CHAPTER V.
The bursting of the gigantic culverin had really a crushing effect uponMiller, for all his hopes had rested hitherto on that gun. Infantrywere ready for the assault, ladders and piles of fascines werecollected; but now it was necessary to abandon all thought of a storm.
The plan of blowing up the cloister by means of mines came also tonothing. Miners brought in previously from Olkush split, it is true,the rock, and approached on a diagonal to the cloister; but workprogressed slowly. The workmen, in spite of every precaution, fellfrequently from the guns of the church, and labored unwillingly. Manyof them preferred to die rather than aid in the destruction of a sacredplace.
Miller felt a daily increasing opposition. The frost took away theremnant of courage from his unwilling troops, among whom terror wasspreading from day to day with a belief that the capture of thecloister did not lie within human power.
Finally Miller himself began to lose hope, and after the bursting ofthe gun he was simply in despair; a feeling of helplessness andimpotence took possession of him. Next morning he called a council, buthe called it with the secret wish to hear from officers encouragementto abandon the fortress.
They began to assemble, all wearied and gloomy. In silence they tooktheir places around a table in an enormous and cold room, in which thesteam from their breaths stood before their faces, and they looked frombehind it as from behind a cloud. Each one felt in his soul exhaustionand weariness; each one said to himself: "There is no counsel to givesave one, which it is better for no man to be the first to give." Allwaited for what Miller would say. He ordered first of all to bringplenty of heated wine, hoping that under the influence of warm drink itwould be easier to obtain a real thought from those silent figures, andencouragement to retreat from the fortress.
At last, when he supposed that the wine had produced its effect, hespoke in the following words--
"Have you noticed, gentlemen, that none of the Polish colonels havecome to this council, though I summoned them all?"
"It is known of course to your worthiness that servants of the Polishsquadron have, while fishing, found silver belonging to the cloister,and that they fought for it with our soldiers. More than ten men havebeen cut down."
"I know; I succeeded in snatching a part of that silver from theirhands, indeed the greater part. It is here now, and I am thinking whatto do with it."
"This is surely the cause of the anger of the Polish colonels. They saythat if the Poles found the silver, it belongs to the Poles."
"That's a reason!" cried Count Veyhard.
"For my mind, it is a strong reason," said Sadovski; "and I think thatif you had found the silver you would not feel bound to divide it, notonly with the Poles, but even with me, a Cheh."
"First of all, my dear sir, I do not share your good will for theenemies of our king," answered the count, with a frown.
"But we, thanks to you, must share with you shame and disgrace, notbeing able to succeed against a fortress to which you have brought us."
"Then have you lost all hope?"
"But have you any yourself to give away?"
"Just as if you knew; and I think that these gentlemen share morewillingly with me in my hope, than with you in your fear."
"Do you make me a coward, Count Veyhard?"
"I do not ascribe to you more courage than you show."
"And I ascribe to you less."
"But I," said Miller, who for some time had looked on the count withdislike as the instigator of the ill-starred undertaking, "shall havethe silver sent to the cloister. Perhaps kindness and graciousness willdo more with these surly monks than balls and cannon. Let themunderstand that we wish to possess the fortress, not their treasures."
The officers looked on Miller with wonder, so little accustomed werethey to magnanimity from him. At last Sadovski said,--
"Nothing better could be done, for it will close at once the mouths ofthe Polish colonels who lay claim to the silver. In the fortress itwill surely make a good impression."
"The death of that Kmita will make the best impression," answered CountVeyhard. "I hope that Kuklinovski has already torn him out of hisskin."
"I think that he is no longer alive," said Miller. "But that namereminds me of our loss, which nothing can make good. That was thegreatest gun in the whole artillery of his grace. I do not hide fromyou, gentlemen, that all my hopes were placed on it. The breach wasalready made, terror was spreading in the fortress. A couple of dayslonger and we should have moved to a storm. Now all our labor isuseless, all our exertions vain. They will repair the wall in one day.And the guns which we have now are no better than those of thefortress, and can be easily dismounted. No larger ones can be hadanywhere, for even Marshal Wittemberg hasn't them. The more I ponderover it, the more the disaster seems dreadful. And to think that oneman did this,--one dog! one Satan! I shall go mad! To all the horneddevils!"
Here Miller struck the table with his fist, for unrestrained anger hadseized him, the more desperately because he was powerless. After awhile he cried,--
"But what will the king say when he hears of this loss?" After a whilehe added: "And what shall we do? We cannot gnaw away that cliff withour teeth. Would that the plague might strike those who persuaded me tocome to this fortress!"
Having said this, he took a crystal goblet, and in his excitementhurled it to the floor so that the crystal was broken into small bits.
This unbecoming frenzy, more befitting a peasant than a warrior holdingsuch a high office, turned all hearts from him, and soured good-humorcompletely.
"Give counsel, gentlemen!" cried Miller.
"It is possible to counsel, but only in calmness," answered the Princeof Hesse.
Miller began to puff and blow out his anger through his nostrils. Aftera time he grew calm, and passing his eyes over those present as ifencouraging them with a glance, he said,--
"I ask your pardon, gentlemen, but my anger is not strange. I will notmention those places which, when I had taken command after Torstenson,I captured, for I do not wish, in view of the present disaster, toboast of past fortune. All that is done at this fortress simply passesreason. But still it is necessary to take counsel. For that purpose Ihave summoned you. Deliberate, then, and what the majority of usdetermine at this council will be done."
"Let your worthiness give us the subject for deliberation," said thePrince of Hesse. "Have we to deliberate only concerning the capture ofthe fortress, or also concerning this, whether it is better towithdraw?"
Miller did not wish to put the question so clearly, or at least he didnot wish the "either--or," to come first from his mouth; therefore hesaid,--
"Let each speak clearly what he thinks. It should be a question for usof the profit and praise of the king."
