Macko was preparing for the journey, but Jagienka didn't show herself in Bogdaniec for two days. She spent that time in consultation with the Czech. The old knight only met her on the third day, Sunday, on the road to church. She was riding to Krześnia with her brother Jaśko and a considerable retinue of armed men, because she wasn't certain whether Cztan and Wilk were still lurking and might attack her.
“I was planning to stop by Bogdaniec after mass anyway,” she said after greeting Macko. “I have an urgent matter to discuss with you, but we can talk about it right now.”
With that, she moved to the front of the party, clearly not wanting the men to hear their conversation. When Macko drew up beside her, she asked, “So you’re really leaving?”
“God willing, tomorrow. No later.”
“And going to Malbork?”
“To Malbork, or maybe not. Wherever it falls out.”
“Then listen to me now. I’ve been thinking a long time about what I should do, and now I want your advice. In the old days, you know, while Father was alive and the abbot still had his strength, it was different. Cztan and Wilk thought I’d choose one of them, so they held each other in check. But now I’ll be left with no protection at all. Either I’ll sit in Zgorzelice behind the palisade like a prisoner, or one of them will surely do me harm. Tell me yourself, isn’t that so?”
“Well,” said Macko, “I’ve thought about that too.”
“And what did you come up with?”
“Nothing, but I must tell you one thing: this is still a Polish land, and there are harsh penalties in the statute for violence against a girl.”
“That’s fine, but it’s easy to cross the border. I know that Silesia is also Polish land, yet the princes there fight among themselves and attack each other. If it weren’t for that, my dear father would still be alive. Germans have settled there, they cause havoc and do harm, so anyone who wants to hide among them can do so. Certainly I wouldn’t let Cztan or Wilk have their way easily, but I’m also thinking of my brothers. Without me here, there’ll be peace. If I stay in Zgorzelice, God knows what might happen. There’ll be attacks, fights. Jaśko is already fourteen, and no power—least of all mine—will hold him back. The last time you came to help us, he was already charging forward, and when Cztan swung his mace into the crowd, it nearly missed his head. Hey! Jaśko has already told the servants that he’ll challenge both of them to single combat. I’m telling you, there won’t be a single day of peace. Even the younger ones might come to harm.”
“By God! They’re scoundrels, both Cztan and Wilk,” Macko said quickly. “Still, they won’t raise a hand against children. Pah! Only a Krzyżak would do such a thing.”
“They won’t raise a hand against children, but in the heat of a fight, or God forbid a fire, an accident is easy. What’s there to say? Old Sieciechowa loves the boys like her own, and they won’t lack care and attention, but without me it would be safer than with me.”
“That may be,” Macko replied.
Then he looked sharply at the girl.
“What do you want?”
She answered in a lowered voice, “Take me with you.”
Though Macko had half-expected the conversation to end that way, he was still greatly surprised. He stopped his horse and exclaimed, “Fear God, Jagienka!”
She dropped her head and replied with a mixture of shyness and sadness, “Alas! As for me, I prefer to speak plainly than to hide it. Both Hlawa and you say that Zbyszko will never find her again, and the Czech fears even worse. God is my witness, I wish her no harm. May Our Lady protect and save the poor thing. She was dearer to Zbyszko than I am, and there’s no help for it—that’s my fate. But you see, as long as Zbyszko doesn’t find her, or if, as you believe, he never will, then... then...”
“Then what?” asked Macko, seeing the girl grow more flustered and tongue-tied.
“Then I don’t want to be Cztan’s or Wilk’s or anyone else’s.”
“I thought you’d already forgotten him,” he said.
She answered even more sadly, “Ah!...”
“So what do you want? How can I take you among the Teutonic Knights?”
“Not necessarily among the Teutonic Knights. For now I’d like to go to the abbot, who is lying ill in Sieradz. He hasn’t a single kind soul with him—his minstrels are surely more concerned with their jugs than with him, and he is my godfather and benefactor. Even if he were healthy, I’d still seek his protection, because people are afraid of him.”
“I won’t argue with that,” said Macko, who in truth was pleased with Jagienka’s decision. Knowing the Teutonic Knights, he firmly believed that Danuśka would never escape their hands alive. “But I’ll tell you this: a girl is a terrible nuisance on the road.”
“Maybe another girl, but not me. I’ve never been in a fight, but I’m no stranger to shooting a crossbow and enduring the hardships of the hunt. If it must be, it must be—don’t worry. I’ll take Jaśko's clothes, put my hair in a net, strap on a short sword, and go. Jaśko, though younger, is not a hair smaller, and his face is so much like mine that when we used to dress up for Shrovetide, even Father couldn’t tell which was which. You’ll see—neither the abbot nor anyone else will recognize me.”
“Nor Zbyszko?”
“If I see him...”
Macko thought for a moment, then suddenly smiled and said, “Then Wilk of Brzozowa and Cztan of Rogów will probably go mad!”
“Let them go mad! Worse, they might follow us.”
“Oh, I’m not afraid. I’m old, but it’s better not to get in my way. And all the Gradowie too! Zbyszko already tested them.”
