VI.
The next day at noon, the envoys met with Jurand, and some time later they departed, taking with them Mr. de Bergow, two squires, and a dozen or so other prisoners. Then Jurand summoned Father Kaleb and dictated a letter to the prince, announcing that Danusia had not been kidnapped by the monastic knights, but that he had managed to discover her hiding place and hoped to recover her within a few days. He repeated the same to Zbyszko, who had been beside himself with astonishment and fear since the previous night. The old knight, however, refused to answer any of his questions, instead telling him to wait patiently and make no attempt to free Danusia himself, as that would be pointless.
Toward evening, he again shut himself in with Father Kaleb. First he had him write down his last will, then he made his confession, and after receiving Communion, he summoned Zbyszko and old, ever-silent Tolima, who had been his companion in all forays and battles and managed Spychów in peacetime.
“Here is,” he said, turning to the old warrior and raising his voice as if speaking to someone hard of hearing, “the husband of my daughter. He married her at the prince’s court, and I gave my consent. Therefore, after my death, he is to be the lord and heir of this stronghold, the lands, forests, meadows, people, and all property found in Spychów.”
Hearing this, Tolima was greatly astonished and began turning his square head first toward Zbyszko, then toward Jurand. But he said nothing, for he hardly ever spoke. He simply bowed before Zbyszko and gently clasped his knees with his hands.
And Jurand continued: “Father Kaleb has written down my will, and my seal in wax is affixed to the document. You are to bear witness that you heard this from me and that I commanded that this young knight be obeyed here just as I am. As for what is in the treasury—the spoils and money—you will show it to him, and you will serve him faithfully in peace and war until death. Do you hear?”
Tolima raised his hands to his ears and nodded. Then, at a sign from Jurand, he bowed and left. The knight turned to Zbyszko and said with emphasis: “What is in the treasury could tempt the greatest greed—enough to ransom not just one, but a hundred captives. Remember that.”
But Zbyszko asked, “Why are you giving me Spychów already?”
“I am entrusting you with more than Spychów—my child.”
“And the hour of death is uncertain,” said Father Kaleb.
“Indeed, it is uncertain,” repeated Jurand, as if with sadness. “Only recently the snow buried me, and although God saved me, I no longer have my former strength.”
“By the dear God!” cried Zbyszko, “Something has changed in you since yesterday. You speak of death rather than Danusia. By the dear God!”
“Danuśka will return, she will return,” answered Jurand. “She has God’s protection. But when she returns… listen… Take her to Bogdaniec, and leave Spychów to Tolima. He is a faithful man, and the neighbors here are harsh. There they will not take her on a rope… there it is safer.”
“Hey!” exclaimed Zbyszko, “You speak as if from the other world. What is this?”
“Because I was already halfway in the other world, and now I feel that some sickness grips me. And I am worried about the child… for I have only her. And you, though I know you love her…”
Here he paused, and drawing from its sheath a short sword called a misericorde, he turned the hilt toward Zbyszko. “Swear to me on this cross that you will never wrong her and will love her steadfastly.”
And Zbyszko’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. In an instant he fell to his knees, placed his finger on the hilt, and cried out, “By the Holy Passion, I will never wrong her and will love her steadfastly!”
“Amen,” said Father Kaleb.
Then Jurand sheathed the misericorde and opened his arms. “Then you too are my child!”
Then they parted, for the night had fallen deep, and for several days they had not had a good rest. Nevertheless, Zbyszko rose at dawn the next day, for he had truly been afraid the day before that some illness was coming over Jurand, and he wanted to find out how the elder knight had spent the night.
Outside Jurand’s chamber door, he ran into Tolima, who was just coming out. “How is the master? Is he well?” he asked.
The old man bowed, then cupped his ear with his hand and said, “What does Your Grace command?”
“I ask: How is the master?” repeated Zbyszko, louder.
“The master has ridden off.”
“Where to?”
“I do not know. In armor…”