But none of the officers wished more than Miller to appear first withthe proposition to retreat, therefore there was silence again.
"Pan Sadovski," said Miller after a while, in a voice which he tried tomake agreeable and kind, "you say what you think more sincerely thanothers, for your reputation insures you against all suspicion."
"I think, General," answered the colonel, "that Kmita was one of thegreatest soldiers of this age, and that our position is desperate."
"But you were in favor of withdrawing from the fortress?"
"With permission of your worthiness, I was only in favor of notbeginning the siege. That is a thing quite different."
"Then what do you advise now?"
"Now I give the floor to Count Veyhard."
Miller swore like a pagan.
"Count Veyhard will answer for this unfortunate affair," said he.
"My counsels have not all been carried out," answered the count,insolently. "I can boldly cast responsibility from myself. There weremen who with a wonderful, in truth an inexplicable, good-will for thepriests, dissuaded his worthiness from all severe measures. My advicewas to hang those envoy priests, and I am convinced that if this hadbeen done terr
or would have opened to us before this time the gates ofthat hen-house."
Here the count looked at Sadovski; but before the latter had answered,the Prince of Hesse interfered: "Count, do not call that fortress ahen-house, for the more you decrease its importance the more youincrease our shame."
"Nevertheless I advised to hang the envoys. Terror and always terror,that is what I repeated from morning till night; but Pan Sadovskithreatened resignation, and the priests went unharmed."
"Go, Count, to-day to the fortress," answered Sadovski, "blow up withpowder their greatest gun as Kmita did ours, and I guarantee that, thatwill spread more terror than a murderous execution of envoys."
The count turned directly to Miller: "Your worthiness I thought we hadcome here for counsel and not for amusement."
"Have you an answer to baseless reproaches?" asked Miller.
"I have, in spite of the joyousness of these gentlemen, who might savetheir humor for better times."
"Oh, son of Laertes, famous for stratagems!" exclaimed the Prince ofHesse.
"Gentlemen," answered the count, "it is universally known that notMinerva but Mars is your guardian deity; but since Mars has not favoredyou, and you have renounced your right of speech, let me speak."
"The mountain is beginning to groan, and soon we shall see the smalltail of a mouse," said Sadovski.
"I ask for silence!" said Miller, severely. "Speak, Count, but keep inmind that up to this moment your counsels have given bitter fruit."
"Which, though it is winter, we must eat like mouldy biscuits," put inthe Prince of Hesse.
"This explains why your princely highness drinks so much wine," saidCount Veyhard; "and though it does not take the place of native wit, ithelps you to a happy digestion of even disgrace. But no matter! I knowwell that there is a party in the fortress which is long desirous ofsurrender, and that only our weakness on one side and the superhumanstubbornness of the prior on the other keep it in check. New terrorwill give this party new power; for this purpose we should show that wemake no account of the loss of the gun, and storm the more vigorously."
"Is that all?"
"Even if it were all, I think that such counsel is more in accordancewith the honor of Swedish soldiers than barren jests at cups, or thansleeping after drinking-bouts. But that is not all. We should spreadthe report among our soldiers, and especially among the Poles, that themen at work now making a mine have discovered the old undergroundpassage leading to the cloister and the church."
"That is good counsel," said Miller.
"When this report is spread among the soldiers and the Poles, the Polesthemselves will persuade the monks to surrender, for it is a questionwith them as with the monks, that that nest of superstitions shouldremain intact."
"For a Catholic that is not bad!" muttered Sadovski.
"If he served the Turks he would call Rome a nest of superstitions,"said the Prince of Hesse.
"Then, beyond doubt, the Poles will send envoys to the priests,"continued Count Veyhard,--"that party in the cloister, which is longanxious for surrender will renew its efforts under the influence offear; and who knows but its members will force the prior and thestubborn to open the gates?"
"The city of Priam will perish through the cunning of the divine son ofLaertes," declaimed the Prince of Hesse.
"As God lives, a real Trojan history, and he thinks he has inventedsomething new!" said Sadovski.
But the advice pleased Miller, for in very truth it was not bad. Theparty which the count spoke of existed really in the cloister. Evensome priests of weaker soul belonged to it. Besides, fear might extendamong the garrison, including even those who so far were ready todefend it to the last drop of blood.
"Let us try, let us try!" said Miller, who like a drowning man seizedevery plank, and from despair passed easily to hope. "But willKuklinovski or Zbrojek agree to go again as envoys to the cloister, orwill they believe in that passage, and will they inform the priests ofit?"
"In every case Kuklinovski will agree," answered the count; "but it isbetter that he should believe really in the existence of the passage."
At that moment they heard the tramp of a horse in front of thequarters.
"There, Pan Zbrojek has come!" said the Prince of Hesse, lookingthrough the window.
A moment later spurs rattled, and Zbrojek entered, or rather rushedinto the room. His face was pale, excited, and before the officerscould ask the cause of his excitement the colonel cried,--
"Kuklinovski is no longer living!"
"How? What do you say? What has happened?" exclaimed Miller.
"Let me catch breath," said Zbrojek, "for what I have seen passesimagination."
"Talk more quickly. Has he been murdered?" cried all.
"By Kmita," answered Zbrojek.
The officers all sprang from their seats, and began to look at Zbrojekas at a madman; and he, while blowing in quick succession bunches ofsteam from his nostrils, said,--
"If I had not seen I should not have believed, for that is not a humanpower. Kuklinovski is not living, three soldiers are killed, and ofKmita not a trace. I know that he was a terrible man. His reputation isknown in the whole country. But for him, a prisoner and bound, not onlyto free himself, but to kill the soldiers and torture Kuklinovski todeath,--that a man could not do, only a devil!"
"Nothing like that has ever happened; that's impossible of belief!"whispered Sadovski.
