The Knights of the Cross. Volume IV E-Book

Henryk Sienkiewicz

• Herausgeber: apebook Verlag
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

Fighting, robbery, rape: »The Knights of the Cross« takes place in the late 14th and early 15th century in the wild East of Europe. Polish and Lithuanian warriors find themselves in conflict with the Knights of the Teutonic Order, who increasingly expand their claims to power. The missionary preaching of the cross serves them as a welcome pretext to satisfy their lust for plunder and murder. The conflicts escalate. The hatred and enmity between the camps are unbridgeable. In the Battle of Grunwald, everything is finally decided… In the midst of the chaos of war, a young Polish knight, supported by his uncle, an experienced warrior, tries to free the love of his life from the hands of the hated crusaders. But they are cruel and merciless. It is a great, heroic story of noble, virtuous knights fighting against unscrupulous and dishonourable enemies – and last but not least a story of bravery for love, dramatic blows of fate and momentous decisions. Henryk Sienkiewicz is one of the great storytellers of fiction. He received the Nobel Prize for Literature for his »Quo Vadis«. With »The Knights of the Cross« he has created another monumental masterpiece. The historical novel comprises over 1000 pages and is here available in a revised new edition as a tetralogy. This is the fourth of four volumes. The size of the fourth volume corresponds to about 350 book pages.

Leseprobe

HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ

 

THE KNIGHTS OF THE CROSS

HISTORICAL NOVEL

IN FOUR VOLUMES

VOLUME IV

THE FINAL BATTLE

 

The Final Battle

THE KNIGHTS OF THE CROSS

IV

Henryk Sienkiewicz

This edition of THE KNIGHTS OF THE CROSS by Henryk Sienkiewicz is published by BRUNNAKR/apebook

www.apebook.de

1st edition 2020

V 1.0

Translated by Jeremiah Curtin

This book is part of the BRUNNAKR EDITION, an imprint of apebook: high quality fantasy, historical fiction, legends & myths.

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eBook: ISBN 978-3-96130-270-3

Paperback: ISBN 978-3-96130-271-0

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Henryk Sienkiewicz

The

KNIGHTS OF THE CROSS

Tetralogy

VOLUME I: The Death Sentence

VOLUME II: The Captive

VOLUME III: The Torture

VOLUME IV: The Final Battle

The first volume is for free (eBook).

Table of Contents

THE KNIGHTS OF THE CROSS. Volume IV: The Final Battle

Frontispiece

Imprint

MAPS

VOLUME IV

THE FINAL BATTLE

PART I

CHAPTER I.

CHAPTER II.

CHAPTER III.

CHAPTER IV.

CHAPTER V.

CHAPTER VI.

CHAPTER VII.

PART II

CHAPTER I.

CHAPTER II.

CHAPTER III.

CHAPTER IV.

CHAPTER V.

CHAPTER VI.

CHAPTER VII.

CHAPTER VIII.

CHAPTER IX.

PART III

CHAPTER I.

CHAPTER II.

CHAPTER III.

CHAPTER IV.

CHAPTER V.

CHAPTER VI.

CHAPTER VII.

CHAPTER VIII.

CHAPTER IX.

ENDNOTES

A small request

BRUNNAKR Edition

A p e B o o k C l a s s i c s

N e w s l e t t e r

F l a t r a t e

F o l l o w

A p e C l u b

L i n k s

Last but not least

MAPS

VOLUME IV

THE FINAL BATTLE

PART I

CHAPTER I.

They came at last with the remains of Danusia to the pine forests of Spyhov, at the edge of which Yurand's armed guards stood night and day watching. One of these hurried off with the news to old Tolima and Father Kaleb; others conducted the procession by what was at first a winding and sunken, but later a broad forest roadway, till they reached the place where trees ended, and open, wet lands began, and sticky morasses swarming with water-birds; beyond these quagmires on a dry elevation stood Yurand's fortress. They saw at once that the sad tidings concerning them had reached Spyhov, for barely had they emerged from the shade of the pine woods onto the bright open plain when to their ears came the sound of a bell from the fortress chapel. Soon after, they saw many people, men and women, coming toward them from a distance. When this company had approached to a point within two or three bow-shots Zbyshko could distinguish persons. At the head of the procession walked Yurand himself, supported by Tolima, and feeling with a staff out in front of his body. It was easy to distinguish the master of Spyhov by his immense stature, by the red pits in place of eyes, and by the white hair which fell to his shoulders. At his side in a white surplice, and holding a cross in his hand, walked Father Kaleb. Behind them was borne a banner with Yurand's ensign; with it moved the armed "warriors" of Spyhov, and behind them married women with veils on their heads, and young girls with hair hanging loose on their shoulders. In the rear of the procession was a wagon on which they were to place the remains of Danusia.

