 Book I, Chapter VIII of With Fire and Sword, by Henrik Sinkiewicz, translated by Samuel A. Benyon. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. In Chigrin, Skyshettovsky found old Satsphilikovsky in a state of the greatest feverish excitement. He was awaiting impatiently the prince's messenger, for threatening news was coming daily from Siege. He had no longer any doubt that Mianitsky was ready to take up arms to avenge his wrongs, and to try and regain the old privileges of the Cossacks. Satsphilikovsky had received news that he had been in the Crimea and had implored the Khan for some Tartar troops, with which he expected to arrive any day in Siege. Consequently a general expedition was expected to set out from Siege for the Commonwealth, which, with the help of the Tartars, might prove destructive. The approaching storm was perceived every day drawing ever nearer, ever more distinct, ever more terrible. It was no longer gloomy, uncertain fear that spread over the Ukraine. It was the certainty of a war and of carnage. The Grand Hetman, who at first had not attached much importance to the whole affair, drew nearer with his forces to Cherkass. The advance posts of the King's army reached as far as Chigrin, mainly that they might prevent the defection of any regiments, for the Cossacks and the inhabitants of the towns began to fly in crowds to Siege. The nobility collected in the towns. It was said that in the southern principalities the militia would be mustered. Many, without waiting for orders, sent their wives and children to fortresses, and themselves went to Cherkass. The unhappy Ukraine was divided in two halves. The inhabitants of one half swarmed to Siege, the others into the royal camp. One party held to the conservative order of things. The other desired the wildest freedom. One side strove to maintain the fruits of centuries of toil. The other wished to steal those possessions from them. Both would air long, stain their hands in the blood of their brethren. The dreadful feud resolved itself into a social war before it had taken up the religious war cries that were absolutely foreign to Neige. But although heavy clouds gathered on the horizon of the Ukraine, although everything seemed wrapped in fatal darkness, although discord worked and fermented inwardly and thunder rolled from one end to the other, men did not yet realize what havoc the storm would cause. Perhaps Milnitsky himself did not realize it, for he sent in the interim letters to the nobles of Krakow, to the Cossack commissioners and to the commander of the king's forces full of complaints, as well as of assurances of loyalty to Vladislav IV and the Commonwealth. Was he seeking to gain time, or did he believe that negotiations might yet hinder the outbreak? There were different opinions about it. Two men only were not deceived for a moment. These were Zatvilikovsky and Old Berabash. The old colonel had also just received a letter from Milnitsky, full of scorn, full of threats and insults. With the whole army of the Zaporosians, wrote Milnitsky, I pray and beseech that those privileges be restored which your grace has confiscated, and because you have kept them back for your own advantage and profit, the whole army of Zaporosians consider you worthy to rule sheep or swine, but not men. I, however, ask your graces pardon if, in any particular, I failed in courtesy in my poor house at Chegrin on St. Nicholas's day, and because I rode away without permission to Zaporos. See worthy, sirs, said Berabash to Zatvilikovsky and Skyshettovsky, see how he insults me, and it was I who taught him the art of war, and was as quite a father to him. So he announces that he will demand his rights with the whole army of Zaporosians at his back, said Zatvilikovsky, that is, in fact, a civil war the most dreadful of all wars. I see I must hasten. Give me good, sirs, the letters to those with whom I must confer, said Skyshettovsky. Have you won to the Koshav Ataman? Yes, from the prince himself. Well, then I will give you one to the commander-in-chief, and you, Colonel Berabash, have also a relation there by the name of Berabash. From him you can find out all you want to know. But who knows if it is not already too late for such an expedition. Does the prince want to know what is really going on there? The answer is simple. Crooked dealing is going on. And if he wishes to know what is best to be done, the advice is short. We are together as many soldiers as possible and join forces with the Hetman. Well, dispatch at once a messenger to the prince with the answer and with the advice, said Skyshettovsky. I must go to Siege, for I was sent there, and cannot change the will of the prince. And do you know that it is a frightfully dangerous journey, said Zatvilikovsky. The people here are already so excited that one hardly dares to remain here. If the king's forces were not near, the people would throw themselves upon us, and there you are running into the jaws of the dragon. Lieutenant Jonah was in the belly of the great fish, not only in his jaws, but with God's help he came out whole. Well, then, travel on. I admire your determination. You can ride safely as far as Kudak, but there you must look round you and see what is best to do. Grodzitsky is an old soldier. He will give you the best instructions, and I myself will go to the prince. If I have to fight in my old age, I would rather fight under him than any other man. Meanwhile, I will prepare a boat and a boatman for you who will take you to Kudak. Skyshettovsky went out and betook himself speedily to his quarters on the marketplace in the house of the prince in order to make his final preparations. In spite of the dangers of the journey of which Zatvilikovsky had told him, the lieutenant could not think of it without a certain satisfaction. He would see the neeper in its whole length as far as Nizh and Porogh, which for the nights of those days was a land full of enchantment and of mysterious adventure, that which attracted every enterprising spirit. Many a man had passed his whole life in the Ukraine and could not boast that he had seen Siech. Skyshettovsky felt therefore as if he had joined the brotherhood and not many of the nobility ventured to do that at this time. The days of Lomka-Zborovsky were past and would never return. The enmity between Siech and the Commonwealth which had arisen in the time of Nalevaika and Pavluk had never ceased but had increased every year, and the influx of the nobility, Poles as well as Russians, to Siech, people who resembled the Nizhovs both in language and in faith, had become much smaller. Men like Pulyov Kurtsevich had not many imitators. But now impelled the nobles to seek brotherhood in Nizh was chiefly misfortune, banishment, in one word, crimes that could not be pardoned. Therefore an impenetrable secrecy, dense as the mist over the neaper, covered the robber land of Nizh. Wonders were told of it, and Skyshettovsky was curious to see it with his own eyes. He did not surmise, what is true, that he would be detained there. An ambassador was an ambassador, especially when he came from Prince Yeremi. His thoughts filled his mind as he looked out of the window of his quarters upon the market place. Thus he passed hour after hour when it suddenly seemed to him that he saw two well-known figures going directly towards the alley where the Valaki and Dopula had his shop. He looked more closely. It was Zagloba and Bohun. They walked arm in arm and disappeared behind the dark door above which hung a sign showing that it was a drinking place. The lieutenant was astonished both at the presence of Bohun in Chigrin and also at his friendship with Zagloba. "'Zhenzhan, come here,' he called to his servant. The boy appeared in the doorway of the adjoining room. "'See here, Zhenzhan, go into the wine-shop with the sign on it over there. You will see there a fat nobleman with a hole in his forehead. Tell him that somebody wishes to see him about a matter of great importance. If he asks who it is, however, do not tell. Zhenzhan hastened away, and in a few minutes the lieutenant saw him returning with Zagloba. "'Well met,' said Skishtosky, as the nobleman appeared at the door of the room. Have you forgotten me?' "'Forgotten you? May the Tartars melt me down the tallow and make candles out of me for their mosques if I have forgotten you? Only a few months ago you and Chaplinsky opened the door at Dopula's, which I was very glad to see, because I had escaped from prison in Stumble in the same manner, and what is Panpodbypienta, who of Sinoga of the coat of arms torn breeches doing now, with his innocence and his sword, all the sparrows still perching on his head, mistaking him for a withered tree?' "'Panpodbypienta is well, and sends you his regards. He is a very rich nobleman, but frightfully stupid. If he should cut off three such heads as his own, they would only amount to one and a half. You how warm it is, although it is only March, one's tongue cleaves to the pallet. I have an excellent brand, take a glass.' A fool refuses when a wise man offers. The army barber surgeon has just advised me to drink mead, to drive melancholy from my brain, for bad times are coming to the nobility, days of wrath and calamity. Chaplinsky has perished from fear. He no longer comes to Dopula's because the Cossack veterans drink here. I alone carry a brave front and am good friends with several officers, although the command stinks of tar. The mead is good. Excellent. Where did you get it? In Lubny. Are there many veterans here? Who is not here? Fedor Yokubovich is here. The veteran phylon Zegyla, Daniel Nietzsche, and with them the eye in their head, Bohun, who has been my friend since the time when I drank with him till he fell under the table, when I promised him that I would adopt him. Zhegrin stinks of them while waiting to see which side they shall take, for they do not dare to go over openly to Miannitsky. If they do not do it, it will be due to me. How's that? When I drink with them, I entice them over to the commonwealth and persuade them to be faithful. If the king does not give me a starosta ship for that, then there is no justice left in the commonwealth, no reward for services, and it would be truly better to hide behind the stove than to sacrifice one's head pro bono publico. You would do better to sacrifice your head in fighting against them. It seems to me that you are throwing away your money. You will not gain them this way. I throw my money away? What do you take me for? Is it not enough that I associate with fools without paying for them, too? I consider it a favor when I allow them to pay for me. And Bohun, what is he doing here? He listens to hear what is being said about Siech just like the rest. That is why he came here. He is the spoiled darling of all the Cossacks. They flatter him like monkeys. One thing is sure, the regiment of Perioslav follows him and not Loboda. And who knows whom Shechovsky's troops will follow? Bohun is on intimate terms with the Nizhavs when he fights with the Turks or the Tartars, but now he is making other calculations. For he confessed to me when we were carousing that he loves a noblewoman and is going to marry her. That is why it does not suit him, just before his marriage, to be on too friendly a footing with the peasants. That is why he wishes me to adopt him and to bring him into the nobility. Your wine is excellent. Take some more, do. I will, I will. One does not find such a brand that ordinary ends. Did you not ask what the young lady's name was whom Bohun wishes to marry? Good sir, what do I care about her name? I only know that when I put horns on Bohun's head she will be the doe. The lieutenant could scarce restrain himself from giving Zagloba a blow in the mouth with his fist. The latter, however, noticed nothing and continued speaking. In my young days I was a great lady-killer. Shall I tell you how I came to receive the palm in gallots? Do you see this hole in my forehead? Enough, if I tell you that it was made by the eunuchs in the Sorrelio of Apasha there. You told me it was made by the bullet of a robber. Did I say that? Well, I was right. Every Turk is a robber, so help me God!" Their conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Zatsfilikovsky. Well, lieutenant, said the old standard bearer, the boats are ready, the boatmen are trusty people. Get away in God's name and at once, here are the letters. I will give my orders for my men to go to the shore at once. And where are you going? asked Zagloba. To Kudak. It will be pretty warm for you there. But the lieutenant did not hear the prophecy, for he had left the room and stepped out in the market place, where his men were standing by their horses, ready to start. To horse and down the river, commanded Skyshattosky, get the horses on board and wait for me. Meanwhile the old standard bearer was saying to Zagloba, I hear that you are now making up to the Cossack officers and drinking with them. Pro bono publico, lieutenant. You have a versatile genius and truly more wit than sense of shame. You wish to bind the Cossacks to you in their cups in order that they may be your friends in case of war. And if I, the martyr of the Turks, have no wish to become a martyr of the Cossacks, it would not be strange, for two mushrooms spoil the best lash. As for the feeling of shame, I invite no one to drink with me. I