"Whose retinue is that?" Jurand suddenly called out, waking from his reverie past Radzanowo as if from a dream.
"Mine," Zbyszko replied.
"And my men—all perished?"
"I saw them dead in Niedzborz."
"You have no old comrades left!"
Zbyszko said nothing, and they rode on in silence but quickly, for they wanted to reach Spychow as soon as possible, hoping they might find some Krzyżak messengers there. Fortunately, frosts had returned and the roads were hard, so they could press on. Toward evening, Jurand spoke again and began to question him about those monastic brothers who had been at the Forest Station. Zbyszko told him everything—about their complaints, their departure, the death of Mr. de Fourcy, and about his squire's deed, who had crushed Danveld's arm in such a terrible way. During this account, one circumstance struck him: the presence of that woman at the Forest Station who had brought healing balms from Danveld.
At the rest stop, he asked about her from both Czech and Sanderus, but neither knew exactly what had become of her. They thought she had left either along with those men who had come for Danusia, or shortly after them. It now occurred to Zbyszko that she might have been sent to warn those people in case Jurand himself had been at the station. In that case, they wouldn't have claimed to be men from Spychow; they might have had some other letter ready, which they would have given to the Duchess instead of the forged letter from Jurand. All of it was arranged with infernal cunning, and the young knight, who until now had known the Krzyżacy only on the battlefield, thought for the first time that fists were not enough against them—one must know how to overcome them with wit.
This thought was unpleasant to him, for his great grief and pain had transformed above all into a thirst for battle and blood. Even the rescue of Danusia presented itself to him as a series of battles, in groups or singly; but now he realized that he might have to leash his desire for vengeance and skull-splitting like a bear on a chain, and seek entirely new paths to save and regain Danusia. Thinking about this, he regretted that Macko was not with him. For Macko was as cunning as he was brave. Nevertheless, he decided to send Sanderus from Spychow to Szczytno to find that woman and try to learn from her what had become of Danusia. He told himself that even if Sanderus wanted to betray him, it would not harm the matter much, and in the opposite case, he could render him considerable service, for his trade opened access everywhere.
He wanted, however, to consult with Jurand first, but put the matter off until Spychow, especially since night had fallen and it seemed to him that Jurand, sitting on his high knightly saddle, had fallen asleep from exertion, fatigue, and heavy anxiety. But Jurand rode with his head bowed only because misfortune had bowed it. And clearly he was constantly brooding on it, for his heart was full of cruel fears, so he finally said:
"I would rather have died at Niedzborz! Was it you who dug me out?"
"Yes, with others."
"And at those hunts, you saved my child?"
"What else was I to do?"
"And now you will help me?"
And in Zbyszko there erupted at once such a great love for Danushka and hatred for the Krzyżacy wrongdoers that he stood up in his saddle and began to speak through clenched teeth, as if with difficulty:
"Hear what I say: even if I have to bite through Prussian castles with my teeth, I will bite through them, and I will get her back."
A moment of silence ensued. Jurand's vengeful and unbridled nature clearly responded with full force under the influence of Zbyszko's words, for he began to gnash his teeth in silence, and after a moment to repeat the names again:
"Danveld, Loewe, Rotgier, and Godfrey."
And in his soul he thought that if they wanted him to give them Bergowa, he would give it; if they ordered him to pay extra, he would pay, even if he had to throw in all of Spychow on top; but later woe to those who raised their hand against his only child!
Throughout the whole night, sleep did not close their eyelids for a moment. Toward morning, they barely recognized each other, so changed were their faces by that single night. Finally, Jurand was struck by Zbyszko's pain and stubbornness, so he said:
"She covered you with her naleczka and snatched you from death—I know. But do you love her as well?"
Zbyszko looked him straight in the eyes with a face almost bold, and answered:
"She is my wife."
At that, Jurand stopped his horse and looked at Zbyszko, blinking in astonishment.
"What do you say?" he asked.
"I say that she is my woman, and I am her husband."
The knight of Spychow covered his eyes with his glove, as if dazzled by a sudden lightning strike; then he said nothing, and after a moment spurred his horse and, moving to the front of the retinue, rode in silence.