XI

XI.

Jagienka, upon returning home, immediately sent a stable boy to Krześnia to find out whether any fight had broken out at the inn, or whether anyone had challenged anyone else. However, having been given a skojec for the road, the lad started drinking with the priests' servants and forgot about coming back. A second boy, sent to Bogdaniec to announce the abbot's arrival to Macko, returned after carrying out his errand and reported that he had seen Zbyszko playing dice with the old master.

This calmed Jagienka somewhat, for knowing Zbyszko's experience and skill, she feared not so much a challenge for him as some immediate violent trouble at the inn. She also had a mind to ride to Bogdaniec with the abbot, but he objected to that, wanting to settle matters with Macko regarding the mortgage and another, even more important matter, at which he did not wish to have Jagienka as a witness.

Besides, he intended to travel by night. Learning of Zbyszko's safe return, he fell into an excellent humor and ordered his vagabond clerics to sing so loudly that the forest shook, and in Bogdaniec itself the peasants peered out of their huts, wondering whether there was a fire or whether an enemy had attacked. But a pilgrim with a crooked staff riding ahead assured them that a person of high ecclesiastical dignity was approaching, so they bowed to him, and some even crossed themselves.

Macko and Zbyszko, hearing the noise and singing, went out as far as the gate to meet him. Some of the clerics had been with the abbot in Bogdaniec before, but there were also those who, having recently joined the company, had never seen the place. Their hearts sank at the sight of the wretched house, which could not compare with the spacious manor in Zgorzelice.

Yet they took heart at the sight of smoke rising through the thatched roof, and they gained full courage when, entering the room, they smelled saffron and various meats, and saw two tables laden with pewter dishes, still empty but so vast that any eye would brighten at the sight. On a smaller table gleamed a prepared dish for the abbot, all silver, and a similarly exquisitely carved flagon, both captured along with other treasures from the Frisians.

Macko and Zbyszko immediately invited him to the table, but the abbot, having eaten well before leaving Zgorzelice, refused, especially since something else was on his mind. From the moment of his arrival, he had been watching Zbyszko closely and anxiously, as if looking for signs of a fight on him, but seeing the young man's calm face, he grew visibly impatient, until finally he could no longer contain his curiosity.

"Let us go to the side chamber," he said, "to discuss the mortgage. Do not oppose me, or I shall be angry!"

He turned to the clerics and thundered: "And you, sit quietly and do not eavesdrop by the door!"

Having said this, he opened the door to the side chamber, which he could barely fit through, and entered, followed by Zbyszko and Macko. There, when they were seated on chests, the abbot turned to the young knight.

"Did you return to Krześnia?" he asked.

"I did."

"And then?"

"I had a Mass said for my uncle's health, and that's all."

The abbot shifted impatiently on the chest. "Ha!" he thought. "He met neither Cztan nor Wilk; perhaps they weren't there, or perhaps he didn't look for them. I was mistaken!" But he was angry at being wrong and at his calculation failing, so his face reddened and he began to puff.

"Let us talk about the mortgage!" he said after a moment. "Do you have the money? Because if not, the land is mine!"

At that, Macko, who knew how to handle him, rose in silence, opened the chest on which he had been sitting, took out a sack of grzywnas that had obviously been prepared in advance, and said: "We are poor folk, but we have the money, and we pay what is due, as it stands in the deed and as I myself attested with the sign of the Holy Cross. If you also wish additional payment for the improvements and livestock, we will not argue, but will pay whatever you order, and we will fall at your feet, our benefactor."

Having said this, he bowed to the abbot's knees, and Zbyszko did the same. The abbot, who had expected arguments and haggling, was greatly surprised by such behavior, and even not entirely pleased, for he had wanted to impose various conditions during the bargaining, and now the opportunity had passed.

So, returning the "deed," that is the mortgage receipt, which Macko had signed with a cross, he said: "Why do you speak to me of additional payment?"

"Because we do not wish to take something for nothing," replied Macko cunningly, knowing that the more he argued in this case, the more he would gain.

