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

“Wait for the ladder!” said Golody.

“And what harm is it, father, to try on the lances?”

“Vassily will climb; he goes like a cat.”

“Let him try.”

But others began to joke immediately. “Be careful! he has a sabre; he will cut your head off. Look out! he will grab you by the head, drag you in, and treat you as a bear would.”

But Vassily didn’t allow himself to be frightened. “He knows,” said Vassily, “that if he should lay a finger on me the ataman would give him the devil to eat; and you, brothers.”

This was a warning to Zagloba, who sat quietly, and did not even mutter.

But the Cossacks, as is usual among soldiers, got into good humor, for the whole affair began to amuse them; so they kept on teasing Vassily.

“There will be one blockhead less in the white world.”

“He won’t think how we shall pay him for your head. He is a bold hero.”

“Ho, ho! He is a werewolf. The devil knows into what form he has turned already. He is a wizard! Can’t tell, Vassily, whom you will find there behind the opening.”

Vassily, who had already spat on his palms and was just grasping the lances by the stem, stopped suddenly. “I’ll go against a Pole,” said he, “but not against the devil.”

But now the ladders were lashed together and placed at the opening. It was difficult to climb them, too, for they bent immediately where they were tied, and the slender round cracked under the feet, which were placed on the lowest one to try. But Golody himself began to ascend; while going, he said⁠—

“My dear noble, you see that there is no joking here. If you have made up your mind to stay up there, stay; but don’t fight, for we will get you anyhow, even if we have to pull the stable to pieces. Have sense!”

At last his head reached the opening and went through it slowly. All at once the whiz of a sabre was heard. The Cossack screamed fearfully, tottered, and fell, with his head cut in two.

“Cut! slash!” roared the Cossacks.

A fearful tumult began in the stable. Shouts and cries were raised, which were overborne by the thundering voice of Zagloba⁠—

“Oh, you scoundrels, you man-eaters, you basilisks! I’ll cut you to pieces, you mangy ruffians! You’ll know a knightly hand. Attacking honest people by night, shutting a noble in a stable! Scoundrels! Come to me by ones or by twos, only come! Come along; but you’ll leave your heads on the dung-heap, for I’ll hew them off, as I live.”

“Cut! cut!” shouted the Cossacks.

“We will burn the stable.”

“I’ll burn it myself, you oxtails, and you with it.”

“Several⁠—several at a time!” shouted an old Cossack. “Support the ladder, prop it with lances, take bundles of hay on your heads and go on! We must get him.”

Then he mounted, and with him two comrades. The rounds began to break, the ladders bent still more; but more than twelve strong hands seized them by the sides propped by the lances, others thrust the points of lances through the opening to ward off the blows of the sabre.

A few moments later three bodies fell on the heads of those standing below. Zagloba, heated by his triumph, bellowed like a buffalo, and poured out such curses as the world had never heard, and from which the souls of the Cossacks would have died within them, if fury had not begun to possess them. Some thrust their lances into the loft; others hurried on the ladders, though sure death waited them in the opening. Suddenly a shout was heard at the door, and into the stable rushed Bogun himself. He was without a cap, in trousers and shirt; in his hand was a drawn sabre, and in his eyes fire.

“Through the thatch!” he shouted. “Tear the thatch apart and take him alive!”

But Zagloba, seeing him, roared: “Ruffian, just come up here! I’ll cut off your nose and ears. I won’t touch your neck, for that belongs to the hangman. Well, are you afraid, my urchin?” Then Zagloba said to the Cossacks: “Tie that scoundrel for me, and you will all be pardoned. Well, gallows-bird! well, Jews’ picture! I am alone here; only show your head on this loft! Come, come! I shall be glad to see you, I’ll give you such a reception that you’ll remember it with your father the devil, and your mother a harlot.”

The poles of the roof now began to crack. It was evident the Cossacks were up there and tearing through the thatch.

Zagloba heard, but fear didn’t deprive him of power; he was as if drunk with the battle and with blood. “I’ll spring to the corner and perish there,” thought he.

But that instant gunshots were heard in the yard. A number of Cossacks rushed to the stable. “Father! father!” they shouted. “This way!”

Zagloba at the first moment did not understand what had happened, and was astonished. He looked down through the opening; there was no one there. The rafters were not cracking.

“What is it? what has happened?” he cried aloud. “Ah! I understand. They want to burn the stable, and fire from pistols at the roof.”

Then was heard the uproar of people, more terrible every moment, and the tramp of horses. Shouts mixed with howls and the clatter of steel.

“My God, that must be a battle!” thought Zagloba, springing to the opening in the thatch. He looked, and his legs bent under him with delight.

In the yard a battle was raging, and soon Zagloba beheld the terrible defeat of Bogun’s Cossacks. Attacked on a sudden, struck with fire from pistols placed at their heads and breasts, pushed to the fences, to the cottage and outhouses, cut with swords, thrown down by the rush of horses, trampled with their hoofs, the Cossacks perished almost without resistance. The ranks of red-uniformed soldiers, cutting furiously and pressing on the fugitives, did not allow them to form, to use their sabres, to draw breath,