IX.
In Plock, Zbyszko and Macko found no one from the court, because both the prince and the princess, along with their eight children, had gone to visit Czersk at the invitation of Princess Anna Danuta. They learned from the bishop that Jagienka had stayed in Spychow to be with Jurand until his death. That news suited them well, since they themselves wanted to go to Spychow. Macko praised Jagienka’s kindness, saying she had chosen to go to a dying man who wasn’t even her relative rather than attend the entertainment in Czersk, where there would be no shortage of dancing and merriment.
“Maybe she did it so she wouldn’t miss us,” the old knight said. “I haven’t seen her in a long time, and I’ll be glad to see her, because I know she’s well disposed toward me. She must have grown a lot — and no doubt she’s even prettier than she was.”
And Zbyszko said: “She’s changed terribly. She was always pretty, but I remembered her as a simple girl, and now she’s… fit for a king’s chambers.”
“That’s how much she’s changed? Well! But it’s also the old Jastrzębiec line from Zgorzelice, who cry out ‘Na gody!’ in wartime.”
A moment of silence followed, then the old knight spoke again.
“It’ll probably be just as I told you — she’ll want to go back to Zgorzelice.”
“It surprised me too that she left.”
“And the abbot’s estate? Besides, she was afraid of Cztan and Wilk, and I myself told her it would be safer for the brothers without her than with her.”
“Indeed, they couldn’t very well attack an orphan.”
And Macko grew thoughtful.
“But whether they took revenge on me for taking her away, and whether even a single beam of Bogdaniec still stands — God only knows! I don’t know either whether, once back, I’ll be able to defend myself against them. They’re young and strong fellows, and I’m old.”
“Oh, tell that to someone who doesn’t know you,” Zbyszko replied.
But in truth Macko wasn’t being entirely sincere; he had something else on his mind, but for now he just waved his hand.
“If I hadn’t fallen ill in Malbork, well, that would be something else!” he said. “But we’ll talk about that in Spychow.”
And the next day, after spending the night in Plock, they set out for Spychow.
The days were clear, the road dry and easy, and safe besides, because the recent truce had stopped the Krzyżacy’s border raids. Moreover, the two knights were the sort of travelers that even a bandit would prefer to salute from afar rather than attack up close, so the journey went quickly, and on the fifth day after leaving Plock they arrived without trouble at Spychow in the morning. Jagienka, who was attached to Macko as to the best friend in the world, greeted him almost as she would have greeted her own father, and he, though not easily moved, was touched by the dear girl’s affection — and when a moment later, after asking about Jurand, Zbyszko went to him and to his “little coffin,” the old knight took a deep breath and said:
“Well! Whom God wanted to take, He took, and whom He wanted to leave, He left, but I think our tribulations and our wanderings through all those byways and thickets are finally over.”
After a moment he added:
“Hey! Where hasn’t Our Lord Jesus taken us in these last years!”
“But God’s hand has kept us,” Jagienka replied.
“True, it has kept us, but to speak honestly, it’s time to go home.”
“We need to stay here as long as Jurand lives,” the girl said.
“And how is he?”
“He looks upward and laughs: he must already be seeing heaven, and Danushka in it.”
“You take care of him?”
“I do, but Father Kaleb says the angels take care of him too. Yesterday the housekeeper here saw two of them.”
“They say,” Macko replied, “that it’s most fitting for a nobleman to die in the field, but the way Jurand is dying, it’s good even on a bed.”
“He doesn’t eat, doesn’t drink, just laughs all the time,” Jagienka said.
“Let’s go to him. Zbyszko must be there too.”
But Zbyszko spent only a short time with Jurand, who didn’t recognize anyone, and then went down to the crypt to Danusia’s coffin. He stayed there until old Tolima came looking for him for the meal. Entering, he noticed by the torchlight that the coffin was covered with little garlands of cornflowers and marigolds, and the swept earthen floor around it was strewn with sweet flag, marsh marigolds, and linden blossoms that gave off a honey scent. His heart swelled at the sight, and he asked:
“Who decorated this little coffin?”
“The young lady from Zgorzelice,” Tolima answered.
The young knight said nothing, but a moment later, when he saw Jagienka, he suddenly bent to her knees, grasped them, and exclaimed:
“May God reward you for your kindness and for those flowers for Danushka.”
And as he said this, he began to weep bitterly, and she put her arms around his head like a sister trying to comfort a crying brother, and said:
“Oh, my Zbyszko, I wish I could comfort you more!”
Then abundant tears also flowed from her eyes.