 Book 2 Chapter 7 of With Fire and Sword by Henriksen Kevich, translated by Samuel A. Benyon. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Late that evening, beneath a bright sky, the forces arrived in Rosloga. There they found Skyshettovsky sitting upon his mount Calvary. The night was, as we know, overcome with sorrow and torture of mind, and when Father Mukovetsky had brought him back to a sense of reality, the officers took him into their midst and began to talk to him and to comfort. Especially Longin Podbipienta, who, for a period of three months, had been in Skyshettovsky's regiment and had been a liberal companion. He also wished to be a sharer of his grief and tears, and immediately made a new vow on his account that he would fast every Tuesday until his death if God would in any manner send comfort to Skyshettovsky. Meanwhile the lieutenant Skyshettovsky had been brought to the prince who had taken up his quarters in a peasant's cabin. When he saw his favorite he said not a word but held out his arms towards him. Skyshettovsky threw himself into the outstretched arms, and the prince pressed him to his heart, kissed his head, and the other officer's presence saw tears in his eyes. In a little while he spoke, I welcome you as a son, for I had begun to think that I should never see you again. Bear your sorrow bravely and remember that you will have a thousand companions in misfortune, who will lose wives, children, parents, relations, and friends, and your sorrow will disappear like a drop in the ocean in the sea of universal sorrow. When such dreadful times are coming over the dear fatherland, no one who is a man and carries a sword can give himself up to his own sorrow, but must fly to the aid of our common mother, and win peace of conscience, or a glorious death and a heavenly crown, and with it eternal blessedness. O men, said Chaplain Mukovetsky, O my prince, I would rather see her dead! sighed the night. Weep, weep, for your loss is heavy, and we will weep with you, for you are not among heathen, nor among wild sithians, nor among tartars, but among brethren and comrades who love you. But one thing say to yourself, every day I weep over my misfortune, but to-morrow I will put it by, for to-morrow we are going to battle. I will go with your excellency to the end of the world, but I cannot find comfort, for it is so sad without her that I cannot. And the poor fellow put his hands to his head, then he set his teeth tightly to keep down the sobs, for a storm of despair was tearing him again. Thou hast said thy will be done, said the priest sternly. O men, O men, I bow to his will, but my sorrow cannot keep it down, answered the night in disjointed sentences. One could see how he fought with himself, and his sorrow drew tears from all eyes, and the softer hearted ones, Fulajovsky and Longin, were weeping copiously from sympathy. The latter folded his hands and repeated plaintively, Dear little brother, dear little brother, take courage. Listen, said the prince suddenly, I have received word that Bohan has gone from here to Lupinie, for he has slaughtered the garrison in Vassilova, for do not despair, perhaps he has not found her yet, for why should he have gone to Lupinie? Why, God, it must be so, cried the officers, God will bring you comfort. Skashetovsky opened his eyes as though he did not understand what they were saying. Suddenly a glimpse of hope came into his heart, and he threw himself full-length at the feet of the prince. Oh, my prince! Life! Blood! he cried. He could say no more, he had become so weak that Longin had to lift him from the ground and place him on a bench. But one saw from his expression that he had seized this thread of hope, as a drowning man seizes a board and that his sorrow began to abate. The others encouraged this hope and said to him that perhaps he would find his princess in Lupinie. Then they took him into another hut and gave him mead and wine. The lieutenant tried to drink, but could not, for his throat seemed closed, but his faithful friends drank instead of him, and, excited by the wine, they began to throw their arms round him and kiss him, and were astonished at his leanness and the traces of sickness which they saw in his face. You look like Piotrovin, said the fat zeke. You got pretty well played out in Siege. They gave you nothing to eat or drink in Siege. Tell us what happened to you. I will tell you some other time, said Skishtysky in a weak voice. They wounded me and I fell ill. They wounded him, cried Zeke. Wounded? An ambassador, answered Sleshenysky. And they looked at one another, astonished at the boldness of the Cossacks. Then they began to press each other out of affection for Skishtysky. And did you see Mjolnitsky? Yes. Leave him to us, sir, cried Megursky. We will make hash of him. With such conversation the night passed away. In the morning news was received that the second advance party that had been sent to Tcherkas had returned. They had evidently not brought back Bohun and had not caught him. But they had returned with strange news. They brought several people with them whom they had met on the road, who had seen Bohun two days before. These related that the Cossack leader was evidently in pursuit of somebody, for he had asked everyone if they had not seen a fat nobleman with a Cossack boy. He was in a tremendous hurry and always rode off again at breakneck speed. Those people had said also that they had not noticed that Bohun had a young lady with him, but if he had they would certainly have remarked it, for Bohun had only a few soldiers with him. Fresh hope as well as anxiety filled Skishtysky's heart, for these tales were absolutely unintelligible to him. He could not understand in the first place why Bohun should have taken the direction of Lubny, why he should have attacked the garrison in Vasilova, and then suddenly turned in the direction of Tcherkas, that he had not taken Helena with him seemed evident, for Kuchel had met Anton's division, and she was not among them, and the men whom they had just brought back from Tcherkas had not seen her with Bohun. So where could she be? Where might she be hiding? Had she escaped? And if so, in what direction? Why, instead of going to Lubny, should she have gone to Tcherkas or Zolotonosha? And yet Bohun's soldiers were following somebody in the direction of Tcherkas and Prokhorovka, and why had they inquired about a nobleman and a Cossack boy? To all these questions the lieutenant could find no answer. Tell me, speak, explain to me what it all means, he said to the officers, for my brain cannot understand it. I think that they must be in Lubny, said Panmagorsky. That is not possible, answered Lieutenant Zatzfilokovsky. If she were in Lubny, Bohun would be take himself as quickly as possible to Tchigrin to be in safety, but he would not go to meet the Hetmans, of whose defeat he can know nothing. But if he divided up his forces and took two lines of pursuit, I tell you it was on account of no one but the princess. But he was asking for an old nobleman and a Cossack boy. It does not need any great sagacity to guess that she would not try to escape in women's clothing, but has put on some disguise in order to evade all suspicion, and I think that this Cossack boy is herself. As I live, as I live, that is true, repeated the others. But who is the nobleman? That I do not know, said the old lieutenant, but we can find out by asking questions. The peasants must certainly know who was here and what happened. Bring the owner of this cabin. The officers sprang out of the door and presently returned, bringing by the neck the Pidsucidka, who had been sitting in a neighbouring shed. Peasant! said Zetsfilikovsky. Were you here when Bohan and his Cossacks attacked the big house? The peasant began as usual to swear that he was not present, that he had seen nothing and knew nothing. But Zetsfilikovsky knew with whom he was dealing, and said, I believe, you son of a heathen, that you were hiding under a bench when they plundered the house. You need not tell me that. See here, here is a gold piece and there stands a servant with a sword. Choose! And to finish up we will burn down the whole village, and on your account all the poor people will suffer. Then the peasant began to tell all that he had seen. When the Cossacks were reveling in the farmyard of the castle, he had come away with the others to see what was going on. They had heard that the old princess and the young princess had been killed, but that Nicholas had wounded the Ottoman and he was lying there as if dead. What had happened to the young lady they could not find out, but early the following morning they heard that she had made her escape with a nobleman who had come with Bohan. That's it, that's it! said Zetsfilikovsky. Here peasant, take this gold crown. You see no harm will happen to you. Did you see the nobleman? Was he from this region? I saw him, sir, but he didn't come from here. What did he look like? Stout, sir, as a stove with a gray beard, and he cursed like an old tramp, he was blind in one eye. Why, heaven, cried Longin, that must be Zagloba and no other. Zagloba? Wait a minute, Zagloba, that might be. He made friends with Bohan in Chigrin. They drank and played dice together. That might be, that is, his description. Here's that Zetsfilikovsky turned to the peasant. Did this nobleman fly with the young lady? Yes, sir, so we heard. And do you know Bohan well? Oh, very well, sir, he used to stay here a month at a time. And perhaps the nobleman took her away with his knowledge? No, indeed, sir. He tied Bohan hand and foot, and wrapped his cloak round his head, and he carried off the young lady without any human eye seeing them. The Ataman howled like a serumak. On the same day he had himself put into a litter between two horses and tore off to Lubny, but he did not catch her there, and he started off in another direction. Praise be God, said Megursky. Then she may be in Lubny, for it means nothing that they followed her to Chakas, for as they did not find her in one place they tried another. Pantskoshetusky had knelt down and was praying earnestly. Well, well, growled the old lieutenant, I would not have given Zagloba credit for so much courage as to undertake a quarrel with Bohan. It is true he was very much attached to Skoshetusky on account of that special brand of mead from Lubny, which we drank together in Chigrin. He has often told me about it and called him a brave knight. Well, well, I cannot get it through my head, for he has emptied many a goblet at Bohan's expense, but that he should have bound Bohan and carried off the girl? I could not have believed him capable of such a bold deed, for I took him for a bully and a coward. He is clever, but a great liar, and the courage of such people consists generally in words. Whatever he may be, it is