"That Kmita has shown what he can do," said the Prince of Hesse. "Wedid not believe the Poles yesterday when they told us what kind of birdhe was; we thought they were telling big stories, as is usual withthem."
"Enough to drive a man mad," said the count.
Miller seized his head with his hands, and said nothing. When at lasthe raised his eyes, flashes of wrath were crossing in them with flashesof suspicion.
"Pan Zbrojek," said he, "though he were Satan and not a man, he couldnot do this without some treason, without assistance. Kmita had hisadmirers here; Kuklinovski his enemies, and you belong to the number."
Zbrojek was in the full sense of the word an insolent soldier;therefore when he heard an accusation directed against himself, he grewstill paler, sprang from his place, approached Miller, and halting infront of him looked him straight in the eyes.
"Does your worthiness suspect me?" inquired he.
A very oppressive moment followed. The officers present had not theslightest doubt were Miller to give an affirmative answer somethingwould follow terrible and unparalled in the history of camps. All handsrested on their rapier hilts. Sadovski even drew his weapon altogether.
But at that moment the officers saw before the window a yard filledwith Polish horsemen. Probably they also had come with news ofKuklinovski, but in case of collision they would stand beyond doubt onZbrojek's side. Miller too saw them, and though the paleness of ragehad come on his face, still he restrained himself, and feigning to seeno challenge in Zbrojek's action, he answered in a voice which hestrove to make natural,--
"Tell in detail how it happened."
Zbrojek stood for a time yet with nostrils distended, but he tooremembered himself; and then his thoughts turned in another direction,for his comrades, who had just ridden up, entered the room.
"Kuklinovski is murdered!" repeated they, one after another."Kuklinovski is killed! His regiment will scatter! His soldiers aregoing wild!"
"Gentlemen, permit Pan Zbrojek to speak; he brought the news first,"cried Miller.
After a while there was silence, and Zbrojek spoke as follows,--
"It is known to you, gentlemen, that at the last council I challengedKuklinovski on the word of a cavalier. I was an admirer of Kmita, it istrue; but even you, though his enemies, must acknowledge that no commonman could have done such a deed as bursting that cannon. It behooves usto esteem daring even in an enemy; therefore I offered him my hand, buthe refused his, and called me a traitor. Then I thought to myself, 'LetKuklinovski do what he likes with him.' My only other thought was this:'If Kuklinovski
acts against knightly honor in dealing with Kmita, thedisgrace of his deed must not fall on all Poles, and among others onme.' For that very reason I wished surely to fight with Kuklinovski,and this morning taking two comrades, I set out for his camp. We cometo his quarters; they say there, 'He is not at home.' I send to thisplace,--he is not here. At his quarters they tell us, 'He has notreturned the whole night.' But they are not alarmed, for they thinkthat he has remained with your worthiness. At last one soldier says,'Last evening he went to that little barn in the field with Kmita, whomhe was going to burn there.' I ride to the barn; the doors are wideopen. I enter; I see inside a naked body hanging from a beam. 'That isKmita,' thought I; but when my eyes have grown used to the darkness, Isee that the body is some thin and bony one, and Kmita looked like aHercules. It is a wonder to me that he could shrink so much in onenight. I draw near--Kuklinovski!"
"Hanging from the beam?" asked Miller.
"Exactly! I make the sign of the cross,--I think, 'Is it witchcraft, anomen, deception, or what?' But when I saw three corpses of soldiers,the truth stood as if living before me. That terrible man had killedthese, hung Kuklinovski, burned him like an executioner, and thenescaped."
"It is not far to the Silesian boundary," said Sadovski.
A moment of silence followed. Every suspicion of Zbrojek'sparticipation in the affair was extinguished in Miller's soul. But theevent itself astonished and filled him with a certain undefined fear.He saw dangers rising around, or rather their terrible shadows, againstwhich he knew not how to struggle; he felt that some kind of chain offailures surrounded him. The first links were before his eyes, butfarther the gloom of the future was lying. Just such a feeling masteredhim as if he were in a cracked house which might fall on his head anymoment. Uncertainty crushed him with an insupportable weight, and heasked himself what he had to lay hands on.
Meanwhile Count Veyhard struck himself on the forehead. "As God lives,"said he, "when I saw this Kmita yesterday it seemed as if I had knownhim somewhere. Now again I see before me that face. I remember thesound of his voice. I must have met him for a short time and in thedark, in the evening; but he is going through my head,--going--" Herehe began to rub his forehead with his hand.
"What is that to us?" asked Miller; "you will not mend the gun, evenshould you remember; you will not bring Kuklinovski to life."
Here he turned to the officers. "Gentlemen, come with me, whoso wishes,to the scene of this deed."
All wished to go, for curiosity was exciting them. Horses were brought,and they moved on at a trot, the general at the head. When they came tothe little barn they saw a number of tens of Polish horsemen scatteredaround that building, on the road, and along the field.
"What men are they?" asked Miller of Zbrojek.
"They must be Kuklinovski's; I tell your worthiness that thoseragamuffins have simply gone wild."
Zbrojek then beckoned to one of the horsemen,--
"Come this way, come this way. Quickly!"
The soldier rode up.
"Are you Kuklinovski's men?"
"Yes."
"Where is the rest of the regiment?"
"They have run away. They refused to serve longer against Yasna Gora."
"What does he say?" asked Miller.
Zbrojek interpreted the words.
"Ask him where they went to."
Zbrojek repeated the question.
"It is unknown," said the soldier. "Some have gone to Silesia. Otherssaid that they would serve with Kmita, for there is not another suchcolonel either among the Poles or the Swedes."
When Zbrojek interpreted these words to Miller, he grew serious. Intruth, such men as Kuklinovski had were ready to pass over to thecommand of Kmita without hesitation. But then they might becometerrible, if not for Miller's army, at least for his supplies andcommunication. A river of perils was rising higher and higher aroundthe enchanted fortress.
