Knight Arnold, learning the next day about the escape of the Order's servant, smiled under his mustache, but said the same as Macko: that either the wolves would eat her or the Lithuanians would kill her. And indeed it was likely, for the local population, of Lithuanian origin, hated the Order and everything connected with it. The peasants had partly fled to Skirwoillo, partly risen up, and after killing Germans here and there, they had hidden with their families and livestock in the inaccessible depths of the forests. They searched for the servant the next day, but without result, and not very zealously, because Macko and Zbyszko, with their minds occupied by other matters, had not given strict enough orders. They were eager to ride toward Masovia, and wanted to set out right at sunrise, but could not do so because Danuśka had fallen into a deep sleep before dawn, and Zbyszko would not let them wake her.
He had heard her whimpering during the night and guessed she had not slept, so now he hoped much good would come from this sleep. He crept to the hut twice, and twice by the light falling through the cracks between the logs he saw her closed eyes, her parted lips, and the deep flush on her face, like that of deeply sleeping children. Then his heart melted with tenderness, and he said to her: “May God grant you rest and health, dearest little flower!” And then he added: “Your misery is over, your weeping is over, and if merciful Lord Jesus wills, there will be happiness as boundless as the river waters.”
Moreover, having a simple and kind soul, he lifted it up to God and asked himself: how could he show gratitude, how repay, what could he offer to some church from his wealth, from grain, herds, wax, or other such things pleasing to God’s power? He would have even made a vow right then and named exactly what he would offer, but he preferred to wait, for not knowing in what health Danuśka would awaken and whether she would wake clear-minded, he was not yet sure whether he would have anything to give thanks for.
Macko, although he understood they would be completely safe only in the lands of Prince Janusz, was also of the opinion that Danuśka’s rest, which could be her salvation, should not be disturbed; so he kept the servants and horses ready, but waited.
However, when noon passed and she still slept, they began to worry. Zbyszko, who kept peering through cracks and the door, finally entered the hut for the third time and sat on the stump that the servant had dragged to the bed the previous evening and on which she had changed Danuśka’s clothes.
He sat down and gazed at her, and she did not open her eyes at all, but after the time it would take to say the Our Father and Hail Mary unhurriedly, her lips moved slightly, and she whispered, as if seeing through closed eyelids: “Zbyszko…”
He threw himself instantly onto his knees before her, seized her emaciated hands, and kissing them with rapture, began to speak in a broken voice: “Thanks be to God! Danuśka! You recognized me!”
His voice fully awakened her, so she sat up on the bed and with open eyes repeated: “Zbyszko…” And she began to blink, and then look around as if in surprise.
“You are no longer a captive!” said Zbyszko. “I tore you away from them and we’re going to Spychow!” But she pulled her hands from his and said: “It’s all because there was no father’s permission. Where is the lady?”
“Wake up, little berry,” said Zbyszko. “The duchess is far away, and we took you from the Germans.” To this, as if not hearing his words and as if recalling something, she said: “They also took my little lute and broke it against the wall — hey!”
“For the love of God!” cried Zbyszko. And only then did he notice that her eyes were dazed and glittering, and her cheeks were burning. At that moment the thought flashed through his mind that she might be seriously ill and delirious with fever.
So his heart trembled with fear, and cold sweat covered his forehead. “Danuśka!” he said. “Do you see me and understand?” And she replied in a tone of humble entreaty: “Drink!… Water!”
“Merciful Jesus!” And he jumped out of the room. At the door he bumped into Old Macko, who had just come in to see how things were, and throwing him a single word: “Water!” — he ran swiftly to a stream flowing nearby among the thickets and forest moss.
After a moment he returned with a filled vessel and gave it to Danuśka, who began to drink greedily. Earlier, Macko had entered the room, and after looking at the sick girl, he visibly darkened. “She has a fever!” he said. “Yes!” groaned Zbyszko. “Does she understand what you say?” “No.”
Old Macko frowned, then raised his hand and began to rub his neck and the back of his head with his palm. “What to do?” “I don’t know.” “There is only one thing…” began Macko. But Danuśka interrupted him at that moment. Having finished drinking, she fixed her fever-dilated pupils on him, and then said: “I have not wronged you either. Have mercy!”
“I have mercy for you, child, and only want your good,” answered the old knight with some emotion. And then to Zbyszko: “Listen. It’s no use for her to stay here. If the wind blows on her and the sun warms her, it may do her good. Don’t lose your head, boy, just take her in the same cradle they brought her in, or on a saddle, and on the road! Do you understand?”
Having said this, he left the room to give final orders, but no sooner had he looked ahead than he suddenly stood as if rooted to the spot.
Behold, a strong detachment of infantry, armed with spears and halberds, surrounded from all sides, like a wall, the hut, the mounds, and the clearing. “Germans!” thought Macko.
So horror filled his soul, but in the blink of an eye he grabbed the hilt of his sword, clenched his teeth, and stood there like a wild beast unexpectedly cornered by dogs, preparing for desperate defense.
And then from the mound the giant Arnold began to walk toward him with some other knight, and approaching, said: “Swift wheel of fortune. I was your prisoner, and now you are mine.”
Having said this, he looked proudly at the old knight as if at an inferior being. He was not a completely bad man, nor too cruel, but he had a flaw common to all Teutonic Knights who, though humane and even courteous, could never in misfortune restrain either contempt for the conquered or boundless pride when they felt greater force behind them.