enough that he has delivered the young princess from the hands of the bandits, said Volojovsky, and as he is evidently crafty enough, he will assuredly manage to escape with her in such a manner that she shall be safe from her enemy. His own throat was in the balance, said Magursky. Then they turned to Pantskoshetusky. Do take comfort, dear comrade. We will all yet be your best men, and get drunk at your wedding. Zatsvilikovsky added, if he has fled across the Nipur and has heard of the defeat at Korsun, he must have come back to Chernigov, and, in this case, we shall overtake him on the way. Here's to a happy ending of the sorrows and trials of our friend, cried Sleshinsky. Cheers were given for Pantskoshetusky, for the young princess, for their future descendants, and for Pantsagloba. Thus the night passed. Early next morning they were put under marching orders. The forces proceeded to Lubny. They advanced quickly, for the prince's regiment was travelling without baggage. Skeshetusky wanted to accompany the Tartar regiment, but he was too weak, and, besides that, the prince kept him near him, for he wanted to hear about his embassy to Siech. The night had, therefore, to give an account of his journey, of how he had been attacked at Kortits and dragged to Siech, but he was silent about his dispute with Milnitsky, that he might not appear to praise himself. What chiefly disturbed the prince was the news that old Pankrodzitsky had no power, and therefore could not defend himself very long. That's an unspeakable misfortune, said he, for that fortress would give the rebels a great deal of trouble, for Pankrodzitsky is a remarkable man, a real commonwealth to the Republic. Why did he not send to me for powder? I would have given him some from the magazine in Lubny. He was evidently of the opinion that it was the place of Hetman W. Exofficio. To think about that, said Skeshetusky. I believe that, said the prince, and was silent. Presently he spoke again. The Hetman is an old and experienced warrior, but he had too much confidence in himself, and that is the reason of his downfall. He underestimated this whole rebellion, and, when I hastened with troops to his assistance, he did not seem to be anxiously expecting me. He did not wish to share his glory with anyone. He was afraid that I should receive the honour of the victory. That is what I believe, said Skeshetusky earnestly. He thought he could silence the Zaporosians with cudgels, and now it has happened that God has punished his pride. Through pride which is intolerable to God himself, this commonwealth is going to destruction, and it seems no one is free from blame. The prince was right, for even he himself was not without blame. Not very long before this, he had marched with four thousand men to Warsaw, in consequence of a quarrel with Pan Alexander Koniecpoltsky about Hadziac, and had commanded his men, in case he was obliged to take the oath in the Senate chamber, to dash into the chamber and slaughter everyone, and he did this from pride. For he could not endure that he should be obliged to take an oath, and that his word alone should not be sufficient. This occurrence may have come back to his recollection at this moment, for he became plunged in thought, rode on silently, and gazed at the wide steps. Perhaps he was thinking also of the fate of the commonwealth, which he loved with all the might of his earnest soul, and over which the day of wrath and calamity appeared to be breaking. In the afternoon, from on the high bank of the Sulla, appeared the cupolas of the Churches of Lubny, the gleaming roofs and the pointed towers of St. Michael's Cathedral. The soldiers moved along slowly, and thus the time passed until evening. The prince on his arrival immediately went to the castle, where, according to commands sent in advance, all were in readiness to march. The regiments divided up for the night and were quartered in the town. It was no easy matter, for there was an immense crowd of people in Lubny. In consequence of the reports of the spread of the peasant war on the right bank of the Nipper, and in consequence of the excitement among the peasants, all the nobility of the other side of the Nipper had crowded to Lubny. Even from the farthest districts, they came with wives, children, horses, camels, and whole herds of cattle. The commissioners of the prince had also come hither, the vicestarostas, all kind of officials, those of noble rank, farmers, Jews, in a word, all against whom the rebels might raise their hands. It seemed as if a great fair was being held in Lubny, for the Moscow merchants and the Astrakhan Tartars were on their way to the Ukraine with their wares, and were remaining there on account of the war. On the marketplace stood thousands of wagons, of various build, some with wheels of woven reeds, some with wheels without spokes, cut out of one piece of wood, cossack tolegas, and carriages belonging to the nobility. The more distinguished guests were received in the castle and in the ends. The others, and the servants were put up in tents in the neighborhood of the church. Fires were burning everywhere in the streets in order to prepare food. Everywhere was noise and a humming as of a beehive. The most varied costumes, the great variety of colors, the princes, soldiers from the different companies, Haidukes, Pajukes, Jews in black cloaks, peasants, Armenians in their violet caps, and Tartars in sheepskin coats. The air was filled with many languages, cries, curses, screaming of children, barking of dogs and bellowing of cattle. This crowd of people greeted the approaching regiments with joy, for they saw in them the assurance of protection and rescue. Others hastened to the castle and screamed with all their might in honor of the prince and princess. The strangest reports were spread among the crowd. Now it was that the prince would remain in Lubne, now that he was going far away to Lithuania, whether one would be obliged to follow him, and it was even said that he had already beaten Melnitsky. The prince, however, after he had greeted his consort, and informed her that she must leave again the following morning, looked sadly down on that crowd of men and wagons, which would follow the army and be balls fastened to their feet, thus interfering with the speed of their march. He comforted himself with this one thought that, beyond Brahinov, where the land was peaceful, they would all scatter, seek refuge in various directions, and no longer interfere with the progress of his train. The princess herself, with her court ladies and the whole household, was to be sent to Vishniodsa in order that the prince might give his whole attention to the war and march into battle without any hindrance. The preparations in the castle had already been completed. The carriages were packed with belongings and treasures. Provisions were gathered together. The court was ready at any moment to mount carriages and horses. The Princess Griselda had arranged all this beforehand, for in misfortune she had as large a heart as the prince, and resembled him in energy and firmness of character. This sight comforted the prince, although his heart was torn with the thought that he must leave his beloved home in Lubni, where he had enjoyed so much happiness and won so much glory. All shared this sorrow, the army, the servants, the whole household, for all were certain that, if the prince went to fight in distant countries, the enemy would not leave Lubni untouched, but would take vengeance on these beloved walls for all the injuries which they had suffered at the hands of the prince. And so there was no lack of tears and complaints, especially among the women, and those who had been born and grown up here, and who were leaving behind them the graves of their parents. The night shut himself up in his quarters in the armory, along with his blighted hopes and sorrow, fear and anxiety took possession of him again, but he drove them away as a wounded soldier on the field of battle drives away the ravens and carrion crows who hover around him to drink his warm blood and to tear his flesh. He built upon the hope that Zagloba, through craft and cunning, had perhaps made his way to Chernigov, and had hidden after hearing the news of the defeat of the Hetmans. He remembered just then that the old beggar whom he had met on the way to Rosloga had said that he and his boy had been robbed of their clothes by some devil, and only barely escaped with his life, and had wandered about naked three days in the reeds of the Khamlik. Suddenly it occurred to Skyshettsky that Zagloba had robbed the old man, in order to provide a disguise for himself and Helena. It cannot be otherwise, repeated the lieutenant to himself, and he found great comfort in this thought, for such a disguise would make it much easier to escape. He trusted also that God, who watches over innocents, would not forsake Helena, and, in order to entreat his mercy for her without delay, he resolved to cleanse himself from his sins. He therefore left the armory and sought Father Mukovetsky. He found him speaking words of comfort to the women, and begged the priests to confess him. Mukovetsky led him into the chapel and listened to the confession. When he had finished he gave Skyshettsky a lecture, edified him, strengthened him in the faith, and comforted and then rebuked him, saying that it did not become a Christian to doubt God's power, or a citizen to weep more about his own misfortunes than about the misfortunes of his fatherland. For it was exceptionally wrong to pity oneself more than one's fellow creatures, and to sorrow more for beloved ones than for the general unhappiness. Then he pointed out to him the misery, the degradation, and the downfall of his fatherland, in such earnest and impressive words that he roused in the heart of the night a great love for his country, in comparison with which his own misfortunes seemed so small that he could hardly perceive them. The priest reproved him also for the anger and hatred which he entertained against the Cossacks. You must punish them, he said, as enemies of the faith and of the fatherland, as allies of the heathen, but as your own enemies. You must forgive them, pardon them from the depths of your heart, and not revenge yourself, and if you do thus I believe that God will comfort you and will give you back your beloved and send his peace. Then he signed the cross above him, blessed him, and went out commanding him as a penance to remain until morning on his knees before the crucified. The chapel was dark and empty, only two candles flickered before the altar and threw golden and red beams upon the face of the Christ which was made of alabaster, and looked down with an expression of the deepest sweetness and suffering. Many hours passed and the lieutenant remained motionless as one dead, but he felt