enjoy it alone, and God grant that it tastes no worse than this mead. Merit like oil must always rise to the top. At this moment Skyshattosky returned. The men are already gone, said he. Satsvilikovsky poured out some wine. Here's to a happy journey, he said. And a safe return, added Zagloba. You will have a pleasant voyage, for the water is remarkably high. Down good, sir, let us drink the rest. The tankard is not large. They sat down and drank. You will see a remarkable country, said Zatsvilikovsky, and greet Pankrodzitsky in Kudak. Ah, what a soldier that is. He lives at the end of the world, far away from the eyes of the Hetman, and yet maintains perfect order. Would to God it was so in the whole Commonwealth. I know Kudak and the Porog. In the old times I often went there, and it makes me sad at heart to think that has all passed, disappeared, and now… The ensign here leaned his milk-white head upon his hand and fell into deep thought. There was silence. One heard only the stamping of the horse's hoofs in the yard, for the last of Skyshattosky's men had ridden to the river to go on board the boat. Good God! said Zatsvilikovsky, rousing himself from his reverie, and yet there used to be better times, even when there was fighting. I remember it as if it were today, but it is twenty-seven years ago that we were at Kudzim as the hossars under Lubomirsky went to attack the Janissaries. The Cossacks, behind their earthworks, threw their caps up in the air and cried to Sahydak that the ground trembled under their feet. We will go to death with the Poles, and today, Nizh, which ought to be the bulwark of Christianity, lets the Tartars into the boundaries of the Commonwealth, only in order to attack them when they are on their return home with Bouty. Today it is worse, today Myanitsky unites with the Tartars, and together with them will murder the Christians. Let us drink to these sorrows, interrupted Zagloba. This is an excellent brand. God give me a speedy death that I may not see the Civil War, continued the old ensign. The universal sin shall be washed clean in blood, but it will not be the blood of redemption, for here brother will put brother to death. Who are the inhabitants of Nizh, Russians, and who those in the army of Prince Yeremi, and those in the service of the lords, Russians, and how many of them are there in the royal camp, and I myself, what am I, oh unhappy Ukraine, the heathens of the Crimea will place chains on thy neck, in the Turkish galleys thou wilt row? Do not mourn so, ensign, said Tskyshatovsky, or our eyes will overflow, perhaps we may yet have bright sunshine. The sun just went down and its last beams fell with a ruddy glow on the white hair of the ensign. In the town the bells were ringing for the Angelus. They went out, Tskyshatovsky went into the Roman Catholic Church, Satzvilikovsky to the Greek Church, and Zagloba to Dopulas in the bell-corner. It was already dark when they met again on the shore of the Tasmania. Tskyshatovsky's people were already sitting in the boats, the men still carrying things on board. A cold wind came from the mouth of the neeper nearby, and the night did not look promising. In the reflection of the fire that burned on the shore, the water appeared blood-red, and seemed to flow past with extraordinary swiftness toward an unknown darkness. Well, a happy journey, said the ensign, and shook the young man's hand heartily, be on your guard. I will omit nothing. With God's help we shall soon see each other again. Certainly in Lubny or in the Prince's camp, then you are positively going to the Prince? Zatzvilikovsky raised his hands in the air. What else can I do? If there is war, well then, let it come. Farewell, Ensign. God be with you. Viva Valykvae, cried Zagloba, and if the water doesn't take you to Stamble, you must take the Sultan to task, or drive a knot in his head. That was excellent wine. How cold it is. Goodbye. Hope to see you soon again. God guide you. The oars creaked and splashed in the water. The boats floated away. The fire that burned on the shore was soon lost in the distance. For a long time Skishetovsky watched the noble form of the ensign, lighted up by the reflection from the fire, and a sudden sadness took possession of his heart. The water was bearing him away, far from the hearts of his friends and of his beloved, far from a known country, carrying him away mercilessly, like fate, into a wild region, into the dark future. The boat followed the course of the river till united with the neaper. The wind whistled, the oars plashed monotonously and sadly, the sailors began to sing, O ye banks, O ye waves, with mist and clouds o'er spread. Skishetovsky wrapped himself in his woolen cloak and laid down on the pallet which his soldiers had prepared for him. His thoughts were about Helena, that so far she was not in Lubny, that Bohan remained, and he was departing. Here, pre-sentiments care, gnawed at his heart like crows. He tried to put them away from him till he was tired, and his thoughts grew confused and blended weirdly with the sounds of the wind, the splash of the oars and the songs of the boatmen, and he fell asleep. The following morning Skishetovsky arose fresh and bright and in a happy mood. The weather was glorious. The water's wide expanse were wrinkled by the light-warm wind. The shores were enveloped in mist and blended in the surface of the water in a boundless plain. Xinjiang was fairly frightened when he awoke and rubbed his eyes to see more clearly. He looked about him in astonishment, and as he could see no sign of the shore, he cried, Great God, my master, are we already at sea? The river is swollen, but it is not the sea, answered Skishetovsky, and you will see the shore as the mist clears away. I think we shall soon see the Turkish territory. That we shall, if we are ordered there, but you see we are not rowing alone. In fact, as far as the eye could see were several bad yucks, domesies, or tombesses, and narrow black cossack canoes made of woven reeds, and were usually called kikes. A few of these canoes were floating down the river, carried by the strong current. Others were working their way bravely against the stream, assisted by oars and sails. They were taking fish, wax, salt, and dried cherries into the towns on the shore. Before they were coming back from the towns laden with provisions for kudak, and with wares in which the bazaars of sea-ch found a ready sail. The banks of the Nipper, from the mouth of the shoal on, were a perfect desert, only here and there whitened by the cossack winter quarters, but the river formed a highway which connected sea-ch with the rest of the world, and hence the traffic was pretty considerable, especially when the increase in the volume of water made it easier for the sailing craft, when even the porog beyond Yanashits was navigable for boats sailing with the stream. The lieutenant observed with curiosity this life upon the river as his boats floated swiftly towards kudak. The mist had cleared, the shores were distinctly visible, above the heads of the travellers circled millions of aquatic birds, pelicans, wild geese, cranes, ducks, plover, curlew, and turn. From the reeds on the bank there came a gabble, the bubbling of water and the rustling of wings, that it seemed as if the birds were holding a diet, or were undertaking a bird-war. Behind crimine shook, the banks grew lower and more open. Look there! cried Jin-chan, suddenly, there is the sun, and there lies snow on the fields. Skyshettsky looked where he pointed, truly, as far as the eye could see, gleamed a white covering in the sunlight on both sides of the river. Hello, old man, what is that white that shines over there? asked the lieutenant. Cherries, sir, answered the old man. In fact, both banks of the river beyond the mouth of the shoal were overgrown for quite a distance with forests of dwarf cherry trees. The sweet, luscious fruit afforded nourishment in spring to birds, animals, and to men who had lost their way in the desert. And they also formed an article of commerce which was carried in boats to Kiev and farther. At this time the trees were full of blossoms, and when they approached the shore in order to rest the oarsmen, the lieutenant and Jin-chan went ashore to look more closely at these woods. A powerful perfume filled the air so that they could hardly breathe. A mass of white blossoms lay on the ground. In many places the little trees formed an impenetrable thicket. Between them grew luxuriant wild dwarf almond trees, which were covered with pink blossoms that emitted a still more powerful fragrance. Mountains of bumblebees, honeybees, and variegated butterflies flew in and out of this sea of blossoms, which extended farther than the eye could reach. "'Wonderful, sir, wonderful,' said Jin-chan, and why does nobody live here? There is plenty of game about, I see. Indeed in among the cherry trees darted gray and white hairs, and numberless flocks of falcon and quail, several of which Jin-chan killed with his gun, but he learned to his sorrow from the old sailor that their flesh was poisonous. In the soft earth might be seen tracks of deer and antelope, and from the distance came sounds like the grunting of wild boar. After the voyagers had taken in this wonderful sight and rested awhile, they continued their journey. The banks rose higher, then became level, disclosing to the view beautiful meadows, woods, groves, hills, and extensive steps. The neighborhood was so entrancing that Skyshettsky involuntarily repeated to himself Jin-chan's question, why does no one live here? But it would be necessary for a second Yeremi Vishnovetsky to take possession of this wilderness, to organize it and protect it against the attacks of the Tartars and of the Nizhovs. In many places the river formed lagoons, curves, swampy thickets, beat with foaming waves upon the rocks by the shore, and filled the dark rocky clefts with water. In such hollows and crevices the Cossacks used to hide their treasures and conceal themselves. The mouths of the rivers, which were covered with a perfect forest of reeds, moss, and rushes, were black with swarms of birds. In one word it was a wild world, desolate and mysterious, which spread itself before the eyes of our voyagers. The sailing was wearisome, for as the weather was warm, swarms of poisonous mosquitoes and various insects, unknown on the barren steppes, annoyed our travelers. Many of them were as thick as a finger, and their bite caused the blood to flow freely. Towards evening they arrived at the island of Romanov, the fires of which they had seen from afar, and they put up here for the night. The fishermen who had crowded to the spot in order to see the escort of the lieutenant had their shirts, faces, and hands completely smeared with tar as a protection against bites. They were rough men of coarse manners. In the spring they came in crowds to catch fish which they smoked, and then took to Chigrin, Cherkas, Perioslov, and Kiev. Their labor was hard but remunerative, on account of the immense numbers of fish which, in summer, were actually a pest to this neighborhood, for, on account of the drying up of the water in the lagoons and in the so-called quiet corners, they died and poisoned the air. The lieutenant learned from the fishermen that all the Nizhovs who were engaged here in catching fish had left the island a few days before, and had gone to Nizh at the call of Koshav Ataman. All night long one could see from the island the fires which the refugees on their way to Siche lighted in the steps. The fishermen knew that an expedition against the poles was being arranged, and made no secret of it before the lieutenant. Skoshetovsky now saw that his expedition had been delayed a little too long. The regiments of the Cossacks would have already marched north before he could reach Siche, but he had received the command to go and, therefore, as a true soldier, he did not hesitate, but resolved, if necessary, to force his way even into the camps of the Zaporosians. On the following day, early in the morning, they continued their journey. They rounded the wonderful Tarinrog, the Tsukagora, and the Konsky Ostrog, which was celebrated for its bogs and for the quantity of snakes that were found there, rendering it unfit for human habitation. Everything, the wildness of the scenery and the increasing swiftness of the stream, announced the vicinity of Porog. Finally the tower of Kudak appeared in sight. The first part of the journey was ended. The lieutenant could not, however, enter the castle that evening, for Pankrodzitsky had commanded that after the bugle blew for roll-call no one should be allowed to leave or enter the castle. Should the king himself seek entrance, he would be obliged to stay overnight in Slobotka, which adjoined the ramparts of the fortification. The lieutenant did likewise. His quarters were not exactly comfortable, for the cabins in Slobotka, of which there were about sixty, were made of clay and were so small that in many of them one could only enter by going on all fours. It did not pay to build better ones, for at each invasion of the Tartars the garrison reduced everything to ashes, and they did this that their assailants might find no shelter or hiding place in the neighborhood. In this hamlet of Slobotka lived foreigners, i.e. adventurers who came hither from Poland, Russia, the Crimea and from