There was anxiety throughout the court about Zbyszko, among both knights and ladies, for he was universally liked, and in light of Jurand's letter, no one doubted that the Krzyżak was in the right. On the other hand, it was known that Rotgier was one of the more famous brothers of the Order. His squire van Krist had been telling the Masovian gentry, perhaps deliberately, that his master, before becoming an armed monk, had once sat at the Krzyżacy's honor table, which only admitted knights famous in the world—those who had made a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, or had fought victoriously against giants, dragons, or powerful sorcerers. Hearing such tales from van Krist, along with boastful assurances that his master had often fought single-handedly—a misericorde in one hand, an axe or sword in the other—against five opponents at once, the Masurians grew uneasy. Some said: "Hey! If only Jurand were here, he'd handle two of them; no German ever got the better of him. But the young man is in trouble, for the Krzyżak surpasses him in strength, age, and training." So others regretted not having taken up the gauntlet, claiming that if not for that message from Jurand, they would certainly have done so. "But one fears God's judgment..." They also mentioned, for mutual comfort, the names of Masovian and Polish knights in general who had won numerous victories over western knights, whether in court games or in real combat, especially Zawisza z Garbowa, with whom no knight in Christendom could compare. Yet there were those who also had good hopes for Zbyszko. "He's no weakling," they said, "and as we've heard, he's already split plenty of German skulls on the battlefield." But hearts were especially strengthened by the deed of Zbyszko's squire, Czech Hlawa, who, on the eve of the encounter, hearing van Krist tell of Rotgier's unheard-of victories, and being a hot-tempered youth, seized van Krist by the beard, yanked his head back, and said: "If you're not ashamed to lie before men, look up, for God hears you too!" And he held him there for as long as it takes to say the "Our Father," and the other, finally released, immediately began to ask about his lineage, and having learned that he came from the yeomanry, challenged him also to a duel with axes.
The Masurians were pleased by this deed, and again many said: "Such men won't limp on the field, and if only truth and God are on their side, those Krzyżacy won't carry their bones home whole." But Rotgier had so thrown dust in everyone's eyes that many were worried about which side truth lay on—and the prince himself shared that worry.
So in the evening before the duel, he summoned Zbyszko for a talk, at which only the princess was present, and asked:
"Are you sure that God will be with you? How do you know they wanted Danuśka? Did Jurand tell you anything? Because, you see, here is Jurand's letter—Father Kaleb's writing, and his seal—and in this letter Jurand says he knows it wasn't the Krzyżacy. What did he tell you?"
"He said it wasn't the Krzyżacy."
"How then can you risk your life and submit to God's judgment?"
Zbyszko fell silent; only for a time his jaws trembled and tears gathered in his eyes.
"I don't know anything, Your Grace," he said. "We left here together with Jurand, and on the way I confessed my vow to him. He began to lament then, that it might be an injustice to God, but when I told him it was God's will, he calmed down and forgave me. All the way he said that no one but the Krzyżacy had taken Danusia, and then I myself don't know what happened… When we reached Spychow, that woman arrived who brought me some medicines to the Forest Manor, and with her another envoy. They shut themselves in with Jurand and conferred. I don't know what they said either—only that after that conversation even his own servants couldn't recognize Jurand, for he looked as if he had been taken from a coffin. He told us: 'It's not the Krzyżacy,' but he released Bergowa and whatever prisoners he had from the dungeon, God knows why, and he himself rode off without any squire or servant… He said he was going to the bandits to ransom Danuśka, and he ordered me to wait. And so I waited! Then word came from Szczytno that Jurand had killed some Germans and fallen himself. Oh, Your Grace! The ground of Spychow was burning under me, and I nearly went mad. I put my men on horseback to avenge Jurand's death, but Father Kaleb said: 'You can't take the castle, and don't start a war. Go to the prince; maybe they know something about Danusia.' So I came, and it happened that that dog was just then barking about the Krzyżak's wrong and Jurand's madness… I, my lord, took up his gauntlet, because I had already challenged him before, and though I know nothing, this one thing I know: that they are infernal liars—without shame, without honor, without faith! Look, Your Graces! They also stabbed de Fourcy, and tried to blame that deed on my squire. By God! They stabbed him like an ox, and then came to you, my lord, for vengeance and reward! Who then will swear that they haven't lied before to Jurand, and now before you, my lord? I don't know, I don't know where Danusia is! But I challenged him, because even if I must lose my life, I'd rather die than live without my love, without my dearest in all the world."
Having said this, he tore the headband from his head in a frenzy, so that his hair spilled over his shoulders, and grabbing it, he began to sob heavily, until Princess Anna Danuta, herself deeply grieved by the loss of Danusia and pitying his pain, placed her hands on his head and said:
"May God help you, comfort you, and bless you!"