On seeing Yurand, Zbyshko commanded to put down the litter,—he himself was carrying the end next the head,—then he approached Yurand and cried in that terrible voice with which immense pain and despair express themselves,—

“I sought her till I found her and freed her, but she preferred God to Spyhov.“

And pain broke him utterly, for he fell on Yurand's breast, embraced him, and groaned out,—

“O Jesus! O Jesus! O Jesus!“

At this sight the hearts of the armed attendants were enraged, and they fell to beating their shields with their spears, not knowing how to express in another way their pain and their desire for vengeance. The women raised a lament, they wailed one louder than another, they put their aprons to their eyes, or covered their heads with them altogether, and called in heaven-piercing voices: “Ei! misfortune! misfortune! For thee there is gladness, for us only weeping. Ei! misfortune! Death has cut thee down! The Skeleton has seized thee! Oi! oi!“—while some of them, bending their heads backward and closing their eyes, cried: “Was it evil for thee with us, O dearest flower; was it evil? Thy father is left in great mourning, while thou art there in God's chambers! Oi! oi!“ Others again told the dead woman that she had not pitied her father or her husband in their tears and loneliness. And this wail of theirs and this weeping were expressed in a half chant, for those people could not express their pain otherwise.

At last Yurand, withdrawing from Zbyshko's arms, reached out his staff in sign that he wished to go to Danusia. That moment Tolima and Zbyshko caught him by the arms and led him to the litter; there he knelt by the body, passed his hand over it from the forehead to the hands of his dead daughter, which were crossed, and he inclined his head repeatedly, as if to say that that was his Danusia and no other, that he knew his own child. Then he embraced her with one arm, and the other, which had no hand, he raised upward; all present answered in the same way, and that dumb complaint before God was more eloquent than any words of sorrow. Zbyshko, whose face after the momentary outburst grew again perfectly rigid, knelt on the other side, silent, resembling a stone statue; round about it became so still that the chirping of the field crickets was heard and the buzz of each passing fly.

At last Father Kaleb sprinkled Danusia, Zbyshko, and Yurand with holy water, and began “Requiem æternam.“ After the hymn he prayed aloud a long time; during the prayer it seemed to the people that they heard the voice of a prophet, for he begged that the torture of that innocent woman might be the drop which would overflow the measure of injustice, and that the day of judgment, wrath, punishment, and terror would come.

Then they moved toward Spyhov; but they did not place Danusia on the wagon, they bore her in front of the procession on the litter strewn with flowers. The bell ceased not to toll, it seemed to summon and invite them; and they moved on across the broad plain singing in the immense golden light, as if the departed were conducting them really to endless glory and brightness. It was evening, and the flocks had returned from the fields when they arrived. The chapel, in which they laid the remains, was gleaming from torches and lighted tapers. At command of Father Kaleb seven young girls repeated in succession the litany over the body till daylight. Zbyshko did not leave Danusia till morning, and at matins he placed her in a coffin which skilled workmen had cut out of an oak-tree in the night-time, and put a plate of gold-colored amber in the lid above her forehead.

Yurand was not present, for strange things had happened to him. Immediately after reaching home he lost power in his feet, and when they placed him on the bed he lost movement as well as consciousness of where he was and what was taking place there. In vain did Father Kaleb speak to him; in vain did he ask what his trouble was. Yurand heard not, he understood not; but lying on his back, he raised the lids of his empty eyepits and smiled with a face transfixed and happy, and at times he moved his lips, as if speaking with some person. The priest and Tolima thought that he was conversing with his rescued daughter, and smiling at her. They thought also that he was dying, and that with the sight of his soul he was gazing at his own eternal happiness, but in this they were mistaken, for, deprived of feeling and deaf to all things, he smiled whole weeks in the same way. Zbyshko, when he set out at last with the ransom for Matsko, left his father-in-law in life yet.

CHAPTER II.

After the burial of Danusia Zbysnko was not confined to his bed, but he lived in torpor. For a few days at first he was not in such an evil condition: he walked about, he conversed with his dead bride, he visited Yurand and sat near him. He told the priest of Matsko's captivity, and they decided to send Tolima to Prussia and Malborg, to learn where the old knight was and ransom him, paying at the same time for Zbyshko the sum agreed on with Arnold von Baden and his brother. In the cellars of Spyhov there was no lack of silver, which Yurand in his time had received from his lands or had captured, so Father Kaleb supposed that the Knights if they received the money would liberate the old man without trouble, and would not require the young knight to appear in person.