Zbrojek, into whose head this idea must have come, said, as if inanswer to these thoughts of Miller: "It is certain that everything isin a storm now in our Commonwealth. Let only such a Kmita shout,hundreds and thousands will surround him, especially after what he hasdone."
"But what can he effect?" asked Miller.
"Remember, your worthiness, that that man brought Hovanski todesperation, and Hovanski had, counting the Cossacks, six times asmany men as we. Not a transport will come to us without his permission,the country houses are destroyed, and we are beginning to feel hunger.Besides, this Kmita may join with Jegotski and Kulesha; then he willhave several thousand sabres at his call. He is a grievous man, and maybecome most harmful."
"Are you sure of your soldiers?"
"Surer than of myself," answered Zbrojek, with brutal frankness.
"How surer?"
"For, to tell the truth, we have all of us enough of this siege."
"I trust that it will soon come to an end."
"Only the question is: How? But for that matter to capture thisfortress is at present as great a calamity as to retire from it."
Meanwhile they had reached the little barn. Miller dismounted, afterhim the officers, and all entered. The soldiers had removed Kuklinovskifrom the beam, and covering him with a rug laid him on his back onremnants of straw. The bodies of three soldiers lay at one side, placedevenly one by the other.
"These were killed with knives."
"But Kuklinovski?"
"There are no wounds on Kuklinovski, but his side is roasted and hismustaches daubed with pitch. He must have perished of cold orsuffocation, for he holds his own cap in his teeth to this moment."
"Uncover him."
The soldier raised a corner of the rug, and a terrible face wasuncovered, swollen, with eyes bursting out. On the remnants of hispitched mustaches were icicles formed from his frozen breath and mixedwith soot, making as it were tusks sticking out of his mouth. That facewas so revolting that Miller, though accustomed to all kinds ofghastliness, shuddered and said,--
"Cover it quickly. Terrible, terrible!"
Silence reigned in the barn.
"Why have we come here?" asked the Prince of Hesse, spitting. "I shallnot touch food for a whole day."
All at once some kind of uncommon exasperation closely bordering onfrenzy took possession of Miller. His face became blue, his eyesexpanded, he began to gnash his teeth, a wild thirst for the blood ofsome one had seized him; then turning to Zbrojek, he screamed,--
"Where is that soldier who saw that Kuklinovski was in the barn? Hemust be a confederate!"
"I know not whether that soldier is here yet," answered Zbrojek. "AllKuklinovski's men have scattered like oxen let out from the yoke."
"Then catch him!" bellowed Miller, in fury.
"Catch him yourself!" cried Zbrojek, in similar fury.
And again a terrible outburst hung as it were on a spider-web over theheads of the Swedes and the Poles. The latter began to gather aroundZbrojek, moving their mustaches threateningly and rattling theirsabres.
During this noise the echoes of shots and the tramp of horses wereheard, and into the barn rushed a Swedish officer of cavalry.
"General!" cried he. "A sortie from the cloister! The men working atthe mine have been cut to pieces! A party of infantry is scattered!"
"I shall go wild!" roared Miller, seizing the hair of his wig. "Tohorse!"
In a moment they were all rushing like a whirlwind toward the cloister,so that lumps of snow fell like hail from the hoofs of their horses. Ahundred of Sadovski's cavalry, under command of his brother, joinedMiller and ran to assist. On the way they saw parties of terrifiedinfantry fleeing in disorder and panic, so fallen were the hearts ofthe Swedish infantry, elsewhere unrivalled. They had left even trencheswhich were not threatened by any danger. The oncoming officers andcavalry trampled a few, and rode finally to within a furlong of thefortress, but only to see on the height as clearly as on the palm ofthe hand, the attacking party returning safely to the cloister; songs,shouts of joy, and laughter came from them to Miller's ears.
Single persons stood forth and threatened with bloody sabres in thedirection of the staff. The Poles present at the side of the Swedishgeneral recognized Zamoyski himself, who had led the sortie in person,and who, when he saw the staff, stopped and saluted it solemnly withhis cap. No wonder he felt safe under cover of the fortress cannon.
And, in fact, it began to smoke on the walls, and iron flocks of cannonballs were flying with terrible whistling among the officers. Trooperstottered in their saddles, and groans answered whistles.
"We are under fire. Retreat!" commanded Sadovski.
Zbrojek seized the reins of Miller's horse. "General, withdraw! It isdeath here!"
Miller, as if he had become torpid, said not a word, and let himself beled out of range of the missiles. Returning to his quarters, he lockedhimself in, and for a whole day would see no man. He was meditatingsurely over his fame of Poliorcetes.
Count Veyhard now took all power in hand, and began with immense energyto make preparations for a storm. New breastworks were thrown up; thesoldiers succeeding the miners broke the cliff unweariedly to prepare amine. A feverish movement continued in the whole Swedish camp. Itseemed that a new spirit had entered the besiegers, or thatreinforcements had come. A few days later the news thundered throughthe Swedish and allied Polish camps that the miners had found a passagegoing under the church and the cloister, and that it depended now onlyon the good-will of the general to blow up the whole fortress.
Delight seized the soldiers worn out with cold, hunger, and fruitlesstoil. Shouts of: "We have Chenstohova! We'll blow up that hen-house!"ran from mouth to mouth. Feasting and drinking began.
The count was present everywhere; he encouraged the soldiers, kept themin that belief, repeated a hundred times daily the news of finding thepassage, incited to feasting and frolics.
The echo of this gladness reached the cloister at last. News of themines dug and ready to explode ran with the speed of lightning fromrampart to rampart. Even the most daring were frightened. Weeping womenbegan to besiege the prior's dwelling, to hold out to him theirchildren when he appeared for a while, and cry,--
"Destroy not the innocent! Their blood will fall on thy head!"
