With Fire and Sword by Henryk Sienkiewicz (big ebook reader .txt) 📕

drawing to a close. In Rosolovtsi the cocks began to crow, answering one another through the whole town. Five miles of road divided Rosolovtsi from Konstantinoff, so that before the army on its slow march had passed half the interval dawn rose behind the brightness of the conflagration, pale as if frightened, and filled the air more and more with light, winning from the darkness forests, woods, groves, the whole line of the highway and the troops marching upon it. It was possible to distinguish clearly the people, the horses, and the close ranks of infantry. The cool morning breeze rose and quivered among the flags above the heads of the knights.

Vershul’s Tartars marched in front, behind them Ponyatovski’s Cossacks, then the dragoons, Vurtsel’s artillery, the infantry and hussars last. Zagloba rode near Skshetuski; but he was somewhat uneasy in the saddle, and it was apparent that alarm was seizing him, in view of the approaching battle.

“Listen a moment!” said he to Skshetuski, in a low whisper as if he feared someone might overhear him.

“What do you say?”

“Will the hussars strike first?”

“You say that you are an old soldier, and you don’t know that hussars are reserved to decide the battle at the moment when the enemy is straining his utmost power?”

“I know that, I know that, but I wanted to be sure.”

A moment of silence ensued. Then Zagloba lowered his voice still more, and inquired further: “Is this Krívonos with all his forces?”

“Yes.”

“How many men is he leading?”

“Sixty thousand, counting the mob.”

“Oh, the devil take him!” said Zagloba.

Pan Yan smiled under his mustache.

“Don’t think that I am afraid,” whispered Zagloba. “But I have short breath, and don’t like a crowd, for it is hot, and as soon as it is hot I can do nothing. I like to take care of myself in single combat. Not the head, but the hands win in this place. Here I am a fool in comparison with Podbipienta. I have on my stomach here those two hundred ducats which the prince gave me; but believe me I would rather have my stomach somewhere else. Tfu! tfu! I don’t like these great battles. May the plague bruise!”

“Nothing will happen to you. Take courage!”

“Courage? That is all I am afraid of. I fear that bravery will overcome prudence in me. I am too excitable. Besides, I have had a bad omen: when we sat by the fire two stars fell. Who knows, maybe one of them is mine.”

“For your good deeds God will reward you and keep you in health.”

“Well, if only he doesn’t reward me too soon.”

“Why didn’t you stay in the camp?”

“I thought it would be safer with the army.”

“It is. You will see that there is no great trouble. We are accustomed to this fighting, and custom is second nature. But here is the Sluch and Vishovati Stav already.”

In fact the waters of Vishovati Stav, divided from the Sluch by a long dam, glittered in the distance. The army halted at once along the whole line.

“Is this the place so soon?” asked Zagloba.

“The prince will put the army in line,” said Skshetuski.

“I don’t like a throng; I tell you, I don’t like a throng.”

“Hussars on the right wing!” was the command which came from the prince to Pan Yan.

It was broad daylight. The fire had grown pale in the light of the rising sun, whose golden rays were reflected on the points of the lances, and it appeared as though above the hussars a thousand lights were gleaming. After its lines were arranged, the army concealed itself no longer, and began to sing in one voice, “Hail, O ye gates of salvation!” The mighty song resounded over the dewy grass, struck the pine grove, and sent back by the echo, rose to the sky. Then the shore on the other side of the dam grew black with crowds of Cossacks. As far as the eye could reach regiment followed regiment⁠—mounted Zaporojians armed with long lances, infantry with muskets, and waves of peasants armed with scythes, flails, and forks. Behind them was to be seen, as if in fog, an immense camp or movable town. The creaking of thousands of wagons and the neighing of horses reached the ears of the prince’s soldiers. But the Cossacks marched without their usual tumult, without howling, and halted on the other side of the dam. The two opposing forces looked at each other for some time in silence.

Zagloba, keeping all the time close to Skshetuski, looked on that sea of people and muttered⁠—

“Lord, why hast thou created so many ruffians? Hmelnitski must be there with his mob and their vermin. Isn’t that an outbreak, tell me? They will cover us with their caps. Ah! in the old time it was so pleasant in the Ukraine! They are rolling on, rolling on! God grant that the devils may roll you in hell, and all that is coming on us! May the glanders devour you!”

“Don’t swear. Today is Sunday.”

“True, it is Sunday. Better think of God. ‘Pater noster, qui es in cœlis’⁠—No respect to be looked for from these scoundrels⁠—‘Sanctificetur nomen tuum’⁠—What is going to be done on that dam?⁠—‘Adveniat regnum tuum’⁠—The breath is already stopped in my body⁠—‘Fiat voluntas tua’⁠—God choke you, you Hamans! But look! what is that?”

A division formed of a few hundred men separated from the dark mass and pushed forward without order toward the dam.

“That is a skirmishing-party,” said Skshetuski. “Our men will go out to them directly.”

“Has the battle begun, then, already?”

“As God is in heaven!”

“May the devil take them!” Here the ill-humor of Zagloba was beyond measure. “And you are looking at it as a theatre in carnival time!” cried he, in disgust at Skshetuski; “just as if your own skin were not in peril.”

“I told you that we are used to it.”

“And you will go to the skirmish too, of course?”

“It is not very becoming for knights of picked regiments to fight