The Knights of the Cross, or, Krzyzacy. Генрик Сенкевич
wiping his tears with his hand:
"Hej! may God bless her, and permit me as soon as possible to engage in a combat, either on horseback or on foot, for her sake! I did not promise Germans enough to her! To such a lady, I ought to vow as many as she has years. If the Lord Jesus will only release me from this tower, I will not be niggardly with her!" He raised his eyes, full of gratitude.
"First promise something to some church," advised the Pan of Taczew; "if your promise is pleasing, you will surely soon be free. Now listen; your uncle went to see Lichtenstein, and I will go see him also. It will be no shame for you to ask his pardon, because you are guilty; and then you do not ask for pardon of Lichtenstein, but an envoy. Are you ready?"
"As soon as such a knight as your grace tells me it is proper, I will do it. But if he require me to ask him for pardon in the same way he asked us to do it, on the road from Tyniec, then let them cut off my head. My uncle will remain and he will avenge me when the envoy's mission is ended."
"We shall hear first what he says to Macko," answered Powala.
And Macko really went to see the German; but he returned as gloomy as the night and went directly to the king, to whom he was presented by the castellan, himself. The king received Macko kindly because he had been appeased; when Macko kneeled, he immediately told him to arise, asking what he wished.
"Gracious lord," said Macko, "there was an offence, there must be a punishment; otherwise, there would be no law in the world. But I am also guilty because I did not try to restrain the natural impetuosity of that youth; I even praised him for it. It is my fault, gracious king, because I often told him: 'First cut, and then look to see whom you have hurt.' That was right in war, but wrong at the court! But he is a man, pure as gold, the last of our family!"
"He has brought shame upon me and upon my kingdom," said the king; "shall I be gracious to him for that?"
Macko was silent, because when he thought about Zbyszko, grief overpowered him; after a long silence, he began to talk in a broken voice:
"I did not know that I loved him so well; I only know it now when misfortune has come. I am old and he is last of the family. If he perish – we perish! Merciful king and lord, have pity on our family!"
Here Macko kneeled again and having stretched out his arms wasted by war, he spoke with tears:
"We defended Wilno; God gave us honest booty; to whom shall I leave it? If the Krzyzak requires punishment, let punishment come; but permit me to suffer it. What do I care for life without Zbyszko! He is young; let him redeem the land and beget children, as God ordered man to do. The Krzyzak will not ask whose head was cut off, if there is one cut. There will be no shame on the family. It is difficult for a man to die; but it is better that one man perish than that a family should be destroyed."
Speaking thus he clasped the king's legs; the king began to wink his eyes, which was a sign of emotion with him; finally he said:
"It can not be! I cannot condemn to death a belted knight! It cannot be!
It cannot be!"
"And there would be no justice in it," added the castellan. "The law will crush the guilty one; but it is not a monster, which does not look to see whose blood is being shed. And you must consider what shame would fall on your family, if your nephew agreed to your proposal. It would be considered a disgrace, not only to him, but to his children also."
To this Macko replied:
"He would not agree. But if it were done without his knowledge, he would avenge me, even as I also will avenge him."
"Ha!" said Tenczynski, "persuade the Krzyzak to withdraw the complaint."
"I have asked him."
"And what?" asked the king, stretching his neck; "what did he say?"
"He answered me thus: 'You ought to have asked me for pardon on the road to Tyniec; you would not then; now I will not.'"
"And why didn't you do it?"
"Because he required us to dismount and apologize on foot."
The king having put his hair behind his ears, commenced to say something when a courtier entered to announce that the Knight of Lichtenstein was asking for an audience.
Having heard this, Jagiello looked at Jasko of Tenczyn, then at Macko. He ordered them to remain, perhaps with the hope that he would be able to take advantage of this opportunity and using his kingly authority, bring the affair to an end.
Meanwhile the Krzyzak entered, bowed to the king, and said:
"Gracious lord! Here is the written complaint about the insult which I suffered in your kingdom."
"Complain to him," answered the king, pointing to Jasko of Tenczyn.
The Krzyzak, looking directly into the king's face, said:
"I know neither your laws nor your courts; I only know, that an envoy of the Order can complain only to the king."
Jagiello's small eyes flashed with impatience; he stretched out his hand however, and accepted the complaint which he handed to Tenczynski.
The castellan unfolded it and began to read; but the further he read, the more sorrowful and sad his face became.
"Sir," said he, finally, "you are seeking the life of that lad, as though he were dangerous to the whole Order. Is it possible that the Knights of the Cross are afraid even of the children?"
"The Knights of the Cross are not afraid of anyone," answered the comthur, proudly.
And the old castellan added:
"And especially of God."
The next day Powala of Taczew testified to everything he could before the court of the castellan, that would lessen the enormity of Zbyszko's offence. But in vain did he attribute the deed to childishness and lack of experience; in vain he said that even some one older, if he had made the same vow, prayed for its fulfillment and then had suddenly perceived in front of him such a crest, would also have believed that it was God's providence. But one thing, the worthy knight could not deny; had it not been for him, Zbyszko's spear would have pierced the Krzyzak's chest. Kuno had brought to the court the armor which he wore that day; it appeared that it was so thin that Zbyszko with his great strength, would have pierced it and killed the envoy, if Powala of Taczew had not prevented him. Then they asked Zbyszko if he intended to kill the Krzyzak, and he could not deny it. "I warned him from afar," said he, "to point his lance, and had he shouted in reply that he was an envoy, I would not have attacked him."
These words pleased the knights who, on account of their sympathy for the lad, were present in great numbers, and immediately numerous voices were heard to say: "True! Why did he not reply!" But the castellan's face remained gloomy and severe. Having ordered those present to be silent, he meditated for a while, then looked sharply at Zbyszko, and asked:
"Can you swear by the Passion of our Lord that you saw neither the mantle nor the cross?"
"No!" answered Zbyszko. "Had I not seen the cross, I would have thought he was one of our knights, and I would not have attacked one of ours."
"And how was it possible to find any Krzyzak near Krakow, except an envoy, or some one from his retinue?"
To this Zbyszko did not reply, because there was nothing to be said. To everybody it was clear, that if the Pan of Taczanow had not interposed, at the present moment there would lie before them not the armor of the envoy, but the envoy himself, with pierced breast – an eternal disgrace to the Polish nation; – therefore even those who sympathized with Zbyszko, with their whole souls, understood that he could not expect a mild sentence.
In fact, after a while the castellan said:
"As you did not stop to think whom you were attacking, and you did it without anger, therefore our Saviour will forgive you; but you had better commit yourself to the care of the Most Holy Lady, because the law cannot condone your offence."
Having heard this, Zbyszko, although he expected such words, became somewhat pale; but he soon shook his long hair, made the sign of the cross, and said:
"God's will! I