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

name, not save the army, renounce the crown of heaven? Never! And he moved on, stretching out his hands before him.

Now a murmur reached him again, not from the Polish camp, however, but from the opposite side, still indefinite, but as it were deep and terrible, like the growling of a bear giving sudden answer in a dark forest. Disquiet had now left Pan Longin’s soul; sadness had ceased, and changed into a mere sweet remembrance of those near to him. At last, as if answering that menace coming up from the tabor, he repeated once more in spirit: “But still I will go.”

After a certain time he found himself on that battlefield ere on the first day of the storm the prince’s cavalry had defeated the Cossacks and janissaries. The road here was more even⁠—fewer pits, ditches, shelters, and no corpses, those who had fallen in the earlier struggles had been buried by the Cossacks. It was also somewhat clearer, for the ground was not covered with various obstacles. The land inclined gradually toward the north. But Pan Longin turned immediately to the flank, wishing to push through between the western pond and the tabor.

He went quickly now, without hindrance, and it seemed him already that he was reaching the line of the tabor, when some new sound caught his attention. He halted at once, and after waiting a quarter of an hour heard the tramp and breathing of horses. “Cossack patrols!” thought he. The voices of men reached his ears. He sprang aside with speed, and searching with his foot for the first depression in the ground, fell to the earth and stretched out motionless, holding his pistol in one hand and his sword the other.

The riders approached still nearer, and at last were abreast of him. It was so dark he could not count them; but he heard every word of their conversation.

“It is hard for them, but hard for us too,” said some sleepy voice. “And how many good men of ours have bitten the dust!”

“Oh, Lord!” said another voice, “they say the king is far. What will become of us?”

“The Khan got angry with our father; and the Tartars threaten to take us, if there will be no other prisoners.”

“And in the pastures they fight with our men. Father has forbidden us to go to the Tartar camp, for whoever goes there is lost.”

“They say there are disguised Poles among the market-men. I wish this war had never begun.”

“It is worse this time than before.”

“The king is not far away, with the Polish forces. That is the worst!”

“Ha, ha! You would be sleeping in the Saitch at this hour; now you have got to push around in the dark like a vampire.”

“There must be vampires here, for the horses are snorting.”

Their voices receded gradually, and at last were silent. Pan Longin rose and went on.

A rain fine as mist began to fall. It grew still darker. On the left side of Pan Longin gleamed at the distance of two furlongs a small light; after that a second, a third, and a tenth. Then he knew he was on the line of the tabor. The lights were far apart and weak. It was evident that all were sleeping, and only here and there might they be drinking or preparing food for the morrow.

“Thank God that I am out after the storm and the sally,” said Pan Longin to himself. “They must be mortally weary.”

He had scarcely thought this when he heard again in the distance the tramp of horses⁠—another patrol was coming. But the ground in this place was more broken; therefore it was easier to hide. The patrol passed so near that the guards almost rode over Pan Longin. Fortunately the horses, accustomed to pass among prostrate bodies, were not frightened. Pan Longin went on.

In the space of a thousand yards he met two more patrols. It was evident that the whole circle occupied by the tabor was guarded like the apple of the eye. But Pan Longin rejoiced in spirit that he was not meeting infantry outposts, who are generally placed before camps to give warning to mounted patrols.

But his joy was of short duration. Scarcely had he advanced another furlong of the road when some dark figure shifted before him not more than twenty yards distant. Though unterrified, he felt a slight tremor along his spine. It was too late to withdraw and go around. The form moved; evidently it had seen him. A moment of hesitation followed, short as the twinkle of an eye. Then a suppressed voice called⁠—

“Vassil, is that you?”

“I,” said Pan Longin, quietly.

“Have you gorailka?”

“I have.”

“Give me some.”

Pan Longin approached.

“Why are you so tall?” asked the voice, in tones of terror.

Something rustled in the darkness. A scream of “Lor⁠—!” smothered the instant it was begun, came from the mouth the picket; then was heard the crash as it were of broken bones, heavy breathing, and one figure fell quietly to the earth. Pan Longin moved on.

But he did not pass along the same line, for it was evidently a line of pickets; he turned therefore a little nearer to the tabor, wishing to go between the pickets and the line of wagons. If there was not another line of pickets, Pan Longin could meet in that space only those who went out from camp to relieve those on duty. Mounted patrols had no duty here.

After a time it became evident that there was no second line of pickets. But the tabor was not farther than two bow-shots; and wonderful! it seemed to grow nearer continually, though he tried to go at an equal distance from line of wagons.

It was evident too that not all were asleep in the tabor. At the fires smouldering here and there sitting figures were visible. In one place the fire was greater⁠—so large indeed that it almost reached Pan Longin with its light, and he was forced to draw back toward the