Valakia. Each one belonged to a different faith, but that made no difference to any one. The ground was not cultivated on account of the danger, which was threatened by the Tartars. The inhabitants lived on fish, and wheat brought from the Ukraine. Palanka made from millet, and occupied themselves with mechanical work that was valued in the fort. The lieutenant could not close an eye on account of the intolerable smell of horses' hides, from which they made straps in Slobotka. The following morning before daybreak, after the revelry had sounded, he sent word to the fort that an ambassador from the prince had arrived, and requested an audience. Grodzitsky, whose remembrance of the prince's visit was still fresh, went out himself to meet him. He was a man of about fifty, with one eye like a cyclops, gloomy, for as he lived at the end of the world in the wilderness, and saw no one, he had become somewhat savage, and as he had unlimited power in his hands he had taken on an earnest and severe expression. His face was besides disfigured by pockmarks and sword-cuts, and wounds from tartar arrows which gave a variegated appearance of white spots on the darker skin. He was, however, a brave soldier and watchful as a stork. He kept his eyes continually fixed in the direction from which the tartars and the cossacks would come. He drank only water, and slept but seven hours a day. Frequently at night he would spring from his couch to see if the sentries on the ramparts were keeping their watch, and he punished the slightest dereliction of duty on the part of the soldiers with frightful severity. But he was kind towards the cossacks, although he was feared. In this manner he had gained their respect. When there was scarcity of food in Siech he supplied the inhabitants with grain. He was a Russian of the stock of those who, years before, had gone into the steppes with Shetslav, Lanskoronsky, and Samkasborovsky. So you are going to Siech, he asked Shetshetsky after he had taken him into the castle and welcomed him hospitably. That is what I am going to do. What news have you from there? War! The Koshav Ataman has called the cossacks from all the caves, rivers, and islands. Fugitives are coming from the Ukraine, and I am trying to stop them as well as I can. There are over thirty thousand men gathered together, and if they go to the Ukraine and they are gathered to them the cossacks from the small towns and the peasantry they will number a hundred thousand men. And Mianitsky? He is daily expected from the Crimea with the Tartars. Perhaps he has already returned. To tell you the truth your journey to Siech is a waste of time, for you may expect him here shortly, for that they will come through Kudak and that they will not leave it standing after them is certain. And you will defend yourself, sir? Krodzitsky looked at the Lieutenant darkly and said calmly and emphatically, I will not defend myself. What? I have no powder. I sent more than twenty canoes with requests for some, but I have received none. I do not know if they have any themselves. I only know that they have so far sent me none. My supply will last two weeks no longer. If I had enough I would blow up Kudak and myself rather than that one foot of a cossack should enter here. I have been commanded to remain here. I remain. I have been commanded to watch. I watch. I have been commanded to show my teeth. I have shown them. And should death come? We are born but once. I know how to die. And could you not make powder yourselves? For two months the Zaporosians have sent me no salt, Peter, for it has to be brought from the Black Sea. It is all the same to me. I will await death. We might learn something from you old soldiers. And could you not go for powder yourself? My good sir, I would not leave Kudak and I can't leave. I have lived here. I will die here. And don't think that you have fine banquets and splendid receptions in store for you after the manner in which ambassadors are received elsewhere, or that your ambassadorial dignity will be any protection to you, where they kill their own Ottomans. Long as I have been here, I cannot remember that one of them has died a natural death. You too are going to your death. Skishtoski was silent. I see that your courage is growing weak. Then do not go. Commandant, said Skishtoski angrily, think of something better with which to frighten me. For what you have told me I have already heard ten times. And if you advise me not to continue my journey, I see that it is because you would not go where you in my place. Perhaps, too, it is not only powder but courage that prevents you from defending Kudak. Grodzitsky did not seem annoyed. On the contrary, he looked with clear eyes at Skishtoski. A biting pike, he growled in Russian. Pardon me, sir, I see from your reply that you can maintain the dignity of the prince and of the nobility. I will therefore give you a couple of kikes, for you cannot sail the Porog on boats. That is what I come here to ask for. At Nyinyatschitz you must drag them over the ground, for even when the river is high one can never get through there. Even the smallest canoe hardly dares venture. And if the water is low, be on your guard, and remember that iron and lead are more trustworthy than words. Brave men alone are prized there. The kikes will be ready tomorrow. I will have double rudders brought, for single oars are not enough on the Porog. Then Grodzitsky led the lieutenant out of the room in order to show him the fort and its arrangements. Everywhere exemplary order and discipline reigned. The sentries watched day and night on the ramparts, which the tartar prisoners were unceasingly mending and fortifying. Each year I add a yard to the height of the rampart, said Grodzitsky, and it is already so high that if I only had enough powder they could do us no harm with a hundred thousand men, but without ammunition I cannot defend myself if I am outnumbered. The fortifications in truth were impregnable, for besides the cannon, the high banks of the Nipur and the inaccessible rocks, which rose perpendicularly up out of the water, protected it. It did not even need a large garrison. There were in fact not more than six hundred men in the fort, but they were picked troops armed with muskets and guns. The Nipur at this spot flowed in a small channel and was so narrow that an arrow let fly from the ramparts flew far away across the other shore. The cannon of the castle commanded both shores and the whole country around. Since that, half a mile from the castle stood a high tower, from which one could see for a radius of eight miles. In this tower were one hundred soldiers whom Pan Grodzitsky daily inspected. If they saw any signs of men in the neighborhood they sent word immediately to the fort. The bells were rung and the whole garrison immediately took up arms. "'Ordly a week passes,' said Grodzitsky, without an alarm, for the tartars come frequently like wolves in packs of several thousand at a time. We cover them with the cannon as well as we can, but sometimes the sentries take the herds of wild horses for tartars. And is it not most disagreeable to live in such a desert?' asked Skyshettsky. "'If I was offered a place in the king's chambers, I would rather remain here. I see more of the world from this spot than the king sees from his window in Warsaw. It was really a fact. From the ramparts one looked down on an immense surface of steps, which at the present moment looked like a sea of green. Towards the north one saw the mouth of the river Semara. Towards the south the whole course of the Nipper, with its rocks, precipices, and forests as far as the foaming waves of the second rapid at Cersk. Towards evening they again visited the tower, for Skyshettsky, who now saw for the first time this out-of-the-way fortification in the steps, was curious to see everything. Meanwhile the kikes had been got ready for him in Slobotka and had been provided with rudders at both ends which made them easier to handle. The following day, in the early morning, he was to take his departure, but he hardly took any rest this night, for he thought over what he should do in the face of the inevitable destruction which threatened him, in consequence of his embassy to that terrible siege. Life was dear to him, for he was young and in love, and he wanted to live beside his loved one, but honor and fame were more to him than life. Then he realized that war was at hand, that Helena, who was expecting him in Rosloga, was surrounded by terrible dangers, that she might be given over, not to Bohun's violence alone, but to that of the wild unrestrained multitude, and sorrow and pain took possession of his soul. The steps must now be dry, one could certainly travel from Rosloga to Lumni. Meanwhile he had asked Helena and the Princess to wait for his return, for he could not surmise that the storm would so soon break, he did not know that the journey to siege was so dangerous. He paced up and down the room with quick steps, tugged at his beard and wrung his hands. What should he do, how manage? In his mind's eye he saw Rosloga in flames, surrounded by a black howling mob, more like devils than human beings. He heard the echo of his own steps which resounded through the vaults of the castle, but to him it seemed as if he heard evil powers who were surrounding Helena. Upon the ramparts the bugle sounded for curfew, and it seemed to him like the sound of Bohun's horn, and he ground his teeth and clutched convulsively at his sword. Ah, why had he forced himself into this expedition instead of leaving it to bekovets? Zinzhen, as he lay on the threshold, noticed his master's unrest. He rose therefore, rubbed his eyes, lighted the torches, which had been stuck in iron, and walked about the room, and tried to attract his master's attention. But the lieutenant was completely lost in his painful thoughts, and continued to pace up and down, waking the slumbering echoes with his steps. Master, hey, master! said Zinzhen. Skishtosky looked at him with glassy eyes. At length he awoke from his reflections. Zinzhen, do you fear death? he asked. Who? How? What do you say, sir? Whoever goes to Siche never returns. And why do you go, sir? I wanted to go, never mind about that, but I am sorry for you. You are a child, and though you are a rogue, you will not escape with all your cunning. Go back to Zhigrion and then to Lubny. Zinzhen scratched his head. Certainly I fear death, master, for who does not fear death does not fear God? It is his will that we live or die, but if you go voluntarily to death, it will be your sin and not mine, for you are the master and I the servant. I will not leave you on that account, for I am not a peasant of no family but a noble, and even if I am poor I am not without a sense of honour. Oh, I knew that you were a good fellow, but I want to tell you that if you will not go of your own accord to Lubny you must do it at my command, for it cannot be otherwise. If you were to kill me I would not go. What do you think, that I am a Judas or that I would betray you to death? Zinzhen here covered his face with his hands and began to cry aloud. Skyshetyski saw that he could do nothing with him in this way, and he did not want to treat him too harshly, for he was sorry for the boy. Listen, he said, you cannot be of any assistance to me, and you may depend upon it that I will not voluntarily give up my life, but you will take some letters for me to Rosloga, to those whom I love better than my life. You will say to the princess and to the princes that they shall immediately, without the slightest delay, take the young lady to Lubny, otherwise the rebellion will take them unawares, and see that they do it. I am entrusting you with an important mission, one worthy of a friend, not of a servant. Well then send someone else, anyone can carry a letter. And whom have I here that I can trust? Are you mad? I repeat, if you were to save my life twice over, you could not render me such a service as this, for I live in torment when I think what may happen, and my skin is wet with perspiration. Oh, God, I see I must go, although it makes me so sad that even this bright sash would not comfort me if your Lordship should give it to me. You shall have the sash, but attend to the matter properly. I do not care for the sash, permit me only to go with you. Although you will return with the kaiki, which Commandant Grodzitzky is sending to Chagrin, without delay and without resting, you will go straight to Rosloga. Do not tell the princes nor the young lady anything about what threatens me, only beg that they will immediately go on horseback to Lubny, if necessary, even without taking any baggage. Here is a money-belt for you for the journey. I will soon have the letters written. Gen. Gen. threw himself at Skyshettsky's feet. Master, shall I see you no more? As God wills, as God wills, replied the lieutenant, and lifted him up. But at Rosloga you must look cheerful, now go to sleep. The rest of the night was spent by Skyshettsky in writing letters and in fervent prayer, after which the angel of rest came to him. Meanwhile the dawn began to break, and the light shone through the narrow windows. It was dawn, rosy beams stole into the room. Upon the tower and on the fort the revelry was sounding, get up! Shortly after, Grodzitsky appeared in the room. Lieutenant, the kikes are ready, he said, and I am ready," said Skyshettsky quietly. End of book one, chapter nine Book one, chapter ten of With Fire and Sword by Henrik Sinkhevich, translated by Samuel A. Benyon. