“But in the neighborhood are the fortresses of the Knights of the Cross. If only two could be taken, we might find there Jurandowna, or hear of her death.”

  “Or nothing.”

  “But Zygfried brought her to this part of the country. They told us so at Szczytno, and everywhere, and we ourselves were of the same opinion.”

  “But did you observe these soldiers; go into the tents and look for yourself. Some of them are armed with clubs, whilst others with antiquated swords made of copper.”

  “Bah! As far as I have heard they are good fighters.”

  “But they cannot conquer castles with naked bodies, especially those of the Knights of the Cross.”

  Further conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Zbyszko and Skirwoillo, who was the leader of the Zmudzians. He was a small man and looked like a boy, but broad shouldered and strong, his chest protuded so much that it looked like a deformity, his hands were long, they almost reached his knees. In general he resembled Zyndram of Maszkow, a famous knight, whom Macko and Zbyszko had formerly known in Krakow, because he also had a tremendous head and bowed legs. They said that he too understood the art of war very well. He had spent a lifetime in fighting the Tartars in Russia, and the Germans, whom he hated like the plague. In those wars he had learned the Russian language, and later on, at the court of Witold, he had learned some Polish. He knew German, at least he repeated only the three words: “Fire, blood and death.” His big head was always filled with ideas and stratagems of war, which the Knights of the Cross could neither foresee nor prevent. He was therefore banished from the lands on the other side of the frontier.

  “We were talking of an expedition,” said Zbyszko to Macko, with unusual animation, “and that is the reason why we came here so that we too might learn your opinion.”

  Macko sat down with Skirwoilla upon a pine stump covered with a bear skin. Then he ordered the servants to bring little tubs full of mead from which the knights drew with tin cups and drank. Then after they had taken refreshment, Macko asked:

  “Do you want to undertake an expedition?”

  “Burn the German castles….”

  “Which?”

  “Ragnety, or Nowe (new) Kowno.”

  “Ragnety,” said Zbyszko. “We were three days in the neighborhood of Nowe Kowno, and they beat us.”

  “Just so,” said Skirwoilla.

  “How so?”

  “Well.”

  “Wait,” said Macko, “I am a stranger here, and do not know where Nowe Kowno and Ragnety are.”

  “From this place to Old Kowno is less then a mile,” replied Zbyszko, “and from that place to Nowe Kowno, is the same distance. The castle is situated upon an island. We wanted to cross over yesterday, but we were beaten in the attempt; they pursued us half the day, then we hid ourselves in the woods. The soldiers scattered and only this morning some of them returned.”

  “And Ragnety?”

  Skirwoilla stretched his long arms, pointed toward the north, and said:

  “Far! Far….”

  “Just for the reason that it is distant,” replied Zbyszko, “there is quiet in the neighborhood, because all the soldiers were withdrawn from there and sent to this place. The Germans there expect no attack; we shall therefore fall upon those who think themselves secure.”

  “He speaks reasonably,” said Skirwoilla.

  Then Macko asked:

  “Do you think that it will also be possible to storm the castle?”

  Skirwoillo shook his head and Zbyszko replied:

  “The castle is strong, therefore it can only be taken by storm. But we shall devastate the country, burn the towns and villages, destroy provisions, and above all take prisoners, among whom we may find important personages, for whom the Knights of the Cross will eagerly give ransom or exchange….”

  Then he turned toward Skirwoillo and said:

  “You yourself, prince, acknowledged that I am right, but now consider that Nowe Kowno is upon an island, there we shall neither stir up the people in the villages, drive off the herds of cattle, nor take prisoners, the more so because they have repulsed us here. Ay! Let us rather go where they do not expect us.”

  “Conquerors are those who least expect an attack,” murmured Skirwoillo.

  Here Macko interrupted and began to support Zbyszko’s plans, because he understood that the young man had more hope to hear something near Ragnety than near Old Kowno, and that there were more chances to take important hostages at Ragnety who might serve for exchange. He also thought that it was better to go yonder at all events and attack an unguarded land, than an island, which was a natural stronghold and in addition was guarded by a strong castle and the customary garrison.

  He spoke as a man experienced in war, he spoke in a clear manner, he adduced such excellent reasons that convinced everybody. They listened to him attentively. Skirwoillo raised his brows now and then as an affirmative sign; at times he murmured: “Well spoken.” Finally he moved his big head between his broad shoulders so that he looked like a hunchback, and was absorbed in thought.

  Then he rose, said nothing, and began to take leave.

  “How then will it be, prince?” inquired Macko. “Whither shall we move?”

  But he replied briefly:

  “To Nowe Kowno.”

  Then he left the tent.

  Macko and the Bohemian looked at each other for some time in surprise; then the old knight placed his hands upon his thighs and exclaimed:

  “Phew! What a hard stump!… He listens, listens and yet keeps his mouth shut.”

  “I heard before that he is such a man,” replied Zbyszko. “To tell the truth all people here are obstinate; like the little fellow, they listen to the reasoning of others, then … it is like blowing in the air.”

  “Then why does he consult us?”

  “Because we are belted knights and he wants to hear the thing argued on both sides. But he is not a fool.”

