III.
Although after the destruction, fire, and slaughter that the Teutonic Knights had wrought in Sieradz in 1331, King Casimir the Great rebuilt the razed city, it was not particularly splendid and could not compare with other strongholds of the kingdom. But Jagienka, whose life until then had flowed between Zgorzelice and Krześnia, was beside herself with amazement and admiration at the sight of the walls, towers, town hall, and especially the churches—of which the wooden church in Krześnia gave her not the faintest idea. At first she lost her usual resoluteness so completely that she dared not speak aloud, and only whispered questions to Macko about all these wonders that dazzled her eyes. When the old knight assured her that Sieradz was to Kraków as an ordinary ember is to the sun, she could not believe her ears, for it seemed an absolute impossibility that another equally magnificent city could exist in the world.
In the monastery, they were received by the same decrepit prior who still remembered the Teutonic Knights' slaughter from his childhood years, and who had previously hosted Zbyszko. The news about the abbot brought them sadness and trouble. He had lived long in the monastery, but two weeks earlier he had left for his friend, the Bishop of Plock. He was constantly ill. During the day, in the morning, he would be lucid, but in the evenings he lost his mind, sprang up, ordered his armor to be put on, and challenged Prince Jan of Raciborz to battle. The wandering clerics had to hold him in bed by force, which did not come without great difficulty and even danger. Only two weeks earlier had he fully regained his senses, and although he had grown even weaker, he immediately ordered himself to be taken to Plock.
"He said that he trusted no one as much as the Bishop of Plock," the prior finished, "and that he wanted to receive the Sacraments from his hands, and also to leave his testament with him. We opposed this journey as best we could, for he was very weak, and we feared he would not survive even a mile. But it is not easy to oppose him, so the minstrels padded the cart and took him—God grant a safe journey."
"If he had died near Sieradz, you would have heard of it," said Macko.
"We would have heard," replied the old man. "So we think he hasn't died, and that at least as far as Łęczyca he didn't give up the ghost, but what could have happened further on, we don't know. If you ride after him, you'll learn along the way."
Macko was troubled by this news and went to consult with Jagienka, who had already learned from Czech where the abbot had gone.
"What are we to do?" he asked her. "And what will you do with yourself?"
"You'll go to Plock, and I'll go with you," she replied shortly.
"To Plock!" echoed Sieciechówna in her thin little voice.
"Look how they order things! Just like that, straight to Plock, as easy as tossing a sickle?"
"And how am I supposed to go back alone with Sieciechówna? If I wasn't going to continue with you, I might as well not have left at all. Don't you think those others have become even angrier and more vengeful?"
"The Wilks will defend you against Cztan."
"I fear the Wilks' defense as much as Cztan's attack, and I also see that you're opposing me just for the sake of opposing, but not sincerely."
Macko was not actually opposing sincerely. On the contrary, he preferred Jagienka to travel with him rather than return, so hearing her words, he smiled and said:
"You've shed your skirts, and now you want to have wits."
"Wits are nowhere else but in the head."
"But Plock is out of my way."
"Czech said it's not out of the way, and to Malbork it might even be closer."
"So you've already consulted with Czech?"
"Certainly, and he also said this: if the young lord has fallen into some bad straits in Malbork, much could be achieved through Princess Alexandra of Plock, for she is the king's own sister, and besides, being a particular friend of the Teutonic Knights, she enjoys great standing among them."
"True, as God is my witness!" exclaimed Macko. "Everybody knows that, and if she would give a letter to the Grand Master, we would travel safely through all the lands of the Order. They love her, because she loves them too... That's good advice, and that Czech fellow is not stupid!"
"Indeed he's not!" cried Sieciechówna enthusiastically, raising her blue eyes upward.
Macko suddenly turned to her:
"And what are you doing here?"
So the girl became terribly confused, and lowering her long lashes, flushed like a rose.
Nevertheless, Macko saw that there was no other way but to take both girls further with him, and since he also had a desire for it in his heart, the next day, after bidding farewell to the old prior, they set out on the further journey. Due to the melting snows and swollen waters, they traveled with more difficulty than before. Along the way they asked about the abbot and came upon many manors, parish houses, and where there were none, even inns where they stopped for the night. It was easy to follow his tracks, for he distributed generous alms, purchased Masses, donated to bells, supported dilapidated churches; so many a beggar going "a-begging," many a cleric, and even many a parish priest remembered him with gratitude. It was generally said that he "traveled like an angel," and prayers were said for his health, although here and there fears were heard that he was closer to eternal salvation than to temporal health. In some places he rested, due to excessive weakness, for two or three days. Macko thought it probable that they would catch up to him.
