With Fire and Sword by Henryk Sienkiewicz (big ebook reader .txt) 📕
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Goodwill in the seventeenth century Polish Commonwealth has been stretched thin due to the nobility’s perceived and real oppression of the less well-off members. When the situation reaches its inevitable breaking point, it sparks the taking up of arms by the Cossacks against the Polish nobility and a spiral of violence that engulfs the entire state. This background provides the canvas for vividly painted narratives of heroism and heartbreak of both the knights and the hetmans swept up in the struggle.
Henryk Sienkiewicz had spent most of his adult life as a journalist and editor, but turned his attention back to historical fiction in an attempt to lift the spirits and imbue a sense of nationalism to the partitioned Poland of the nineteenth century. With Fire and Sword is the first of a trilogy of novels dealing with the events of the Khmelnytsky Uprising, and weaves fictional characters and events in among historical fact. While there is some contention about the fairness of the portrayal of Polish and Ukrainian belligerents, the novel certainly isn’t one-sided: all factions indulge in brutal violence in an attempt to sway the tide of war, and their grievances are clearly depicted.
The initial serialization and later publication of the novel proved hugely popular, and in Poland the Trilogy has remained so ever since. In 1999, the novel was the subject of Poland’s then most expensive film, following the previously filmed later books. This edition is based on the 1898 translation by Jeremiah Curtin, who also translated Sienkiewicz’s later (and perhaps more internationally recognized) Quo Vadis.
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- Author: Henryk Sienkiewicz
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“Tell the Cossacks,” said he to the essauls, “that tomorrow the ataman will be as well as a fish, and not to trouble about him. He got a scratch, but came out splendidly, and tomorrow he can have his wedding even without a priest. If there is a wine-cellar in the house, then you may use it. See, his wounds are dressed already! Now go, that the ataman may rest.”
The essauls moved toward the door.
“But don’t drink the whole cellar dry,” added Zagloba.
Sitting at Bogun’s pillow, he looked at him attentively.
“Well, the devil won’t take you on account of these wounds, though you got good ones. You won’t move hand or foot for two days,” muttered he to himself, looking at the pale face and closed eyes of the Cossack. “The sabre was unwilling to cheat the executioner; for you are his property and from him you will not escape. When they hang you the devil will make a doll out of you for his imps, as you are pretty-faced. No, brother, you drink well, but you will drink no longer with me. You may seek companions for yourself among crawfish-dealers, for I see that you like to kill people, but I will not fall upon noble houses with you in the night. May the hangman light your way!”
Bogun groaned slightly.
“Oh, groan and sigh! Tomorrow you’ll groan better. But wait, you Tartar soul, you wanted the princess? I don’t wonder, for she is a beauty; but if you get her, then I’ll let the dogs eat my wit. Hair will grow on the palms of my hands first.”
The uproar and hum of many voices came from the square to the ears of Zagloba.
“Ah! they have got to the cellar surely,” he muttered. “Drink like horseflies, so that you will sleep well. I will watch for all of you, though I don’t know whether you will be glad of my watching tomorrow.”
Then he rose to see if the Cossacks had really made the acquaintance of the princess’s cellar, and went to the anteroom, where a terrible sight met his eyes. In the middle of the room lay the bodies of Simeon and Nikolai, already cold, and in the corner of the room the body of the princess in a sitting posture, inclined just as she had been bent by the Cossacks. Her eyes were open, her teeth exposed. The fire, burning in the chimney, filled the whole room with a faint light, trembling in pools of blood; the depth of the room was obscure in the shadow. Zagloba approached the princess to see if she was breathing, and placed his hand on her face; it was cold already. He hurried to the square, for terror seized him in that room.
The Cossacks had begun their revel on the outside. Fires had been kindled, by the light of which Zagloba saw barrels of mead, wine, and spirits with the heads broken in. The Cossacks dipped from them as from a well, and drank with all their might. Some, already warmed by drink, chased the young women from the servants’ quarters; some of the young women, seized by fright, struggled and ran away, springing through the fire, others amidst bursts of laughter and shouting allowed themselves to be caught and drawn toward the barrels, or fires at which they were dancing the Cosachka. The Cossacks rushed into the dance as if mad; in front of them the girls now pushing forward, now retreating before the violent movements of their partners.
The spectators either kept time with tin cups, or sang. Cries of “U-ha!” were heard louder and louder, with the accompaniment of howling of dogs, neighing of horses, and bellowing of cattle to be slaughtered for the feast.
At the distant fires were seen peasants from around Rozlogi—neighbors, who at the sound of shots and cries had rushed from the village in crowds to see what was going on. They did not think of defending the princess, for the Kurtsevichi were hated in the place; they only looked on the revelling of the Cossacks, elbowing one another, whispering, and approaching nearer and nearer the barrels of vudka and mead. The orgies grew more and more tumultuous, the drinking increased. The Cossacks no longer dipped from the barrels with cups, but thrust their heads in up to the neck, and sprinkled the dancing girls with vudka and mead. Their faces were inflamed, steam rose from their heads; and some were already staggering.
Zagloba, coming out on the porch, cast his eye on the drinking crowd, then looked carefully at the sky.
“Clear, but dark,” he muttered; “when the moon goes down you might strike them in the face, they wouldn’t see you.—Go on, my boys,” he cried, “go on! Don’t spare yourselves; your teeth won’t grow stiff. A fool is he who won’t drink today to the health of his ataman! Go on with the barrels! Go on with the girls! U-ha!”
“U-ha!” shouted the Cossacks, joyfully.
Zagloba looked around on every side.
“Oh, you wretches, rogues, good-for-nothings!” shouted he, all at once; “you drink yourselves like horses after a journey, but to the men on guard around the house not a drop. Hallo there! change the guards for me this minute!”
The order was executed without delay, and in a moment a number of tipsy Cossacks ran to relieve the guards, who up to that time had taken no part in the revelry. They came in at once with a haste easily understood.
“Help yourselves!” cried Zagloba, “help yourselves!” pointing to the barrels.
“We thank you!” answered the Cossacks, dipping in the cups.
“In an hour relieve these for me.”
“Very well,” said the essaul.
It seemed quite natural to the Cossacks that Zagloba should take the command in place of Bogun. It had happened already more than once, and they were glad of it because he always permitted them everything. The
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