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. The light canoes floated down the stream-like swallows and bore the young knight to his fate. As the waters were very high the rapids offered no danger. They arrived safely at Surskporog and past Lokan. A favourable current took them through the raven narrows. At Prince and shooter rapids the canoes graded a little, but they got in safely. Finally they saw in the distance the foaming torrent of the Nyanashits. Here they had to go ashore and pull up their boats and drag them over the ground, a long, tedious business which usually took a whole day. Fortunately there lay along the entire bank of the river, evidently left there by previous travellers, a quantity of blocks of wood which are travellers placed under their canoes to draw them more easily. In the whole region and across the steppes one saw not a living soul and not a canoe on the river, for no one else could go to siege but those whom Pangrodzitsky permitted to pass through Kudak, and Grodzitsky had intentionally cut off the Zaporosians from the rest of the world. The stillness was only broken by the thundering roar of the waves as they dashed on the rocks of Nyanashits. When the men rolled the canoes along, Skyshettsky observed this natural wonder. It was a frightful scene. Across the whole breadth of the river in a diagonal line were seven rocky mounds which were raised above the water. They were black and worn in clefts by the waves which had worn holes in them that looked like gates or entrances. The stream beat with the whole force of its waters on these rocks and was thrown back by them so that it rose in its raging fury and white foaming mist and sought to spring over them like a spirited steed. But it was thrown back again before it could find its way through the openings. It would seem as if it bit the rocks that in impotent rage it stirred the mighty whirlpool that it rose in columns in the air and then exhausted sank down seething and bubbling like a wild beast, and then again came a noise of thunder as of a hundred cannons, a howling as of whole packs of wolves, a rasping and struggling, and at each rocky prominence this struggle was repeated with its eddying and its wild whirling of water. Above the abyss screamed birds as if they were terrified at the site. Between the clefts hovered dusky shadows that seemed like evil spirits. Although the men who were dragging the canoes were accustomed to this site, they crossed themselves reverently and warned the lieutenant not to go too close to the edge. For there was a saying that if one looked too long at the rocks of Nynashits he would finally see something that would make his head grow dizzy. It was also said that at times long black hands were stretched up out of the whirlpool, and seized the unwary one who ventured too near, and that then frightful laughter would be heard in the hollow of the rocks. At night even the Zaporosians did not dare to take their canoes that way. Among the brotherhood in Nizh no one could be received as an initiate who had not once in his life crossed the Porogh alone in a canoe, but an exception was made in the case of Nynashits as its rocks were never covered by the water. The blind singers told about Bohan that he had ventured through Nynashits, but no one believed this story. The portage of the canoes took almost a whole day, and the sun was setting when the lieutenant got into his boat again. But to make up for it, they sailed easily down the rest of the Porogh, for it was swollen with water, and at length arrived in the quiet Nizh water. Upon the journey Skyshettersky saw the Kuchaks, giant heaps of stone, and the white stone which the prince had commanded to be raised in remembrance of his stay there, and of which Pan Boguslav Mashkevich had told him in Lubny, it was not far from here to Sech, as the lieutenant, however, did not wish to enter at dark into the labyrinth of Chertomelik he resolved to pass the night at Kortits. He wished also to come across some Zaporosians and to send word before he arrived that they might know that an ambassador and no other was coming. It seemed to be deserted, which somewhat surprised the lieutenant, for he had heard from Grodzitsky that it always contained a Cossack garrison to repel Tartar invasions. He even undertook to go quite a distance into the country with some of his men to try and get some information, but he would not traverse the whole island for it was over a mile along, and a dark, threatening night was already beginning to close in on them. He returned therefore to the canoes which had been dragged up on the sand and near which fires had been built to keep away the mosquitoes. The greater part of the night passed quietly, the soldiers and guides had fallen asleep around the fire, only the sentries watched, and with them the lieutenant, who, since his journey from Kudak, had suffered terribly from sleeplessness. He felt also that a fever was consuming him. Presently he seemed to hear steps approaching from the recesses of the island, then he thought he heard strange sounds like the distant bleeding of goats. But he thought his ear must deceive him. Suddenly it was just before dawn, a dark form stood before him. It was a messenger from the sentry. Master, they're coming, he said, hurriedly. Who? Why, at the Nizhovs, there are about forty of them. Well, that is not many. Wake the men, rake the fires. The men sprang quickly to their feet. The awakened fires shot up flames in the air and lighted up the kikes and the soldiers of the lieutenant. The sentries ran up together at the same moment. The irregular tread of men could be heard. They were halted at a certain distance. Presently a voice asked in a threatening manner, Who is on the shore? And who are you? replied the sentry. Answer, you son of an enemy, if not I will question you with my musket. His highness, the ambassador from his Excellency Prince Yeremi Vishnyovetsky, koshov'd to the Ataman in command, answered the sergeant in a ringing voice. The voices in the approaching crowd were silent. Apparently they were holding a brief counsel. Come here, cried the sergeant. Do not be afraid. One does not fight ambassadors, but then ambassadors do not fight. Footsteps again were heard approaching, and in a few minutes a few dozen forms stepped out of the darkness. By their complexion and their low stature and the furs which they wore, skin outwards, it was evident to the lieutenant at first glance that they were for the most part tartars. Only a few Kosyks were among them. The thought flashed through Skyshettovsky's mind that Mianitsky must have already returned from the Crimea if there were tartars in quartets. At the head of the gang stood an old Zaporosian of gigantic stature and savage frightful countenance. He stepped nearer to the fire and asked, Who is the ambassador here? A strong odor of Gozalka was spread abroad. The Zaporosian was evidently drunk. Who is the ambassador here? He repeated, I am the ambassador, said Skyshettovsky proudly. Thou! Am I your brother that you should call me Thou? First learn politeness, you bore, interrupted the sergeant. You should say you're Highness Ambassador. To destruction with you, devil-spawn, may you die like Serpia of Excellency's silence. What are you going to see the Ottoman about? That is not your affair. It is sufficient for you to know that your life depends upon my reaching the Ottoman as quickly as possible. At this moment another Zaporosian stepped forward from the throng. We are watching here at the command of the Ottoman, said he, to see that none of the Poles approach and if anybody comes along we ought to bind him and bring him to the Ottoman, and that's what we are doing. You will not bind anybody who goes there of his own accord. I will, for so we are commanded. And knowest thou peasant what is due to the person of an ambassador, and whom I represent? The old giant interrupted. We were Lydia, Ambassador Tither, but by the beard look like this. With these words he reached out his hand to seize the Lieutenant's beard. But in the same moment he screamed aloud and fell to the ground as if struck by lightning. The Lieutenant had split his head open with his pollacks. Fight! Fight! Held enraged voices in the crowd. The Prince's Semenov sprang to the help of their leader. Shots were fired. To cry, Strike! Strike! Clash of weapons. A disorderly fight commenced. In the confusion the fires were trampled on and extinguished and they were obliged to fight in the dark. They had soon become so crowded together that there was no room left to strike a blow. Knives, fists, and teeth took the place of swords. Suddenly from the farther part of the island came new shouts and cries. Assistance was coming to the assailants. In another moment they would have been too late, for the practiced soldiers had already gained the advantage over the untrained crowd. To the boats! cried the Lieutenant with a voice like thunder. In a moment his command was carried out. Unfortunately the canoes which had been drawn up too far on the shore could not be pushed back into the water. Meanwhile the enemy started wildly for the shore. Fire! commanded Skyshettovsky. A salvo of bullets brought the assailants immediately to a halt. They became confused and drew back in disorder. Some of them remained lying on the sand. Many of these were writhing convulsively and looked like fish that had been drawn from the water and thrown on the shore. The boatmen, assisted by some of the soldiers of the escort, set the oars against the ground and exerted their utmost strength to push the boats into the water. But as the rudder was fast in the ground it was too late. The enemy began the attack from a distance. The plashing of bullets in the water mingled with the swish of arrows and with the groans of the wounded. The Tartars cried out ever more imploringly to Allah and tried to cheer up each other. They were answered by the cry of the Cossack, Fight! Fight! and the quiet voice of Skyshettovsky repeating more frequently the command, Fire! The first gray of dawn cast a dim light on the camp. On the land side were groups of Cossacks and Tartars, some with their faces at the butt end of their muskets. The others bent backwards drawing their bows. On the water side were two kikes that were smoking and flaming from the constant salvos from the guns, and in the midst lay the bodies of those who had been killed, now lying peacefully in the sand. In one of the canoes Skyshettovsky stood overtopping the rest, proud, calm, with his lieutenants staff in his hand and his head bare, for a Tartar arrow had taken his cap off. The sergeant approached him and whispered, Sir, we cannot hold out. The crowd is too great, but the ambassador was all the more determined to seal his embassy with blood, not to suffer his office to be insulted, and not to die ingloriously. Therefore he stood up while his men formed a sort of barricade with the sacks of provisions, from behind which they shot at the enemy, who were to be seen for quite a distance. Well, said he, we will die to the last man. We will die, sir, cried the Seminov's. Fire! The canoes were again enveloped in smoke. Fresh crowds came from the island armed with spears and scythes. The assailants divided themselves into two parties. One division continued the fire. The other, consisting of more than two hundred Cossacks and Tartars, waited for an opportune moment for a hand-to-hand encounter. At the same time four canoes came out of the reeds on the island to attack the lieutenant from the rear and on both sides. It was already broad daylight. The smoke rose in columns in the motionless air and clouded the field of battle. The lieutenant commanded the twenty Seminov's to go towards the approaching canoes which, propelled by oars, flew like birds on the quiet surface of the water. In this way the firing, which had been directed towards the Tartars who came from the depths of the island, became much weaker. They appeared to be waiting for that. The sergeant stepped up to the lieutenant again. Sir, the Tartars are placing their daggers between their teeth. They will soon make a rush. Indeed more than three hundred of the horde, with swords in their hands and knives between their teeth, were preparing for an attack and with them a number of Zaporosians armed with scythes. The attack was to be made from all sides, for the canoes had already got to within arrow-shot distance. They were enveloped in smoke. Bullets fell like hail upon the lieutenant's men. Growns were heard in both boats. In the course of a few minutes half the men had fallen. The rest defended themselves with the energy of despair. Their faces were black with smoke, their hands had become powerless, their glance unsteady, their eyes bloodshot, the barrels of the muskets had begun to burn their hands, and the greater number of them were wounded. At this moment a frightful noise and howling shook the air. The horde were rushing to the attack. The smoke, driven away by the movement of the crowd, disappeared, and one could see the two canoes of the lieutenant overrun by a dark mass of tartars, like the corpses of two horses torn by packs of wolves. The crowd pushed, surged, and howled. They appeared to be fighting