The greater coward a man had been, the greater his daring now in urgingKordetski not to expose to destruction the sacred place, the capital ofthe Most Holy Lady.
Such grievous, painful times followed, for the unbending soul of ourhero in a habit, as had not been till that hour. It was fortunate thatthe Swedes ceased their assaults, so as to prove more convincingly thatthey needed no longer either balls or cannon, that it was enough forthem to ignite one little powder fuse. But for this very reason terrorincreased in the cloister. In the hour of deep night it seemed to some,the most timid, that they heard under the earth certain sounds, certainmovements; that the Swedes were already under the cloister. Finally, aconsiderable number of the monks fell in spirit. Those, with FatherStradomski at the head of them, went to the prior and urged him tobegin negotiations at once for surrender. The greater part of thesoldiers went with them, and some of the nobles.
Kordetski appeared in the courtyard, and when the throng gatheredaround him in a close circle, he said,--
"Have we not sworn to one another to defend this holy place to the lastdrop of our blood? In truth, I tell you that if powder hurls us forth,only our wretched bodies, only the temporary covering, will fall awayand return to the earth, but the souls will not return,--heaven willopen above them, and they will enter into rejoicing and happiness, asinto a sea without bounds. There Jesus Christ will receive them, andthat Most Holy Mother will meet them, and they like golden bees willsit on her robe, and will sink in light and gaze on the face of theLord."
Here the reflection of that brightness was gleaming on his face. Heraised his inspired eyes upward, and spoke on with a dignity and a calmnot of earth:--
"O Lord, the Ruler of worlds, Thou art looking into my heart, and Thouknowest that I am not deceiving this people when I say that if Idesired only my own happiness I would stretch out my hands to Thee andcry from the depth of my soul: O Lord! let powder be there, let itexplode, for in such a death is redemption of sins and faults, for itis eternal rest, and Thy servant is weary and toil worn over-much. Andwho would not wish a reward of such kind, for a death without pain andas short as the twinkle of an eye, as a flash in the heavens, afterwhich is eternity unbroken, happiness inexhaustible, joy without end.But Thou hast commanded me to guard Thy retreat, therefore it is notpermitted me to go. Thou hast placed me on guard, therefore Thou hastpoured into me Thy strength, and I know, O Lord, I see and feel thatalthough the malice of the enemy were to force itself under thischurch, though all the powder and destructive saltpetre were placedthere, it would be enough for me to make the sign of the cross abovethem and they would never explode."
Here he turned to the assembly and continued: "God has given me thispower, but do you take fear out of your hearts. My spirit pierces theearth and tells you; Your enemies lie, there are no powder dragonsunder the church. You, people of timid hearts, you in whom fear hasstifled faith, deserve not to enter the kingdom of grace and reposeto-day. There is no powder under your feet then! God wishes to preservethis retreat, so that, like Noah's ark, it may be borne above thedeluge of disasters and mishap; therefore, in the name of God, for thethird time I tell you, there is no powder under the church. And when Ispeak in His name, who will make bold to oppose me, who will dare stillto doubt?"
When he had said this he was silent and looked at the throng of monks,nobles, and soldiers. But such was the unshaken faith, the convictionand power in his voice that they were silent also, and no man cameforward. On the contrary, solace began to enter their hearts, till atlast one of the soldiers, a simple peasant, said,--
"Praise to the name of the Lord! For three days they say they are ableto blow up the fortress; why do they not blow it up?"
"Praise to the Most Holy Lady! Why do they not blow it up?" repeated anumber of voices.
Then a wonderful sign was made manifest. Behold all about them on asudden was heard the sound of wings, and whole flocks of small winterbirds appeared in the court of the fortress, and every moment new onesflew in from the starved country-places around. Birds such as graylarks, ortolans, buntings with yellow breasts, poor sparrows, greentitmice, red bulfinches, sat on the slopes of the roofs, on the cornersover the doors, on the church; others flew around in a many-coloredcrown above the head of the prior, flapping their wings, chirping sadlyas if begging for alms, and having no fear whatever of man. Peoplepresent were amazed at the sight; and Kordetski, after he had prayedfor a while, said at last,--
"See these little birds of the forest. They come to the protection ofthe Mother of God, but you doubt Her power."
Consolation and hope had entered their hearts; the monks, beating theirbreasts, went to the church, and the soldiers mounted the walls.
Women scattered grain to the birds, which began to pick it up eagerly.
All interpreted the visit of these tiny forest-dwellers as a sign ofsuccess to themselves, and of evil to the enemy.
"Fierce snows must be lying, when these little birds, caring neitherfor shots nor the thunder of cannon, flock to our buildings," said thesoldiers.
"But why do they fly from the Swedes to us?"
"Because the meanest creature has the wit to distinguish an enemy froma friend."
"That cannot be," said another soldier, "for in the Swedish camp arePoles too; but it means that there must be hunger there, and a lack ofoats for the horses."
"It means still better," said a third, "that what they say of thepowder is downright falsehood."
"How is that?" asked all, in one voice.
"Old people say," replied the soldier, "that if a house is to fall, thesparrows and swallows having nests in spring under the roof, go awaytwo or three days in advance; every creature has sense to feel dangerbeforehand. Now if powder were under the cloister, these little birdswould not fly to us."
"
Is that true?"
"As true as Amen to 'Our Father!'"
"Praise to the Most Holy Lady! it will be bad for the Swedes."
At this moment the sound of a trumpet was heard at the northwesterngate; all ran to see who was coming.
It was a Swedish trumpeter with a letter from the camp. The monksassembled at once in the council hall. The letter was from CountVeyhard, and announced that if the fortress were not surrendered beforethe following day it would be hurled into the air. But those who beforehad fallen under the weight of fear had no faith now in this threat.
"Those are vain threats!" said the priests and the nobles together.
