After his conversation with Zbyszko, Jagienka didn't show up in Bogdaniec for three days, but on the fourth she came rushing in with news that the abbot had arrived at Zgorzelice. Macko received the news with some emotion. He had enough to pay off the mortgage, and had even calculated that enough would remain for increasing the number of settlers, starting herds, and other farming needs. Still, much in the whole matter depended on the goodwill of their wealthy relative, who could, for example, take away the people he had settled on the plots, or leave them, and thereby lower or increase the value of the estate.
So Macko questioned Jagienka very thoroughly about the abbot: what mood he was in—cheerful or gloomy—what he had said about them, and when he would come to Bogdaniec. She answered his questions sensibly, trying to strengthen and reassure him in every way.
She said the abbot had arrived healthy and cheerful, with a sizable retinue that included, besides armed servants, several wandering clerics and minstrels. She also noticed that he had inquired with great concern about Macko, and had listened eagerly to Zych's stories about Zbyszko's adventures in Krakow.
"You know best what you should do," the clever girl said finally, "but I think it would be fitting for Zbyszko to go right away and greet his older relative, without waiting for him to come to Bogdaniec first."
Macko found this advice sensible, so he called for Zbyszko and said to him: "Dress yourself handsomely and go pay your respects to the abbot, honor him, so that he may come to love you too."
Then he turned to Jagienka: "I wouldn't be surprised if you were stupid, because you're a woman, but that you have sense—that does surprise me. Tell me, how best should I host the abbot and what should I do to please him when he comes here?"
"As for food, he'll say what he has a taste for. He likes to eat well, but as long as there's plenty of saffron, he's not fussy."
Hearing this, Macko grabbed his head. "Where am I to get him saffron?!"
"I brought some," Jagienka said.
"May such girls be born on stone!" cried the delighted Macko. "Pleasant to the eyes, thrifty, sensible, and kind to people! Hey, if I were young, I'd take you right away!"
At this, Jagienka glanced furtively at Zbyszko, and sighing softly, continued: "He can be quick-tempered. Sometimes he'll smash a cup on the floor. But then he comes back laughing and is the first to make fun of his own anger. You know him. Just don't oppose him, and there's no better man in the world."
"And who would oppose him, when he has more sense than others!"
So they talked among themselves while Zbyszko dressed in the side room. Finally he came out so handsome that Jagienka was dazzled, just as when he first came to Zgorzelice in his white coat. But this time a deep sorrow seized her at the thought that his beauty was not for her, and that he loved another.
Macko was pleased, for he thought the abbot would surely take a liking to Zbyszko and wouldn't make difficulties during the negotiations. He was even so cheered by this thought that he decided to go along.
"Have the wagon bedded for me," he said to Zbyszko. "I could ride from Krakow all the way to Bogdaniec with an iron bolt between my ribs, so I can now go to Zgorzelice without one."
"Just let's hope you don't faint," Jagienka said.
"Eh, nothing will happen to me, I already feel strong. And even if I do get a bit dizzy, the abbot will know how I hurried to him, and he'll be all the more generous."
"I value your health more than his generosity!" Zbyszko said.
But Macko insisted and had his way. On the road he groaned a little, but kept giving Zbyszko advice on how to behave in Zgorzelice, especially recommending obedience and humility before their powerful relative, who never tolerated the slightest opposition.
When they arrived at Zgorzelice, they found Zych and the abbot on the porch, looking out at the peaceful world of God and drinking wine. Behind them, lined up on a bench against the wall, sat six retainers, among them two minstrels and a pilgrim, who was easy to recognize by his crooked staff, the gourd at his belt, and the shells sewn onto his dark cloak.
The others looked like clerics, for their heads were shaved on top, but they wore secular clothing, belts of oxhide, and swords at their sides.
At the sight of Macko, who arrived in a wagon, Zych moved quickly. The abbot, evidently mindful of his clerical dignity, remained in place, but began saying something to his clerics, several more of whom spilled out through the open door of the room. Zbyszko and Zych led the weak Macko by the arms onto the porch.
"I still can't quite manage," Macko said, kissing the abbot's hand, "but I came to bow to you, my benefactor, to thank you for your stewardship in Bogdaniec, and to ask for your blessing, which is most needed for a sinful man."
"I heard you were healthy," said the abbot, squeezing his head, "and that you had offered yourself to the grave of our late queen."
"Because not knowing which saint to turn to, I went to her."
"You did well!" cried the abbot fervently. "She was good and worthy."
In an instant, anger appeared on his face, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes began to sparkle.
Those present knew this temper of his, so Zych began to laugh and call out: "Strike, whoever believes in God!"
The abbot snorted loudly, rolled his eyes over those present, then laughed as suddenly as he had burst out before, and looking at Zbyszko, asked: "And this is your nephew and my relative?"