  “Also near Nowe Kowno we are least expected,” observed the Bohemian, “for the very reason that they have beaten you. In that he is right.”

  “Come, let us see the people whom I lead,” said Zbyszko, “because the air in the tent is too close. I want to tell them to be ready.”

  They went out. A cloudy and dark night had set in, the scene was only lit up by the fire around which the Zmudzians were sitting.

  CHAPTER IV.

  Macko and Zbyszko had seen enough of Lithuanian and Zmudz warriors when serving under Prince Witold. The sights of the encampment were nothing new to them. But the Bohemian looked at them with curiosity. He pondered both upon the possibility of their fighting qualities and compared them with the Polish and German knights. The camp was situated on a plain surrounded by forests and swamps, which rendered it impregnable, because none could wade through that treacherous marsh land. Even the place where the booths were situated was quaggy and muddy, but the soldiers had covered it with a thick layer of chips and branches of fir and pine-trees, which enabled them to camp upon it as upon perfectly dry ground. For Prince Skirwoillo they had hastily constructed a Lithuanian numy, constructed of earth and logs, and for the most important personages scores of booths of twisted branches. But the common soldiers were squatting in the open around the camp-fires, and for shelter against bad weather they only had goatskin coats, and skins upon their naked bodies. None had gone to sleep yet; they had nothing to do, after yesterday’s defeat, and had thrown up earthworks during the day. Some of them were sitting or lying around the bright fire which they fed with dry juniper branches. Others were scraping in the ashes and cinders from which proceeded a smell of baked turnips, which form the ordinary food of the Lithuanians, and the strong odor of burned meat. Between the camp-fires were piles of arms; they were close at hand so that in case of need it would be an easy matter for everybody to reach his own weapon. Hlawa looked with curiosity upon the lances with narrow and long heads made of tempered iron, and the handles of oak saplings, studded with flint or nails, hatchets with short handles like the Polish axes used by travelers, and others with handles almost as long as those of the battle-axes used by the foot-soldiers. There were also among them some bronze weapons from ancient times when iron was not yet employed in that low country. Some swords were entirely made of bronze, but most of them were of good steel of Novgorod. The Bohemian handled the spears, swords, hatchets, axes and tarred bows, examining them closely by the light of the camp-fires. There were a few horses near the fires, whilst the cattle grazed at a distance in the forests and meadows, under the care of vigilant ostlers; but the great nobles liked to have their chargers close at hand, hence there were about twoscore horses within the camp, fed by hand by the slaves of the noblemen in a space enclosed by stacked arms. Hlawa was amazed at the sight of the extraordinarily small shaggy chargers, with powerful necks, such strange brutes that the western knights took them to be quite another species of wild beast, more like a unicorn than a horse.

  “Big battle horses are of no use here,” said the experienced Macko, recollecting his former service under Witold, “because large horses would at once stick in the mire, but the native nag goes everywhere, like the men.”

  “But in the field,” replied the Bohemian, “the native horse could not withstand that of the German.”

  “True, he may not be able to withstand, but, on the other hand, the German could not run away from the Zmudzian, neither could he catch him; they are very swift, swifter than those of the Tartars.”

  “Nevertheless I wonder; because when I saw the Tartar captives whom Lord Zych brought to Zgorzelice, they were small and matched their horses; but these are big men.”

  The men were tall indeed; their broad chests and strong arms could be seen under their goatskin coats; they were not stout, but bony and sinewy, and as a rule they excelled the inhabitants of other parts of Lithuania, because they lived in better and more productive lands, and were seldom subject to the dearth which often afflicted Lithuania. On the other hand they were wilder than the other Lithuanians. The court of the chief prince was at Wilno, whither the princes from the east and west, and ambassadors and foreign merchants came, and that contributed somewhat to lessen the roughness of the inhabitants of the city and neighborhood. There the stranger only appeared in the form of a Knight of the Cross or a sworded cavalier, carrying to the settlements in the deep forests fire, slavery and baptism of blood. That was the reason that the people in that part of the country were very coarse and rude, more like those of ancient times, and very much opposed to everything new, the oldest custom and the oldest warrior clan were theirs, and the reason that paganism was supported was that the worship of the cross did not bring the announcement of good tidings with apostolic love, but armed German monks instead, possessing souls of executioners.

  Skirwoilla and the most notable princes and nobles were already Christians, because they followed the example of Jagiello and Witold. Others even among the common and uncivilized warriors felt in their hearts that the death-knell of the old world and religion had sounded. They were ready to bend their heads to the cross, but not to that cross which the Germans carried, not to the hand of the enemy. “We ask baptism,” they proclaimed to all princes and nations, “but bear in mind that we are human beings, not beasts, that can be given away, bought or sold.” Meanwhile, when their old faith was extinguished, as a fire goes out for lack of fuel, their hearts were again turned away simply because the religion was forced upon them by the Germans, and there was a general sense of deep sorrow for the future.