ever more clearly that bitterness, despair, hatred, sorrow, care, suffering were leaving his heart, were disappearing from his breast and gliding forth like serpents to seek a hiding-place elsewhere in the darkness. He felt that he breathed more easily, that at the same time new light, new power were awaking in him, that his mind grew clearer, that content came to surround him. In one word before this altar, at the feet of the crucified, he found all that man in such times could find, a man of unwavering faith without a trace or shadow of doubt. The following morning the lieutenant was as if born again. There was much movement, many arrangements to be made, for it was the day of the departure from Lupini. The officers had to mount and muster early in the morning and see that men and horses were in perfect order. Then they were led out to the field and placed in marching order. The prince went to mass in St. Michael's Church, then he returned to the castle and received deputations from the Greek priests and the citizens of Lupini and Coral. He sat on his throne in the hall that had been decorated by Helm, surrounded by his principal officers, and here the burgomaster of Lupini, Ruby, in the name of all the towns that belonged to the kingdom of the Nipper, took leave of him in the language of Little Russia. First he begged him not to go away and leave them as sheep without a shepherd, and the other deputies clasped their hands after him. Do not go away, do not go! And when the prince answered that it could not be otherwise, they fell at his feet and expressed their sorrow at parting from their good lord or feigned regret, for it was said that in spite of the prince's popularity many of them sympathized with the Cossacks and Mianitsky. But the better class feared the populace, feared that directly after the departure of the prince with the army they would rise in insurrection. The prince answered that he had always endeavored to be a father and not a master, and he conjured them to continue in their fealty to the king and to the commonwealth, the common mother of them all, beneath whose wings they were preserved from harm, lived in peace, attained prosperity, and bore no foreign yoke which otherwise their neighbors would without difficulty place on their necks. With similar words he took leave of the Greek priests, and then came the hour of departure. Then the whole castle was filled with lamentations and tears, and the noise of weeping. The young ladies of the court fainted, Pana Anna Borsobohata was restored with difficulty. The princess alone stepped with tearless eyes into her carriage, with her head held high, for the proud lady was ashamed to show her sorrow before the people. Round about the castle stood crowds of people, all the bells of Lubny were ringing, the priests held their crosses above the departing ones, the long train of wagons, carriages, and baggage wagons could hardly get through the gates of the castle. Finally the prince mounted his horse, the flags of the regiment saluted him, upon the ramparts shots were fired, the lamentations, the noise of the mob, and loud shouts blended with the ringing of bells, with booming of cannon, with the sounds of trumpets and kettle-drums, the march began. At the head of the column were two tartar regiments, under Rostvorovsky and Vyashul, then Panvertsov's artillery, and Major Magnitsky's infantry, then followed the princess with all the ladies of her court and the whole household in carriages, then the baggage wagons, then the Valakian squadron under Bikovets, and finally the main body of the army, the regiments of heavy cavalry, the curiciers, the hasars, and the train ended with the dragoons and the seminoves. Behind the army there came, like a serpent, an endless line of many-colored carriages which carried the families of all those noblemen who did not wish to remain in the transneaper after the departure of the prince. The bugles sounded, but all hearts were oppressed, all thought that the sight of those walls, beloved home shall I ever see you again in this life. It is easy to set out but difficult to return, and does not each one of us leave a part of his soul in this place and a sweet remembrance? So for the last time all eyes were turned upon the castle, upon the city, on the towers of its churches, on the cupola of the cathedral, upon the roofs of the houses. Each one knew what he was leaving behind, and knew not what was awaiting him yonder in the blue distance towards which they were marching. Sadness filled all hearts. The town called to the departing ones with the voices of all its bells as though it were conjuring them not to leave it, not to expose it to danger, to an unhappy fate in the future. It called after them as though through the mournful sound of its bells it would wish them farewell and impress itself on their memory. And so, although the train continued to advance, all heads turned back to the town and in all faces one read the question, is it for the last time? So it was, of this whole army, of these thousands who at this moment were marching forth with Prince Vishnuovetsky, not one, not even he himself, should ever again see this town or this land. The trumpets sounded, the army moved slowly but steadily forward, and after some time the town disappeared from their sight in a bluish mist. The houses and roofs blended into a confused mass which gleamed in the sunlight. The prince put spurs to his horse and rode forward to a high hill and stood there immovable, looking far into the distance. Was not this town which now gleamed in the sunlight and this whole country which he saw from this eminence, the work of his ancestors and of himself. It was the Vishnuovetskis who had transformed this once barren, dismal stretch of land into a habitable country, who had opened it up to civilized life, one might say, had created the neeper country out of nothing. And the prince himself had done the greater part of this work. He had built those churches whose towers gleamed in blue and gold above the town. He had built this town, had connected it with the Ukraine by good wagon roads. He had cut down forests, drained swamps, built castles, laid out villages and settlements, attracted residents thither, destroyed the Banditi, protected the people from tartar incursions so that the agriculturist and merchant might obtain the quiet they so much desired. He had introduced the authority of law and justice. It was through him that it had developed and flourished. It was his heart and his soul. Now he must leave it all behind him. And not only on account of this immense property, which was equal in extent to all the German principalities, did the prince mourn. No, he loved this work of his own hands. He knew that if he should fail, all would miss it. The work of whole years would be destroyed with one blow. All his labor would be in vain. For the wild hordes would break their fetters and would lay villages and towns in ashes. The tartar would again water his horses and these rivers. The primitive forest would arise from the ruins and, if God should permit him to return, he would have to begin everything all over again. And who knows if his strength would hold out, if he would yet have time and still retain the confidence in himself which had helped him in former years. It was here that those years had been past which for him had been a glory in the sight of men, a service to God. Now all this service and glory would vanish like smoke. Two heavy tears rolled down his cheeks. They were the last tears he would shed, for from henceforth only lightning would flash from those eyes. The prince's horse stretched forward his neck and nade, and his neying was soon answered by the other horses of the company. These sounds awakened the prince from his reverie and filled him with new courage. Had he not six thousand faithful warriors, six thousand swords while the world stood before him, and which the Commonwealth was awaiting as her sole salvation, the ideal of the Transnipa is a thing of the past, but yonder where cannons thunder, where villages and towns are in flames, where are heard in the night the neighing of the tartar horses and the Cossack yells, mingled with the sighings of captives and the sighing of men and women and children. There the field of action lies open. There the glory of the Savior and Father of the country is to be attained. Who will stretch out their hands for this laurel wreath, who will save the deposed, humbled, dying Commonwealth, which is now trodden under the feet of the peasants, if not he, the prince, if not his army, whose weapons glitter and gleam in the sunlight below? The train was passing by the little hill on which the prince was standing, and at the sight of the prince, who, with his baton in his hand, stood on its summit, beneath an uplifted crucifix, one cry burst from the soldiers, long live the prince, long live our leader and hetman, Jeremy Wyshniowiecki, and hundreds of flags were lowered to his feet, the Hussars fired off their carbines, the kettle-drums rolled in answer to the shouts. The prince drew his sword and raising it towards heaven to which he also raised his eyes, said, I, Jeremy Wyshniowiecki, voyodora of Russia, prince of Lubny and Wyshniowca, swear to thee, holy trinity, and the holy mother of God, that as long as strength and life are in me, I will not let this sword rest which I am now raising against the knaves who have insulted our country, until I have avenged the ignominy, have cast the enemy at the feet of the Commonwealth, have brought peace to the Ukraine, and smothered in blood the rebellion of the peasants, and as I am making this vow from a pure heart, so help me, God, amen! He spoke and stood there a moment longer, his eyes raised to heaven, then he slowly rode down the hill and joined the company. The army came that night to Bazan, the village of the Countess Krenitska, who received the prince, kneeling at her door, for the peasants had already besieged her in her castle, and she had defended herself with the help of the servants, who had remained faithful to her, when the sudden arrival of the prince saved her and her nineteen children, among whom were fourteen girls. The prince made the rebels prisoners, sent Poniatovsky, the agitant of the Cossack Company, to Kanyav, and the same night he brought back five Zaporosians from the Vasentinskys, Kirtzin, they had all taken part in the fight at Korsun, and, as they were now threatened with the rack, they gave the prince exact details of the occurrence. They assured him also that Mianitsky was still in Korsun, but that Tuhay Bey, with the prisoners, the booty, and the two Hetmans, had gone to Chigrin, whence he expected to go to the Crimea. They had also heard that Mianitsky had begged them very hard not to leave this Zaporosian army, but to march against the prince. The