“Go to Plotsk,“ said the priest to Tolima at starting, “and take from the prince there a letter of safe conduct. Otherwise the first comtur on the way will rob and imprison thee.“

“Oh! I know them myself,“ said Tolima. “They are able to rob even those who have letters.“

And he went his way. But Father Kaleb was sorry, soon after, that he had not sent Zbyshko. He had feared, it is true, that in the first moments of suffering the young man would not be able to conduct himself in the way needed, or that he might burst out against the Knights of the Cross and expose himself to peril; he knew also that it would be difficult for him to leave immediately the tomb of the beloved with his recent loss and fresh sorrow, and just after such a terrible and painful journey as that which he had made from Gotteswerder to Spyhov. But later he was sorry that he had taken all this into consideration, for Zbyshko had grown duller day by day. He had lived till Danusia's death in dreadful effort, he had used all his strength desperately: he had ridden to the ends of the earth, he had fought, he had saved his wife, he had passed through wild forests; and on a sudden all was ended as if some one had cut it off with a sword-stroke, and naught was left but the knowledge that what he had done had been done in vain, that his toils had been useless,—that in truth they had passed, but with them a part of his life had gone; hope had gone, good had gone, loving had perished, and nothing was left to him. Every man lives in the morrow, every man plans somewhat and lays aside one or another thing for use in the future, but for Zbyshko to-morrow had become valueless; as to the future, he had the same kind of feeling that Yagenka had had, while riding out of Spyhov, when she said, “My happiness is behind, not before me.“ But, besides, in his soul that feeling of helplessness, emptiness, misfortune, and evil fate had risen on the ground of great pain and of ever-increasing grief for Danusia. That grief penetrated him, mastered him, and at the same time was ever stiffening in him. So at last there was no place in Zbyshko's heart for another feeling. Hence he thought of it only; he nursed it in himself and lived with it solely, insensible to everything else, shut up in himself, sunk, as it were, in a half dream, oblivious of all that was happening around him. All the powers of his soul and his body, his former activity and valor, dropped into quiescence. In his look and movements there appeared a kind of senile heaviness. Whole days and nights he sat, either in the vault with Danusia's coffin, or before the house, warming himself in sunlight during the hours after midday. At times he so forgot himself that he did not answer questions. Father Kaleb, who loved him, began to fear that pain might consume the man as rust consumes iron, and with sadness he thought that perhaps it would have been better to send him away, even to the Knights of the Cross, with a ransom.

“It is necessary,“ said he to the sexton, with whom in the absence of other men he spoke of his own troubles, “that some adventure should pull him, as a storm pulls a tree, otherwise he may perish utterly.“ And the sexton answered wisely by giving the comparison, that when a man is choking with a bone it is best to give him a good thump behind the shoulders.

No adventure came, but a few weeks later Pan de Lorche appeared unexpectedly. The sight of him roused Zbyshko, for it reminded him of the expedition among the Jmud men and the rescue of Danusia. De Lorche did not hesitate in the least to rouse these painful memories. On the contrary, when he learned of Zbyshko's loss he went at once to pray with him above Danusia's coffin, and spoke of her unceasingly. Being himself half a minstrel, he composed a hymn for her which he sang with a lute, at night, near the grating of the vault, so tenderly and with such sadness that Zbyshko, though he did not understand the words, was seized by great weeping which lasted till the daylight following.

Weaned by sorrow, by weeping and watching, he fell into a deep sleep; and when he woke it was clear that pain had flowed away with his tears, for he was brighter than on preceding days, and seemed more active. He was greatly pleased with Pan de Lorche, and thanked him for coming; afterward he inquired how he had learned of his misfortune. De Lorche answered, through Father Kaleb, that he had received the first tidings of Danusia's death in Lubav, from old Tolima, whom he had seen there in the prison of the comtur, but that he would have come to Spyhov in every case to yield himself to Zbyshko.

News of Tolima's imprisonment made a great impression on the priest and on Zbyshko; they understood that the ransom was lost, for there was nothing more difficult on earth than to snatch from the Knights of the Cross money once seized by them. In view of this it was necessary to go with ransom a second time.

“Woe!“ cried Zbyshko. “Now my poor uncle is waiting there and thinking that I have forgotten him. I must go with all speed to my uncle.“

Then he turned to De Lorche,—

“Dost know how it has come out? Dost know that he is in the hands of the Knights of the Order?“

“I know, for I saw him in Malborg, and that is why I have come hither.“

Father Kaleb fell now to complaining,—

“We have acted badly, but no one had a head. I expected more wisdom from Tolima. Why did he not go to Plotsk, instead of rushing in without a letter among those robbers?“

At this De Lorche shrugged his shoulders,—

“What are letters to them? Or are the wrongs few which the Prince of Plotsk, as well as your prince, has suffered? On the boundary attacks and battles never cease, for your men, too, are unforgiving. Every comtur then, what! every voit, does as he pleases, and in robbery one merely outstrips another.“

“All the more should Tolima have gone to Plotsk.“

“He wanted to do so, but they seized him near the boundary on this side in the night-time. They would have killed him if he had not said that he was taking money to Lubav for the comtur. In this way he saved himself, but now the comtur will produce witnesses to show that Tolima made that declaration.“

“But Uncle Matsko, is he well? Are they threatening his life there?“ inquired Zbyshko.