However, he miscalculated, because the swollen waters of the Ner and Bzura delayed them. Not having reached Łęczyca, for four days they were forced to stay in an empty inn, from which the innkeeper had evidently fled for fear of the flood. The road leading from the inn toward the city, although paved with tree trunks, had sunk and caved in over a considerable stretch into a muddy morass. Macko's servant, Wit, a native of these parts, had heard of a path through the forests, but would not undertake to guide them, for he also knew that in the Łęczyca marshes the unclean forces had their lairs, namely the mighty Boruta, who gladly led people into the bottomless swamps and then only rescued them for the price of their souls. The inn itself also had a bad reputation, and although in those days travelers carried their own food, and thus did not fear hunger, staying in such a place caused even old Macko anxiety.
At night they heard frolicking on the roof of the inn, and sometimes something knocked at the door. Jagienka and Sieciechówna, sleeping in the alcove right next to the great room, also heard in the darkness a rustling of tiny feet on the daubing, and even on the walls. This did not frighten them too much, for both were accustomed in Zgorzelice to household spirits, which old Zych used to order fed, and which, according to the common belief of the time, as long as one did not stint on crumbs, were not malicious. But one night a hollow and ominous roar resounded in the nearby thickets, and the next day they discovered traces of enormous cloven hooves in the mud. It could have been a bison or an aurochs, but Wit maintained that Boruta, although he wears human and even noble form, has hooves instead of feet, and takes off the boots he wears among men to save them in the marshes. Macko, hearing that he could be appeased with drink, deliberated all day whether it would be a sin to make an evil spirit his friend, and even consulted Jagienka on the matter.
"I'll hang a bull's bladder full of wine or mead on the fence tonight," he said. "If something drinks it during the night, we'll at least know it's lurking."
"As long as we don't offend the heavenly powers," replied the girl. "For we need their blessing to bring help to Zbyszko successfully."
"That's what I fear, too, but I think that mead is not a soul. I won't give my soul, and what is one bladder of mead to the heavenly powers?"
Then he lowered his voice and added:
"When a nobleman treats a nobleman, even the biggest scoundrel, it's a common thing, and people say he is a nobleman."
"Who?" asked Jagienka.
"I don't want to mention the unclean name."
Nevertheless, that evening Macko hung a large bull's bladder, of the kind commonly used to carry drinks, on the fence with his own hands—and the next day it turned out the bladder had been drunk to the bottom.
Admittedly, Czech smiled somewhat strangely when they told the story, but no one noticed, and Macko was pleased in his heart, for he hoped that when it came to crossing the marshes, there would be no unexpected obstacles or mishaps.
"Unless they tell falsehoods that he has some honor," he said to himself.
Above all, it was necessary to find out whether there was a passage through the forests. This was possible, for where the ground was consolidated by the roots of trees and shrubs, the earth did not easily soften from rain. However, Wit, who as a local could best perform this task, at the mere mention of it began to shout: "Kill me, master, I won't go!" It was explained to him in vain that in the daytime the unclean forces have no power. Macko wanted to go himself, but it ended with Hlawa, who was a bold servant and liked to show off his courage in front of people, especially girls, taking an axe in his belt and a staff in his hand, and setting off.
He left at daybreak, and they expected him back around noon. When he was not seen, they began to worry. In vain the servants listened from the forest side in the afternoon. Wit just waved his hand: "He won't come back, or if he does come back, woe to us, for God knows whether he won't return with a wolf's snout, transformed into a werewolf!" Hearing this, they all became afraid; Macko himself was uneasy, Jagienka made signs of the cross toward the forest, and Anulka Sieciechówna, trying in vain every moment to find an apron on her breeches-clad knees, and finding nothing to cover her eyes, covered them with her fingers, which soon became wet from tears falling one after another.
However, at milking time, just as the sun was about to set, Czech returned—and not alone, but with some human figure, which he drove before him on a rope. Everyone immediately rushed out to him with cries of joy, but fell silent at the sight of that figure, which was small, bow-legged, hairy, black, and clad in wolf skins.
"In the Name of the Father and the Son, what kind of monstrosity have you brought?" exclaimed Macko, once he had recovered.
"Oh, what do I know," replied the squire. "He says he's a man and a charcoal burner, but whether it's true, I don't know."
"Oh, it's not a man, it's not a man!" said Wit.
But Macko ordered him to be silent, then began to carefully examine the captive and suddenly said:
"Cross yourself! Right here, cross yourself!..."
"Jesus Christ be praised!" cried the prisoner, and crossing himself quickly, breathed deeply, looked with greater confidence at those gathered, and repeated:
"Jesus Christ be praised! For I didn't know whether I was in Christian or devilish hands. O Jesus!..."
"Don't be afraid. You are among Christians who gladly hear Holy Mass. What are you?"
"A charcoal burner, sir, a woodsman. There are seven of us in huts with women and children."
"How far from here?"
"Less than a furlong."
"Which way do you go to the city?"
"We have our own path beyond Devil's Gully."
"Beyond the devil's? Cross yourself one more time!"
"In the Name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, amen."
"Good. Can a cart pass that way?"
"It's muddy everywhere now, but not as bad as on the highway, because the wind blows through the gully and dries the mud. It's only hard to get to the huts, but even to the huts someone who knows the forest can lead you slowly."