“You are prisoners!” he repeated haughtily. And the old knight looked darkly around. In his chest beat a heart not only fearless but even too reckless. If he had been in armor on a warhorse, if he had Zbyszko with him, and if both had swords, axes, or those terrible lances that the Polish nobility of the time wielded so skillfully, he might have tried to break that wall of spears and halberds surrounding him. Not for nothing did foreign knights call out to the Poles at Vilnius: “You scorn death too much!” — making it a reproach. But Macko stood before Arnold on foot, alone, without armor, so seeing that the men-at-arms had already abandoned their weapons, and thinking that Zbyszko was in the hut with Danuśka completely unarmed, he understood, as an experienced man greatly familiar with war, that there was no remedy.
So he slowly drew his short sword from its sheath, and then threw it at the feet of that knight who stood next to Arnold. That one, with no less pride than Arnold but also with kindness, said in good Polish: “Your name, sir? I will not have you bound on your word, for I see you are a dubbed knight and you treated my brother humanely.”
“Word of honor!” answered Macko. And having announced who he was, he asked whether he might enter the hut and warn his nephew, “lest he do something mad” — then having obtained permission, he disappeared through the door, and after some time appeared again with a misericorde in his hand.
“My nephew doesn’t even have a sword with him,” he said, “and he asks that until you set out, he may stay with his woman.” “Let him stay,” said Arnold’s brother; “I will send him food and drink, for we will not set out right away, as the men are tired, and we ourselves need to eat and rest. We also invite you, sir, to our company.”
Having said this, they turned and went toward the same fire where Macko had spent the night, but whether out of pride or boorishness, quite common among them, they walked ahead, allowing him to follow behind. But he, as a great man of the world understanding what custom should be observed in every situation, asked: “Do you invite me, sir, as a guest or as a prisoner?” Then Arnold’s brother was ashamed, for he stopped and said: “Pass, sir.”
The old knight passed, but not wanting to wound the self-esteem of a man on whom much might depend, he said: “It is evident, sir, that you not only know various languages but also possess courtly manners.” To this Arnold, understanding only a few words, said: “Wolfgang, what is it about and what is he saying?” “He speaks to the point!” answered Wolfgang, whom Macko’s words had clearly flattered.
Then they sat by the fire, and food and drink were brought. The lesson given to the Germans by Macko did not go to waste, for Wolfgang began the refreshment from him. From the conversation, the old knight also learned how they had fallen into the trap. Wolfgang, Arnold’s younger brother, was leading the infantry from Człuchów also against the rebellious Samogitians to Gotteswerder, but these men, coming from a distant komturia, could not keep up with the cavalry, and Arnold did not need to wait for them, knowing that on the way he would meet other infantry detachments from towns and castles closer to the Lithuanian border. For this reason, the younger brother had marched a few days later — and was just on the trail near the tar works when the Order’s servant, having fled during the night, informed him of the adventure that had befallen his elder brother. Arnold, listening to this story, which was repeated to him in German, smiled with satisfaction, and finally declared that he had expected that such a thing might happen.
But the cunning Macko, who in every situation tried to find some remedy, thought it would be beneficial to win over these Germans — so after a moment he said: “It is always a hard thing to fall into captivity, yet I thank God that he has given me into no other hands but yours, for truly you are upright knights who observe honor.” To this Wolfgang half-closed his eyes and nodded, indeed rather stiffly, but with visible satisfaction.
And the old knight continued: “And that you know our language so well! God has given you intelligence for everything, I see!” “I know your language because in Człuchów the people speak Polish, and my brother and I have served under the local komtur for seven years.” “And in due time you will take over his office! It cannot be otherwise! Yet your brother does not speak our language so well.” “He understands a little, but does not speak. My brother has greater strength, though I am no weakling either, but his wit is duller.” “Hey! I don’t think he is stupid!” said Macko.
“Wolfgang! What is he saying?” asked Arnold again. “He praises you,” answered Wolfgang. “Indeed I praise you,” added Macko, “because he is a true knight, and that is the foundation! I will also tell you sincerely that I wanted to release him today entirely on his word, so that he could go wherever he wanted, as long as he presented himself even in a year. For that is proper among dubbed knights.” And he began to gaze intently at Wolfgang’s face, but the latter frowned and said: “I would perhaps release you on parole as well, were it not that you helped pagan dogs against us.”
“That is not true,” replied Macko. And again began a sharp dispute, just like the previous day with Arnold. However, the old knight, although he was right, had a harder time because Wolfgang was indeed sharper than his elder brother. Nevertheless, this dispute resulted in the benefit that the younger brother learned about all the crimes, perjuries, and betrayals at Szczytno, as well as the fate of the unfortunate Danuśka. To these wicked deeds, which Macko threw in his face, he could answer nothing. He had to admit that the vengeance was just, and that the Polish knights had the right to act as they did, and at last he said: “By the blessed bones of Saint Liborius! I will not mourn Danveld. They said he dealt in black magic, but God’s power and justice are stronger than black magic! As for Siegfried, I do not know if he also served the devil, but I will not pursue him, because first of all I have no cavalry, and secondly, if, as you say, he tormented that maiden, then may he never see the light from hell.”
Here he stretched and added: “God, be my help even at the hour of death!” “And what will become of that unfortunate martyr?” asked Macko. “Will you not allow her to be taken home? Must she die in your dungeons? Remember the wrath of God!…”