Merza, however, would not agree to it, and said that after the destruction of the armies and the Hetmans, the Cossacks might look out for themselves, but he was not going to stay any longer, for the prisoners would die. When they were asked about Mianitsky's fighting strength, they gave it as two hundred thousand fighting men, the greater part of them unreliable, and only fifty thousand good fighting troops, that is, Zaporosians and Cossacks from the estates or from the towns, who had joined the rebellion. On hearing this news the prince's courage rose, for he hoped when he reached the other side of the Nipper to increase his forces considerably by fugitives from the royal army and soldiers from the estates. The following morning he continued his journey. Beyond Perioslav the army came to gigantic, gloomy forests which stretched along the shore of the river, the Trubye, as far as Kozyats and even to Chernigov. It was towards the end of May, the heat was frightful. In the forests, where they expected it would be a little cooler, it was so oppressive that men and horses could hardly stand. The cattle that they took with them fell down or ran wherever there was any water as if they were mad overturned the wagons and created a good deal of confusion. Horses began to fall down, especially in the heavy cavalry. The knights were unbearable on account of the enormous quantity of insects and the oppressively strong smell of the pine gum which, on account of the heat, exuded from the trees in larger quantities than usual. Thus four days passed. On the fifth day the heat became unnatural. By nightfall the horses began to snort and the cattle to bellow piteously as though they saw some danger ahead which the men could not yet perceive. They smelled blood, was whispered about in the baggage wagons among the swarms of fugitive noble families. The Cossacks are following us, there will be a battle! At these words the women began to scream piteously the noise reached the servants, confusion and terror ensued. The wagons tried to get ahead of each other or left the highway and drove blindly into the forests where they got fixed between the trees. But the Prince sent some men over and order was soon restored. Scouts were sent out in all directions to discover whether danger really threatened. Skosjetovsky, who had gone with the Valks as a volunteer, was the first to return in the morning and immediately went to the Prince. Well, how do things stand? asked Jeremy. My Prince, the forests are in flames. Were they set on fire? Yes, I caught some men who say that Milnitsky sent out some volunteers to follow you and to set fire to the woods when the wind was favourable. He wants to burn us alive without a battle, bring the men here. They were at once brought forward three herders, wild, stupid, terrified men who acknowledged at once that they had been commanded to set fire to the forests. They confessed also that an army was following the Prince and was going by another road to Chernigov nearer the Neaper. Meanwhile other scouts came back and all brought the same news. The woods are on fire! But the Prince did not seem to be uneasy on that account. That is the way of the heathen, he said, but that does not matter. The fire will not cross the rivers that flow into the troublier. In fact, so many little rivers flowed into the troublier along which the army was marching towards the north, forming here and there broad marshes that there was no danger that the fire would cross them. It would be necessary to set fire afresh to the woods beyond each river. The scouts soon gave notice that this was being done. They daily brought in incendiaries who were strung up on pines along the way. The fire spread rapidly along the rivers to the east and west but not towards the north. At night a red glow illumined the sky. The women sang hymns from morning till night. The terrified wild animals fled out of the burning forest upon the road and joined themselves to the train, mingling with the herds of domestic cattle. The wind blew the smoke so that the whole horizon was covered. The army and the wagons moved along in a thick cloud that no eye could pierce. One could hardly breathe. The smoke blinded all eyes and the wind drove it ever in denser masses. The sunlight could hardly penetrate these clouds of smoke, and in the night it was lighter than in the day because the fires lighted up the scene. The forests seemed to be interminable. Through these burning woods and clouds of smoke, Jeremy led his army, and then came the news that the enemy was marching on the other side of Crubier, but it was not known how great a force it was. Bienchel's charters maintained firmly that they were still a long way off. One night Captain Tsukodosk from Baudenac came to the camp from the other side of Dizna. He had formerly been in the prince's service, and only a few years before had moved into the country. He too had fled from the peasants, but he brought tidings which they had not yet heard. A great confusion arose when, on the prince's asking for news, he answered, It is a bad lookout, my prince! You have heard of the defeat of the Hetmans and also of the death of the king? The prince, who was sitting upon a little campstool before his tent, sprang up in terror. The king is dead? His gracious majesty breathed his last in Mitheth a week before the defeat at Korsun, said Tsukodosk. God in his mercy has not allowed him to live to see this day, answered the prince. Then he put both hands to his head and continued, Terrible times have come to this republic, elections and interregnum, discords and plotting by foes on the outside, now when the whole people should be blended into a single sword held by one hand. God has turned his face away from us, and in his anger will punish us for our sins. King Vladislav alone could extinguish the torch of this war, for the Cossacks loved him with an extraordinary love, and besides this he was a valiant warrior. At this moment several officers stepped up to the prince, among them Zatsvilikovsky, Skyshettovsky, Baranovsky, Rötzel, Magnitsky and Polanovsky, and the prince said, Gentlemen, the king is dead. As at the word of command all heads were uncovered, all faces became solemn. This unexpected news made everyone speechless. It was not for some moments that the universal sorrow found expression. Grant him, Lord, thy everlasting peace, said the prince, and may perpetual light shine upon him. Presently Father Mukovetsky chanted the Dies Irae, and surrounded by the increasing clouds of smoke in the forests, an unspeakable depression filled all hearts and souls. It seemed to all as if they were entirely alone in the world in presence of the threatening enemy, and had no one left but their prince. And all eyes turned to him, and a new bond of affection was riveted between him and his army. That same evening the prince said to Zatsvilikovsky so that everyone could hear him, We need a war like king, therefore if God permits us to make a choice, may we have Prince Charles, who has a more war-like spirit than Kazamir. Vivaat, Carolus Rex! cried the officers. Vivaat! repeated the Hussars, and with them the whole army. And the Voyavoda certainly did not dream that this shout which sounded in the Transnipur should penetrate the desert forests of Chernigov, even to Warsaw, and should take from his hands the baton of the chief hetman of the crown. After three days passage of the Desna the army finally arrived at Chernigov. Skyshetsky went ahead with the Valyaks. The prince had purposely commanded him to ride forward and garrison the town in order that he might be able to get the earliest information about the princess and Zagloba. But here, as in Lubny, no one either in the town or the castle had heard anything about them. They had vanished like a stone in the water, and the knight himself did not know what to think about it. Where could they have sought refuge? Surely not in Moscow, nor in the Crimea, nor in Siege. There remained only one conclusion, that they might have crossed the Nipur, and in this case they would find themselves right in the middle of the insurrection. There were slaughter, incendiary fires, swarms of drunken blacks, zapparotians, and tartars, against which Helena's disguise would prove no protection, for the heathen eagerly took boys captive on account of the high price that they could obtain for them in the markets of Stambul. The dreadful suspicion even occurred to Skyshettsky that Zagloba might have intentionally led her to that side of the river in order to sell her to Tuhay Bey, who would reward him more handsomely than Bohan, and this thought almost drove him mad. But Panlongin Podbipienta calmed him effectually in this regard. He had known Zagloba longer than Skyshettsky had. Dear little brother, Lieutenant, said he, put that idea out of your head. The nobleman certainly has not done that. At the Kutsevich's house there were treasures enough that Bohan would willingly have given him if he wished to ruin the girl. He would not need to place his life in jeopardy and could gain riches. Quite true, said the Lieutenant, but why did he fly across the Nipur and not to Lubny or Chernigov? Call it yourself, my dear little fellow. I know this, Zagloba. He has drunk with me and is my debtor. Money is no consideration with him, either his or anyone else's. When he has any of his own he squanders it. Other people's money he does not pay back. But that he could commit such a deed I will never believe. He is a trifling man, said Skyshettsky. Yes, trifling he may be, and a scamper likes to lead others upon smooth ice, but manages to extricate himself from all difficulties. But as the priest with prophetic spirit has foretold that God will bring her back to you, it will come to pass, for it is only just that every honest love should be rewarded, and with this assurance I comfort you, as I comfort myself. Here Lungen began to sigh heavily and added, after a pause, Let us inquire about them in the castle. Perhaps they have passed through here. They inquired everywhere, but in vain. Nowhere could they find even a trace that the fugitives had passed through the town. The castle was full of noblemen with their wives and children, whom they had shut up here to protect them from the Cossacks. The Prince advised them to go with him and warned them that the Cossacks were following his tracks. They had not dared to attack the army, but it was most probable that after the departure of the Prince they would fall upon the town and castle. The nobility in the castle were, however, strangely blinded. Here, behind the forests, we are certainly safe, they answered the Prince. No one will come to us here. Did not I come through these forests? said the Prince. Your Highness came through, certainly, but the people cannot come through. Ha! not for us like these! And so they