"For a shilling will you lead us? Bah! Make it two!"
The charcoal burner agreed willingly, having also begged half a loaf of bread, for in the forest, although they were not starving, they had not seen bread for a long time. It was arranged that they would leave early the next day, since in the evening it was "not good." About Boruta, the charcoal burner said that he sometimes "rages" terribly in the forest, but does no harm to the common folk, and being jealous of the Duchy of Łęczyca, chases other devils through the underbrush. It is only bad to meet him at night, especially when one is drunk. In the daytime and when sober, there is no reason to fear.
"And yet you were afraid?" said Macko.
"Because this knight grabbed me so suddenly and with such force that I thought he was not a man."
Then Jagienka began to laugh, that they had all taken the charcoal burner for something "nasty," and the charcoal burner them. Anula Sieciechówna laughed with her, until Macko said:
"Your eyes haven't even dried from crying for Hlawa, and now you're already grinning?"
So Czech looked at her rosy face, and seeing that her lashes were still wet, asked:
"Were you crying for me?"
"Eh, no!" replied the girl. "I was just scared, that's all."
"But you are a noblewoman, and a noblewoman should be ashamed. Your lady is not so fearful. What could have happened to you here, in the daytime and among people?"
"Nothing to me, but to you."
"But you say you weren't crying for me?"
"No, not for you."
"Then why?"
"Out of fear."
"And now you're not afraid?"
"No."
"And why?"
"Because you came back."
At that, Czech looked at her with gratitude, smiled, and said:
"Well, in that way we could talk until tomorrow. You're terribly cunning."
"Don't laugh at me," replied Sieciechówna softly.
Indeed, she could have been suspected of anything rather than cunning, and Hlawa, who was himself a shrewd fellow, understood that well. He also understood that the girl was growing more attached to him every day. He himself loved Jagienka, but as a subject loves a king's daughter—with humility and the greatest reverence, and without any hope. Meanwhile, the journey brought him closer to Sieciechówna. During the marches, old Macko usually rode in the lead pair with Jagienka, while he rode with Anula, and since he was a fellow as strong as an aurochs, and his blood was as hot as boiling water, when during the journey he looked at her bright eyes, at the flaxen wisps of hair that refused to stay under the coif, at her whole slender and comely figure, and especially at her beautiful, as if turned legs gripping the black palfrey, chills ran through him from head to foot. He could not refrain from looking more and more often and more and more greedily at all these perfections, and involuntarily thought that if the devil were to change into such a squire, he would easily lead him into temptation. And besides, he was a sweet, honey-sweet little servant, at the same time so obedient that he only looked into her eyes, and cheerful as a sparrow on the roof. Sometimes strange thoughts came into Czech's head, and once, when they lagged a bit behind with Anula at the pack horses, he suddenly turned to her and said:
"You know? I ride here beside you like a wolf beside a lamb."
And her white teeth immediately shone with genuine laughter.
"Would you like to eat me up?" she asked.
"Bah! With the bones!"
And he looked at her with such a gaze that she flushed under it; then silence fell between them, and only their hearts beat strongly, his with desire, hers with some sweet, intoxicating fear.
But at first, desire in Czech completely overcame tenderness, and when he said he looked at Anulka like a wolf at a lamb, he spoke the truth. Only that evening, when he saw those cheeks and lashes wet with tears, did his heart soften. She seemed to him good and somehow close and somehow his own, and since he himself had an honest and at the same time chivalrous nature, not only did he not become proud or haughty at the sight of those sweet tears, but he became shyer and more considerate of her. The old carelessness in his speech left him, and although at supper he still teased the girl a little about her timidity, it was in a different way, and moreover he served her as a knight and squire was obliged to serve a noblewoman. Old Macko, despite being mainly occupied with the next day's crossing and the further journey, noticed this, but only praised him for his refined manners, which, he said, he must have acquired under Zbyszko at the Mazovian court.
Then, turning to Jagienka, he added:
"Hey! Zbyszko!... That one would find himself at home even with the king!"
But after that service at supper, when it came time to retire for the night, Hlawa, after kissing Jagienka's hand, also raised Sieciechówna's hand to his lips, and said:
"Don't be afraid not only for me, but also of anything while with me, for I won't let anyone harm you."
Then the men lay down in the front room, and Jagienka with Anula in the alcove, on one large and well-stuffed couch. Neither could fall asleep quickly, especially Sieciechówna, who kept tossing and turning on the linen mattress, so after a while Jagienka moved her head closer and began to whisper:
"Anula?"
"What?"
"Because... it seems to me that you are terribly fond of that Czech... Is that so?"
But the question remained unanswered, so Jagienka began to whisper again:
"I understand it, though... Tell me..."
Sieciechówna did not answer even now, but pressed her lips to her mistress's cheek and began to kiss her again and again.
And poor Jagienka's girlish breast also began to heave with sighs again and again.
"Oh, I understand, I understand!" she whispered so quietly that Anula could barely catch her words.