—What's a bear to him! — Macko said. — He was younger then than now, when that Frisian called him a beardless youth, and since he didn't quite like it, he promptly grabbed a handful of his mustache and yanked it out...
— I know, — interrupted Zych. — And then you fought, and you took their retinue. The Lord of Taczew told me everything.
— The German came out with great gain,
They buried him with a bare snout,
Hoc! hoc!
He began looking at Zbyszko with amused eyes. Zbyszko, in turn, studied his long, pole-like figure, his thin face with a huge nose, and his round, laughter-filled eyes.
— Oh! — he said. — With such a neighbor, as long as God restores my uncle's health, there will be no sorrow.
— Better to have a cheerful neighbor, for with a cheerful man there can be no quarrel, — replied Zych. — And now listen to what I tell you in goodness and in Christian spirit. You haven't been home for a long time, and you'll find no order in Bogdaniec. I don't mean the farm—the Abbot managed that well... cleared a good piece of forest and settled new peasants... But since he only came by occasionally, the pantry will be bare, and even in the house there's barely a bench, or maybe a bundle of pea straw for sleeping—and a sick man needs comfort. So you know what? Come with me to Zgorzelice. Stay a month or two; it would please my heart, and in the meantime Jagienka will think about Bogdaniec. Just rely on her and don't worry about anything... Zbyszko can ride over to oversee the farm, and I'll bring the Abbot to Zgorzelice for you, so you can settle accounts with him right away... As for you, Macko, the girl will care for you like a father—and a woman's care is better than any other in sickness. Come now, my good people! Do as I ask.
— It's well known you're a good man and always have been, — replied Macko with some emotion. — But you see, if I'm to die from that bloody splinter lodged under my rib, I'd rather die on my own patch. Besides, at home, even if a man is sick, he can ask about things, notice things, and set things straight. If God commands me to go to the next world—well, there's no help for it! Whether with more care or less, you can't escape it. We're used to hardships from war. Even a bundle of pea straw is welcome to a man who's slept on bare ground for years. But I thank you for your kindness, and if I can't repay you, God willing Zbyszko will.
Zych of Zgorzelice, who was indeed known for his goodness and helpfulness, began to insist and plead again, but Macko was stubborn: if he was to die, it would be in his own yard! He had yearned for Bogdaniec for years, and now that the border was so near, he wouldn't give it up for anything, even if it were his last night's rest. God was gracious enough to let him drag himself this far.
Here he rubbed the tears from his eyes with his fists, looked around, and said:
— If these are the forests of Wilk of Brzozowa, we'll be there right after noon.
— Not Wilk of Brzozowa, but now the Abbot's, — observed Zych.
The sick Macko smiled at that and after a moment replied:
— If they're the Abbot's, then maybe someday they'll be ours.
— Bah! You were just talking about death, — exclaimed Zych cheerfully, — and now you want to outlast the Abbot.
— Not I, but Zbyszko will outlast him.
Their further conversation was interrupted by the sounds of horns in the forest, sounding far ahead of them. Zych immediately reined in his horse and began to listen.
— Someone must be hunting here, — he said. — Wait!
— Maybe the Abbot. That would be good if we met him right away.
— Hush!
He turned to the retinue. — Halt!
They stopped. The horns sounded closer, and a moment later the barking of dogs was heard.
— Halt! — repeated Zych. — They're coming toward us.
Zbyszko, meanwhile, jumped off his horse and began to shout:
— Give me the crossbow! The game might break out on us! Quick, quick!
Seizing the crossbow from the servant's hands, he braced it against the ground, pressed it with his belly, bent over, arched his back like a bow, and grabbing the string with the fingers of both hands, he drew it in the blink of an eye onto the iron catch, loaded a bolt, and leaped forward into the forest.
— He drew it! He drew it without a crank! — whispered Zych, astonished by such an extraordinary display of strength.
— Ho, he's a fine fellow! — whispered Macko back with pride.
Meanwhile, the horns and the baying of dogs grew even closer, until suddenly from the right side of the forest came a heavy pounding, the crack of breaking bushes and branches—a huge, bearded bison burst from the thicket like lightning, with an enormous head lowered, bloodshot eyes, and a lolling tongue, panting, terrible. Hitting a roadside ditch, it cleared it in one leap, fell forward onto its forelegs from the momentum, but got up and was about to disappear into the thicket on the other side of the road when suddenly the crossbow string hummed ominously, there was the whistle of the bolt, and then the beast reared, spun around, bellowed horribly, and crashed to the ground as if struck by thunder.
Zbyszko peered out from behind a tree, drew the crossbow again, and approached the lying bull, whose hind legs were still kicking the ground, ready to shoot again.
But after looking for a moment, he calmly turned back to the retinue and called from a distance:
— He got it so bad he let out his dung!
— Well, I'll be damned! — said Zych, riding up. — With one bolt!
— Because it was close, and he was charging so hard. Look: not only the iron head but the whole shaft is buried under his shoulder blade.
