For the Right. Karl Emil Franzos
Borecki's land steward, had power in the village. Again and again the dying speech of Stephen rang in his ears.
As for the mandatar, he had rejoiced on learning that Taras had succeeded the old judge; this gentle Podolian, who had always been on the yielding side, seemed the very man for his plans. His fury naturally was all the greater on discovering his mistake. The 'capital subject' certainly never lost his temper or threatened violence, but every unfair demand he opposed with an inflexible "No," which was all the more effective for being given calmly, almost humbly, and fully substantiated with good reasons. On one occasion, however, his imperturbation was in imminent danger; Hajek had patted him on the shoulder, saying, with a knowing wink: "Well, my good fellow, suppose you allow me two labourers more; it shall not be your loss." Taras upon this gave the rascal a look which took the colour out of his face, and made him turn back a step, trembling.
From that hour there seemed enmity between the two, and the more the one strove to encroach, the more the other met him with refusal. But while Taras succeeded in maintaining a stern calm, the mandatar again and again was seen foaming with rage. It was so upon a certain occasion early in April, and for a trivial cause. Hajek was making a plantation, and wanted the villagers to allow him a quantity of young trees from their forest.
"We are not bound to yield that," said Taras, quietly.
The mandatar paced his floor, apparently beyond himself; but a discriminating observer might have doubted the sincerity of his rage.
"Don't force me to take high measures," he roared. "Why should you refuse me a few wretched saplings? I shall just take them, if you hold out."
"You will do no such thing," returned Taras, as quietly as before.
"Do you think I am afraid of your guns and axes?" Hajek's words rose to a shriek, as though he were half-suffocated with passion, but his eye was fixed on the peasant's face with a watchful glance.
"No," said the latter, "I am thinking that there are magistrates in the district. We shall never have recourse to violence, even if you should make the beginning."
"This is palaver."
"I mean what I say," said Taras, drawing himself up proudly. "While I am judge here, the men of Zulawce shall not take the law into their own hands on whatever provocation. … But why speak of such things? The trees you cannot have, so let me take my leave, sir."
"Go!" growled the mandatar, but a queer light transformed his features no sooner than Taras's back was turned. "That is useful to know," he said to himself with an approving smile. "This man is quite a jewel of a judge. … No, there is no need to be wroth with you, my good Taras! So, after all, my first impression of you was the right one! … Old Stephen could never have had a better successor!"
But Taras, the judge, went home with a heavy heart. He had no thanks for his battling, save in his own conscience; the men of Zulawce had scarcely a word of acknowledgment. On the contrary, they considered him far too yielding on many points; and, as they viewed matters, there was truth in their charge. Severin Gonta and the late Count, for the sake of peace, had not made good every claim to the very letter; but Hajek demanded every tittle that was his by right of institution, granting not an hour of respite, and foregoing not a peck of wheat; and Taras as a matter of duty never opposed him in this. It was quite correct, then, if the people said that the new judge insisted on their yielding all dues far more strictly than any of his predecessors ever had done. Indeed, it was only the love and respect he had won for himself in the village that kept under any real distrust or open accusation. For he was all alone in his work, no one helped him by explaining things to the people, not even that shepherd of his flock whose duty it fairly might have been. The reverend Martin sat on his glebe as on an isle of content, all because of that strange man, Avrumko, who kept supplying him so freely; and any sympathy he might have given was thus drowned.
But Taras continued bravely and hopefully, comforting his wife when her courage failed. "The right must conquer," he would tell her; "and for the rest, have we not an Emperor at Vienna, and God above?"
"But Vienna is far, and God in heaven seems further," said she, disheartened.
"Not so far," cried he, "but that both will hear us if we must call for redress. But things will not come to such a pass; even a mandatar will scarcely dare to subvert the right and do violence."
He was mistaken. Hajek dared both. It was about a month after that conversation concerning the trees. Taras in the early morning was in his yard, giving orders to his two servants, Sefko and Jemilian, concerning the sowing of the wheat, when he was startled by a dull report, which quivered through the air, a second and a third clap succeeding.
"Gunshots!" he gasped.
"Some one out hunting," said Sefko.
"No!" cried Jemilian; "it is near the river. Could it be 'Green Giorgi' with his band?" referring to a notorious outlaw of those days, a deserter, George Czumaka by name, who wore a green jerkin.
"No!" cried Taras, in his turn, and making for the road. "In broad daylight he would never dare. … What has happened?" he interrupted himself, changing colour. A young farm labourer, Wassilj Soklewicz, came dashing along wild with terror.
"Help! help!" he shrieked. His clothes were torn, and he looked white as death.
"What is it?" repeated Taras, seizing him by the arm.
"Help!" groaned the poor fellow. "They have just killed my brother Dimitri!"
"Where? Who?"
"The mandatar … on the parish field!" said Wassilj; continuing brokenly: "We had gone there early this morning, my brother and I, together with the two sons of Dubko, to work on the field as you told us. We had taken our guns with us, intending to have a shot in the afternoon. We had just put the oxen to the ploughs when the mandatar arrived with a number of men, all armed. 'Get ye gone,' he cried; 'you are trespassing on the Count's property.'"
"'Begone yourselves!' returned my brother Dimitri, seizing hold of his gun, which he had laid down, we doing likewise. 'This field has been parish ground time out of mind; I shall shoot any one that says the contrary.'
"The mandatar at this fell back, but urged on his men from behind, and they attacked us with guns and scythes. We sent our bullets amongst them, and the foremost of the party, Red Hritzko, turned a somersault and lay still on his face. One of us had hit him. But they also fired their guns, and my brother fell, shot through the heart! … They were too many for us, and they turned upon as with their butt ends. But we got away! … "
The poor youth told his tale amid gasps and sobs, and before he had finished a crowd of villagers had gathered. From their houses, from their fields round about, the men came running, gathering about their judge. Most were fully armed, and all were wildly excited; for the parish field is sacred ground with every Slavonic community; he who dares touch it is not merely an offender against their property, but against their very affections; it is all but sacrilege in the eyes of these men.
Taras also felt his soul upheave, but he conquered his wrath, knowing the people. "If I lose self-possession," he said to himself, "blood will flow in streams to-day!" So he faced the men, who were for pressing on to the scene of the outrage. "Stop!" he cried, "we shall go in a body! Call the elders and the rest of the men."
The command was scarcely needed, for they were coming, every man of them, and the wives and the children. Wrathful cries filled the air, the women wailed, and children shrieked with an unknown fear. The mother of the young man who had been shot, a widow named Xenia, came rushing along; she had torn the kerchief from her head, and her grey hair fell in tangled masses round her grief-filled face. "Avenge my child!" she implored the judge, clasping his knees.
He lifted her, speaking to her gently; and turning to Simeon and his fellow-elder he ordered them to let the men fall in. "The heads of families only," he said; "let the women and young men stay here!"
"Stay here!" shrieked Xenia.
"Yes, why?" shouted the excited people. "Let every one follow who is able to lift a gun."