"One could live and never die in your Zgorzelice!" he said.
"Things are almost the same in Moczydoly," Zych replied. "You remember Moczydoly, it's toward Bogdaniec. Our fathers used to squabble over the boundaries and send each other challenges to fight, but I won't be quarreling."
He clinked his mead cup with Zbyszko's and asked, "Maybe you'd like to sing something?"
"No," Zbyszko said. "I'm listening with curiosity."
"Zgorzelice will go to the cubs, you see. Let's just hope they don't tear each other apart over it someday."
"What cubs?"
"Well, the boys, Jagienka's brothers."
"Hey! They won't have to suck their paws through winter."
"No, they won't. But Jagienka won't go short of bacon either, not in Moczydoly."
"Sure!"
"So why aren't you eating or drinking? Jagienka, pour for him and for me."
"I'm eating and drinking as much as I can."
"If you can't manage, unbuckle your belt… That's a handsome belt! You must have taken a decent haul in Lithuania?"
"We can't complain," Zbyszko said, seizing the chance to show that the heirs of Bogdaniec weren't just some petty squires. "We sold part of the loot in Krakow and got forty silver grzywna."
"God almighty! You could buy a village with that."
"There was a Milanese armor that my uncle sold when he thought he'd die, and you know..."
"I know! Well, it was worth going to Lithuania. I wanted to go myself once, but I was scared."
"Of what? The Krzyżaks?"
"Bah, who'd be scared of them? As long as they don't kill you, what's there to fear? And if they do kill you, it's too late for fear. I was scared of those pagan gods, or devils. They say there are swarms of them in the forests."
"And where else would they live, now that their temples have been burned? They used to have plenty, but now they live on mushrooms and ants."
"Have you seen them?"
"I haven't myself, but I've heard people have seen them... One of them will stick out a furry paw from behind a tree and shake it, asking for something."
"Macko said the same thing," Jagienka put in.
"Oh yes! He told me about it on the road," Zych added. "Well, no wonder! Even here, though the land's been Christian for ages, sometimes something laughs in the marshes."
Then he turned to Zbyszko: "But maybe you'd unbuckle your belt and sing a bit?"
"Why don't you sing? I can see you've been itching to for a while. Or maybe Lady Jagienka will sing?"
"We'll take turns!" Zych exclaimed, delighted. "There's a servant in the house who can pipe along on a wooden flute. Call the servant!"
They called the servant, who sat down on a stool, put the little pipe to his lips, spread his fingers over it, and began looking at everyone, waiting to see who he should accompany.
They started arguing, since no one wanted to go first. Finally Zych ordered Jagienka to set an example, so she got up from the bench, even though she was very shy in front of Zbyszko, put her hands under her apron, and began:
If I had little wings, Like a goose up on high, I'd fly away, I'd fly With Jaś to Silesia!...
Zbyszko first opened his eyes wide, then jumped to his feet and shouted in a loud voice: "And where do you know that song from?"
Jagienka looked at him in amazement. "But everyone sings it… What's wrong with you?"
Zych, thinking Zbyszko had had too much to drink, turned his cheerful face toward him and said, "Unbuckle your belt! It'll make you feel better."
But Zbyszko stood there for a moment, his face changing, then, mastering his emotion, he said to Jagienka: "Forgive me. Something suddenly came to mind. Sing on."
"Maybe it makes you sad to hear it?"
"Oh no!" he replied in a trembling voice. "I could listen to it all night."
Having said that, he sat down, covered his brow with his hand, and fell silent, not wanting to miss a single word.
Jagienka sang the second verse, but when she finished, she noticed a big tear rolling down the fingers of Zbyszko's hand.
Then she quickly moved closer to him, sat down beside him, and nudged him with her elbow: "Well? What's the matter? I don't want you to cry. Tell me what's wrong."
"Nothing, nothing!" Zbyszko replied with a sigh. "It's a long story… What's done is done. I'm feeling better now."