would not accompany the Prince, but remained in their blindness, for which they paid dearly later on. For immediately after the Prince had left, the Cossacks arrived. The castle was defended bravely for three weeks. Then it fell, and all who were in it were slain to the last man. The Cossacks committed frightful cruelties, tore the children to pieces, roasted the women at slow fire, and no one took vengeance on them for these deeds. The Prince, meanwhile, had reached Lebetch on the Nipper, and let his army rest there while he and his household and the baggage-wagons proceeded to Brajina, that lay in the midst of forests and impassable swamps. A week later the army crossed the river, then they went to Babitz near Mosir, and there on Corpus Christi day, the hour of separation came, for the Princess with her household was to go to her aunt, the Voya Vodina, of Vilna at Tarova, while the Prince with his army was to go forth to battle in the Ukraine. At the last parting meal the Prince and the Princess, the court ladies and the highest nobility were assembled, but in the ranks of the young court ladies and the Cavaliers one missed the usual gaiety, for many a soldier's heart bled at the thought that from this hour he would be obliged to leave his beloved, for whom he would willingly have lived, fought, and died. Many blue and black eyes among the fair girls wept tears of sorrow that a soldier-lover must march amid bullets and swords, amid cossacks and wild tartars, and perhaps never return. Therefore, when the Prince gave the word to take leave of his consort and of the household, the young ladies wailed bitterly, one and all like kittens. The officers, however, with a show of courage, rose from their seats, grasped their swords, and cried together, We will conquer and come back! May God help you! answered the Princess. There upon arose a cheer that made the walls and windows rattle. Long live the Princess! Long live our mother and benefactress! Long may she live! Long may she live! The soldiers loved her on account of her kindness to the officers, on account of her great heart, her generosity, and her gentleness, and on account of her care for their families. Prince Jeremy loved her above everything, for these two natures were made for one another, and resembled one another like two goblets molded of gold and iron. Each officer stepped up to her, knelt before her chair with his goblet in his hand, and she took each head between her hands and spoke kind words to each separately. To Skishtoski, she said, Many a knight will now receive a scapulary or a ribbon as a parting gift, and as she, from whom you earnestly desire a remembrance is not here, take one from me as from your mother. She took off a golden cross of Turkish workmanship and hung it round the knight's neck, and he kissed her hands respectfully. The Prince was evidently much pleased at this, for he had laterally grown very fond of Skishtoski, because he had maintained the dignity of the Prince during the Embassy to Siege, and had refused to take letters from Milnitsky. They arose from the table, and the young ladies, who had quickly caught up the Princess's remarks and considered them as a permission, began at once to take off one a scapula, another a scarf, another a little cross, and when the knights saw this, they stepped up each to his own favourite, even if not his betrothed, yet to the one he liked best. Poniovsky to Countess Shetinska, Bikoviets to Countess Povinyanke, who he had fallen in love with lately, Rostvorovsky to Zikovna, the red-haired Vyersho to Shopakka, Maknitsky, who was no longer young, to Zavieska, Anusya Bozobohata, only, although she was the handsomest of all, stood neglected and alone at the window. Her face was covered with blushes, her little eyes looked down under her drooping lashes, half angry, half intruding that they might not affront her thus. Then the traitor Volodzhovsky approached her and said, I should also like Pana Anusya to beg you for a souvenir, but I hesitated to express my wish, because I thought that there would be such a crowd around you that I should not be able to approach you. Anusya's cheeks burned still hotter, but she answered without a moment's hesitation, you want a souvenir from other hands than mine, but you will not get it, for if it is not too crowded for you yonder it is too high. The shot was well-aimed and found its mark, for in the first place it contained an allusion to the short stature of the night, and secondly to his love for Princess Barba Zhbirovska. Panvolodzhovsky had first fallen in love with the older sister Anna, and when she became engaged he had choked down his sorrow and silently given his heart to Barbara, believing that no one had remarked this transfer of affection. Consequently, when he heard Anusya's words, although at other times he was ready with his words as with his sword, and was a night without fear and without reproach, he became so confused that he could not answer, and he only stuttered, and you, lady, I aming very high, just as high as the head of Panpolbepienta. He truly surpasses you in the sword as in politeness, answered the cool-headed girl, I thank you that you reminded me of him, that was right. Then she turned to the Lithuanian, come nearer, sir, I also want my night, and I do not know that I could hang this scarf across a more manly breast. Panpolbepienta opened his eyes as if he did not dare believe what he had heard. Then he fell on his knees so that the floor creaked, my benefactress, my benefactress! Anna threw her scarf around him, and her little hand disappeared completely beneath the fair mustache of Panlongin, and only a smack and murmur were audible. Volodzhovsky, hearing the sound said to Lieutenant Migrosky, one would swear that the bear had frightened away the bees and was eating the honey. Then he went off in a rage, for he felt the sting of her remarks, for in his time he had also loved Anna. The prince had already taken leave of the princess, and an hour later the household was on its way to Torova, the prince advancing to prepits. During the night at the crossing of the river while they were building the floats for the cannon and the hussars were overseeing the work, Longin said to Skyshetsky, that means misfortune, little brother. What has happened? asked the Lieutenant. News from the Ukraine. What? The parotians have told me that Tuhei Bey has gone with the hordes to the Crimea. Well, what does that matter? You will not cry about that. Why, little brother, you told me yourself, and you were right, were you not, that I could not count Cossack heads, and if the Tartars have gone away, where shall I get my three heathen heads? Where shall I look for them? Ah, and I need them so much. Skyshetsky, although he was very sad, smiled and answered, I can guess why you are so anxious, for I saw today that someone had chosen you for her night. Thereupon Longin folded his hands. Yes, why should I hide it any longer? I am in love, little brother. I am in love. Oh, what a misfortune it is! Do not worry. I do not believe that Tuhei Bey has gone away, and besides, you will come across more heathens than there are mosquitoes here above our heads. Regular clouds of mosquitoes swarmed above the horses and men, for the army was in the country of impassable morasses, of marshy forests, swampy meadows, rivers, rivulets, and brooks, in that dreary uninhabited land that formed an impenetrable wilderness, of whose inhabitants one sang in those times the Lord of Have-Nothing gave with his little daughter two kegs of axle pitch and a mushroom wreath, a pot of eels, and a piece of swamp besides. On these swamps grew not only mushrooms, but also, in spite of the song, great lordly fortunes. But the prince's soldiers, who for the most part had been born and had grown up in the high, dry steps on the other side of the neaper, could hardly believe their eyes, for although there one could find marshes and forests in places, here the whole country seemed to be one swamp. The night was bright and clear, and as far as the eye could reach, scarcely six feet of dry earth was to be seen beneath the moonlight. Little mounds only raised their heads above the water. The forests seemed to grow out of the waves, water bespattered the feet of the horses, water was squeezed out of the ground by the wheels of the cannon, Virgil was in despair. A remarkable march, he said, at Chernigov we were threatened with fire, here we are drowning in water. The earth in fact offered no support to the feet. It seemed to give and tremble as if it would open and swallow up those who moved on its surface. In four days the army had reached prepets, and from that out they crossed almost daily rivulets and brooks that intersected the swampy ground, and nowhere was a bridge to be found. The whole army had to be transported in boats and barges. In a few days fogs and torrents of rain began. The soldiers gathered together their last strength to try and get out of this accursed country, and the prince urged and hurried them on. He had whole woods chopped down and roads made from the round trunks of trees. He himself rode ahead of the whole train. When the soldiers saw that he did not spare his own strength, that from morning until late at night he sat upon his horse, led the army, led the march, and directed everything himself, they dared not murmur, although the labor was almost beyond their strength. To remain from morning till late at night in the swamp and dampness was the common fate of all. The horses' hoofs began to soften and peel off. Many sank down before the cannons they were drawing, so that the foot soldiers and Volodzhovsky's dragoons had to drag the cannon. The aristocratic regiments, such as Skyshettsky's Hussars, Zatsvilikovsky's company, and the Kurosiers seized axes in order to build roads. This was a famous march amid cold water and deprivations, in which the will of the leader and the zeal of the soldiers overcame all obstacles. No one had hitherto dared to march along this road with an army in the spring of the year when all rivers overflowed their banks. Fortunately, the march was not once interrupted by an attack. The people in this region were quiet and peaceful and had no idea of rebelling, and even later on, when they had been aroused by the Cossacks and excited by their example, they would not join their regiments. Even now they looked with dreamy eyes at the passing army of knights, who arose as if by magic from the woods and marshes, and glided by like shadows. They furnished guides and performed in silence all that was demanded of them. When the prince saw this, he restrained with a firm hand any breach of order among the soldiery, so that the army should not have behind them sighs, curses, and complaints, and when, after the army had passed through some smoky village, a report was spread that Prince Yereme had gone by, the people would shake their heads and say softly to one another, He is good. Finally, after twenty days of superhuman exertion and fatigues, the prince's army reached the rebel country. Yereme is coming! Yereme is coming! resounded through the whole Ukraine and far away beyond the wildlands, Tuchygrin and Yegorlik. Yereme is coming! resounded through towns, villages, hamlets, and farms, and at this news the sides, hay forks, and knives fell from the hands of the peasants, faces grew pale, undisciplined bands crept away at night towards the south, like packs of wolves at the sound of the huntsman's horn. The tarter who was plundering on the highway sprang from his horse and laid his ear close to the ground to listen. In the castles and small fortified towns that had not yet been taken, the bells were rung and the Tedeim Lotamas sung, and the terrible lion laid down on the threshold of a rebellious land and rested. He was gathering strength. End of Book Two, Chapter Nine Book Two, Chapter Ten of With Fire and Sword by Henrik Sinkhevich, translated by Samuel A. Benion. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Mielnitsky, meanwhile, remained for some time in Korsun, then he went back to Byalochuk and took up his residence there. The horde struck camp on the other side of the river and spread their forces out over the voyavoda of Kiev. Longin Podbipienta had worried himself unnecessarily about the lack of tarter heads, and Skoshetysky had rightly prophesied that the Zaporosians, whom Poniatovsky had taken near Kanyov, had spread a false report. Tuhe Bey had not left. He had not even gone to Chigrin. Yet from all sides fresh tarters arrived. The petty princes of Azov and Astrakhan, who had never before been in Poland, had come with four thousand warriors, twelve thousand of the Nohaysky horde, twenty thousand from Byalograd and Pudziak, all of them in former times sworn enemies of the Zaporosians and of the Cossacks. Today their brothers and their allies in a war against Christianity. Finally the Khan Islam Jairi himself came with twelve thousand from Perikop. The whole Ukraine suffered from these hordes, not only the nobility, but all the people of Russia whose villages they burned, and whom they had robbed of wealth and property. Even the peasants themselves, with wives and children, were led into captivity. In these times of violence, arson and bloodshed, there was only one salvation for the peasant, to flee into Mianitsky's camp. There he was transformed from the victim to the oppressor and destroyed his own land, but he was at least sure of life. Unhappy land. When the insurrection broke out, Nicholas Pototsky first devastated it and punished it, then the Zaporosians and the Tartars, who, it was said, had come to save it, and now Yeremi Vishnogetsky hung threateningly over it. Therefore all who could fled into Mianitsky's camp, even the nobility, as there seemed no other way of escape. Thanks to this circumstance Mianitsky's forces increased nightly and, if he did not penetrate into the heart of the Commonwealth, if he remained some time in Bielocherk, it was because he wished to bring these wild unbridled elements into some kind of order. In his iron hands they were soon transformed into a war-like force. Squadrons of tried Zaporosians were ready, the blacks were divided into regiments, colonels chosen from among the former Ottomans, certain divisions were sent out to attack the castle in order to train them for war. They were by nature a war-like people, apt at war as were no other people, used to weapons acquainted with fire and with the bloody front of battle through the invasions of the Tartars. Two colonels, Hanja and Ostap, advanced on Nestevar. They captured it and killed the inhabitants, Jews and nobles, to the last man. They killed Prince Chetvertsky's own miller on the threshold of the gate of the castle, cutting his head off. The princess became Ostap's personal slave, others moved in a different direction and success accompanied their arms, and fear had deprived the Poles of courage, fear to which these people were unaccustomed, which took their weapons from their hands and paralyzed their strength. His officers often said to Melnitsky, Why do you not march towards Warsaw instead of staying here, consulting the fortune-tellers, filling yourself with brandy and allowing the Poles time to recover and gather their forces? Frequently during the night the drunken crowd would shout and besiege Melnitsky's quarters and demand that he should lead them against the Poles. Melnitsky had fanned the flame of the rebellion, had lent it enormous strength, but now he began to recognize that that strength was pushing him forward into an unknown future. Therefore he often gazed with clouded eyes into that future, and sought to penetrate its secret, and his heart was disturbed. As has already been said, he alone of all the commanders and Ottomans knew what an immense strength lay hidden in the apparent torpor of the Commonwealth. He had called the rebellion to life, he had conquered it at the Zolta Voda, he had conquered at Korsun, he had destroyed the royal forces, but what now? He therefore summoned all his officers to a council, let his bloodshot eyes, beneath which all trembled, wander round the circle, and gloomily put this question to them. What's the next thing, what do you want to do, to go to Warsaw? Then Prince Vishniovetsky will come here, strike down your wives and children like lightning, and leave behind him nothing but earth and water. Then he will follow us to Warsaw with the whole might of the nobility, who will unite with him, and thus between two fires we shall find our death, if not in battle, on stakes. We cannot rely on the friendship of the Tatars, today they are with us, tomorrow they may turn against us and return to the Crimea, or sell us to the lords. So what is to be done? Speak! March against Vishniovetsky, then he will detain us and all the Tatar hordes, and during this time the forces will be organized and fly to help him from the heart of the Commonwealth. Choose! The terrified colonels were silent, and Mianetsky continued, Why have you lost your courage? Why do you no longer insist on going to Warsaw? If you do not know what to do, leave it to me, and with God's help, I will save my life and your own, and provide satisfaction for the Zaporizion army and for all the Cossacks. There remained only one way open, to enter into negotiations. Mianetsky knew very well how much might be done with the Commonwealth in this manner. He calculated that the diet would rather agree to pay a considerable indemnity than to levy taxes for a war which would be long and troublesome. He knew, finally, that there was a powerful party in Warsaw, at the head of which stood the king himself. The news of his death had not yet reached Mianetsky. The Chancellor and many men who would willingly do anything to oppose the power of the gigantic estates in the Ukraine, who would form an alliance with the Cossacks to strengthen the hands of the king, conclude peace with them for ever more, and lead the assembled thousands to a war against the foreigner. Under such circumstances Mianetsky might expect a very high position for himself, might receive the Hetman's staff from the hands of the king, and might demand priceless concessions for the Cossacks. That was why he remained in Bielowczyk. He was arming, sending manifestos out in all directions, was gathering the people together, forming armies, and getting possession of the castles, for he knew that they would only negotiate with one who was powerful, but he did not penetrate into the heart of the Commonwealth. Oh, if he could only, by means of negotiations, conclude a peace, then the sword would be wrenched from Mianetsky's hand, or if the prince would not lay down his sword, it would not be Mianetsky, but he who would be the rebel, and would be carrying on war, contrary to the will of the king and the diet. Then he would march against Vyshnyovetsky, but as an envoy of the king and of the Commonwealth, and then the last hour would have come, not for the prince alone, but for all the kinglets of the Ukraine with their possessions and their estates. These were the thoughts of the Zaporosian Ottoman. This was the structure he had erected, but upon the pillars that held up the edifice, care, doubt, fear often rested, like birds of ill omen and croaked forebodingly of evil. Would the party of peace in Warsaw be quite strong enough? Would it enter into negotiations with him? What would the diet and the Senate say? Would they stop their ears to the groans and cries for help from the Ukraine? Would they close their eyes to the flames? Would not the influence of those lords who owned the immense estates be greater especially, as the maintenance of these estates would now be called in question? And was this Commonwealth already so terrorized that she would forgive him his alliance with the Tartars? On the other hand, Mielnitsky's soul was filled with doubt lest the rebellion might have attained two mighty proportions. Would the wild masses ever be brought within the bounds of order? He, Mielnitsky, might conclude a peace, but the populace in his name would continue their murder and rapine, or perhaps take revenge on his own head for their blasted hopes. It was truly a swollen torrent, a sea, a hurricane, terrible situation. If the insurrection were weaker, they would treat it as of little moment and would not negotiate. But as it was powerful, the negotiations might be thwarted by the force of circumstances. What would happen then? When such thoughts oppressed the Hetman's mind, he shut himself up in his room and drank for days and nights. Then the report would spread among the colonels and blacks. Mielnitsky is drinking, and following his example, they all drank. They gave themselves over to debauchery. The prisoners were murdered. They fought one another and plundered the people. The day of judgment appeared to have come, the reign of terror and monstrosity. Bialochirk was transformed into a living hell. One day the noblemen by Hovsky called to see the drunken Hetman. He had been taken prisoner at Korsun and had been made the Hetman's secretary. He stepped into the room and, without ceremony, began to shake the drunken man, took him by his arms, sat him down on a bench, and shook him again. What the devil is it? asked Mielnitsky. Get up, Hetman. Come to yourself! answered by Hovsky. An envoy has come. Mielnitsky sprang to his feet and recovered himself at once. Hey! he cried to the Cossack boy who was sitting on the threshold, my cap and my baton. Then he said to Vajhovsky, who has come, from whom? The priest Patronius Lasko of Hovsky, from the voyavoda of Brotslov, from Pan-Kiziel, the same. Praise be to the father and the son. Praise be to the Holy Ghost and