with one another, and then seemed to disappear. A few Semenovs resisted still, and at the mast stood Skyshetsky, his face all bloody, an arrow sunk to the shaft in his left arm while he defended himself with the rage of despair. His form appeared gigantic among the surrounding crowd. His sword flashed like lightning. With every stroke were heard groans and howls. The sergeant and another soldier defended him on both sides, and the crowd drew back again and again with terror before these three. But pushed forward from behind, they came within reach of the sword and fell to the ground. Let us take him alive to the ottoman, screamed voices in the crowd. Surrender! But Skyshetsky only surrendered himself to God, for he suddenly grew pale, trembled, and fell to the bottom of the boat. Farewell, little father! cried the sergeant in despair. But he soon fell also. The surging crowd of the assailants completely filled the kikes. End of Book 1, Chapter 10. In the cabin of the Kantars, in the suburb of Hassanpasha, at Siech, two Zaporosians sat at table and refreshed themselves with millet brandy, which they continually dipped out of a wooden keg that stood in the middle of the table. One of them, an old man, nearly gray, was Philip Zakhar, the Kantars himself. The other was Anton Tatarchuk, the ottoman of the camp at Chigrin, a man of about forty years, tall, powerful, with a savage expression of countenance, and the almond eyes of a tartar. They were talking softly as if they feared that someone might be listening. "'Today, then,' asked the Kantars. "'If not sooner,' answered Tatarchuk, "'they are only waiting for the Koshav and for Tuhay Bey, who has ridden to Bazavlok with Nyanitsky himself, because the tartar horde is there. The peasantry have already collected in the square, and the field commanders will assemble before evening to take council, before nightfall all will be ready.' "'It may be bad,' grunted old Philip Zakhar. "'Listen, Kantars, you saw that I received a letter?' "'Certainly I saw it, for I myself carried the letter to the Koshav, and I am educated. They found three letters with the poles. One to the Koshav himself, another for you, the third to the young Barabash. This is already known to everyone in Siche. And do you know who wrote them? The prince wrote to the Koshav, for his seal was on the letter. Who your correspondent was, I do not know. God preserve us. If they do not point you out openly as a friend of the poles, nothing will happen. God preserve us,' repeated Tatarchuk. "'You appear to have a guilty conscience.' "'I have no reason to have a guilty conscience. Perhaps the Koshav will destroy all the letters, for he himself is concerned. He received a letter as well as you. Perhaps, if you are guilty, then, hear the old Kantars lowered his voice. Fly! "'But how, where, wither?' asked Tatarchuk uneasily. The Koshav has placed guards on all the islands that no one may go over to the poles and tell them what is going on. In Bazarvluk the Tartars are keeping watch. No fish can swim past, no bird fly across. Well, then, hide yourself in siege as well as you can. They will find me. My only chance is for you to hide me under the barrels in the Bazar. You will pretend you are my relation. I would not hide my own mother's son. If you are afraid of death, get drunk. When you are drunk, you will not feel it. And perhaps there is actually nothing in the letters. Perhaps, alas, alas,' said Tatarchuk. I feel I am not guilty. I am a good Cossack and an enemy of the poles. But even if there wasn't anything in the letter, the devil knows what the pole might say about it. He can destroy me. He is a shrewd pole. He will say nothing. Did you go to see him today? Yes, I smeared his wounds with tar. I poured gozolka and ashes down his throat. He will get well. He is a shrewd pole. They say that before he was taken prisoner, he cut up the tartars like swine at quartets, had no uneasiness about the pole. A muffled sound of kettle-drums beating in the Koshov Square interrupted the conversation. When Tatarchuk heard them, he sprang up startled, an unusual restlessness found expression in his face and movements. "'That is the call for the council to assemble,' said he, trying painfully to catch his breath. "'God help me. You, Philip, say nothing about what I told you. God be with me.' Then Tatarchuk seized the keg containing the gozolka, carried it to his mouth with both hands, and drank and drank as if he would drink himself to death. "'Let us go,' said the cantars. The sound of the kettle-drums grew louder. They went out. The quarter Hassan Pasha was separated from the square only by a wall which surrounded the camp proper and by the gate with a high bastion from which the mouths of the cannon looked forth. In the middle of the quarter stood the house of the cantars and the cottages of the market Ottomans. Around the tolerably extensive square stood booths in which were articles for sale. These were mostly miserable structures hammered together out of oak planks such as abounded about quartets, and were covered with branches and rushes. The cottages themselves, not accepting that of the cantars, looked more like arbors, for only their roofs rose above the ground. These roofs were black and smoky, for when they made a fire in the cottage the smoke escaped not only by an opening in the roof but also through the whole thatch, and one might have imagined that it was not a cottage but a pile of branches and rushes in which tar was being burned. It was perfectly dark in these cabins, and that was why a fire, made of oak shavings and pine pitch, was kept continually burning. There were some dozens of these shop booths. They were divided into camp booths, i.e. those that belonged to the camp, and booths for strangers in which, in times of peace, the tartars and volux sometimes carried on business, the first trading in furs, oriental stuffs, weapons, and every kind of booty, the others chiefly in wine. But the booths for strangers were seldom occupied, for business frequently changed into robbery in this wild nest, and neither the cantars nor the market ottomans could restrain the crowd. In the booths stood thirty-eight camp wine shops, and before them lay constantly in the midst of mud, shavings, litter and horse manure, zapperosians, dead drunk, some in a dead sleep, others foaming at the mouth in convulsions or attacks of delirium. Others again half drunk, held cossack songs, fought or kissed each other, cursing the fate of the cossacks, or weeping about the cossack misery and treading on the heads and bodies of those who were lying around them. It was only when an expedition against the tartars or against Russia was determined upon that abstinence was enjoined, and then drunkenness among the soldiers was punished with death. But in ordinary times almost everybody got drunk, the cantars, the market ottomans, the buyer and the seller. The sour smell of impure vodka in conjunction with the odors of pitch, fish, smoke and horse hides filled the air of the entire suburb, which by the varied colors of its little shops reminded one of the wretched Turkish or tartar villages. Indies booths could be found all kinds of things that had been stolen in the Crimea, or Valakia, or on the coast of Anatolia. Oriental stuffs of gay colors, trimmings, gold-embroidered stuffs, gold lace, cloth, lace, ticking and linen, guns, bits of iron, skins, furs, dried fish, cherries and Turkish sweet-meats, church vessels, brass crescents that had been stolen from the minarets, and gilt crosses snatched from church altars, powder, firearms, spears and saddles, and among this confusion of objects and colors men moved hither and thither, clothed in the remains of the most varied of garments. In summer perfectly naked, always half-savage, blackened by smoke, covered with mud, full of dripping wounds from the bites of the huge mosquitoes which flew in myriads over the Turkish tomalik, and, as already said, always drunk. At this moment the whole of Hasan Pasha was more crowded with people than usual, booths and wine-shops were closed, every one hastened to the public square of Siech upon which the council was to be held. Philip Zikar and Anton Tatarjuk went with the rest, but the latter hesitated, walked slowly, and let the crowd get ahead of him. An ever-increasing unrest showed itself upon his countenance. Meanwhile they crossed the bridge over the moat, then through the gate they passed by thirty-eight large wooden buildings. These were storehouses, a sort of military barracks in which the Cossacks lived. These barracks, all of the same size and width, differed in nothing but in names which they had borrowed from different towns of the Ukraine, from which regiments also took their names. In one corner of the square was the town hall where Ottomans held meetings under the direction of the Koshov. The crowd, however, or the so-called community, held council in the open air, sending deputations continually to the Ottomans, and even sometimes forging their way into the town hall, and terrorizing the assembled councillors. A great crowd had already gathered on the square, for shortly before the Koshov Ottoman had called together to Siech all the warriors that were dispersed over the islands, streams, and pastures. The community of members was therefore larger than usual, as the sun was declining several of the barrels were set on fire, here and there were kegs of vodka which each camp had caused to be distributed, and which added no little energy to the councils. The Esals watched over the discipline in the two camps. They were provided with stout iron sticks to keep the members of the councils within bounds, and carried pistols to defend their own lives which were often in danger. Philip Zakhar and Tatarchuk went straight to the town hall, for the one as Kantars and the other as Camp Ottoman had the right to sit among the elders. In the council chamber was only a small table before which the military secretaries sat. The Ottomans and the Koshovs took their seats on the skins by the walls. At that time the places were not all occupied. The Koshovs were striding up and down the room. The camp generals, however, stood in small groups and spoke in low tones, often interrupting their conversation by loud curses. Tatarchuk noticed that even his acquaintances and friends acted as if they did not see him, and he stepped over to Young Berabash, who was in about the same position as he was. Others looked at the Mosque which made no great difference to Young Berabash as he did not rightly understand what the whole business meant. He was a man of remarkable beauty and extraordinary strength, to which attributes he owed his position as Camp Ottoman, for otherwise he was noted in siege for his stupidity. It had won him the name of the silly Ottoman and the privilege of arousing the ridicule of the elders at every word that he spoke. "'Only a little while, and then we shall perhaps be thrown into the water with a rope around our necks,' whispered Tatarchuk. "'And why?' asked Berabash. "'Then you don't know anything about the letters?' "'What in thunder? What letters have I written? See how they are looking askew at us. Oh, if I could only get at one of them by the throat, then he would not be able to either see or hear.' The cries were heard from the outside. Something must have happened. The door of the council room opened wide. Mianitsky and Tuhebe stepped in. They were both greeted heartily. Only a few months before, Tuhebe, as the fiercest of the Mertzas and the terror of the Nizhavs, was the object of the most furious hatred in siege. Now the brotherhood threw their caps in the air at the sight of him, and looked upon him as a good friend of Mianitsky and of the Zaporosians. Tuhebe stepped in first, Mianitsky following, with his baton in his hand as Hetman of the Zaporosian forces. He had been clothed with all his dignity from the time when he went to the Crimea and demanded the assistance of troops from the Khan. The crowd upon his return had enthusiastically carried him on their shields, and breaking open the army treasury had brought him the staff of commander, also the colours and seal which were usually carried before the Hetman. He had changed very much. One could see that he bore in himself the terrible power of the whole of Zaporos. He was no longer the injured Mianitsky who fled to siege across the wild lands. He was Mianitsky the Hetman, the sanguinary spirit, the giant who wished to revenge his own injuries on millions. And yet he had not broken his chains. He had only laden himself with new and heavier ones, as was evident by his relations with Tuhebe. This Zaporosian Hetman occupied in the hearts of his soldiers a secondary position to the Tartar. He bore the latter's overbearing manner with humility and endured his unspeakably contemptuous treatment. It was the relation between a vassal and his lord, but it could not be otherwise. Mianitsky owed his whole importance among the Cossacks to the Tartars and to the favour of the Khan whose representative was wild, unbridled Tuhebe. But Mianitsky understood how to combine the pride which threatened to burst its bounds with humility, as he knew how to combine courage and cunning. He was both lion and fox, eagle and snake. For the first time since the Cossack kingdom had arisen a Tartar played the part of master in siege. Evil times had come. The