And indeed the abbot flared up in an instant. "Look at them! They do not want to take something for nothing from relatives! Charity stings! I did not take an empty property, and I do not return an empty one, and if it pleases me to throw this very sack at you, I will!"

"You would not do that!" cried Macko.

"I would not! There is your mortgage! There are your grzywnas! I gave them out of my grace, and even if I had wanted to leave them on the highway, that is none of your business. So, I would not!"

Having said this, he grabbed the sack by its tie and slammed it against the floor so that the coins spilled from the burst cloth.

"God reward you! God reward you, father and benefactor!" began Macko to call out, who had only been waiting for this moment. "I would not have taken it from another, but from a relative and a clergyman, I will!"

The abbot, however, glared for a while now at him, now at Zbyszko, and finally said: "I know, even when angry, what I am doing; so keep what you have received, for I also announce to you that you will not see a single skojec more."

"We did not expect even this."

"But know that whatever remains after me will go to Jagienka."

"And the land?" asked Macko naively.

"And the land!" roared the abbot.

At that, Macko's face grew long, but he controlled himself and said: "Ah, why think of death now! May the Lord Jesus grant you a hundred years, or even more, and before that a worthy bishopric."

"And why not!... Am I worse than others?" replied the abbot.

"Not worse, only better."

These words had a calming effect on the abbot, for his anger was generally short-lived.

"Well," he said, "you are my relatives, and she is only my goddaughter, but I love both her and Zych from of old. There is no better man in the world than Zych, and no better girl than Jagienka either! What can anyone say against them?"

And he began to roll his eyes defiantly, but Macko not only did not deny it, but eagerly confirmed that one would search in vain for a worthier neighbor in the entire kingdom.

"And as for the girl," he said, "I would not love a daughter of my own more than I love her. It is thanks to her that I regained my health, and I will never forget that until my death."

"I do not wish you harm, because you are my relatives, and for that reason I devised a way so that what remains after me will be both Jagienka's and yours — do you understand!"

"May God grant that it happen!" replied Macko. "Dear Jesus! I would walk on foot from the queen's tomb in Krakow to Lysa Gora to bow before the wood of the Holy Cross."

The abbot was pleased by the sincerity with which Macko spoke, smiled, and said: "The girl has the right to choose, for she is comely, has a worthy dowry, and a noble lineage! What are Cztan or Wilk to her, when even a voivode's son would not be too good. But if I myself were to arrange a match for someone — she would marry him, for she loves me and knows I would not advise her badly."

"It will be well for whomever you match her with," said Macko.

But the abbot turned to Zbyszko: "And what do you say?"

"Well, I think the same as my uncle."

The abbot's noble face brightened even more; he slapped Zbyszko on the shoulder blade so that it echoed in the chamber, and asked: "Why did you not let Cztan or Wilk near Jagienka at the church, eh?"

"So that they would not think I was afraid of them, and so that you would not think so either."

"But you also gave her holy water."

"I did."

The abbot struck him a second time. "Then... take her!"

"Take her!" echoed Macko.

At that, Zbyszko swept his hair under his hairnet and replied calmly: "How can I take her when I made a vow before the altar in Tyniec to Danuśka Jurandówna?"

"You vowed peacock feathers, so go seek them, and take Jagienka right away."

"No," replied Zbyszko. "Later, when she threw a hairnet over me, I vowed that I would take her as my wife."

The abbot's face began to redden; his ears turned blue, and his eyes started to bulge. He stepped closer to Zbyszko and said in a somewhat muffled voice: "Your vows are chaff, and I am the wind — do you understand! There!" And he blew so powerfully on his head that the hairnet flew off, and his hair scattered in disarray over his shoulders and back.

Then Zbyszko frowned, and looking the abbot straight in the eyes, said: "In my vow lies my honor, and over my honor I am the sole guardian!"

Hearing this, the abbot, unaccustomed to resistance, was so winded that speech was taken from him for a while. An ominous silence fell, which Macko finally broke: "Zbyszko!" he cried. "Come to your senses! What is the matter with you?"