the Holy Virgin, he said, crossing himself, and his face became brighter and more cheerful. They wanted to open negotiations with him. But the same day came reports that contradicted completely the messages of peace from Pan-Kiziel. It was announced that the prince, wearied by his march through forests and swamps, had rested his forces, and had then penetrated into the rebel country which he was burning, and was killing all that came in his way, that an advance guard that had preceded him, under Skyshettovsky, had slaughtered a band of Cossacks and blacks consisting of two thousand men and had destroyed them all to the very last man, and the prince himself had stormed Poribish, the estate of the prince Zeborosky, and had left nothing behind him but land and water. Dreadful things were related of the storming and capture of Poribish, for it was the nest of the most obstinate rebels. It was related that the prince had said to his soldiers, Kill them so that they will feel that they are dying. And the soldiers committed the most frightful cruelties, not a living soul escaped from the town. Seven hundred prisoners were hanged, and two hundred impaled. They also said that many had had their eyes bored out, others had been roasted at a slow fire. In a word, in that whole region, the rebellion had been absolutely crushed. The inhabitants either fled to Mielnitsky or received the Lord of Lubny upon their knees with bread and salt, and wept to excite compassion. The smaller bands were all destroyed, and, as the fugitives from Samhavodka, Spichin, Plosovka, and Vaknovky maintained there was not a single tree in the forest from which a Cossack did not hang. And all this had happened in the immediate neighborhood of Bialotchirk and of the hundreds of thousands of Mielnitsky's army. When Mielnitsky heard of it, he bellowed like a wounded auroch. On one side negotiations, on the other, the sword. If he should march against the prince, it would be a sign that he did not wish to enter into the negotiations which the Count of Brusilov proposed to him. His only hope was in the Tartars. He sprang up and hastened into two Hebe's quarters. My friend, said he after he had made the customary salam, as you saved me at the Zoltovoda and at Korsun, so save me now. An envoy has come from the Voyavoda of Brotslav with a letter in which he promises me satisfaction, and to the Zaporosians the restoration of their old privileges, on the one condition that I make an end of the war. And I must do it if I wish to show my good intentions. Meanwhile, here are rumors that my enemy, the Prince Vishniovitsky, has destroyed Porobish, root and branch, that he is cutting down my good Cossacks, impaling them and boring out their eyes. And, as I am not able to march against him, I have come to you with the request that you will advance with your Tartars against my enemy and yours. If you do not do it, it will not be long before he attacks our camp. The Murtza, who was sitting on a pile of rags that had been stolen in Korsun, or carried away from the houses of the nobles, rocked himself backwards and forwards, closed his eyelids, as if for more careful thought, and finally answered, Allah! I cannot do it! Why, asked Mianitsky, because I have already lost enough bays and men on your account at Zoltovoda and at Korsun, why should I sacrifice any more of them? Your army is a great warrior. I will march against him if you will come with me, but not alone. I am no fool to lose all that I have here to for one in a single battle. I would rather send the chumbles out after booty and prisoners. I have already done enough for you unbelieving dogs. I will not go myself and will dissuade the Khan. I have said it. You swore that you would help me. So I did, but I swore to fight together with you, not instead of you. Take yourself off! I allowed you to take captives from among my people. I have given up my booty to you, given up the Hetmans to you. If you had not given them up, I would have given you up to them. I will go to the Khan. Go away, fool, I tell you!" And the Murtzah's pointed teeth showed between his lips. Mianitsky saw that it was dangerous to persist any longer. He rose, therefore, and really went to the Khan. But from the Khan he received the same answer. The Tartars had their own ideas and were seeking their own advantage. Instead of fighting a decisive battle with a leader who was considered unconquerable, they preferred to distribute their forces through the country and to enrich themselves without shedding blood. Raging with anger, Mianitsky returned to his quarters, and in his despair stretched out his hand for the bottle, but Vyhovsky snatched the bottle away. You shall not drink, Hetman! The envoy is waiting! He must be dealt with. Mianitsky flew into a violent rage. I will have you and the envoy both impaled. And I will not give you the Gorzolka. Is it not a disgrace for you, whom fate has raised to such an eminence, to fill yourself with vodka like a common Cossack? Fie! Fie! Sir Hetman, you must not do it. The rumour of the arrival of the envoy has already gone abroad. The army and colonels are waiting for a council. Now is not the time for drinking, but you just hammer the iron while it is hot. For now you may conclude peace and demand all that you wish. For let the opportunity pass, and it will be too late for your head and mine are in the balance. You must send an ambassador immediately to Warsaw and sue the king for peace. You have a good head, said Mianitsky. Let the bells ring to call the council, and say to the colonels on the square that I am coming immediately. Vyhovsky went out, and immediately afterwards the council bells sounded, at whose voice the Zaporosians at once began to assemble. The commanders and colonels took their places. The terrible Chivonos, Mianitsky's right hand, Zhechovsky, the sword of the Cossacks, the old and experienced Zidzial, Colonel Kropivnitsky, Fedor Loboda of Pereyaslav, the terrible Fedorenko, the wild Pushkavenko of Poltova, who commanded only Chabans, Shumeko from Nish, the fiery Charnota from Hadziats, Yakubovich from Chigrin besides Nosak, Ladki, Adamovich, Gluk, Puljai, Panich, not all of them, for some were on the road and many of them in the other world where Prince Yeremi had dispatched them. The Tartars were not invited to the council this time, the common people collected by on the square, the thronging crowd were driven away with sticks and straps and some were killed. At length Mianitsky appeared, clothed in red, his cap on his head, his baton in his hand. Beside him walked the reverend priest Patronius Lasko, white like a dove, and on the other side by Hovsky with papers in his hand. Mianitsky sat down among the officers and remained for a time in silence. Then he removed his cap as a sign that the council was opened, stood up and began to speak. Gentlemen, officers and Ottomans, it is well known to you that on account of the great and undeserved wrongs we have suffered we have been obliged to take up arms, and with the assistance of the illustrious czar of the Crimea have demanded from the lords the reinstatement of the old rites and privileges that have been taken from us without the consent of His Majesty the King, and God has blessed our undertakings as sent a terror upon our dishonorable tyrants such as they have never before known, and has in this manner punished their oppression and their breach of faith. But he has rewarded us with great victories for which we are bound to praise him with a grateful heart. As their pride has now been punished, it becomes us to reflect that henceforth no more Christian blood should flow as God in His mercy and as our holy faith commands. But we cannot lay down the sword until our old rites and privileges are given back to us with the consent of the all-powerful King. The voyavoda of Bratslav writes to me now that such an event is probable, and I agree with him, for it is not we but the lords, the Putotskis, the Kaladnovskis, the Vishnovetskis, and the Konyatspoltskis who have forfeited their allegiance to the King and to the Commonwealth. As we have punished them, we deserve a just compensation and reward from His Majesty and the States. Therefore, I request you worthy comrades and friends to read the letter of the voyavoda of Bratslav, which he has sent me through Father Petronius Lasko, a nobleman of our ancient faith, and to determine wisely that the shedding of blood in Christian countries shall come to an end, and that we should receive indemnity and reward for the fealty and obedience which we have shown to the Commonwealth. Mielnitsky did not ask if an end should be put to the war. He demanded a decision that it should be so. Consequently, a murmur of disapproval arose from some, which presently broke into threatening shouts led especially by Charnota of Hadziats. Mielnitsky spoke not a word. He only looked carefully in the direction whence the protests came and wrote down the names of his opposers in his memory. Meanwhile, Vyhovsky stood up, holding the letter from Kizya in his hand. Zorko held up a copy of the letter in the air to read it out to the Council. Outside, as well as in the room, there was a deep silence. The voyavoda began his letter in these words. Were the commander of the Zaporosian army of the Commonwealth, my old friend and comrade, although there are many who take you for an enemy of the Commonwealth, I am not only convinced of your faithful attachment to it, but I am also endeavouring to convince the Senators, my colleagues, of the same. There are three things that convince me of this. First, because the army of the Nipper, although from time immemorial it has sought glory and maintained its freedom, has always remained faithful to the King, to the Lords, and to the Commonwealth. Secondly, that our people of Russia are so firm in their faith that any one of us would rather give up his life than yield one jot of his faith. And thirdly, when and more's the pity, as has now happened, that blood has been shed in a fraternal strife, we still have a common country in which we came into the world, in which we enjoy our freedom, and there is not in the whole world another kingdom and another country that possesses such laws and such privileges as ours. Therefore we are all striving to guard the crown of this, our mother. If there is evil and it cannot be avoided, reason teaches us that it is easier in a free state to adjust all wrongs than, after the loss of such a mother to find another liker in Christendom or in pagan countries. Loboda of Periaslov interrupted the reader. He speaks the truth, he said in a loud voice. He speaks the truth, repeated the other kernels. It is not true, he lies, dog-believer, cried Charnota. Silence, silence, you are yourself a dog-believer. You traitors, to death with you, to death with yourself. Silence, read on, read. He