Talking thus, they reached Krześnia. Old Wilk of Brzozowa was in the church, casting gloomy glances at Macko from time to time, but Macko paid him no mind. After mass, he returned home with Jagienka, his heart light. But when they parted at the crossroads and he was alone in Bogdaniec, less cheerful thoughts began to occur to him. He understood that neither Zgorzelice nor Jagienka’s siblings were truly in danger if she left. “They’d reach for the girl,” he told himself, “because that’s a different matter, but they won’t raise a hand against orphans or their property—they’d cover themselves with terrible shame, and everyone would rise against them as if against real wolves. But Bogdaniec will be left at God’s mercy! They’ll move the boundary mounds, seize the herds, drive away the peasants! God willing, when I return, I’ll take it all back—I’ll send a summons and sue them in court, because it’s not just the fist that rules here, but also the law. But will I return, and when? They’re furious at me for interfering with the girl, and if she goes with me, they’ll be even angrier.”
He felt a pang of regret, because he had settled properly in Bogdaniec, and now he was certain that when he came back, he would find emptiness and ruin again.
“Well, I must take measures,” he thought.
After dinner, he ordered a horse saddled, mounted, and rode straight to Brzozowa.
He arrived in the dusk. Old Wilk was sitting in the front room over a jug of mead, while his son, scarred by Cztan, lay on a bench covered with hides, also drinking. Macko entered the room unexpectedly and stood in the doorway, his face stern, tall and bony, without armor but with a stout sword at his side. They recognized him immediately, for the bright firelight fell on his face. In the first moment, both father and son sprang to their feet like lightning, rushed to the walls, and seized whatever weapons came to hand.
But the old campaigner, who knew men and customs through and through, was not at all disconcerted. He didn’t reach for his sword; instead he planted his hand on his hip and said in a calm voice tinged with mockery, “Is this how they receive a guest in the noble house of Brzozowa?”
At these words, their hands dropped. After a moment, the old man let his sword fall to the floor with a clang, and the younger one dropped his spear. They stood with necks craned toward Macko, their faces still hostile but now astonished and ashamed.
He smiled and said, “Praised be Jesus Christ!”
“For ever and ever.”
“And Saint George.”
“We serve him.”
“I’ve come as a neighbor—with good will.”
“We welcome you with good will. A guest is a sacred person.”
Then Old Wilk rushed to Macko, followed by his son, and both began to shake his right hand, after which they seated him in the place of honor at the table. In an instant, more logs were thrown on the fire, the table was covered with a cloth, dishes full of food were set out, along with pitchers of beer and a jug of mead, and they began to eat and drink. From time to time, Young Wolf looked at Macko with a peculiar expression, in which respect for the guest struggled to overcome hatred for the man, but he served him so diligently that he grew pale with exhaustion, for he was wounded and lacked his usual strength. Both father and son burned with curiosity about why Macko had come, but neither asked, waiting for him to speak.
Macko, as a man who knew custom, praised the food, the drink, and the hospitality, and only after he had eaten his fill did he look ahead gravely and say, “People often quarrel, yes, and even fight, but neighborly peace is above all!”
“There is nothing more worthy than peace,” replied Old Wilk with equal gravity.
“It also happens,” Macko continued, “that when a man must go on a long journey, even if he has lived in enmity with someone, he still feels regret and doesn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”
“God reward you for your sincere words.”
“Not only words, but deeds—I came here.”
“We are heartily glad to have you. Come even every day.”
“Would that I could honor you in Bogdaniec as befits men who know knightly honor, but I must be on the road soon.”
“For war, or perhaps to some holy place?”
“Better if it were either of those, but it’s worse—to the Teutonic Knights.”
“To the Teutonic Knights?” both father and son cried out.
“Yes,” Macko replied. “And whoever goes among them without being their friend had better make peace with God and men, so as not to lose not only his life but also his eternal salvation.”
“That’s amazing,” said Old Wilk. “I’ve never seen a man who came into contact with them and didn’t suffer harm and oppression.”
“Just like our entire kingdom!” added Macko. “Neither Lithuania before holy baptism nor the Tatars were more burdensome to us than these devilish monks.”
“The absolute truth. But you know, it’s been building and building, and now it’s time to finish it—just like that!”
Having said this, the old man spat lightly into both palms, and the younger added, “It can’t be otherwise.”
“And it will certainly happen, but when? That’s not for us to decide, but for the king. Maybe soon, maybe not soon... God knows. Meanwhile, I have to go to them.”
“Not for Zbyszko’s ransom, I hope?”
At the mention of Zbyszko by the father, the face of Young Wolf instantly went pale with hatred and became menacing.
But Macko answered calmly, “Maybe for a ransom, but not for Zbyszko.”
These words only increased the curiosity of both lords of Brzozowa, so the old man, unable to restrain himself any longer, said, “It’s your choice whether to speak or not about why you’re going there.”
“I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you!” said Macko, shaking his head. “But first I’ll tell you something else. Listen: after I leave, Bogdaniec will be under God’s protection... In the old days, when Zbyszko and I were fighting under Prince Witold, the abbot kept an eye on our property—yes, and so did Zych ze Zgorzelic a bit—but now there won’t even be that. It’s terribly sad for a man to think that he’s labored and worked in vain... And you understand how it is: they’ll steal my peasants, plow over the boundary, and everyone will take what they can from the herds. Even if Our Lord allows me to return safely, I’ll come back to emptiness again. There’s only one way to prevent it, one help: a good neighbor. That’s why I came here to ask you, as a neighbor, to take Bogdaniec under your protection and not let anyone harm me.”
Hearing this request, Old Wilk looked at his son, and his son at him, and both were greatly astonished. A moment of silence fell, for neither could find an answer right away. Macko raised his cup of mead to his lips, drank, and then continued as calmly and confidingly as if the two of them had been his closest friends for years.