commune threw their caps in the air at the sight of a pagan. Such times had come. The council began. Tuhebe took his seat in the midst of a high heap of furs. He crossed his legs, tailor-fashioned, and began to munch dried sunflower seeds and to spit the husks before him over the floor. At his right sat Mianitsky with his field-martial's baton. At the left the Koshavs and the Ottomans, and farther off, about the walls the deputation from the commune. The conversation ceased, only from outside like the noise of waves sounded the dull murmur of the crowd which was conferring in the open air. He arose and said, Worthy, sirs, with the permission, with the favour and aid of the illustrious Tsar of the Crimea, of the Lord over many peoples, of the relative of the heavenly bodies, with the permission of the gracious King of Poland, Vladislav, our master, and with the trusty assistance of the valiant army of the Zaporosians, conviting in our innocence and the justice of God, we desire to avenge the frightful and cruel dishonour that we suffered like Christians and as long as we were able, from the dishonourable Poles, the commissioners, the starosts, and the landed proprietors, from the entire nobility and from the Jews. On account of this dishonour you, worthy sirs, and the whole of the army of the Zaporosians have already wept many tears, and for that reason you have placed the commander's staff in my hand, that I may the more readily undertake to vindicate our innocence and to obtain privileges for the whole army. I consider it a great privilege, my worthy sirs, and on that account I went to the illustrious Tsar to implore his assistance, which he has granted us. Joyful and confident of better things, I was not a little saddened when I was told that there were traitors among us, in communication with the dishonourable Poles, and giving them information about our preparations for war. If this is true, they shall be punished according to your good will and pleasure, worthy sirs, and we pray you to listen to these letters which a messenger from our enemy, Prince Vishnyovetsky, has brought, not as an ambassador but as a spy, who seeks to spy upon our preparations for war, and betray them to the Poles as well as the fact that we have Tuhay Bey's assistance. You must also be the judges whether he shall be punished in the same manner as those to whom he brought the letters, about whom our Koshov, as my faithful friend, and the friend of Tuhay Bey, and of the whole army, gave us immediate information. Milnitsky stopped speaking. The noise outside gradually increased. The military secretary began to read aloud the letter of the Prince to the Koshov Ataman, which began with these words, We, by God's grace, Prince and Lord in Lutni, Korol, Shilots, Hadsets, etc., Russian Voyavoda, etc., Starosta, etc. The letter was purely official. The Prince, having heard that forces had been gathered together from the caves, etc., asked the Ataman if it was true, and demanded him at once, for the sake of the peace of Christendom, to put a stop to it, and should Milnitsky stir up siege, he wished him to be delivered up to the commissioners upon their demand. The second letter was from Pankrodzitsky, also to the Chief Ataman, the third and fourth from Zatsfilikovsky, the old Cherkosk Colonel, to Tartchuk and Barabash. In all these letters there was nothing which could lay the persons to whom they were written open to suspicion. Zatsfilikovsky only requested Tartchuk to receive the bearer of this letter, and to give him every assistance in fulfilling his mission. Tartchuk breathed freely. What say you, were these sers about this letter? asked Milnitsky. The Kosyks were silent. All councils began this way, before the vodka had warmed their intellects, and not one of the Atamans cared to speak, being uncultivated and crafty men they kept silent. Chiefly for fear they might break out with some foolish speech which would render them ridiculous, or make them forever after the object of contemptuous nicknames. For so it was in siege here, in the midst of the greatest boorishness, the fear of ridicule and dread of sarcasm strongly developed. The Kosyks maintained silence. Milnitsky began to speak again. The Kosy of Ataman is our brother and our true friend. I trust the Atamans as I would my own soul, and whoever says otherwise is a traitor. The Ataman is my old friend and soldier. Then he rose and kissed the Kosy of Ataman. Were the sers, now said the Kosy of, I called the forces together, the Hetman shall lead them. As regards the Ambassador, he belongs to me as he was sent to me, and as he is mine I will give him to you. Were the Lord Deputies bow yourselves before the Ataman, said Milnitsky, for he is a just man, and go outside and say to the Commune that if there is a traitor it is not he. He was the first one to station guards. He was the first to command that the traitors who wish to go over to the polls should be arrested. Go, my Lord Deputies, say that he is not a traitor, that the Kosy of Ataman is the best of all of us. The Deputies bowed low, first to Tuhebei, who during the whole meeting had chewed his sunflower seeds with the greatest indifference, then to Milnitsky, the commander-in-chief, and then to the Kosy ofs, and left the room. Immediately glad cries from the outside showed that the Deputation had carried out the order. Long live our Kosy of! Long live our Kosy of! cried the horse voices with such power that the walls of the building seemed to tremble to their foundations. At the same time the sound of firing was heard from muskets and mortars. The Deputation returned and took their place again in the corner of the room. "'Worthy sirs,' said Milnitsky, as it grew a little quieter outside the windows, you have decided wisely that the Kosy of Ataman is an upright man, but if the Ataman is not the traitor, who is the traitor? Who has friends among the polls? With whom are they in communication? To whom do they write letters? To whom do they recommend the person of the ambassador? Who is the traitor?' Milnitsky's voice rose louder and his eyes glittered ominously in the direction of Tatarchuk and young Berabash, as if he would clearly point them out. A noise arose in the room. Several voices began to cry. "'Berabash and Tatarchuk!' several colonels rose from their places, and from the deputies rose cries of "'To the gallows!' Tatarchuk turned pale and the young Berabash looked with astonished eyes at those around him. His slow intellect appeared to be studying for a time as to why he should be punished. At length he said, "'The dog won't eat meat!' With these words he broke into an idiotic laugh in which others joined, and all at once the greater number of the commanders began to laugh wildly without knowing wherefore. From outside the noises grew louder, the vodka had evidently begun to heat their heads. The noise of the surgeon-crowd increased more and more every moment. But Anton Tatarchuk arose, and turning to Mianetsky began to speak. "'What have I done to you, Hetman of the Zaporosians, that you should demand my death? What is my crime against you? The commissioners at Zfilikovsky has written me a letter. Well, has not the prince also written to the Koshav? And did I receive the letter? No, and if I had received it, what would I have done? I should have gone to the secretary and asked him to read it to me, for I can neither read nor write. Thus you would have known in any case what was in the letter, and I have never seen the pole. How am I a traitor? A brothers-upperosians? Tatarchuk went with you to the Crimea, and when you went to Velakia he went with you there. When you went to Smolensk he went also to Smolensk. He fought with you good Kossaks, lived with you good Kossaks, shed his blood for you good Kossaks. He has suffered hunger in your company good Kossaks. Therefore he is no pole, no traitor, but a Kossak, your brother. And if the Hetman demands my death, let him say why he demands it. What have I done to him? Let him say in what way I have shown myself dishonorable, and you brothers, think of heaven and give a just judgment. Tatarchuk is a good Kossak. Tatarchuk is an upright man, was heard from several voices. Thou, Tatarchuk, art a good Kossak, said Mielnitsky, and I will not denounce thee, for thou art my friend, no pole, but a Kossak, our brother. For if a pole were a traitor I would not be worried and would not weep. But when a brave Kossak proves a traitor, when my friend proves a traitor I am heavy at heart, and I mourn for the good Kossak. And if you were in the Crimea, and in Velakia, and at Smolensk, your sin is still greater, if you now dishonorably wish to betray our preparations for war, and the army of the Zaporosians, to the Poles, they have written to you, you were to assist their envoy, to get what he should demand and tell me were the Ottomans, what can the Pole have demanded? Was it not my death, and that of my dear friend, Tuhay Bey? Was it not the ruin of the Zaporosian forces? You are guilty to Tatarchuk, and you cannot disprove it. And to Berabash, he received a letter from his uncle, the Cherkaskernal, a friend of Chaplinsky, a friend of the Poles, who hid away the documents granting privileges, in order that the Zaporosian forces should not get them. If this be true, and I swear to God that it is true, you are both guilty. Therefore pray for the Ottomans' mercy, and I will implore it with you, although your crime is great and your treachery manifest. The noise outside kept increasing. It sounded like the roar of a hurricane. The people wanted to know what was going on in the council chamber, and sent the fresh deputation. Tatarchuk felt that he was lost. He now remembered that a week before, in a meeting of Ottomans, he had counseled against giving Mianitsky the baton of a commander, and against joining forces with the Tartars. A cold perspiration broke out on his forehead. He understood that there was no hope for him. As for young Berabash, it was clear that Mianitsky, in destroying him, wished to revenge himself on the old Cherkass Colonel, who loved his nephew dearly. But Tatarchuk did not want to die. He would not have flinched before the sword, before a bullet, even before a stake, but a death like that which now awaited him struck terror to his marrow. Therefore he made use of the short interval of silence which followed Mianitsky's speech and cried in terror, In the name of Christ, brother Ottomans, my dear friends, do not destroy an innocent man. I have not even seen the pole, not spoken to him. Have mercy, brothers. I do not know what the pole wanted from me. Ask him yourselves. I swear by Christ the Redeemer, by the Holy Virgin, by St. Nicholas the Miracle Worker, by the Holy Archangel Michael, that you seek to destroy an innocent man. Let the pole be brought in!" cried the oldest cantors. The pole! The pole! cried the Ottomans. A great commotion arose. Some rushed into the adjoining room in which the prisoner was shut up. In order to drag him before the council, the others approached Tatarchuk and Barabash in a threatening manner. Ladki, the Ottoman of the camp of Mirgorod, cried first, To the gallows! The deputies repeated the cry. Charnota, however, sprang towards the door, tore it open and cried to the assembled crowd, Good sirs! Good people! Tatarchuk is a traitor and Barabash is a traitor! To the gallows with them! The crowd assembled with a frightful yell. In the room confusion arose. All the Ottomans rose from their places. Some cried, The pole! The pole! Others tried to quiet the disturbance. Then the door opened under the crush and the crowd outside plunged into the middle of the room. Frightful forms, mad with rage, filled the room, screaming, waving their hands, grinding their teeth, and spreading abroad the odor of Gorzolka. Death to Tatarchuk! To the gallows with Barabash! Give us the traitors to the square with them! cried the drunken voices. Kill them! Beat them to death! And a hundred hands were stretched out for the unhappy victims. Tatarchuk offered no resistance. He only groaned horribly. Young Barabash, however, began to defend himself with terrific strength. He finally understood that they wished to kill him. Fear, despair, mad rage were expressed in his features. He foamed at the mouth. The roar of a beast issued from his throat. Twice he tore himself from the hands of his executioners, and twice those hands seized his arms and his beard. He threw himself this way and that. Bit, bellowed, fell upon the earth, and rose again bleeding, dreadful to look at. His clothes were torn. His hair was pulled out by the roots, and an eye was gouged out. Finally he was forced to the wall and his arms broken. Then he sank down. The murderers seized him by the feet, and dragged him and Tatarchuk out on the square. Here, by the light of the tar barrels and bonfires, the real execution began. Several thousand men threw themselves on the victims and literally tore them to pieces. Yelling they fought to get near the objects of their fury. They were trampled on. Pieces of flesh were torn from them. The crowd thronged around them with that frightful convulsive movement of maddened human masses. Soon two shapeless bits of human flesh that hardly reminded one of a human form were raised in the air by bloody hands. Then they were thrown again to the ground. Those at a distance raised a frightful cry. Some demanded that they