"Let us write to them not to spare us; let them blow us up!"
And in fact they answered in that sense.
Meanwhile the soldiers who had gathered around the trumpeter answeredhis warnings with ridicule.
"Good!" said they to him. "Why do you spare us? We will go the soonerto heaven."
But the man who delivered the answering letter to the messenger said,--
"Do not lose words and time for nothing. Want is gnawing you, but welack nothing, praise be to God! Even the birds fly away from you."
And in this way Count Veyhard's last trick came to nothing. And whenanother day had passed it was shown with perfect proof how vain werethe fears of the besieged, and peace returned to the cloister.
The following day a worthy man from Chenstohova, Yatsek Bjuhanski, lefta letter again giving warning of a storm; also news of the return ofYan Kazimir from Silesia, and the uprising of the whole Commonwealthagainst the Swedes. But according to reports circulating outside thewalls, this was to be the last storm.
Bjuhanski brought the letter with a bag of fish to the priests forChristmas Eve, and approached the walls disguised as a Swedish soldier.Poor man!-the Swedes saw him and seized him. Miller gave command tostretch him on the rack; but the old man had heavenly visions in thetime of his torture, and smiled as sweetly as a child, and instead ofpain unspeakable joy was depicted on his face. The general was presentat the torture, but he gained no confession from the martyr; he merelyacquired the despairing conviction that nothing could bend thosepeople, nothing could break them.
Now came the old beggarwoman Kostuha, with a letter from Kordetskibegging most humbly that the storm be delayed during service on the dayof Christ's birth. The guards and the officers received the beggarwomanwith insults and jeers at such an envoy, but she answered them straightin the face,--
"No other would come, for to envoys you are as murderers, and I tookthe office for bread,--a crust. I shall not be long in this world; Ihave no fear of you: if you do not believe, you have me in your hands."
But no harm was done her. What is more, Miller, eager to tryconciliation again, agreed to the prior's request, even accepted aransom for Bjuhanski, not yet tortured quite out of his life; he sentalso that part of the silver found with the Swedish soldiers. He didthis last out of malice to Count Veyhard, who after the failure of themine had fallen into disfavor again.
At last Christmas Eve came. With the first star, lights great and smallbegan to shine all around in the fortress. The night was still, frosty,but clear. The Swedish soldiers, stiffened with cold in theintrenchments, gazed from below on the dark walls of the unapproachablefortress, and to their minds came the warm Scandinavian cottagesstuffed with moss, their wives and children, the fir-tree gleaming withlights; and more than one iron breast swelled with a sigh, with regret,with homesickness, with despair. But in the fortress, at tables coveredwith hay, the besieged were breaking wafers. A quiet joy was shining inall faces, for each one had the foreboding, almost the certainty, thatthe hours of suffering would be soon at an end.
"Another storm to-morrow, but that will be the last," repeated thepriests and the soldiers. "Let him to whom God will send death givethanks that the Lord lets him be present at Mass, and thus opens moresurely heaven's gates, for whoso dies for the faith on the day ofChrist's birth must be received into glory."
They wished one another success, long years, or a heavenly crown; andso relief dropped into every heart, as if suffering were over already.
But there stood one empty chair near the prior; before it a plate onwhich was a package of white wafers bound with a blue ribbon. When allhad sat down, no one occupied that place. Zamoyski said,--
"I see, revered father, that according to ancient custom there areplaces for men outside the cloister."
"Not for men outside," said Father Agustine, "but as a remembrance ofthat young man whom we loved as a son, and whose soul is looking withpleasure upon us because we keep him in eternal memory."
"As God lives," replied Zamoyski, "he is happier now than we. We owehim due thanks."
Kordetski had tears in his eyes, and Charnyetski said,--
"They write of smaller men in the chronicles. If God gives me life, andany one asks me hereafter, who was there among us the equal of ancientheroes, I shall say Babinich."
"Babinich was not his name," said Kordetski.
"How not Babinich?"
"I long knew his real name under the seal of confession; but when goingout against that cannon, he said to me: 'If I perish, let men know whoI am, so that honorable repute may rest with my name, and destroy myformer misdeeds.' He went, he perished; now I can tell you that he wasKmita!"
"That renowned Lithuanian Kmita?" cried Charnyetski, seizing hisforelock.
"The same. How the grace of God changes hearts!"
"For God's sake. Now I understand why he undertook that work; now Iunderstand where he got that daring, that boldness, in which hesurpassed all men. Kmita, Kmita, that terrible Kmita whom Lithuaniacelebrates."
"Henceforth not only Lithuania, but the whole Commonwealth will glorifyhim in a different manner."
"He was the first to warn us against Count Veyhard."
"Through his advice we closed the gates in good season, and madepreparations."
"He killed the first Swede with a shot from a bow."
"And how many of their cannon did he spoil! Who brought down DeFossis?"
"And that siege gun! If we are not terrified at the storm of to-morrow,who is the cause?"
"Let each remember him with honor, and celebrate his name whereverpossible, so that justice be done," said Kordetski; "and now may Godgive him eternal rest."
"And may everlasting light shine on him," answered one chorus ofvoices.
But Pan Charnyetski was unable for a long time to calm himself, and histhoughts were continually turning to Kmita.
"I tell you, gentlemen, that there was something of such kind in thatman that though he served as a simple soldier, the command of itselfcrawled at once to his hand, so that it was a wonder to me how peopleobeyed such a young man unwittingly. In fact, he was commander on thebastion, and I obeyed him myself. Oh, had I known him then to beKmita!"
"Still it is a wonder to me," said Zamoyski, "that the Swedes have notboasted of his death."
Kordetski sighed. "The powder must have killed him on the spot."
"I would let a hand be cut from me could he be alive again," criedCharnyetski. "But that such a Kmita let himself be blown up by powder!"
"He gave his life for ours," said Kordetski.