Zbyszko bent down and kissed his hand.
"I saw him when he was small; I wouldn't have recognized him!" the abbot said. "Just show yourself!"
And he began to examine him from head to toe with keen eyes, and finally said: "Too handsome! A maiden, not a knight!"
To this Macko said: "The Germans took that maiden into a dance, but whoever took her soon tipped over and didn't get up again."
"And he can draw a crossbow without a crank!" Jagienka suddenly called out.
The abbot turned to her. "And what are you doing here?!"
She blushed so deeply that her neck and ears turned pink, and answered, terribly flustered: "Because I saw..."
"Beware lest he accidentally shoot you; you'd take a long time to heal..."
At this, the minstrels, pilgrim, and clerics burst into one loud laugh, which disconcerted Jagienka completely, so that the abbot took pity on her and, raising his arm, showed her the enormous sleeve of his robe: "Hide yourself, girl, or the blood will burst from your berries."
Meanwhile, Zych seated Macko on a bench and ordered wine to be brought. Jagienka ran to get it.
The abbot turned his eyes to Zbyszko and began to speak: "Enough of these jests! I didn't compare you to a girl to shame you, but out of cheerfulness at your beauty, which not one girl could envy. But I know you're a strapping lad! I've heard about your deeds both at Vilnius, and about the Frisians, and about Krakow. Zych told me everything—understand!..."
Here he began to look penetratingly into Zbyszko's eyes and after a moment spoke again: "And since you vowed three peacock feathers, go seek them! It's a praiseworthy deed to pursue the enemies of our kin... But if you also swore something else, know that I can release you from those vows on the spot, for I have such authority."
"Hey!" said Zbyszko. "If a man has promised something to Lord Jesus in his soul, what authority can release him from that?"
Hearing this, Macko looked with some fear at the abbot, but he was evidently in an excellent humor, for instead of bursting into anger, he shook his finger merrily at Zbyszko.
"And you 'spielmen' sit quietly!" said the abbot. "For you're no clergy, even if you have shaved heads."
"We're no spielmen nor bare-skulls, but your grace's courtiers," answered one of them, at the same time peering into a large tankard from which came the distant smell of malt and hops.
"Look! He speaks as if from a barrel!" cried the abbot. "Hey, you shaggy one! And what are you peering into the tankard for? You won't find Latin at the bottom."
"I'm not looking for Latin, but for beer, which I can't find."
The abbot turned to Zbyszko, who was looking with amazement at these courtiers, and said: "They're all 'clerici scholares,' though each would rather throw away a book and grab a lute and wander the world with it. I took them in and feed them, because what else am I to do? They're thorough good-for-nothings and vagabonds, but they can sing and they've licked a bit of divine service, so I get use out of them at church, and in need, defense as well, for some are fierce fellows! This pilgrim here says he was in the Holy Land, but you could ask him in vain about any seas or countries, for he doesn't even know the name of the Greek emperor or in which city he lives."
"I did know," answered the pilgrim in a hoarse voice, "but when the fever seized me on the Danube and shook me, it shook everything out."
"It's the swords I marvel at most," said Zbyszko, "for I've never seen such among wandering clerics."
"They're allowed," said the abbot, "since they have no holy orders. Besides, I need protection, because Wilk of Brzozowa wanted to attack me."
"Oh, let him just attack!" cried the wandering clerics, grabbing their sword hilts.
"Let him! I'm already bored without a fight."
"He won't do that," said Zych. "He'll sooner come with a bow and make peace. He's already given up the forests, and he cares about his son... You know!... But not in his lifetime!"
Meanwhile, the abbot calmed down and said: "I saw the Young Wolf drinking with Cztan z Rogowa in the inn at Krześnia. They didn't recognize us at first—it was dark—and they kept talking about Jagienka."
Here he turned to Zbyszko: "And about you."
"And what did they want from me?"
"They wanted nothing from you, only that they don't like there being a third one near Zgorzelice. So Cztan said to Wilk: 'If I tan his hide, he'll stop being smooth.' And Cztan said: 'Maybe he'll be afraid of us, and if not, I'll break his bones in a flash!' And then they both started assuring each other that you would be afraid."
Hearing this, Macko looked at Zych, and Zych at him, and both their faces took on a sly and joyful expression. Neither was sure whether the abbot had actually heard such a conversation, or was making it up solely to spur Zbyszko on. But they both understood, especially Macko, who knew Zbyszko well, that there was no better way in the world to push him toward Jagienka.
And the abbot, as if deliberately, added: "And truth be told, they're hefty lads!..."
Zbyszko showed nothing on his face, but began asking Zych in a voice that was somehow not his own: "And tomorrow is Sunday?"
"Sunday."
"And you'll go to holy Mass?"
"Yes."
"Where? To Krześnia?"
"Because it's closest. Where else would we go?"
"Well, that's good!"