VI.
When Jagienka learned that by Macko's order she was to remain in Spychów, she couldn't speak a word for a moment—stunned, hurt, and angry. She stared at the Czech with wide eyes. He understood how unwelcome his news was and said:
"I'd like to give you an account of what we heard in Szczytno, because there's a lot of news, and important news at that."
"Is there any about Zbyszko?"
"No, only what happened in Szczytno—as you know..."
"I understand! Have the page unsaddle the horses, and come with me."
She gave the order to the page and led the Czech upstairs.
"Why did Macko leave us? Why do we have to stay in Spychów, and why did you come back?" she asked in one breath.
"I came back," replied Hlawa, "because Sir Macko ordered it. I wanted to go to war, but an order is an order. Sir Macko told me: 'Go back, watch over the young lady of Zgorzelice, and wait there for news from me. It may be (he said) that you'll have to escort her back to Zgorzelice, because she certainly won't return on her own.'"
"For heaven's sake! What's happened? Has Jurand's daughter been found? Did Macko go after Zbyszko, or to get Zbyszko? Did you see her? Did you speak with her? Why didn't you bring her back, and where is she now?"
Hearing this barrage of questions, he bowed to the girl's knees and said:
"Let it not anger your grace that I can't answer everything at once—it's impossible. I'll answer one thing at a time, in order, if you don't mind."
"Fine! Was she found or not?"
"No, but we have reliable news that she was in Szczytno and that they've supposedly taken her to some eastern castle."
"And why do we have to sit in Spychów?"
"Well, if she does turn up?... Then, you see, your grace... Because there'd be no point..."
Jagienka fell silent, but her cheeks flushed. The Czech said:
"I thought, and still think, that we won't pull her out of those bastard claws alive, but everything is in God's hands. I need to tell you from the beginning. We came to Szczytno—all well. Sir Macko showed the deputy Komtur Lichtenstein's letter, and the deputy—since he'd carried a sword behind him in his youth—kissed the seal right in front of us, received us hospitably, and didn't suspect a thing. If there'd been any men nearby, we could have taken the castle itself, that's how much he trusted us."
"There were no difficulties in meeting with the priest. We talked for two nights and learned strange things that the priest had heard from the executioner."
"A mute executioner."
"Mute, but he can tell the priest everything by gestures, and the priest understands him as if he were speaking with words. Strange things, and surely it was the finger of God. That executioner cut off Jurand's hand, tore out his tongue, and gouged out his eyes. That's the kind of man he is—when it comes to a man, he won't flinch at any torture, even if they ordered him to tear a person apart with his teeth, he'd do it. But he won't lay a hand on any girl who isn't fully grown, and no torture can make him. And that's because he himself once had an only daughter, whom he loved terribly, and the Krzyżacy..."
Here Hlawa faltered, not knowing how to continue. Seeing this, Jagienka said:
"Why are you telling me about the executioner's story?"
"Because it's relevant," replied the Czech. "When our young master quartered Sir Rotgier, the old Komtur, Siegfried, nearly went mad. In Szczytno they said Rotgier was his son, though the priest denies it, but he did confirm that no father ever loved a son more. And for revenge, he sold his soul to the devil—the executioner saw it! He spoke to the dead man as I'm speaking to you, and the dead man either laughed from his coffin, or gnashed his teeth, or licked his lips with a black tongue, delighted that the old Komtur had promised him Zbyszko's head. But since he couldn't get Zbyszko then, he had Jurand tortured instead, and then put his tongue and hand into Rotgier's coffin, and it began to devour them raw..."
"How horrible. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen!" said Jagienka.
She got up and threw a log on the fire, for evening had fully set in.
"Yes indeed!" Hlawa continued. "I don't know how it will be at the Last Judgment, because surely what belonged to Jurand must return to Jurand. But that's beyond human understanding. So the executioner saw it all. After stuffing the vampire with human flesh, the old Komtur went to bring him Jurand's child, because the dead man seemed to whisper that he wanted to wash down his meal with innocent blood... But the executioner, who—as I said—will do anything except bear harm done to a girl, had already hidden himself on the stairs. The priest said he's not quite right in the head, actually a brute, but he understands that one thing—and when need be, no one can match his cunning. So he sat on the stairs and waited, and then the Komtur came. Hearing his breathing, seeing his glowing eyes, the Komtur got scared, thinking it was the devil. The executioner hit him in the neck with his fist! He thought he'd broken his spine so there'd be no trace, but he didn't kill him. The Komtur fainted and fell ill from fright, and when he recovered, he didn't dare touch Jurandówna."
"But he took her away."
"He took her, and took the executioner with him. He didn't know it was the executioner who'd defended Jurandówna; he thought it was some incomprehensible force, evil or good. And he didn't want to leave the executioner in Szczytno. Afraid of his testimony, or something... He's mute, but if there were a trial, he could tell through the priest what he'd seen... So in the end, the priest told Sir Macko: 'Old Siegfried won't kill Jurandówna now, because he's afraid, and even if he ordered someone else to do it, as long as Diederich lives, he won't let her be harmed—especially since he's already defended her once.'"
"Did the priest know where they took her?"
"He didn't know exactly, but he heard them talking about Ragneta, a castle near the Lithuanian, or rather, the Samogitian border."
"And what did Macko say?"
"Sir Macko, after hearing this, told me the next day: 'If that's the case, maybe we'll find her, and I must get to Zbyszko as fast as I can, so they don't lead him into a trap because of Jurandówna, like they did with Jurand. If they tell him they'll give her back as long as he comes for her himself, he'll come, and then Old Siegfried will take revenge on him for Rotgier in a way no human eye has ever seen.'"
"That's true, true!" Jagienka cried out anxiously. "If that's why he hurried, then it's good."
After a moment she added, turning to Hlawa:
"He only made a mistake by sending you back here. What point is there in guarding us in Spychów? Old Tolima can do that. You would have been useful to Zbyszko—you're strong and clever."
"But who will take you, young lady, back to Zgorzelice if need be?"
"If need be, you'll get here before them. They can send news through someone else, and then through you, and you'll take us to Zgorzelice."
The Czech kissed her hand and asked in a moved voice:
"And you'll stay here in the meantime?"
"God watches over orphans. I'll stay here."
"Won't you be lonely? What will you do here?"
"Pray to Lord Jesus to restore Zbyszko's fortune and keep all of you healthy."
Having said that, she wept bitterly.
The squire bowed to her knees again.
"You're just like the angels in heaven," he said.