V.
When Jurand woke from his long sleep, Father Kaleb was at his bedside. He had forgotten everything that had happened to him, and not knowing where he was, he began to grope for the bed and the wall it stood against. But Father Kaleb took him in his arms and, weeping with emotion, began to speak.
"It is I! You are in Spychowa! Brother Jurand! God has tested you… but you are among your own. Godly people brought you here… Brother Jurand! Brother!"
And pressing him to his chest, he began to kiss his forehead, his empty eyes, and again press him to his chest and kiss him again. At first, Jurand seemed dazed, as if understanding nothing. At last, however, he began to pass his left hand over his forehead and head, as if trying to guess at and dispel the heavy clouds of sleep and stupor.
"Do you hear me? Do you understand?" asked Father Kaleb.
Jurand nodded that he heard. Then he reached with his hand for the silver crucifix he had once captured from a mighty German knight, took it from the wall, pressed it to his lips and chest, and gave it to Father Kaleb.
And he said: "I understand you, brother! He remains to you, and just as He led you out of the land of captivity, so He can restore everything you have lost."
Jurand pointed upward to signify that everything would be returned to him only there. His gouged-out eyes grew tearful again, and immense pain reflected on his tortured face.
And Father Kaleb, seeing that gesture and that grief, understood that Danuśka was no longer alive. So he knelt by the bed and said:
"Grant her eternal rest, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in eternal peace. Amen."
At this, the blind man sat up in bed and began to shake his head and wave his hand, as if wanting to deny it and stop Father Kaleb. But they could not understand each other, for at that moment old Tolima entered, followed by the garrison of the stronghold, the stewards, the leading and elder peasants of Spychowa, foresters, and fishermen. For news of the lord's return had already spread throughout Spychowa.
They embraced his knees, kissed his hands, and burst into heartfelt tears at the sight of this cripple and old man, who in no way resembled the former fearsome Jurand, the vanquisher of Teutonic Knights and victor in all encounters.
But some—especially those who had gone on expeditions with him—were seized by a whirlwind of anger. Their faces grew pale and became grim. After a while they began to cluster together, whispering, nudging each other with elbows, pushing, until finally a man from the garrison stepped forward. He was also the blacksmith of Spychowa, one Sucharz. He approached Jurand, bowed to his feet, and said:
"When they brought you here, lord, we immediately wanted to march on Szczytno, but the knight who brought you forbade it. Now, lord, give us permission, for we cannot remain unavenged. Let it be as it used to be. They have not shamed us for nothing, and they will not. We went against them under your rule; we will go now under Tolima, or even without him. We must capture Szczytno and spill that dog's blood from them—so help us God!"
"So help us God!" repeated a dozen voices.
"To Szczytno!"
"We need blood!"
And at once flame seized the passionate Masurian hearts. Heads began to frown, eyes flashed, and here and there the grinding of teeth was heard. But after a moment the voices and grinding fell silent, and all eyes fixed on Jurand.
As for him, his cheeks flushed at first, as if his old stubbornness and old fighting spirit had stirred within him. He sat up and began to feel along the wall with his hand. The people thought he was looking for his sword, but his fingers found the cross that Father Kaleb had hung in its old place.
So he took it down from the wall a second time. Then his face paled. He turned toward the people, raised his empty eye sockets upward, and held the crucifix out before him.
Silence fell. Outside, evening was already coming. Through the open windows came the twittering of birds settling down to sleep in the attics of the stronghold and in the linden trees growing in the courtyard. The last red rays of the sun penetrated the room, falling on the raised cross and on Jurand's hair.
The blacksmith Sucharz looked at Jurand, glanced at his companions, looked again, then crossed himself and left the room on tiptoe. The others followed just as quietly. Only when they stopped in the courtyard did they begin whispering among themselves:
"Well, what now?"
"Will we go or not?"
"He didn't allow it!"
"He leaves vengeance to God. It's clear that his soul has changed too."
And that was indeed the case.
But meanwhile, in Jurand's chamber, only Father Kaleb, old Tolima, and with them Jagienka and Sieciechówna remained. Having previously seen the crowd of armed men crossing the courtyard, they too had come to see what was happening.
Jagienka, bolder and more self-assured than Sieciechówna, now approached Jurand.
"God help you, Sir Jurand!" she said. "It is we—we who brought you here from Prussia."
His face brightened at the sound of her young voice. He evidently remembered even more clearly everything that had happened on the Szczytno road, for he began to thank her, nodding his head and placing his hand over his heart several times.
She began to tell him how they had met him and how Czech Hlawa, who is the squire of the knight Zbyszko, had recognized him, and how they had finally brought him to Spychowa. She also told him about herself, that she and her companion bear the sword, helmet, and shield for the knight Macko of Bogdańca, Zbyszko's uncle, who had set out from Bogdańca to search for his nephew and had now gone to Szczytno, to return to Spychowa in three or four days.
At the mention of Szczytno, Jurand did not fall into such agitation as the first time on the road, but great anxiety showed on his face. However, Jagienka assured him that Sir Macko was as cunning as he was brave and that he would not let anyone lead him into a trap. Besides, he had letters from Lichtenstein with which he could travel safely anywhere.
These words greatly calmed him. It was also clear that he wanted to ask about many other things, but unable to do so, he suffered inwardly. The shrewd girl soon noticed this and said:
"If we talk together more often, we will understand everything."
At this, he smiled again, reached out his hand, and, placing it gropingly on her head, held it there for a long moment, as if blessing her.
He truly owed her much, but besides that, her youth and her chattering, reminiscent of birdsong, had obviously endeared her to his heart.
And so from then on, when he was not praying—which he did almost all day—or when he was not sunk in sleep, he sought her near him. When she was not there, he longed for her voice and tried in every way to make Father Kaleb and Tolima understand that he wanted this grateful young helper close to him.
And she came, because her kind heart truly pitied him, and besides, time passed more quickly for her while waiting for Macko, whose stay in Szczytno was somehow strangely prolonged.
He was to return in three days, but the fourth and fifth passed. On the sixth, toward evening, the worried girl was about to ask Tolima to send men out to reconnoiter, when suddenly from the watchtower oak a signal came that some riders were approaching Spychowa.
After a moment, hooves indeed thudded on the drawbridge, and into the courtyard rode the squire Hlawa with another armed attendant.
Jagienka, who had come down from the upper chamber and was waiting in the courtyard, rushed toward him before he could dismount.
"Where is Macko?" she asked, her heart beating with fear.
"He has gone to Prince Vytautas, and commanded you to remain here," answered the squire.