should throw the victims into the water. Others that they should put them into the burning tar barrels. The drunken men began to quarrel among themselves. In their madness they had set fire to two barrels of vodka which lighted up this hellish scene with a flickering blue flame. From heaven the calm, clear, kind moon looked down on the scene. This was the way the commune punished traitors. Silence had fallen in the council chamber. From the moment that the Cossacks had dragged to Tarchuk and the young Berabash out, the Ottomans had taken their old place along the walls, for a prisoner had been led out from the neighbouring alcove. A shadow fell on his face, for the fire in the chamber was smouldering, and in the half-light one could see only a stately figure, proud and erect, although the hands were bound with a cord. But Ludkey threw a log of pitch pine on the fire, and before long a brilliant flame rose in the air, and lighted up the face of the prisoner which turned toward Mielnitsky with a calm glance. Mielnitsky started when he saw him. The prisoner was Panskeshettsky. Tuhebe spat out the sunflower seeds, and growled in Russian, I know this pole he was in the Crimea! To the gallows with him, cried Gladkey. To the gallows! repeated Charnota. Mielnitsky had recovered himself. He let his glance wander across to Ladkey and Charnota, and they were mute under the influence of his eye. Then he turned to the Koshov, and said, I know him too. When came you, asked the Koshov of Skeshettsky, I came as an ambassador to you, Ottoman of the Koshovs, when robbers attacked me at Kortits, and in spite of custom, which even the most barbarous people respect, they killed my servants, and disregarding my dignity as ambassador, and my birth, they have ill-treated me, and brought me here as a prisoner, on which account my master, the illustrious Prince Yeremi Vishnyovitsky, will demand an account from you, Ottoman of the Koshovs. And why did you show yourself a traitor? Why did you strike down with your axe a good Cossack? Why did you kill four times as many men as you had yourself? And you came here with a letter to me to spy out our preparations for war, and give information of them to the Poles. We know also that you had letters to traitors in the Zaporizion forces to form a conspiracy, to plan with them for the ruin of the whole army. Consequently you are not an ambassador but a traitor, and will be punished as you deserve. You are mistaken, Koshov, Ottoman, and you too, Hetman, who have plotted this whole thing, said the Lieutenant turning to Mianitsky, If I had letters with me, so has every ambassador who travels to a strange country. He takes letters from friends to their friends, in order that they may thus have communication with them. And I came here with a letter from the Prince, not in order to conspire against you, but in order to warn you against deeds which would bring frightful evil to the Commonwealth and to yourselves, and would completely annihilate the whole Zaporizion army. Against whom do you lift your godless hand? Against whom are you entering into a compact with the heathen? You, who call yourselves defenders of Christianity. Against the King. Against all the nobility and against the entire Commonwealth. You, therefore, are the traitors, not I. And I tell you this, that if you do not by humility and obedience atone for your crimes, woe unto you. Are the times of the Pavluks and the Nalovikas remote? Have you already forgotten their punishment? Ponder well. The patience of the Commonwealth is exhausted and above your heads hangs a sword. You are barking, son of the enemy, in order to talk yourself out of punishment and to escape death. Cried the Koshav Ataman. But neither your threats nor your Polish Latin will help you. The other Atamans then began to grind their teeth and to clash their swords. Skyshetto ski, however, raised his head still more proudly and said, Think not, Koshav Ataman, that I fear death, or wish to protect my life or to prove my innocence. I am a nobleman and can only be judged by my equals, and I am not standing here before judges, but before murderers, not before nobleman, but before peasants, not before knights, but before barbarians. I know well that I shall not escape the death with which you will complete the measure of your injustice. Before me are death and torture, but at my back is the might and the vengeance of the whole Commonwealth, before which you will all tremble. His majestic figure, the distinction of his speech and bearing, and the name of the Commonwealth, made a powerful impression. The Atamans looked at one another in silence. For a moment it seemed to them as if they're stood before them, not a prisoner, but the threatening ambassador of a mighty people. Tuhay Bay, however, murmured, A daring pole! A daring pole, repeated Miannitsky. A violent knocking at the door interrupted the conclave. The remains of Tatarchuk and Barabash had been disposed of. The people were sending in a fresh deputation. A number of bloody, fearside, drunken Cossacks, gripping with perspiration, entered the room. They remained standing at the door, stretched out their hands, still reeking with blood, and began to speak. The Commune greets the elders. You're all bowed low, and pray that you will deliver over to them this pole in order that they may do to him as they have done to Barabash and Tatarchuk. Give them the pole! cried Charnota. Do not give him up, cried another. They must wait. He is an ambassador. Do the gallows with him! cried a number of voices. Then they all became silent, waiting to hear what the Commander and Miannitsky would say. The Commune requests, and if that is not sufficient, will demand it, repeated the deputies. Skoshetovsky appeared to be irretrievably lost. Miannitsky bent over to Tuhay Bay's ear. He is your prisoner, he said in a low tone. The Tatars brought him here. He is yours. Will you let him be taken from you? He is a rich nobleman, and in any case Prince Yeremey will pay a sum in gold for his ransom. Give us the pole! screamed more loudly the threatening voices of the Cossacks. Tuhay Bay gathered himself together and stood up. His face changed in an instant. His eyes dilated like those of a wild cat. His teeth gleamed. Suddenly he sprang like a tiger toward the Cossacks who were demanding the prisoner. Begone, you oxen, you unbelieving dogs, slaves, eaters of swine! Bellowed he, and seizing two Zaporosians by the beard he dragged them madly back and forth. Begone, drunkards, unclean cattle, lonesome brood! You come to take away my booty! Well, I will treat you thus! He seized the beards of some other Cossacks and finally threw one to the ground and trampled on him. Down on your knees, slaves, or I will drive you forth in chains! I will trample the whole of Seach as I trample you! I will let it consume in smoke! I will cover it with your carcasses! The deputies retreated in terror. The terrible friend has shown what he could do. And strange to say in Basavluk were only six thousand men of the Horde. It is true that at their back was the Khan with his whole Crimean forces, but in Seach itself were about ten thousand Cossacks, besides those which Marnitsky had already sent to Tamakova, and yet not a voice of opposition was raised against Tuhebe. It appeared that the manner in which the threatening Merza had protected the prisoner was the only effectual way, for it at once had its effect upon the Zaporosians, to whom the help of the Tartars was at this moment indispensable. The deputies plunged out into the square and shouted to the crowd that they could not have the pole to play with, for he was a prisoner of Tuhebe, and Tuhebe had given orders and was in a rage. He pulled our beards, they cried. Upon the square the crowd began to repeat, Tuhebe is in a rage! He is in a rage! He is in a fury! He is in a fury! And a few minutes later they began in plaintive voices to sing around the fires, Hey, hey! Tuhebe is in a rage! Hey, hey! Tuhebe! Don't be angry, dear! Soon thousands of voices repeated, Hey, hey! Tuhe! And thus one of those songs took its origin which later echoed like a storm wind across the whole Ukraine, and resounded from the strings of every liar and upon every loot theorbo. Suddenly the song was interrupted, for, through the gate leading into Hasan Pasha, plunged a swarm of people who forced their way among the crowd and cried, Woe unto us! Woe unto us! And hastened at a quick pace in the direction of the courthouse, the Ottomans were already preparing to leave when these new arrivals broke into the room. A letter to the Hetman! cried an old Cossack. Whence come ye? We come from Chigrin and have ridden day and night with the letter. Here it is! Mianitsky took the letter from the hand of the Cossack and began to read. His features suddenly changed their expression. He stopped reading and said in a clear voice, Worthy sirs and Ottomans, the chief Hetman is sending his son Stephen against us with an army! Woe! A strange murmur arose in the room. It was hard to say whether it was a murmur of joy or of horror. Mianitsky stepped into the middle of the room, placed his hands on his hips, his eyes flashing fire, his voice threatening and commanding. Let the field officers go to the camp, get ready the cannons on the tower, destroy the barrels of vodka. Tomorrow at daybreak we will set out. From this moment the assembling together, the councils, the rule of the Ottomans, the diet and the power of the commune came to an end. Mianitsky took possession of absolute authority. A moment before he was obliged, for fear his voice should not be heeded by the crowd, to defend the prisoner with cunning and by craft, to suppress dissatisfaction. Now he was lord of the life and death of all. It was always thus before and after war like expeditions. Even if the Hetman had already been chosen, the multitude would endeavor to force their will on the Ottomans and the Koshavs, and it was dangerous to oppose them. As soon however as war was declared, the commune became an army who submitted to military discipline, the Koshavs became officers, and the Hetman became a general and a dictator. For this reason therefore the Ottomans, as soon as they heard Mianitsky's command, started for their camps without delay, the council was at an end. In a little while the roar of cannon thundered down from the gate which led from Hassanpasha to the public square of Siech. The walls of the council chamber trembled with the sound, and dismal echoes were spread over the whole Chertomelik, proclaiming war. A new epoch was begun in the history of the two peoples, but of that neither the drunken men of Siech nor the Hetman of the Zapperozians was aware. Mianitsky and Skyshitosky went over to the Koshavs' Ottomans' camp for the night, and with them also to Hebe, for whom it was too late to return to Basavlok. The wild Bey treated the lieutenant as a prisoner who was to be ransomed for a large sum, therefore not as a slave, but with more respect than he showed to the Cossacks, for he had seemed Skyshitosky at the time he was in the time of the war. The old Ottomans sent as the prince's ambassador to the court of the Khan. When the Koshavs saw this he invited him into his hut and altered his behavior towards him. The old Ottomans was devoted heart and soul to Mianitsky, who had made him completely his own and dominated him, and he had observed during the council that Mianitsky seemed quite anxious to rescue the prisoner, but he was still more astonished when Mianitsky, who had hardly sat down in the tent, thus addressed to Hebe. To Hebe, how much ransom do you think of demanding for this prisoner? To Hebe looked at Skyshitosky and said, You told me he was a distinguished man, and I know that he is the ambassador of the terrible prince and the terrible prince loves his own. Bismillah! One pays and the other pays together. Here To Hebe reflected. Two thousand dollars. Mianitsky answered, I will give you two thousand dollars. The Tartar was silent a while, his almond eyes seemed to pierce Mianitsky through and through. You will give three, he said. Why should I give three when you only asked two? If you want him there must be something behind it, and if it is important to you you will give three. He saved my life. Allah! That is worth a thousand more! Here Skyshitosky interfered in the transaction. To He, said he angrily, from the prince's coffers I can promise you nothing, but if I had to draw upon my own fortune I would myself give you three. I have almost as much as that as commissioned from the prince and a nice property besides. That will be sufficient, but I do not wish to owe my life and my freedom to this hetman. And how do you know what I am going to do with you? said Mianitsky. Then turning to To Hebe he said, The war has begun. You may send to the prince, but before the messenger returns the water of the neaper will be swollen, and I can bring you the money myself to-morrow at Bazavlok. Give me four, and I will not speak a word to the pole! answered To Hebe impatiently. I will give four on thy word. Sir Hetman, began the Koshoff, if you wish I can count out the money here. I have it here behind the wall, perhaps even more. You will take it to-morrow to Bazavlok, said Mianitsky. To Hebe stretched himself and yawned. I am sleepy, he said. To-morrow before daybreak I must go to Bazavlok. Where shall I sleep? The Koshoff pointed