” said he to Sakovich; “you may go.”

  “Your worthiness, give me at least a letter.”

  “Let it be so. Wait at Pan Oskyerko’s quarters for a letter.”

  Hearing this, Pan Oskyerko conducted Sakovich at once to his quarters. The hetman waved his hand as a parting; then he turned to Pan Andrei. “Why did you say ‘Woe,’ when he spoke of that man whom they seized?” asked he, looking quickly and severely into the eyes of the knight. “Has hatred so deadened your conscience that you really sent a murderer to the prince?”

  “By the Most Holy Lady whom I defended, no!” answered Kmita; “not through strange hands did I wish to reach his throat.”

  “Why did you say ‘Woe’? Do you know that man?”

  “I know him,” answered Kmita, growing pale from emotion and rage. “I sent him from Lvoff to Taurogi—Prince Boguslav took Panna Billevich to Taurogi—I love that lady. We were to marry—I sent that man to get me news of her. She was in such hands—”

  “Calm yourself!” said the hetman. “Have you given him any letters?”

  “No; she would not read them.”

  “Why?”

  “Boguslav told her that I offered to carry away the king.”

  “Great are your reasons for hating him.”

  “True, your worthiness, true.”

  “Does the prince know that man?”

  “He knows him. That is the sergeant Soroka. He helped me to carry off Boguslav.”

  “I understand,” said the hetman; “the vengeance of the prince is awaiting him.”

  A moment of silence followed.

  “The prince is in a trap,” said the hetman, after a while; “maybe he will consent to give him up.”

  “Let your worthiness,” said Kmita, “detain Sakovich, and send me to the prince. Perhaps I may rescue Soroka.”

  “Is his fate such a great question for you?”

  “An old soldier, an old servant; he carried me in his arms. A multitude of times he has saved my life. God would punish me were I to abandon him in such straits.” And Kmita began to tremble from pity and anxiety.

  But the hetman said: “It is no wonder to me that the soldiers love you, for you love them. I will do what I can. I will write to the prince that I will free for him whomsoever he wishes for that soldier, who besides at your command has acted as an innocent agent.”

  Kmita seized his head: “What does he care for prisoners? he will not let him go for thirty of them.”

  “Then he will not give him to you; he will even attempt your life.”

  “He would give him for one,—for Sakovich.”

  “I cannot imprison Sakovich; he is an envoy.”

  “Detain him, and I will go with a letter to the prince. Perhaps I shall succeed—God be with him! I will abandon my revenge, if he will give me that soldier.”

  “Wait,” said the hetman; “I can detain Sakovich. Besides that I will write to the prince to send me a safe-conduct without a name.”

  The hetman began to write at once. An hour later a Cossack was galloping with a letter to Yanov, and toward evening he returned with Boguslav’s answer:—

  “I send according to request the safe-conduct with which every envoy may return unharmed, though it is a wonder to me that your worthiness should ask for a conduct while you have such a hostage as my servant and friend Pan Sakovich, for whom I have so much love that I would give all the officers in my army for him. It is known also that envoys are not killed, but are usually respected even by wild Tartars with whom your worthiness is making war against my Christian army. Now, guaranteeing the safety of your envoy by my personal princely word, I subscribe myself, etc.”

  That same evening Kmita took the safe-conduct and went with the two Kyemliches. Pan Sakovich remained in Sokolka as a hostage.

  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 covere
d 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 bou
ntifully, 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.”