—Because the fog is so thick that even fire can’t shine through. And maybe it scattered the wood and coals.
On other wagons, merchants and knights were also saying that if the blizzard caught someone far from human dwellings, they wouldn’t hear the bells tomorrow. But Zbyszko suddenly grew anxious and said:
“God forbid that Jurand should be somewhere on the road.”
Czech, though completely absorbed in staring toward the campfires, heard Zbyszko’s words, turned his head, and asked:
“So the lord of Spychów was supposed to come?”
“He was.”
“With the young lady?”
“And the fire really did get obscured,” replied Zbyszko.
And indeed the flame died down, but instead several riders appeared on the road right by the horses and sleds.
“What are you blocking for?” shouted the alert Czech, grabbing a crossbow. “Who are you?”
“The prince’s men, sent to help travelers.”
“May Jesus Christ be praised.”
“Forever and ever.”
“Lead us to the city!” said Zbyszko.
“Did none of you stay behind?”
“No one.”
“Where are you coming from?”
“From Przasnysz.”
“And did you see any other travelers on the road?”
“We didn’t. But maybe they’ll be found on other roads.”
“People are searching on all of them. Ride after us. You’ve gone off the road! To the right!”
“Don’t you know,” he said, “that on such holidays the devil’s power trembles and devils hide in ice holes? Once near Sandomierz, fishermen found one in a net before the vigil: he was holding a pike in his mouth, but when the sound of bells reached him, he fainted; then they beat him with sticks until supper. Truly the storm is strong, but it’s by Lord Jesus’s permission, who apparently wants tomorrow’s day to be all the more joyful.”
“Bah! We were right outside the city, and yet if not for these men, we might have ridden until midnight, because we had already gone off the road,” answered Głowacz.
“Because the fire died down.”
And he turned the horses. For a while only the roar of the wind was heard.
“Are there many guests in the old castle?” asked Zbyszko after a while.
The nearest rider, not hearing well, leaned toward him.
“What did you say, sir?”
“I ask whether there are many guests at the prince’s court.”
“As usual: there are enough!”
“And the lord of Spychów isn’t here?”
“He’s not, but they’re expecting him. People also rode out to meet him.”
“With lanterns?”
“Where would the wind allow it!”
But they couldn’t talk further because the roar of the blizzard grew even stronger.
“A pure devil’s wedding!” said Czech.
Zbyszko, however, ordered him to be silent and not to invoke the foul name.
Meanwhile, they indeed entered the city. Snowdrifts lay in the streets even larger, so huge that in many places they almost covered the windows, which was why, wandering outside the city, they couldn’t see the lights. But the wind was less severe here. The streets were deserted; the townspeople were already sitting down to the vigil supper. In front of some houses, boys with nativity scenes and a goat sang carols despite the blizzard. In the market square, people wrapped in peapods pretending to be bears could also be seen, but overall it was empty. The merchants who had accompanied Zbyszko and other nobles on the road stayed in the city, while those nobles rode on to the old castle where the prince lived, and which, having glass windows, shone cheerfully before them, despite the storm, as they approached.
The drawbridge over the moat was lowered, for the old days of Lithuanian raids had passed, and the Krzyżacy, anticipating war with the Polish king, themselves sought the friendship of the Masovian prince. One of the prince’s men blew a horn, and the gate was soon opened. About a dozen archers stood by it, but on the walls and battlements there was not a living soul, for the prince had allowed the guards to come down. Old Mrokota, who had arrived two days earlier, came out to greet the guests, and after welcoming them in the prince’s name, led them to rooms where they could dress properly for the table.
Zbyszko immediately began to ask him about Jurand of Spychów, and he replied that he was not there, but they were expecting him, for he had promised to come, and if he had fallen more seriously ill, he would have sent word. However, they had sent out about a dozen riders to meet him, because the oldest people could not remember such a blizzard.
“Then they may be here soon.”
“Indeed, soon. The Duchess ordered bowls placed for them at the common table.”
So Zbyszko, though he was always a little afraid of Jurand, rejoiced in his heart and said to himself: “No matter what he does, he can’t undo that it’s my wife who is coming, my woman, my dearest Danuśka!” And as he repeated this, he could hardly believe his own happiness. Then he thought that perhaps she had already confessed everything to him, perhaps she had appeased him and begged him to give her away immediately. “Truth be told, what better thing does he have to do? Jurand is a smart fellow and knows that even if he refused her to me, I would take her anyway, because my right is stronger.”