is our man. Listen, listen. The storm was about to break in earnest, but Byhovsky continued to read and all was quiet again. The voyavoda went on to say that the Zaporosian army must have confidence in him, for it knew well that he, being of the same blood and faith, would be their friend. He reminded them that in the unfortunate slaughter at Komeikan and Startsa he had taken no part. Then he demanded of Miannitsky to put an end to the war, to send away the Tartars or to turn his arms against them, and to confirm himself in his fieldy to the Commonwealth. He closed his letter with the following words. I promise you that, as true as I am a son of the Church of God, and as true as my race springs from the people of Russia, I will assist you to do all that is right. You know very well that in this Commonwealth my word, through God's grace, is worth something, and that without me no war can be declared nor peace be concluded. I am first opposed to the Civil War, etc. There at once rose voices for and against, but taken altogether the letter pleased the officers and even the common people. Nevertheless, in the first few moments one could understand nothing, one could hardly hear a word on account of the violence with which the dispute raged about the letter. The common people from a distance seemed like a huge whirlpool in which swarms of men moved back and forth, fermenting and seething. The colonels shook their plumes and sprang towards one another with threatening fists, with angry faces, flashing eyes and foaming lips. They glared at one another. The partisans of war were led by Erasmus Charnota, who had become perfectly mad with rage. Mianitsky himself, seeing it was on the verge of an outbreak and when such an outbreak took place, all voices were hushed, as at the roaring of a lion. But before this happened, Chichovsky had sprang upon a bench, waved his bunch of plumes, and roared with a voice of thunder, Hurling cattle suits you better than holding a council you heathen dogs! Silence! Chichovsky wants to speak, cried Charnota, who hoped that the celebrated colonel would speak in favor of the war. Silence! Silence! roared the others. Chichovsky enjoyed extraordinary respect among the Cossacks on account of his great services that he had rendered, on account of his warlike ability, and strangely enough, because he was a nobleman. Consequently, all kept silence and awaited eagerly to hear what he might say. Mianitsky himself fastened his restless eyes upon him. But Charnota had been mistaken when he expected that the colonel would declare in favor of war, Chichovsky had, with his quick wit, readily understood that he must obtain now or never from the Commonwealth the starosta ships and dignities of which he dreamed. He understood well that in the event of a peace with the Cossacks he would be the first whom the Commonwealth would seek to win over and pacify, and the Lord of Krakow would then not be able to make any opposition, for he was a prisoner. He therefore spoke as follows. My business is the sword, not the council, but as a council has been called I will give you my opinion, for I have deserved your favor as well as, if not better than others. We undertook this war in order to recover our rights and privileges, and the voyavoda of Brotslov writes that they will be given back to us. Therefore it will either be so or it will not. If this does not happen let there be war. If we recover them, peace. Why this useless shedding of blood, if they satisfy us and we satisfy the mob, the war will cease. Our father Milnitsky has wisely considered and arranged everything, so that we stand on the side of his majesty, our illustrious king, who will consequently reward us. And if the lords should be opposed to this, perhaps he will permit us to speak a word to them, and we will speak to them. But I would not advise sending away the Tartars, let them make their camp on the wild lands and wait until we have one thing or the other. Milnitsky's face brightened at these words, and the colonels began to call out in increasing numbers, that they should give up the war and send ambassadors to Warsaw, and that they should beg the lord of Brotslov to come in person and negotiate with them. Charnota was still screaming and protesting, but the colonel fixed his threatening glance on him and said, You, you, Charnota, Colonel of Hadziats, you are shouting for war and slaughter, and when at Korsun, Mokovsky's soldiers came to attack you, you squeaked like a little pig, brothers, protect me, and you ran away before your whole regiment. You lie, screamed, Charnota, I fear neither the Poles nor you. Chachovsky sprang towards Charnota. Some of the others were already clenching their fists against the Colonel of Hadziats. The tumult recommended, on the public square, the soldiery were bellowing like a herd of Aurochs. Then Mielnitsky stood up. Were they gentlemen and colonels? He said, We have determined to send ambassadors to Warsaw, who will represent our services to the illustrious king, and pray him for a reward, but whoever wishes war may have it, not with the king, not with the Commonwealth, for with these we have never carried on war, but with our greatest enemy, who is now wading in Cossack blood and yet continues to die his hands in it, in his enmity against the Zaporosian army. I have sent letters and envoys to him and entreated him to give up this enmity, and he murdered my envoys most cruelly. He has honored me, your commander, with no answer, and in this manner has shown his contempt for the whole Zaporosian army. He is now marching hither from the other side of the Nipper. He has destroyed Poribish to the last man. He has punished innocent men over whose death I have wept bitter tears, and now, as I heard early this morning, he has gone to Nimorov and has also left no one alive there. As the Tatars do not dare to march against him from fear and terror, it will not be long before he arrives here in order to murder us, innocent ones, contrary to the will of our illustrious king and of the whole Commonwealth. For in his pride he cares for no one, and in his present rebellious attitude he is ready to rise against the will of his royal majesty. All was quiet in the council chamber. Nyanitsky took breath and continued, God has rewarded us by a victory over the Hetmans, but he is worse than the Hetmans, worse than all the Kinglets, a son of the devil who is the father of lies. If I myself should march against him, he would, through his friends, raise a cry in Warsaw that we did not wish peace and would misrepresent our innocence to his royal majesty. In order that this may not happen, the King and the Commonwealth must be made aware that I do not wish the war, that I am sitting here quietly, and that he is bringing the war to our doors. That is why I cannot move, for I must remain here to negotiate with the Lord Voyevoda of Bratislav. But in order that he, this devil's son, may not break our power, we must offer opposition to him and destroy his army, as we defeated the Hetmans at the Zoltovoda and at Korsun. Therefore I entreat that you will march against him as volunteers, and I will write to the King that this has happened without my knowledge, and from the absolute necessity of guarding against Vishnyovetsky's enmity and attacks. A deep silence reigned in the council chamber. Mianetsky continued, Whoever therefore among you wishes to undertake this expedition, I will give him sufficient forces, brave Cossacks, cannon and gunners, that he may, with God's help, cast down our enemy and obtain a victory over him. Not one of the colonels stepped forward. I will give him sixty thousand picked men, said Mianetsky. Silence. Yet these were all fearless warriors whose battle cry had so often rung about the walls of Sarogrod. Yet perhaps each one feared to lose his laurels in the meeting with the terrible Yeremi. Mianetsky let his eyes wander over the colonels, and these could not stand his flance, but cast down their eyes. Vyhovsky's face took an expression of satanic wickedness. I know a Cossack, said Mianetsky gloomily, who would have stepped forward this moment and have dared this expedition, but he is not among us. Bohun! cried a voice. It is he. He has already destroyed a regiment of Yeremi's in Vasilov, but he was wounded in this battle and is lying in Cherkass fighting death, and he is not here. I see no one who can take his place. Where is the glory of the Cossacks? Where are the Pavluks, the Nalevaikos, the Labodas, and the Ostrenitsas? Then a short fat man with a gloomy face, a fiery red mustache over his thin lips, and green eyes arose from the bench, and standing before Mianetsky said, I will go. It was Maxim Shibonos. Shouts of approval arose from all sides, but he leaned on his staff and spoken horse disjointed sentences. Do not think, Hetman, that I am afraid. I would have offered sooner, but I thought there were better men. But if I must go, I will go. What have you? You have heads and hands. I have no head, only a hand and a sword. Our mother bore us once, but war is my mother and my sister. Vishnuovetsky slaughters, so will I. He hangs, so will I. And you, Hetman, give me good Cossacks, for the blacks are worth nothing against Vishnuovetsky, and I will go forward. We'll destroy castles, hew down, slay, and hang. Death to them, the white-handed gentleman. Another Ottoman stepped forward. I will go with you, Maxim. It was Polyan. Cernota of Hadziats and Ladki from Mirgorod and Nozak of Ostrenks will also go with you, said Mianetsky. Yes, we will go. They cried with one voice. Shibonos's example had given them courage. Against Yarimi! Against Yarimi! Thundered voices in the crowd. Forward! Forward! repeated the company, and in a short time the council room was changed into a drinking-shop. The regiments who were destined for Shibonos drank themselves dead drunk. Were they not going to death? The Cossacks knew that right well, but their hearts were free from fear. Our mother bore us once, they said, with their leader, and therefore they acted as though death was already before them. Mianetsky encouraged them, and the crowd followed his example. They began to sing, a hundred thousand voices. They drove the horses about, which tore round the camp, kicked up clouds of dust, and caused indescribable confusion. They were chased with screams, with wild noise and laughter. Whole bands of men ran down along the river, even forcing their way into the Hetman's quarters, until finally he ordered Yakubovich to disperse them. They came to blows, then a violent storm drove them to the Tencent wagons. At evening a hurricane raged. Thunder rolled from cloud to cloud. Flashes of lightning illumined the whole region, now with white, now with red light. Amid the flashes, Shibonos moved out of the camp at the head of sixty thousand men, picked warriors and blacks.