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

at Bar lives Andrei Pototski, and when he looks at her fire flashes out of his eyes. Tfu! if this should be said by some young fellow who had not seen a battle and wanted to make a reputation, then I could understand; but not you, who have drunk blood like a wolf, and at Makhnovka, I am told, killed a kind of infernal dragon of a man-eater. I swear, by that moon in heaven, that you are up to something here, or that you have got such a taste of blood that you like it better than your bride.”

Skshetuski looked involuntarily at the moon, which was sailing in the high starry heavens like a ship above the camp.

“You are mistaken,” said he, after a while. “I do not want blood, nor am I working for reputation, but it would not be proper to leave my comrades in a difficult struggle in which the whole regiment must engage, nemine excepto. In this is involved knightly honor, a sacred thing. As to the war it will undoubtedly drag on, for the rabble has grown too great; but if Hmelnitski comes to the aid of Krívonos, there will be an intermission. Tomorrow Krívonos will either fight or he will not. If he does, with God’s aid he will receive dire punishment, and we must go to a quiet place to draw breath. During these two months we neither sleep nor eat, we only fight and fight; day and night we have nothing over our heads, exposed to all the attacks of the elements. The prince is a great leader, but prudent. He does not rush on Hmelnitski with a few thousand men against legions. I know also that he will go to Zbaraj, recruit there, get new soldiers⁠—nobles from the whole Commonwealth will hurry to him⁠—and then we shall move to a general campaign. Tomorrow will be the last day of work, and after tomorrow I shall be able to accompany you to Bar with a clean heart. And I will add, to pacify you, that Bogun can in no wise come here tomorrow and take part in the battle; and even if he should I hope that his peasant star will pale, not only before that of the prince, but before my own.”

“He is an incarnate Beelzebub. I have told you that I dislike a throng; but he is worse than a throng, though I repeat it is not so much from fear as from an unconquerable aversion I have for the man. But no more of this. Tomorrow comes the tanning of the peasants’ backs, and then to Bar. Oh, those beautiful eyes will laugh at the sight of you, and that face will blush! I tell you, even I feel lonely without her, for I love her as a father. And no wonder. I have no legitimate children; my fortune is far away, for it is in Turkey, where my scoundrelly agents steal it all; and I live as an orphan in the world, and in my old age I shall have to go and live with Podbipienta at Myshekishki.”

“Oh, no; don’t let your head ache over that! You have done something for us; we cannot be too thankful to you.”

Further conversation was interrupted by some officer who passing along inquired: “Who stands there?”

“Vershul!” exclaimed Skshetuski, recognizing him by his voice. “Are you from the scouting-party?”

“Yes; and now from the prince.”

“What news?”

“Battle tomorrow. The enemy are widening the embankment, building bridges over the Stira and Sluch, and on the morrow wish to come to us without fail.”

“What did the prince say to that?”

“The prince said: ‘All right!’ ”

“Nothing more?”

“Nothing. He gave no order to hinder them, and axes are chopping; they will work till morning.”

“Did you get informants?”

“I captured seven. All confessed that they have heard of Hmelnitski⁠—that he is coming, but probably far away yet. What a night!”

“Yes, you can see as in the day. And how do you feel after the fall?”

“My bones are sore. I am going to thank our Hercules and then sleep, for I am tired. If I could doze a couple of hours⁠—good night!”

“Good night!”

“Go you to sleep also,” said Skshetuski to Zagloba; “for it is late, and there will be work tomorrow.”

“And the next day a journey,” said Zagloba.

They turned, said their prayers, and then lay down near the fire.

Soon the fires began to go out one after another. Silence embraced the camp; but the moon cast on the men silver rays, with which it illumined every little while new groups of sleepers. The silence was broken only by the universal, mighty snoring, and the call of the sentinels watching the camp.

But sleep did not close the heavy lids of the soldiers long. Scarcely had the first dawn whitened the shadows of night when the trumpets in every corner of the camp thundered the reveille.

An hour later the prince, to the great astonishment of the knights, drew back along the whole line.

XXXII

But it was the retreat of a lion needing room for a spring.

The prince purposely allowed Krívonos to cross so as to inflict on him the greater defeat. In the very beginning of the battle he had the cavalry turned and urged on as if in flight, seeing which the men of the lower country and the mob broke their ranks to overtake and surround him. Then Yeremi turned suddenly, and with his whole cavalry struck them at once so terribly that they were unable to resist. The prince’s troops pursued them five miles to the crossing, then over the bridges, the embankment, and two miles and a half to the camp, cutting and killing them without mercy. The hero of the day was the sixteen-year-old Pan Aksak, who gave the first blow and produced the first disorder. Only with such an army, old and trained, could the prince use such stratagems, and feign flight which in any other ranks might become real. This