  The Bohemian, who had been accustomed from his infancy to hear the jovial noise of the soldiers, and had grown up among songs and music, observed for the first time the unusual quiet and gloom in the Lithuanian camp. Here and there, far away from the camp-fires of Skirwoilla, the sound of a whistle or fife was heard, or the suppressed notes of the song of the burtenikas, to which the soldiers listened with bent heads and eyes fixed on the glowing fire. Some crouched around the fire with their elbows upon their knees and their faces hidden in their hands, and covered with skins, which made them look like wild beasts of the forest. But when they turned their heads toward the approaching knights, one saw from their mild expression and blue pupils that they were not at all savage or austere, but looked more like sorrowful and wronged children. At the outskirts of the camp the wounded of the last battle lay upon moss. Labdarysi and Sextonowi, conjurers and soothsayers, muttered exorcisms over them or attended to their wounds, to which they applied certain healing herbs; the wounded lay quietly, patiently suffering pain and torture. From the depth of the forest, across the marshes and lakes, came the whistling of the ostlers; now and then the wind arose, driving the smoke of the camp-fires and making the dark forest resound. The night was already far advanced and the camp-fires began to burn down and extinguish, which increased the dominating silence and intensified the impression of sadness, almost to a crushing extent.

  Zbyszko gave orders to the people he led, who easily understood him because there were a few Poles among them. Then he turned to his armor-bearer and said:

  “You have seen enough, now it is time to return to the tent.”

  “I have seen,” replied Hlawa, “but I am not satisfied with what I have observed, for it is obvious that they are a defeated people.”

  “Twice, — four days in front of the castle, and the day before yesterday at the crossing. Now Skirwoilla wants to go a third time to experience another rout.”

  “How is it that he does not see that he cannot fight the Germans with such soldiers? Pan Macko told me the same thing, and now I observe myself that they are a poor lot, and that they must be boys in battle.”

  “You are mistaken in that, because they are a brave people and have few equals, but they fight in disordered crowds, whilst the Germans fight in battle array. If the Zmudzians succeed in breaking the German ranks, then the Germans suffer more than themselves. Bah, but the latter know this and close their ranks in such a manner that they stand like a wall.”

  “We must not even think about capturing the castles,” said Hlawa.

  “Because there are no engines of war whatever to attempt it,” replied Zbyszko. “Prince Witold has them, but as long as he does not arrive I am unable to capture them, unless by accident or treachery.”

  Then they reached the tent, in front of which burned a huge fire, and within they found smoking dishes of meat, which the servants had prepared for them. It was cold and damp in the tent, therefore the knights and Hlawa lay down upon skins in front of the fire.

  When they had fortified themselves, they tried to sleep, but they could not; Macko turned from side to side, and when he observed Zbyszko sitting near the fire covering his knees with twigs, he asked:

  “Listen! Why did you give advice to go as far as Ragnety against Gotteswerder, and not near here? What do you profit by it?”

  “Because there is a voice within me which tells me that Danuska is at Ragnety, and they are guarded less than they are here.”

  “There was no time to continue the conversation then, for I too was fatigued and the people after the defeat gathered in the woods. But now, tell me, how is it? Do you mean to search for the girl forever?”

  “I say that she is not a girl, but my wife,” replied Zbyszko.

  There was silence, for Macko well understood that there was no answer to that. If Danuska were still Jurandowna (Miss Jurand) Macko might have advised his nephew to abandon her: but in the presence of the Holy Sacrament, his search for her was his simple duty. Macko would not have put the question to him if he had been present.

  Not having been there he always spoke of her at the betrothal or marriage as a girl.

  “Very well,” he said, after a while. “But to all my questions during the last two days, you replied that you knew nothing.”

  “Because I do know nothing, except that the wrath of God is probably upon me.”

  Then Hlawa lifted up his head from the bearskin, sat up and listened with curiosity and attention.

  And Macko said:

  “As long as sleep does not overpower you, tell me what have you seen, what have you done, and what success have you had at Malborg?”

  Zbyszko stroked his long, untrimmed hair from his brow, remained silent for a moment, and then said:

  “Would to God that I knew as much of Danuska as I do of Malborg. You ask me what I have seen there? I have seen the immense power of the Knights of the Cross; it is supported by all kings and nations, and I do not know any one who could measure himself with it. I have seen their castles, which even Caesar of Rome does not possess. I have seen inexhaustible treasures, I have seen arms, I have seen swarms of armed monks, knights, and common soldiers, — and as many relics as one sees with the Holy Father in Rome, and I tell you that my soul trembled within me at the thought of the possibility of fighting them. Who can prevail against them? Who can oppose them and break their power?”

  “We must destroy them,” exclaimed the Bohemian, who could restrain himself no longer.

  Zbyszko’s words appeared strange also to Macko, and although he was anxious to hear all the adventures of the young man, nevertheless, he interrupted him and said:

  “Have you forgotten Wilno? How many times we threw ourselves against them, shield against shield, head against head! You have also seen that, how slow they were against us; and, at our hardiness, they exclaimed that it was not enough to let the horses sweat and break the lances, but it was necessary to take the strangers by the throat or offer their own. Surely there were also guests who challenged us. But all of them went away with shame. What has caused you to change?”

  “I am not changed, for I fought at Malborg where also they tilted with sharp weapons. But you don’t know their whole strength.”

 

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