Jagienka herself rendered a large pot of bear fat, the first quart of which Macko drank eagerly, for it was fresh, not burnt, and had the scent of angelica, which the girl, knowledgeable in remedies, had added in moderation to the pot. Macko immediately felt strengthened in spirit and gained hope that he would recover.
“That’s what I needed,” he said. “When a man’s insides are properly greased, maybe that damned splinter will find its way out somehow.”
The subsequent quarts did not taste as good as the first, but he drank them wisely. Jagienka also encouraged him, saying:
“You will be healthy. A man named Zbilut of Ostrog had chainmail links driven deep under his neck, and they came out from the bear fat. Only, when the wound opens, you need to plug it with beaver castoreum.”
“And do you have castoreum?”
“We have it. If fresh is needed, we’ll go with Zbyszko to the lodges.”
Macko drank the bear fat that same evening and thereafter with hope, expecting certain recovery from day to day. After a week, however, he began to lose hope. He said the fat was “churning” in his gut, and on his skin, near the last rib, something was growing like a lump. After ten days, it was even worse: the lump grew and reddened, and Macko weakened greatly, and when fever set in, he began to prepare himself again for death.
Then one night he suddenly woke Zbyszko:
“Light a pine torch quickly,” he said, “because something is happening to me, but I don’t know whether it’s good or bad.”
Zbyszko leapt to his feet, and without striking a fire, blew on the embers in the adjoining room, lit a resinous splinter from it, and returned.
“What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong with me? Something has pierced the lump, probably the splinter! I’m holding it, but I can’t pull it out; I can only feel it jangling under my nails and buzzing…”
“A splinter! Nothing else. Grab it firmly and pull.”
Macko began to twist and hiss with pain, but he thrust his fingers deeper and deeper until he firmly grasped the hard object, then gave a jerk and pulled it out.
“O Jesus!”
“Is it out?” asked Zbyszko.
“It is. Cold sweat broke out on me. But it’s out: look!”
Having said this, he showed Zbyszko a long, sharp splinter that had broken off a poorly forged arrowhead and had been lodged in his body for several months.
“Thank God! Now you’ll be healthy.”
“Maybe I feel relief, but it hurts horribly,” said Macko, squeezing the lump from which blood mixed with pus began to flow abundantly. “That much less filth in a man, and the sickness has to let up. Jagienka said that now we need to plug it with beaver castoreum.”
“We’ll go for a beaver tomorrow at once.”
Macko, however, was remarkably better the very next day. He slept late, and when he woke, he called for food. He couldn’t stand the sight of bear fat anymore, but instead they scrambled twenty eggs for him in a pan, for Jagienka out of caution wouldn’t allow more. He devoured them greedily along with half a loaf of bread, washed it down with a quart of beer, and then began to call for them to bring Zych, because he felt cheerful.
So Zbyszko sent one of his Turkish boys, a gift from Zawisza, for Zych, who mounted his horse and arrived in the afternoon, just when the young people were setting out for Odstajane Pond for beavers.
At first there was laughter, jokes, and singing over mead without measure, but later the old yeomen began to talk about their children and each praise his own.
“What a lad Zbyszko is!” said Macko. “There’s no other like him in the world. He’s brave, quick as a lynx, and capable. You know! When they led him to execution in Krakow, the girls in the windows squealed as if someone standing behind them were poking them with an awl, and what girls: knights’ and castellan’s daughters, not to mention various beautiful townswomen.”
“And let them be castellan’s daughters and beautiful, but no better than my Jagienka!” replied Zych ze Zgorzelic.
“Or am I telling you they’re better? You couldn’t find a girl kinder to people than Jagienka.”
“I’m not saying anything against Zbyszko either: he can draw a crossbow without a winch!”
“And he can take on a bear alone. Did you see how he cut it? He lopped off the whole head with one paw.”
“He lopped off the head, but he didn’t take it on alone. Jagienka helped him.”
“She helped? He didn’t tell me anything.”
“Because he promised her it would be shameful for a girl to go to the forest at night. She told me right away how it was. Other girls like to make things up, but she doesn’t hide the truth. To be honest, I wasn’t pleased, because who knows… I wanted to scold her, but she said this: ‘If I can’t protect my own garland myself, then you, Daddy, won’t protect it either, but don’t worry, Zbyszko also knows what knightly honor is.’”
“Indeed. After all, they went alone today.”
“But they’ll return in the evening.”
Macko thought for a moment, then said as if to himself:
“And yet, they’re glad to see each other…”
“Well! If only he hadn’t vowed to another.”
“That, as you know, is a knightly custom… Any young man who doesn’t have his lady is considered a boor by others. He vowed the peacock feathers and must tear them from their heads, for he swore on knightly honor; he must also get Lichtenstein, but from other vows the Abbot can release him.”
“The Abbot will arrive any day.”
“You think so?” asked Macko, then spoke again: “Anyway, what good is such a vow when Jurand flatly told him he won’t give the girl! Whether he promised her to another or offered her to God’s service, I don’t know—but he flatly said he won’t give her.”
“Did I tell you,” asked Zych, “that the Abbot loves Jagienka as if she were his own daughter? The last time he said to her: ‘I have relatives only through the distaff, but from that distaff there will be more thread for you than for them.’”
At this, Macko looked uneasily, even suspiciously at Zych, and only after a moment replied:
“Surely you wouldn’t want to wrong us.”
“Moczydoly would go with Jagienka,” said Zych evasively.
“Right away?”
“Right away. For another I wouldn’t let go, but for her I will.”
“Bogdaniec is already half Zbyszko’s, and God willing, I’ll manage it for him properly. Do you love Zbyszko?”
At this, Zych began to blink his eyes and said:
“What’s worse is that somehow Jagienka, whenever anyone mentions him, immediately turns to the wall.”
“And when you mention others?”
“When I mention another, she just snorts and says, ‘What of it?!’”
“Well, you see. God willing, with such a girl Zbyszko will forget the other. I’m old, and I would forget too… Have some mead!”
“I’ll have some.”
“Well, the Abbot… he’s a wise man! There are abbots, as you know, who are entirely worldly men, but this one, though he doesn’t live among monks, is still a priest—and a priest always gives better advice than a common man. And you, that you’ll release Moczydoly to the girl right away—that’s right. I too, as soon as the Lord Jesus helps me to health, I’ll deny the Wolf of Brzozowa as many peasants as I can. I’ll give each a foal of good land, for in Bogdaniec there’s no lack of land. And let the Wolf’s people bow to me on Christmas and come to me. Or aren’t they allowed? In time, I’ll even build a grange in Bogdaniec, a proper little castle of oak with a moat around it. Let Zbyszko and Jagienka now walk together in the field. I think snow won’t be long in coming… They’ll get used to each other—and the boy will forget the other. Let them walk. Why talk long! Would you give him Jagienka or not?”
“I would. Long ago we decided that one would be for the other, and Moczydoly and Bogdaniec for our grandchildren.”
“Grady!” cried Macko joyfully. “God grant that they’ll fall like hail… The Abbot will baptize them for us.”
“As long as he can keep up!” cried Zych cheerfully. “But I haven’t seen you in such joy for a long time.”
“Because my heart is glad. The splinter came out, and as for Zbyszko, don’t worry about him. Yesterday, when Jagienka was mounting her horse… you know… the wind blew… So I asked Zbyszko: ‘Did you see?’ and he was immediately seized with desire. And I also noticed that at first they hardly talked to each other, but now, when they walk together, they keep turning their heads toward one another, and they’re discussing… discussing!… Have another drink.”
“I’ll drink…”
“To the health of Zbyszko and Jagienka!”