Meanwhile, the abbot raised his arm, pointed at the young man, and began to shout: "What is the matter with him? I know what is the matter with him: his soul is not knightly nor noble, but that of a hare! That is it — he is afraid of Cztan and Wilk!"

But Zbyszko, who had not lost his cool for a moment, shrugged indifferently and replied: "Oh, really! I smashed their heads in Krześnia."

"Fear God!" cried Macko.

The abbot stared at Zbyszko for a while with wide eyes. Anger struggled with admiration in him, and at the same time his naturally keen mind began to remind him that from this beating of Wilk and Cztan he might draw advantage for his plans.

So, having cooled down a bit, he shouted at Zbyszko: "Why did you not say so?"

"Because I was ashamed. I thought they would challenge me, as befits knights, to a mounted or foot combat, but they are thugs, not knights. First Wilk tore a board from the table, Cztan tore another, and came at me! So what was I to do? I grabbed a bench too, and... well, you know!"

"Are they alive at least?" asked Macko.

"Alive, just stunned. But they were already starting to breathe while I was there."

The abbot listened, rubbed his forehead, then suddenly jumped up from the chest on which he had previously perched for better thought, and called out: "Wait!... I will tell you something now!"

"What will you tell?" asked Zbyszko.

"I will tell you this: if you fought over Jagienka and cracked heads for her, then you are truly her knight, no one else's, and you must take her."

Having said this, he put his hands on his hips and began to look triumphantly at Zbyszko, but the latter only smiled and said: "Hey, I knew very well why you wanted to set me on them, but it completely backfired on you."

"Why did it backfire? Speak!"

"Because I made them testify that the fairest and most virtuous girl in the world is Danuśka Jurandówna, and they took Jagienka's side instead, and that is why the fight happened."

Hearing this, the abbot stood for a moment as if turned to stone, and only the blinking of his eyes showed he was still alive. Suddenly he turned on his heel, kicked open the door of the side chamber, burst into the main room, seized the pilgrim's crooked staff, and began driving out his "minstrels," shouting: "To horse, buffoons! To horse! My foot will not remain in this house! To horse, whoever believes in God! To horse!..."

And again kicking open the door, he went out into the courtyard, and the terrified vagabond clerics followed him. They rushed to the shed and began to saddle the horses in an instant. In vain Macko chased after the abbot, in vain he begged and pleaded that he was not to blame — nothing helped! When the horse was brought, the abbot leaped onto it without stirrups and galloped off at once, his sleeves streaming in the wind, like a giant red bird. The clerics flew after him in fear, like a flock following its leader.

Macko watched them for a while, until they disappeared into the forest, then slowly returned to the room and said to Zbyszko, shaking his head gloomily: "What have you done!..."

"None of this would have happened if I had left earlier, and the reason I did not leave was because of you."

"What do you mean, because of me?"

"Well, I did not want to leave you while you were ill."

"And now what will happen?"

"And now I will leave."

"Where to?"

"To Masuria, to Danuśka... and to seek peacock feathers among the Germans."

Macko was silent for a moment, then said: "He returned the deed, but the mortgage is recorded in the court register. The abbot will not give us a single skojec now."

"Then let him not give. You have the money, and I do not need any for the road. They will take me in everywhere and feed my horses; as long as I have armor on my back and a sword in my hand, I care for nothing else."

Macko reflected and began to consider all that had happened. Nothing had gone according to his wishes or his heart. He himself had wanted Jagienka for Zbyszko with all his soul; but he understood that no bread could be made from this flour, and that in view of the abbot's anger, in view of Zych and Jagienka, and finally in view of the fight with Cztan and Wilk, it was better for Zbyszko to leave than to become the cause of further discord and quarrels.

"Ha!" he said at last. "You must seek Teutonic heads anyway, so since there is no other way, go. Let it be according to the Lord Jesus's will... But I must go to Zgorzelice at once; perhaps I can appease Zych and the abbot... I am especially sorry for Zych."

Here he looked into Zbyszko's eyes and asked suddenly: "And do you not feel sorry for Jagienka?"

"May God grant her health and all the best!" replied Zbyszko.