Mazeppa. Whishaw Frederick
difficult to stand alone, and being obliged to choose for support between Russian, Turk and Pole, had chosen the former. We were therefore, strictly speaking, under allegiance to the Tsar. Moreover, we were of the Orthodox religion; hence, though actually and jealously Cossack in nationality, we were, in a sense, and as our Polish companions loved to assure us, Russians. This was a constant source of quarrel between us and them, and in the end was the immediate cause of our departure from the Court of John Casimir.
In this quarrel, which I shall now describe, I was of course upon the side of Mazeppa; so that our connection began not in rivalry but in friendship, and for a while after this event we remained the closest of friends, and if there was any feeling of rivalry it did not show itself.
It was I that had made a swordsman of Mazeppa, which is a proud boast; for indeed—thanks to the instruction and practice which I gave to him during the earlier days of our life at Court—he became a very expert handler of the foils—a pupil of whom any master might justly be proud.
The fatal quarrel was none of our seeking, but we were of an age when to fight is as natural as to breathe or to eat, though in the Court of King John Casimir personal encounters were not encouraged—were, indeed, strictly forbidden—a fact which rendered indulgence in the pastime a dangerous luxury.
There were five of us pages, all lads of sixteen, and at certain hours of the day it was our duty to assemble in the ante-room appointed to our use, and there to await His Majesty’s pleasure.
On this day we five loitered long and wearily; and the King not appearing, and we having nothing better to do, we took to quarrelling—the three young Polish blades forming one party and we two Cossack youths the other.
I must confess that it was generally I who was at the bottom of the disputes in which we constantly engaged, though usually without coming to blows. Mazeppa was, perhaps, as independent in spirit and as quarrelsome as I, at heart, but his manners were better: he was more of a courtier than I, and also more cautious and less frank; but his tongue when he used it bit very deeply.
‘Here come the Russians,’ said one of the Poles, ‘entering the room as though it were their own property.’
‘Only Russians since the Cossacks overthrew the Poles,’ replied I, cruelly throwing in his teeth for the hundredth time the victory of my father and his Cossacks.
‘Poor Cossacks that cannot stand on their own legs!’ laughed Vladimirsky, one of the three Poles, ‘but must for ever hold hands with Pole or Russian, lest they fall for lack of support.’
‘Who supported us when we thrashed you at Moldávetz?’ said I. ‘Moreover, it is better to be allied with a bear than a fox, though I protest we require neither, and it is certain that we hate both.’
‘Peace, Chelminsky,’ said Mazeppa, ‘this conversation grows stale, we have heard it so often! Vladimirsky will never learn the difference between a Russian and a Cossack: he is short of understanding, for which we may blame his parents, but scarcely himself.’
‘I will tell you,’ began Zofsky, another of them, ‘of what these two fellows most remind me, Vladimirsky. They remind me of a Russian bear and his keeper that I saw last spring in a street in the city. The bear was a fierce, ill-mannered brute—another Chelminsky—while the keeper, who constantly kept him in check lest he should get himself into trouble by his stupidity and ruthlessness, was Mazeppa.’
‘Did the bear, then, fall upon those of the crowd who baited or laughed at him?’ said I, feigning a coolness which I did not feel.
‘When he showed signs of doing so, for the fool did not know that any one of the bystanders could have smashed his head with an axe. Mazeppa—I should say the keeper—interfered and pulled at the chain which was fastened to the nose of the rash and foolish beast.’
‘One day,’ I said, ‘that bear will show that he is not for ever to be baited with impunity; he will fall upon some fool that is taunting him, and maybe his keeper will not prevent him from teaching his enemies a lesson.’
‘That would be an unfortunate day for both bear and keeper,’ laughed Zofsky, ‘for they would gain nothing better than broken heads.’
‘Let us play at bear and bystander!’ said I, and in spite of Mazeppa, who cried, ‘Hush, Chelminsky,’ and of the others, who stepped forward to interfere, I administered a couple of quick buffets, one on Zofsky’s right cheek and the other on his left, and in a moment all five of our swords flew out of their scabbards, and there was promise of a good battle—three Poles to us two Cossacks.
The battle actually began.
Zofsky, red in the face and furious, sprang towards me, and our swords clashed. Mazeppa, with his left arm, pressed me gently backwards until I stood beside him, back to the wall, I defending myself, meanwhile, against Zofsky’s onslaught.
‘Against odds,’ Mazeppa said, ‘it is better to have no one behind us, and especially,’ he added, glancing at our three opponents, ‘when we have Poles for adversaries.’
At this the three sprang angrily upon us, and for a minute or two there was quite a din of clashing swords, so that we did not know that the door of the King’s cabinet had opened and the King himself had entered the ante-room.
His stern voice was heard quickly enough, and with lightning speed our weapons found scabbards, and we stood, all five, with hanging heads and flushed faces.
For a moment the King was silent. Doubtless he looked sternly upon each one of us, but I think not an eye was raised to meet his. Certainly my own gazed only upon the toe of my shoe.
‘I am amazed!’ said the King, very distinctly. ‘Are you, gentlemen, in ignorance of the King’s commands in respect to quarrelling?’
No one replied.
‘Speak you, Vladimirsky’ said the King.
‘Pardon, Majesty,’ said Vladimirsky, ‘I have not the plea of ignorance.’
‘And you, Zofsky?’
‘I was struck first, Majesty,’ said Zofsky; ‘my anger carried me away: I am guilty.’
‘Struck? Within the precincts of my Court? And by whom?’ thundered the King.
‘By me, Majesty,’ I said, ‘whom he first insulted in a manner which it was impossible to tolerate!’
‘Impossible? And yet it is possible to disobey the King’s command! What say you, Mazeppa?’
‘We were attacked, Majesty,’ said Mazeppa; ‘it is the instinct of our race to stand by one another. I could not see Chelminsky cut to pieces before my eyes.’
‘Indeed,’ said the King, very sternly; ‘if that be so, go fight one another’s battles where you will for the future. I will have no spitfires in my Court; go, both of you, whence you came. Let me see your faces no more. As for you others, your case shall be considered.’
Then Zofsky behaved in a manner I should not have expected, for he stood forth and boldly told the King that it might be he and Vladimirsky were more to blame in this matter than we, since they had, indeed, provoked us in a manner that no honourable man could tolerate. But the honest fellow did no service to his cause, for the King flew into a passion and chased from his Court both Zofsky and Vladimirsky, who might otherwise have been forgiven as well as our two selves, so that of his five pages only one remained to him. What became of these young Poles I have never heard and have never inquired; enough that the career of Mazeppa and myself was ended in so far as concerned the Court of Poland. We retired into Volhynia with hearts abashed and heavy, somewhat sullen, and much depressed in spirit, for both of us were ambitious, and indeed it seemed as though our prospects were irretrievably ruined.
CHAPTER II