"And I can't sleep either, because the young lady from Zgorzelice is on my mind."
"Hey, that's right—new trouble! She's in Spychow, after all."
"She is. We brought her out of Zgorzelice, God knows why."
"She wanted it!" Macko snapped impatiently. He didn't like talking about it; deep down he felt guilty.
"Yes, but what now?"
"Well, what? I'll take her back home, and God's will be done..."
After a moment he added:
"Let God's will be done, but if only Danuśka were healthy and like other people, at least we'd know what to do. But as it is, who knows?
"What if she doesn't get better... and doesn't die either? I wish Lord Jesus would take her one way or the other."
But the Czech was thinking about Jagienka.
"Look, your grace," he said, "when I was leaving Spychow and said goodbye to her, the young lady told me: 'If anything happens, you'll come here ahead of Zbyszko and Macko, because they can send news through someone else—they'll send it through you, and you'll take me back to Zgorzelice.'"
"Hey!" Macko replied. "It would be awkward for her to stay in Spychow when Danuśka arrives. She has to go to Zgorzelice now. I feel sorry for the poor orphan, truly sorry, but since it wasn't God's will, there's no help for it. Only how to arrange it? Wait... You say she told you to come back ahead of us with the news, and then take her to Zgorzelice?"
"That's what she said, as I faithfully repeated."
"Well then, maybe you should set out ahead of us. We need to tell old Jurand that his daughter's been found, so the sudden joy doesn't kill him. As God is dear to me, there's nothing better to do. Go back! Tell them we've rescued Danuśka and we'll be there soon, and you take that poor girl and bring her home."
The old knight sighed, for he truly felt sorry for Jagienka and the plans he'd cherished.
A moment later he asked again:
"I know you're a clever, strong fellow, but can you keep her safe from harm or mishap? On the road, all sorts of things can happen."
"I can, even if I have to risk my neck! I'll take a few good men—the lord of Spychow won't begrudge them—and I'll bring her safe, even to the end of the world."
"Don't be too cocky. And remember, at Zgorzelice itself, you'll have to keep an eye on the Wolves of Brzozowa and Cztan z Rogowa... But that's right, I'm talking nonsense—we had to watch them only until we had something else on our minds. Now there's no hope left, and what will be will be."
"All the same, I'll protect the young lady from those knights too, because that poor child, Zbyszko's intended, is barely breathing... What if she dies!"
"Exactly, as God is my witness: she's barely breathing—what if she dies..."
"We have to leave that in God's hands. For now, let's think only of the young lady from Zgorzelice."
"By rights," said Macko, "I should take her back to her father's house myself. But there's no help for it. I can't leave Zbyszko now, for many important reasons. You saw how he ground his teeth and lunged at that old Komtur, wanting to stab him like a pig. If that girl, as you say, dies on the road, I don't know if even I can restrain him. But if I'm not here, nothing will hold him back, and everlasting shame will fall on him and our whole clan—God forbid. Amen!"
To which the Czech replied:
"Ha! There's a simple way. Give me that executioner's scum, and I won't let him out of my sight—I'll deliver him to Lord Jurand at Spychow, tied up in a sack."
"May God give you health! Now that's using your head!" Macko exclaimed joyfully. "Simple enough! Simple enough! Take him with you, and as long as you bring him alive to Spychow, you can do what you want with him."
"Then give me that Szczytno bitch too! If she doesn't cause trouble on the way, I'll bring her along. If she does, I'll hang her from a branch!"
"Danuśka might recover sooner and come to her senses if she doesn't see those two. But if you take the serving woman, how will you manage without female help?"
"You're bound to meet some local folks or runaway peasants with women in the wilderness. Grab the first one you find—any one would be better than that one. Meanwhile, Zbyszko's care will be enough."
"Today you're talking more sensibly than usual. That's true too. She might come to herself quicker seeing Zbyszko always at her side. He can be father and mother to her. Good. When are you leaving?"
"I won't wait for dawn, but I'll rest a bit now. It's probably not even midnight."
"The cart, as I said, is ready, but the horses haven't been harnessed yet."
"Thank God we've figured something out, because I was feeling awful."
Saying this, the Czech stretched out by the dying fire, covered himself with a shaggy hide, and fell asleep in an instant. But the sky hadn't yet paled at all, and the night was still deep when he woke, crawled out from under the skin, looked at the stars, stretched his stiffened limbs, and roused Macko.
"Time for me to get ready," he said.
"Where to?" Macko asked, half-asleep, rubbing his eyes with his fists.
"To Spychow."
"Oh, right! Who's snoring like that next to me? Would wake the dead."
"Knight Arnold. I'll throw some branches on the coals and go to the men."
He left, but returned quickly and called out from a distance in a low voice:
"Sir, there's news—and bad news!"
"What happened?" Macko cried, jumping up.
"The serving woman ran away. The men had her between the horses—may lightning strike them!—and when they fell asleep, she slithered out like a snake and escaped. Come, sir."
Alarmed, Macko hurried with Hlawa to the horses, but they found only one man there.
The others had scattered to search for the fugitive. But it was a foolish search in the dark and thick brush; they soon came back with heads hanging. Macko silently cuffed them, then returned to the fire—there was nothing else to do.
A moment later Zbyszko came over. He had been keeping watch by the hut and couldn't sleep; hearing footsteps, he wanted to know what was happening. Macko told him what they'd decided with the Czech, then reported the escape of the Order's serving woman.
"It's no great disaster," he said. "She'll either starve to death in the woods, or the peasants will find her and give her a beating, if the wolves don't get her first.
"The only shame is that she escaped punishment at Spychow."
Zbyszko too regretted that she'd escaped punishment, but otherwise took the news calmly. He didn't object to the Czech leaving with Siegfried either—everything that didn't directly concern Danuśka was indifferent to him. He started talking about her right away:
"I'll take her on my horse tomorrow, and we'll ride like that," he said.
"And how is she? Sleeping?" asked Macko.
"She whimpers a little sometimes, but I don't know if it's in her sleep or waking. I don't want to go in and scare her."
Their conversation was interrupted by the Czech, who, seeing Zbyszko, called out:
"Oh, so your grace is up too? Well, time for me! The horses are ready, and the old devil is tied to the saddle. It'll be dawn soon—the nights are short now. God be with you, your graces!"
"Go with God, and safe journey!"
But Hlawa pulled Macko aside and said:
"I wanted to ask you nicely—in case something happens... you know, sir... some misfortune or other—send a man posthaste to Spychow. If we've already left, have him chase after us."
"Good," said Macko. "I forgot to tell you—take Jagienka to Plock, understand? Go to the bishop there, tell him who she is, that she's the abbot's goddaughter, for whom a testament is deposited with the bishop, and ask him to take her under his guardianship—that's also in the testament."
"And if the bishop orders us to stay in Plock?"
"Do everything he says, and do as he advises."
"Will do, sir. God be with you!"
"God be with you!"