— The hunters must be close by; they'll probably take him.
— I won't give him up! — replied Zbyszko. — He was killed on the road, and the road belongs to no one.
— And if it's the Abbot hunting?
— If it's the Abbot, let him take it.
Meanwhile, the dogs emerged from the forest first, a dozen or so. Seeing the beast, they rushed at him with a terrible racket, piled on top of him, and soon began biting each other.
— The hunters will be here soon, — said Zych. — Look there! They're already here, but they came out further ahead and haven't seen the beast yet. Hop, hop! Come here, come here!... He's down, down!...
But suddenly he fell silent, shaded his eyes with his hand, and after a moment spoke:
— For God's sake! What is this? Am I blind, or is it my imagination...
— One on a black horse in front, — said Zbyszko.
But Zych suddenly shouted:
— Dear Jesus! Why, that's Jagienka!
And he began to shout: — Jagna! Jagna!...
Then he rode forward, but before he could spur his horse to a gallop, Zbyszko saw the strangest sight in the world: There, on a swift piebald horse, riding astride, came a girl with a crossbow in her hand and a spear on her back.
In her hair, loose from the speed, hop cones were tangled; her face was rosy as the dawn, her shirt was open at the chest, and over it she wore a sheepskin jacket with the wool turned outward.
Having caught up, she stopped her horse on the spot; for a moment her face showed disbelief, astonishment, joy—but finally, unable to deny the evidence of her eyes and ears, she began to cry out in a thin, still somewhat childish voice:
— Daddy! Dearest daddy!
In the blink of an eye she slid off her horse, and when Zych also jumped down to greet her on the ground, she threw herself around his neck.
For a long time Zbyszko heard only the sound of kisses and two words: "Daddy! Jagula! Daddy! Jagula!" and they kept embracing each other's necks.
Until finally, when they had had enough of greetings and exclamations, Jagienka began to question him:
— So you're back from the war? Are you well?
— From the war. Why wouldn't I be well! And you? And the younger boys? I suppose they're well—right? Because otherwise you wouldn't be running around the forest. But what are you doing here, girl?
— You can see: I'm hunting, — replied Jagienka, laughing.
— In someone else's forests?
— The Abbot gave me permission. He even sent trained servants and dogs for it.
Here she turned to her servants.
— Drive those dogs away, or they'll tear the skin!
Then to Zych:
— Oh, I'm so glad, so glad to see you!.. Everything's fine at home.
— And am I not glad? — replied Zych. — Give me another kiss, girl!
And they began kissing again, and when they finished, Jagna said:
— It's an awful long way home... we chased that beast so far. We must have chased it two miles, so that even the horses were tiring. But a mighty bison—did you see? He has three of my arrows in him, and from the last one he must have fallen.
— He fell from the last one, but not from yours; that young knight here shot him.
Jagienka pushed back the hair that had fallen over her eyes with her hand and looked sharply, though not very kindly, at Zbyszko.
— Do you know who this is? — asked Zych.
— I don't know.
— No wonder you didn't recognize him, since he's grown. But perhaps you recognize old Macko of Bogdaniec?
— For God's sake! That's Macko of Bogdaniec! — exclaimed Jagienka.
And approaching the cart, she kissed Macko's hand.
— Is it you?
— It is me. I'm on the cart because the Germans shot me.
— What Germans? Was it war with the Tatars? I know about it—I begged my father a lot to take me with him.
— There was war with the Tatars, but we weren't in it, because we had been fighting in Litwa before—both me and Zbyszko.
— And where is Zbyszko?
— So you didn't recognize that this is Zbyszko? — said Macko with a laugh.
— This is Zbyszko? — exclaimed the girl, looking again at the young knight.
— Yes indeed!
— We've known each other since childhood! — said Zbyszko.
— Aha! We know each other well. I remember you, I do! Eight years ago, you came to us with Macko, and my late mother brought us nuts with honey. And you, as soon as the elders left the room, you punched me in the nose and ate all the nuts yourself!
— He wouldn't do that now! — said Macko. — He's been at Prince Vytautas' court, he's been at the castle in Kraków, and he knows courtly manners.
But something else came into Jagienka's mind, and turning to Zbyszko, she asked:
— So it was you who killed the bison?
— Yes.
— Let's see where the bolt is lodged.
— You won't see it, because it's completely buried under his shoulder blade.
— Let it be, don't argue, — said Zych. — We all saw how he shot him, and we saw something even better—he drew the crossbow in a flash without a crank.
Jagienka looked at Zbyszko for the third time, but this time with admiration:
— You drew the crossbow without a crank? — she asked.
Zbyszko sensed a certain disbelief in her voice, so he braced the crossbow—which he had set down earlier—against the ground, drew it in the blink of an eye until the iron band creaked, knelt on one knee, and offered it to Jagienka.
The girl, instead of taking it from his hands, suddenly blushed, without knowing why, and began to pull up her homespun shirt, which had come open from the fast ride through the forest, under her chin.