to a heap of sheepskins beside the wall. The Tartar threw himself upon this couch. After a while he began to snort like a horse. Mianitsky walked up and down the small room several times, and said, Sleep has forsaken my eyelids. I cannot sleep. Give me something to drink, good Koshoff. Gozolka, or wine. Gozolka, I cannot sleep. There are already streaks in the sky, said the Koshoff. It is late. You go to sleep, old friend. Drink and sleep. Here's to success and happiness. Here's to success. The Koshoff wiped his mouth with his hand, then holding out his hand to Mianitsky, he went to the other end of the room and fairly buried himself in sheepskins, for his blood was getting thin from age, before long his snoring made an accompaniment to that of To Hebe. Mianitsky sat at the table, buried in silence. Then he awoke, looked at Skyshetosky, and said, Lieutenant, you are free. I am grateful to you, Hetman of the Zaporosians, although I will not conceal from you that I would rather thank anyone rather than you for my liberty. You do not need to thank me. You saved my life. I simply repaid you. So we are quits. But I must tell you this, that I cannot let you go until you have given me your nightly word of honour, that when you get home, you will not betray by a single word our preparations, our strength, and above all anything that you have seen in Siege. I see only this, that you have bought my liberty in vain, for I will not give you such a promise. If I did so I should be acting like those who go over to the enemy. My neck and the whole welfare of the Zaporosian army depend upon this, that the chief Hetman should not attack us with all his military forces, which he will infallibly do if you give him any knowledge of our strength. I know what I have dared to undertake. I know what a terrible power is opposed to me, the two Hetmans, your terrible prince, who alone is worth a whole army, the Zaslavsky, the Konyatspolsky, and all those petty kings who have their foot on the neck of the Cossacks. My God, I have not had an easy task, have written not a few letters before I was able to lull their watchfulness. How could I now permit you to arouse them, if the entire people, if the Cossacks, and all those whose faith and freedom is oppressed, place themselves under my lead, as the Zaporosian army and the good Khan of the Crimea have done, I hope to overpower the enemy, for I shall have immense strength. But before all, I trust in God who has beheld the injustice, and who knows my innocence. Here Nelnitsky dashed down a glass of vodka, and began restlessly to walk round the table. Skyshettsky, however, took his measure with his eyes, and said, Hetman of the Zaporosians, do not blaspheme by calling upon God and his mighty protection, for truly you will only call down upon you God's anger and a speedy punishment. Does it become you to call upon the highest for protection? You, who by reason of the injustice and intrigues that you had personally carried on have aroused such a frightful storm, lighted the torches of a civil war, and united with the heathen against the Christians? For what will happen whether you conquer or are overcome? A sea of human blood and tears will be poured out. You will lay waste the land worse than a season of locusts. You will give your people in slavery to the heathen. You will shatter the commonwealth. You will raise your hand against the majesty of the throne. You will insult the altars of God. And all for what? Because Chaplinsky robbed you of your country's seat, and in his drunkenness threatened you? What are you undertaking? What are you not sacrificing to your selfishness? You call on God. Truly, I say to you, although I am in your power, although you can rob me of life and freedom, I say to you, call on the devil for help, not on God, for hell alone can second you. Milnitsky grew red as fire. He seized his sword and looked at the lieutenant like a lion who is just about to roar and pounce on his prey. But he soon calmed down. Fortunately, he was not yet drunk. Perhaps also he was uneasy. Perhaps a voice from his conscience called to him turned back. For suddenly, as if he wished to protect himself from his own thoughts or to persuade himself, he said, From no one else would I have tolerated such words, but be careful that your boldness does not exhaust my patience. You seek to frighten me with hell. You reproach me with selfishness and treachery. But how do you know that I am only seeking to avenge my own injuries? Where should I find assistance, but in those thousands who have already come over to my side, and who will yet take my part? Who have promised if I only wish to avenge my own wrong? Look around you and see what is going on in the Ukraine, eh? This fruitful land, this land that is our mother, this land that has borne us, who is safe in it at any time, who is happy here, who is there whose faith is not oppressed, whose freedom is not taken from him, who does not mourn and sigh here? Only the Vyshnyovetskys, the Poltotskys, the Zaslavskys, the Kalinovskys, the Konyatspolskys, and a handful of the nobility, for them are the starost ships, the dignities, the land and the people, for them happiness and gold and freedom and the rest of the nation in tears lift their hands to heaven and wait patiently for the mercy of God, for that of the king is of no avail. How many of the nobility themselves were not able to endure this unbearable yoke, but fled to Sish as I myself have done. I do not desire war with the king, nor with the Commonwealth. She is my mother, the king, my father. The king is a merciful lord, but the petty kings under him we cannot tolerate. To them belong corruption, the farms, the taxes on water and on land, to them the tolls on flour and cattle, their tyranny and their oppression, which they practice through the medium of the Jews, cry to heaven for vengeance. What gratitude has the Zaporosian army experienced for the great services that it has rendered in numerous wars? Where are the rights of the Cossacks? The king granted them, but the petty kings have taken them away. Nalevaika was quartered, Pavluk was burned inside a brazen ox. The blood is not yet dry and the wounds made by the sword of the Zolkievsky and Konyatspolsky. The tears are not yet dry that we have wept, for the slain, the decapitated, the impaled, and now, look here, what is shining yonder in the sky? Here Mielnitsky pointed through the tiny window to the shining comet, the wrath of God, the scourge of God. If I then am to be this scourge upon the earth, the will of God be done. I take this burden upon my shoulders. Then he stretched out his hand towards heaven and appeared to glow like a huge torch of vengeance. He began to tremble and then fell his full length upon a bench as though he were overcome with the weight of his resolution. A silence followed that was broken only by the snoring of Tuhay Bey and of the Koshov, and in one corner chirped a cricket. The lieutenant sat with bowed head as if he was seeking an answer to Mielnitsky's words that were as heavy as blocks of granite. Finally he said in a gentle calm voice, Even if this were true, whom art thou, Hetman, that thou shouldst set up thyself as a judge and an executioner? What cruelty? What pride carries you away? Why dost thou not leave judgment and punishment to God? I would not defend the bad, I would not uphold oppression, I would not call wrong right, but turn your eyes into your own soul, Hetman. You complain of the oppression of the petty kings. You say that they obey neither the king nor laws. You scorn their pride, and are you free from pride yourself? Are you not raising your own hand against the commonwealth, against law, against right, and against royal authority? You behold the tyranny of the petty kings and of the nobility, but one thing you do not see, that were it not for their breasts, for their coats of mail, for their strength, for their castles, their cannon, and their armies, this country that flows with milk and honey would groan under the hundred times more heavy yoke of the Turks and the Tartar. For who would protect it, to whose protection, to whose strength do you owe it, that your children are not serving under the Janissaries, that your women are not despoiled in disgraceful harems, who peopled the wilderness, founded villages and towns, and erected temples to God? Here Skashetowski's voice grew louder, and Milnitsky, fastening his eyes gloomily upon the bottle of vodka, brought his clenched fist down upon the table, but remained silent as if he were carrying on an inward struggle. And who are they, added Skashetowski, are they from Germany, or from Turkey? Are they not blood of your blood, bone of your bone? Is it not your nobility? Are they not your princes? And if this be so, then woe to you, Hetman, for you are arming the younger brother against the elder brother, and making parasites. Oh, God, even if they were wicked, if they all, as they have not done, have trampled the law under foot, had taken away the rights, let God in heaven and the law on earth judge them, but not you, Hetman. Can you say that all among you are upright? Have you never committed crimes? Have you a right to throw stones? And as you have asked me, where are the rights of the Cossacks, I will answer you. It is not the petty kings that have betrayed you, but the Zaporosians, Loboda, Sasko, Nalvaika, and Pavluk, of whom you have falsely said that he was burned to death inside a brazen ox. For you know well that it is not true. They betrayed your insurrections, your restlessness, and your expeditions, which you have carried on after the manner of Tartars, who let the Tartars into the boundaries of the Commonwealth in order to attack and plunder them when they were returning home laden with spoils and booty, you, you, who, by the living God brought his own Christian brethren under the yoke of the heathen, who set on foot the greatest conspiracy, you, with whom is neither noblemen nor merchant nor peasant secure, with you, who set on foot the civil war, who laid the villages and towns of the Ukraine in ashes, who plundered the temples of God, who violated women, you, and again you, what do you want then? Shall the privilege of civil war, of plunder and robbery be given to you? Truly you have been indulged rather than oppressed, we desire to heal and not to amputate the putrid members, and I doubt if, outside the Commonwealth, there is in the world a power that would suffer such an ulcer on its body politic, and would exercise so much patience and gentleness, and as a reward for that long suffering, what is your gratitude? Look over there, there is your sworn companion, the bloodiest enemy of the Commonwealth, your friend, but the enemy of the cross and of Christianity, no petty king of the Ukraine, but a Crimean Merza, with his assistants you wish to set fire to your own nest, with hymns sit in judgment on your brethren, but from this out he will be your master, you will hold the stirrup and submit. Mianitsky tossed down another glass of vodka. When I was with Barabash at the court of the great king, he answered gloomily, and when we wept on account of the injustice and oppression that we suffered, the king said to us, Have you not guns and swords by your sides? If you were to stand before the king of kings, he would say, Ask thou forgiven thine enemies as I forgave mine. I am not seeking any war with the Commonwealth, yet you are putting your knife to her throat. I wish to free the Cossacks from your fetters, and to fasten on them the fetters of the Tartars. I wish to defend the faith with the assistance of the heathen. I tell you you are not the voice of my conscience. Silence, I say. The blood that is shed will weigh upon you. The tears of men will be your accusers. Death awaits you. Judgment stands ready for you. Stop! cried Mianitsky in a towering rage, and flourished his knife before the breast of the lieutenant. Kill me! cried Skyshetsky, and again silence ensued. Again one heard nothing but the snoring of the sleepers, and the plaintive chirping of the insects. Mianitsky stood a moment, holding his knife at Skyshetsky's breast. Then he gathered himself together, threw himself back, let fall the knife, seized instead a huge bottle of vodka, and began to drink. He emptied it to the last dregs, and sank heavily down upon the bench. I cannot run him through. He cried, I cannot do it. It is already late. Day is breaking. But it is too late to turn back. What can you judge about blood and justice? He had drunk enough before. Now the vodka mounted to his head, and little by little he was losing consciousness. What kind of justice? The Khan has promised me troops to Hebei as a sleep here. Tomorrow the Cossacks march, and by the help of Saint Michael the Victor. And if, and if, then, I have bought your freedom from Touhei Bey. Remember and say, oh, that pain, that pain, to turn back would be too late. Justice, now the vodka, have a look. He finally stretched himself out at full length, rolled his eyes horribly, and screamed, who is there? Who is there? Repeated the Koshov, half awakened. But Mianitsky's head sank on his breast. He nodded once or twice, and murmured, What kind of tribunal? And then fell asleep. Skachetowski had grown so exhausted and weak from his late wounds, and from the excitement of the conversation, that he thought he was near death, and began to pray aloud.