"It is true," added Zamoyski, "that if that cannon were lying in theintrenchment, I should not think so pleasantly of to-morrow."
"To-morrow God will give us a new victory," said the prior, "for theark of Noah cannot be lost in the deluge."
Thus they conversed with one another on Christmas Eve, and thenseparated; the monks going to the church, the soldiers, some to quietrest, and others to keep watch on the walls and at the gates. But greatcare was superfluous, for in the Swedish camp there reigned unbrokencalm. They had given themselves to rest and meditation, for to them toowas approaching a most serious day.
The night was solemn. Legions of stars twinkled in the sky, changinginto blue and rosy colors. The light of the moon changed to green theshrouds of snow stretching between the fortress and the
hostile camp.The wind did not howl, and it was calm, as from the beginning of thesiege it had not been near the cloister.
At midnight the Swedish soldiers heard the flow of the mild and grandtones of the organ; then the voices of men were joined with them; thenthe sounds of bells, large and small. Joy, consolation, and great calmwere in those sounds; and the greater was the doubt, the greater thefeeling of helplessness which weighed down the hearts of the Swedes.
The Polish soldiers from the commands of Zbrojek and Kalinski, withoutseeking permission, went up to the very walls. They were not permittedto enter through fear of some snare; but they were permitted to standnear the walls. They also collected together. Some knelt on the snow,others shook their heads pitifully, sighing over their own lot, or beattheir breasts, promising repentance; and all heard with delight andwith tears in their eyes the music and the hymns sung according toancient usage.
At the same time the sentries on the walls who could not be in thechurch, wishing to make up for their loss, began also to sing, and soonwas heard throughout the whole circuit of the walls the Christmashymn:--
"He is lying in the manger; Who will run To greet the little stranger?"
In the afternoon of the following day the thunder of guns drowned againevery other sound. All the intrenchments began to smoke simultaneously,the earth trembled in its foundations; as of old there flew on the roofof the church heavy balls, bombs, grenades, and torches fixed incylinders, pouring a rain of melted lead, and naked torches, knots andropes. Never had the thunder been so unceasing, never till then hadsuch a river of fire and iron fallen on the cloister; but among theSwedish guns was not that great gun, which alone could crush the walland make a breach necessary for assault.
But the besieged were so accustomed to fire that each man knew what hehad to do, and the defence went in its ordinary course without command.Fire was answered with fire, missile with missile, but better aimed,for with more calmness.
Toward evening Miller went out to see by the last rays of the settingsun the results; and his glance fell on the tower outlined calmly onthe background of the sky.
"That cloister will stand for the ages of ages!" cried he, besidehimself.
"Amen!" answered Zbrojek, quietly.
In the evening a council was assembled again at headquarters, stillmore gloomy than usual. Miller opened it himself.
"The storm of to-day," said he, "has brought no result. Our powder isnearly consumed; half of our men are lost, the rest discouraged: theylook for disasters, not victory. We have no supplies; we cannot expectreinforcements."
"But the cloister stands unmoved as on the first day of the siege,"added Sadovski.
"What remains for us?"
"Disgrace."
"I have received orders," said the general, "to finish quickly orretreat to Prussia."
"What remains to us?" repeated the Prince of Hesse.
All eyes were turned to Count Veyhard, who said: "To save our honor!"
A short broken laugh, more like the gnashing of teeth, came fromMiller, who was called Poliorcetes. "The Count wishes to teach us howto raise the dead," said he.
Count Veyhard acted as though he had not heard this.
"Only the slain have saved their honor," said Sadovski.
Miller began to lose his cool blood. "And that cloister stands thereyet, that Yasna Gora, that hen-house! I have not taken it! And wewithdraw. Is this a dream, or am I speaking in my senses?"
"That cloister stands there yet, that Yasna Gora!" repeated word forword the Prince of Hesse, "and we shall withdraw,--defeated!"
A moment of silence followed; it seemed as though the leader and hissubordinates found a certain wild pleasure in bringing to mind theirshame and defeat.
Now Count Veyhard said slowly and emphatically: "It has happened morethan once in every war that a besieged fortress has ransomed itselffrom the besiegers, who then went away as victors; for whoso pays aransom, by this same recognizes himself as defeated."
The officers, who at first listened to the words of the speaker withscorn and contempt, now began to listen more attentively.
"Let that cloister pay us any kind of ransom," continued the count;"then no one will say that we could not take it, but that we did notwish to take it."
"Will they agree?" asked the Prince of Hesse.
"I will lay down my head," answered Count Veyhard, "and more than that,my honor as a soldier."
"Can that be!" asked Sadovski. "We have enough of this siege, but havethey enough? What does your worthiness think of this?"
Miller turned to Veyhard "Many grievous moments, the most grievous ofmy life, have I passed because of your counsels, Sir Count; but forthis last advice I thank you, and will be grateful."
All breasts breathed more freely. There could be no real question butthat of retreating with honor.
On the morrow, the day of Saint Stephen, the officers assembled to thelast man to hear Kordetski's answer to Miller's letter, which proposeda ransom, and was sent in the morning.
They had to wait long. Miller feigned joyousness, but constraint wasevident on his face. No one of the officers could keep his place. Allhearts beat unquietly. The Prince of Hesse and Sadovski stood under thewindow conversing in a low voice.
"What do you think?" asked the first; "will they agree?"
"Everything indicates that they will agree. Who would not wish to berid of such terrible danger come what may, at the price of a few tensof thousands of thalers, especially since monks have not worldlyambition and military honor, or at least should not have? I only fearthat the general has asked too much."
"How much has he asked?"
"Forty thousand from the monks, and twenty thousand from the nobles,but in the worst event they will try to reduce the sum."