Meanwhile, while changing clothes, he talked with Mrokota, asking about the health of the prince, and especially the Duchess, whom he had loved like a mother ever since his stay in Krakow. He was also glad to learn that everyone in the castle was healthy and cheerful, although the Duchess greatly missed her dear singer. Jagienka now played the lute for her, and the Duchess liked her well enough, but not as much.
“Which Jagienka?” asked Zbyszko in surprise.
“Jagienka of Wielgolas, granddaughter of the old lord of Wielgolas. A comely girl, with whom that Lorrainian fell in love.”
“So Sir de Lorche is here?”
“Where else would he be? He came here from the Forest Station and is staying, because he likes it. Our prince never lacks guests.”
“I’ll be glad to see him, for he is a knight with no fault to find.”
“And he loves you too. But let us go now, for the prince and duchess are about to sit down to table.”
And they went. In the dining hall, large fires burned in two hearths, watched over by servants, and it was already swarming with guests and courtiers. The prince entered first, accompanied by the voivode and several attendants. Zbyszko bowed to his knees and then kissed his hand.
He, in turn, squeezed his head, and then, drawing him aside a little, said:
“Indeed, I know everything. I was a bit dark at first that you did this without my permission, but truly there was no time, for I was in Warsaw at that time, where I intended to spend the holidays as well. After all, it is known that when a woman gets hold of something, you don’t oppose her, because you’ll accomplish nothing. The Duchess wishes you well like a mother, and I too always prefer to please her than to oppose her, for this reason, to spare her sorrow and tears.”
Zbyszko bowed a second time to the prince’s knees.
“May God grant me to repay Your Princely Grace.”
“Praise His name that you are healthy. Tell the Duchess how kindly I received you, and she will be glad. By God! Her joy is my joy! I will also put in a good word for you with Jurand, and I think he will give his permission, for he too loves the Duchess.”
“Even if he doesn’t want to give it, my right comes first.”
“Your right comes first and he must agree, but blessing may escape you. No one can wrest that from him by force, and without parental blessing there is no divine blessing either.”
Zbyszko grew troubled hearing these words, for until now he had not thought of that. At that moment, however, the Duchess entered with Jagienka of Wielgolas and other ladies-in-waiting, so he rushed to bow to the lady, and she greeted him even more graciously than the prince and immediately began to tell him about Jurand’s expected arrival. That bowls were set for them, and men were sent to guide them through the blizzard. It was no longer possible to wait with the vigil supper, because the “lord” did not like that, but they would surely arrive before the supper ended.
“As for Jurand,” said the Duchess, “it will be according to divine inspiration. Either I will tell him everything today, or tomorrow after the midnight mass, and the prince has also promised to add his word. Jurand can be stubborn, but not towards those he loves, nor towards those he is obliged to.”
Then she began to tell Zbyszko how to behave with his father-in-law, so as not to offend him, God forbid, and drive him to obstinacy. She was generally of good cheer, but anyone who knew the world better and looked more sharply than Zbyszko would have noticed a certain unease in her words. Perhaps it was because the lord of Spychów was not generally an easy man, or perhaps the Duchess was beginning to worry a little that they had not been seen for so long.
The blizzard was becoming more and more dreadful outside, and everyone said that whoever it caught in the open field might remain there; but the Duchess also had another thought: namely, that Danuśka had confessed to her father that she was already united with Zbyszko by marriage, and he, taking offense, had decided not to come to Ciechanow at all. However, she did not want to confide these thoughts to Zbyszko, and there was no time for it, as the servants began to bring food and set it on the table. But Zbyszko managed to thank her at her feet.
And she went to the prince, before whom the attendants had already pulled out a chair so he could sit down. But before that, one of them handed him a flat dish full of thinly sliced cake and wafers, with which the prince was to share with the guests, courtiers, and servants. Another similar dish was held for the Duchess by a handsome youth, the son of the castellan of Sochaczew. On the opposite side of the table stood Father Wyszoniek, who was to bless the supper placed on fragrant hay.
And then a man covered with snow appeared in the doorway and began to call loudly:
“Gracious lord!”
“What?” said the prince, displeased that they were interrupting the ceremony.
“On the Radzanowo road, some travelers have been completely buried. We need more men to dig them out.”
Everyone was frightened upon hearing this, the prince became alarmed, and turning to the castellan of Sochaczew, he shouted:
“Horsemen with shovels, quickly!”
Then to the bearer of the news:
“How many are buried?”
“We couldn’t tell. It’s blowing terribly. There are horses and wagons. A considerable company.”
“Don’t you know whose?”
“People say: the lord of Spychów.”