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

that his Cossacks would fight madly against all other armies of the Commonwealth, and against every other leader, but with the approach of Yeremi they would speed away like a flock of swans before an eagle, or like the thistledown of the steppes before the wind.

To wait for the prince at Kamenyets was still worse. Krívonos determined to hurry eastward as far as Bratslav, to avoid his evil spirit and move toward Hmelnitski. He knew, it is true, that circling around in this way he would not arrive in time; but at least he would hear of the results in season, and plan for his own safety.

A new report came with the wind, that Hmelnitski was already defeated. Skshetuski had spread it purposely, as he had the previous report. This time the unfortunate Krívonos knew not what to do.

Later he determined all the more to march to the east and push on as far as possible into the steppes; maybe he would meet the Tartars and find shelter among them. But first of all he wished to be sure; therefore he looked carefully among his colonels to find a man trusty and prepared for everything, so as to send him with a party to get information. But the choice was difficult; there was a lack of volunteers, and it was absolutely necessary to find a man who in case he should fall into the hands of the enemy would not disclose the plans of retreat, even if burned with fire, impaled on a stake, or broken on a wheel. At last Krívonos found the man. One night he gave the order to call Bogun, and said to him⁠—

“Do you hear, Yurku, my friend Yarema is marching on us with a great force; we shall all perish, unfortunates!”

“I have heard that he is coming⁠—you have already spoken of that, father. But why should we perish?”

“We cannot withstand him. We could another, but not Yeremi. The Cossacks are afraid of him.”

“But I am not afraid of him. I cut to pieces a regiment of his at Vassílyevka beyond the Dnieper.”

“I know that you are not afraid of him; your fame of a Cossack and a hero is equal to his as a prince. But I cannot give him battle, for my Cossacks are unwilling. Remember what they said at the council⁠—how they rushed on me with sabres because I wanted to lead them to slaughter.”

“Then we will go to Hmelnitski; there we shall find blood and booty.”

“They say that Hmelnitski is already defeated.”

“I do not believe that, Father Maksim. Hmelnitski is a fox; he will not strike the Poles without the Tartars.”

“I think so too, but we must find out. Then we could go around this devil of a Yeremi and join Hmel; but we must have information. Now, if someone who has no fear of Yeremi were to go with a party and take prisoners, I should fill his cap with ruddy sequins.”

“I’ll go, Father Maksim⁠—not for sequins, but for Cossack, for heroic glory.”

“You are the next ataman to me, and since you are willing to go, you will become first ataman yet over the Cossacks, good hero, for you are not afraid of Yeremi. Go, my falcon, and hereafter you have but to ask for what you want. Well, I tell you, if you were not going I should go myself; but it is not for me to go.”

“No; for if you were to go, father, the Cossacks would say that you were saving your head and would scatter over the world, but when I go their courage will increase.”

“Shall I give you many men?”

“I will not take many; it is easier to hide and approach with a small force. But give me about five hundred good warriors, and my head for it, I will bring you informants⁠—not soldiers, but officers from whom you will learn everything.”

“Go at once! They are firing cannon from Kamenyets with joy⁠—salvation to the Poles and destruction to us innocents.”

Bogun went out, and began to prepare at once for the road. His heroes, as was the fixed practice on such occasions, drank to the verge of destruction, “before Mother Death should clasp them to her breast.” He too drank with them till he was snorting from gorailka.

He frolicked and revelled, then had a barrel filled with tar, and just as he was, in brocade and serge, sprang into it, sank a couple of times, once over his head, and shouted⁠—

“I am black as Mother Night. Polish eyes won’t see me now!”

He rolled himself on Persian carpets, sprang on his horse and rode away. After him clattered, amid the darkness of night, his trusty heroes, followed by shouts: “Glory! Luck!”

Skshetuski had already pushed on to Yarmolintsi, where, meeting opposition, he baptized the townspeople in blood, and having told them that Prince Yeremi would arrive next day, gave rest to his wearied horses and men. Then assembling his officers in council, he said to them⁠—

“So far God has given us success. I see also, by the terror which seizes the peasants, that they take us for the advance guard of the prince, and believe that his whole force is following. We must look out, however, that they do not bethink themselves when they see that one company is going everywhere.”

“And shall we go about in this way long?” asked Zagloba.

“Till we find out what Krívonos has determined.”

“Then we may not come in time for the battle at the camp?”

“Maybe not.”

“Well, I am not glad of that,” said Zagloba. “My hand has become a little exercised on the ruffians at Konstantinoff. I captured something from them there; but that is a trifle. My fingers are itching now.”

“Perhaps you will get more fighting than you expect,” answered Pan Yan, seriously.

“How is that?” asked Zagloba, rather alarmed.

“Why, any day we may come upon the enemy, and though we are not here to bar the road with arms, we shall have to defend ourselves. But to return to the