"Maybe you'd like some sweet wine?"
"What a good girl!" Zych exclaimed. "Why do you keep saying 'you' to each other? Call him Zbyszko, and you call her Jagienka. You've known each other since you were little."
Then he turned to his daughter: "That he once gave you a thrashing, that's nothing! He won't do it now."
"I won't!" Zbyszko said cheerfully. "Let her give me a thrashing now, if she likes."
At that, Jagienka, wanting to cheer him up completely, made a fist and, laughing, pretended to hit Zbyszko.
"There, for my broken nose! There, and there!"
"Wine!" shouted the lord of Zgorzelice, now in high spirits.
Jagienka ran to the storeroom and after a moment brought a stone bottle of wine, two beautiful cups embossed with silver flowers made by Wrocław goldsmiths, and a few cheese rounds that smelled delicious from afar.
Zych, who already had a good buzz, was completely moved by the sight, so he pulled the bottle to him, pressed it to his chest, and, apparently thinking it was Jagienka, began to say: "Oh, my little daughter! My poor orphan! What will I, poor wretch, do in Zgorzelice when they take you away? What will I do?..."
"And she'll have to be given away before long!" Zbyszko exclaimed.
Zych instantly switched from emotion to laughter: "Heh heh! The girl's fifteen."
"Father, I'll leave!" Jagienka said.
"Don't go. It's nice having you."
Then he winked mysteriously at Zbyszko: "Two of them come courting: one's young Wilk, son of the Old Wilk of Brzozowa, and the other's Cztan of Rogów. If they found you here, they'd start gnashing their teeth at you, just like they do at each other."
"Oh, really?" Zbyszko said.
Then he turned to Jagienka and, using the familiar "you" as Zych had told him, asked: "And which one do you like?"
"Neither."
"Young Wilk's a fierce fellow," Zych noted.
"Let him howl in another direction!"
"And Cztan?"
Jagienka started laughing. "Cztan," she said, turning to Zbyszko, "has such a thick beard on his face, like a goat's, you can't even see his eyes, and he's got as much fat on him as a bear."
Zbyszko slapped his forehead, as if suddenly remembering something, and said: "Oh! Since you're so kind, I'd like to ask for one more thing. Do you have any bear fat in the house? My uncle needs it for a remedy, and I couldn't find any in Bogdaniec."
"There was some," Jagienka said, "but the boys took it out to the yard to grease their bows, and the dogs ate it all up. Curse them!"
"Nothing left?"
"Licked clean!"
"Well, there's no other way. I'll have to look in the forest."
"Go on a hunt. There's no shortage of bears, and if you need hunting gear, we'll give it to you."
"Why should I wait! I'll ride out at night to the beehives."
"Take five beaters. There are some capable men among them."
"I won't go in a crowd. They'll scare the beast off."
"Then how? Will you go with a crossbow?"
"What would I do with a crossbow in the forest in the dark? The moon's not out now. I'll take a pitchfork with barbs and a good ax, and I'll go alone tomorrow."
Jagienka was silent for a moment, then a look of concern crossed her face. "Last year," she said, "a hunter named Bezduch went out from here, and a bear tore him apart. It's always a dangerous business. When a bear sees a man at night, especially near the beehives, it stands right up on its hind legs."
"If it ran away, you wouldn't get it," Zbyszko replied.
Meanwhile Zych, who had dozed off, suddenly woke up and began to sing:
And you, Kuba, off to work, And I, Maciek, off to fun! Go plow the field at dawn, While I go to the rye, dear one, Hop! hop!
Then to Zbyszko: "You know? There are two of them: Wilk of Brzozowa and Cztan of Rogów... And you—"
But Jagienka, afraid Zych might say too much, quickly moved closer to Zbyszko and began asking: "And when will you go? Tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow, after sunset."
"Which beehives?"
"Ours, the Bogdaniec ones, not far from your boundary mounds, near Radzik's Marsh. They told me there's an easy chance at a bear there."