"Let us yield, in God's name, let us yield. If they have not the money,I would prefer to lend them my own, if they will let us go away witheven the semblance of honor. But I tell your princely highness thatthough I recognize the count's advice this time as good, and I believethat they will ransom themselves, such a fever is gnawing me that Iwould prefer ten storms to this waiting."
"Uf! you are right But still this Count Veyhard may go high."
"Even as high as the gibbet," said the other.
But the speakers did not foresee that a worse fate than even the gibbetwas awaiting Count Veyhard.
That moment the thunder of cannon interrupted further conversation.
"What is that? firing from the fortress!" cried Miller. And springingup like a man possessed, he ran out of the room.
All ran after him and listened. The sound of regular salvos came indeedfrom the fortress.
"Are they fighting inside, or what?" cried Miller; "I don'tunderstand."
"I will explain to your worthiness," said Zbrojek, "this is SaintStephen's Day, and the name's day of the Zamoyskis, father and son; thefiring is in their honor."
With that shouts of applause were heard from the fortress, and afterthem new salvos.
"They have powder enough," said Miller, gloomily. "That is for us a newindication."
But fate did not spare him another very painful lesson.
The Swedish soldiers were so discouraged and fallen in spirit that atthe sound of firing from the fortress the detachments guarding thenearest intrenchments deserted them in panic.
Miller saw one whole regiment, the musketeers of Smaland, taking refugein disorder at his own quarters; he heard too how the officers repeatedamong themselves at this sight,--
"It is time, it is time, it is time to retreat!"
But by degrees everything grew calm; one crushing impression remained.The leader, and after him the subordinates, entered the room andwaited, waited impatiently; even the face of Count Veyhard, till thenmotionless, betrayed disquiet.
At last the clatter of spurs was heard in the antechamber, and thetrumpeter entered, all red from cold, his mustaches covered with hisfrozen breath.
"
An answer from the cloister!" said he, giving a large packet wound upin a colored handkerchief bound with a string.
Miller's hands trembled somewhat, and he chose to cut the string with adagger rather than to open it slowly. A number of pairs of eyes werefixed on the packet; the officers were breathless. The general unwoundone roll of the cloth, a second, and a third, unwound with increasinghaste till at last a package of wafers fell out on the table. Then hegrew pale, and though no one asked what was in the package, he said,"Wafers!"
"Nothing more?" asked some one in the crowd.
"Nothing more!" answered the general, like an echo.
A moment of silence followed, broken only by panting; at times too washeard the gritting of teeth, at times the rattling of rapiers.
"Count Veyhard!" said Miller, at last, with a terrible and ill-omenedvoice.
"He is no longer here!" answered one of the officers.
Again silence followed.
That night movement reigned in the whole camp. Scarcely was the lightof day quenched when voices of command were heard, the hurrying ofconsiderable divisions of cavalry, the sound of measured steps ofinfantry, the neighing of horses, the squeaking of wagons, the dullthump of cannon, with the biting of iron, the rattle of chains, noise,bustle, and turmoil.
"Will there be a new storm in the morning?" asked the guards at thegates.
But they were unable to see, for since twilight the sky was coveredwith clouds, and abundant snow had begun to fall. Its frequent flakesexcluded the light. About five o'clock in the morning all sounds hadceased, but the snow was falling still more densely. On the walls andbattlements it had created new walls and battlements. It covered thewhole cloister and church, as if wishing to hide them from the glanceof the enemy, to shelter and cover them from iron missiles.
At last the air began to grow gray, and the bell commenced tolling formorning service, when the soldiers standing guard at the southern gateheard the snorting of a horse.
Before the gate stood a peasant, all covered with snow; behind him wasa low, small wooden sleigh, drawn by a thin, shaggy horse. The peasantfell to striking his body with his arms, to jumping from one foot tothe other, and to crying,--
"People, but open here!"
"Who is alive?" they asked from the walls.
"Your own, from Dzbov. I have brought game for the benefactors."
"And how did the Swedes let you come?"
"What Swedes?"
"Those who are besieging the church."
"Oho, there are no Swedes now!"
"Praise God, every soul! Have they gone?"
"The tracks behind them are covered."
With that, crowds of villagers and peasants blackened the road, someriding, others on foot, there were women too, and all began to cry fromafar,--
"There are no Swedes! there are none! They have gone to Vyelunie. Openthe gates! There is not a man in the camp!"
"The Swedes have gone, the Swedes have gone!" cried men on the walls;and the news ran around like lightning.
Soldiers rushed to the bells, and rang them all as if for an alarm.Every living soul rushed out of the cells, the dwellings, and thechurch.
The news thundered all the time. The court was swarming with monks,nobles, soldiers, women, and children. Joyful shouts were heard around.Some ran out on the walls to examine the empty camp; others burst intolaughter or into sobs. Some would not believe yet, but new crowds camecontinually, peasants and villagers.
They came from Chenstohova, from the surrounding villages, and from theforests near by, noisily, joyously, and with singing. New tidingscrossed one another each moment. All had seen the retreating Swedes,and told in what direction they were going.
A few hours later the slope and the plain below the mountain werefilled with people. The gates of the cloister were open wide, as theyhad been before the siege; and all the bells were ringing, ringing,ringing,--and those voices of triumph flew to the distance, and thenthe whole Commonwealth heard them.
The snow was covering and covering the tracks of the Swedes.
About noon of that day the church was so filled with people that headwas as near head as on a paved street in a city one stone is nearanother. Father Kordetski himself celebrated a thanksgiving Mass, andto the throng of people it seemed that a white angel was celebratingit. And it seemed to them also that he was singing out his soul in thatMass, or that it was borne heavenward in the smoke of the incense, andwas expanding in praise to the Lord.
The thunder of cannon shook not the walls, nor the glass in thewindows, nor covered the people with dust, nor interrupted prayer, northat thanksgiving hymn which amid universal ecstasy and weeping, theholy prior was intoning--
"Te Deum laudamus."