“He is well,“ answered De Lorche. “Hatred against 'King' Vitold, and against those who helped the Jmud men, is great, and surely they would have slain the old knight were it not that they do not wish to lose the ransom. The brothers von Baden defended him for the same cause, and finally the Chapter are concerned about my head; were they to sacrifice that, they would rouse the knighthood of Guelders, Burgundy, and Flanders. Ye know that I am kin to the Count of Guelders.“

“But why are they concerned about thy head?“ interrupted Zbyshko, in wonder.

“Because I was captured by thee. I said the following in Malborg: If ye take the life of the old knight of Bogdanets, his nephew will take my head.“

“I will not take it! so help me God!“

“I know that thou wilt not, but they are afraid that thou wilt, and Matsko will be safe therefore. They answered me that thou wert in captivity also, for the Von Baden s let thee go on thy word of a knight, therefore that I had no need to go to thee. But I answered, that thou wert free when I was captured.—And I have come to thee! While I am in thy hands, they will do nothing to thee or Matsko. Do thou pay the Von Badens thy ransom, and for me demand twice or thrice as much. They must pay. I do not say this because I think that I am of more value than thou art, but to punish their greed, which is despicable. Once I had quite a different opinion, but now they and life among them have disgusted me completely. I will go to the Holy Land to seek adventures there, for I will not serve among the Knights of the Cross any longer.“

“Oh, stay with us, lord,“ said Father Kaleb. “And I think that thou wilt, for it does not seem to me that they will ransom thee.“

“If they will not pay, I will pay myself. I am here with a considerable escort. I have laden wagons, and that which is in them will suffice.“

Father Kaleb repeated these words to Zbyshko. Matsko surely would not have been indifferent to them; but Zbyshko was a young man and thought little of property.

“On my honor,“ said he, “it will not be as thou sayst. Thou hast been to me both friend and brother; for thee I will take no ransom.“

Then they embraced each other, feeling that a new bond had been secured between them. De Lorche smiled, and said,—

“Let it be so. Only let not the Germans know of this, for they will tremble about Matsko. And they must pay, for they will fear that if they do not I shall declare at Western courts and among the knighthood that they are glad to see foreign guests, and as it were invite them and are pleased at their arrival; but when a guest falls into captivity they forget him. And the Order needs men greatly at this moment, for Vitold is to them a terror, and still more are the Poles and King Yagello.“

“Then let it be in this way,“ said Zbyshko. “Thou wilt stay here or wherever thou wishest in Mazovia, and I will go to Malborg for my uncle, and will feign tremendous animosity against thee.“

“Do so, by Saint George!“ answered De Lorche. “But first listen to what I tell thee. In Malborg they say that the King of Poland is to visit Plotsk and meet the Grand Master there or in some place upon the boundary. Knights of the Order desire this meeting greatly, for they wish to note whether the king will help Vitold, should he declare war against them openly for the Jmud land.

“Ah! they are as cunning as serpents, but in Vitold they have found their master. The Order is afraid of him, for never does it know what he is planning, or what he may work out. 'He gave Jmud to us,' say they in the Chapter, 'but by this land he holds a sword above our heads, as it were, continually. Let him utter one word,' say they, 'and rebellion is ready.' In fact, that is the case. I must go to Vitold's court when I can. Maybe it will happen me to fight in the lists there, and besides, I have heard that women of that region are of angelic beauty sometimes.“

“Thou hast spoken of the coming of the Polish king to Plotsk?“ said Father Kaleb.

“I have. Let Zbyshko attach himself to the royal escort. The Grand Master wishes to win Yagello and will refuse him nothing. Ye know that when the need comes no men can be more humble than the Knights of the Cross are. Let Zbyshko be of the king's retinue, and let him claim his own; let him complain as loudly as is possible against the evil doings of the Order. The Germans will listen differently in presence of the king, and in presence of Cracow knights, who are famous everywhere, and whose decisions are widely current in the world of knighthood.“

“Excellent advice! by the Cross of the Lord, it is excellent!“ exclaimed Father Kaleb.

“It is!“ confirmed De Lorche. “And opportunity will not be lacking. I heard in Malborg that there will be feasts and tournaments, for foreign knights will surely wish to meet the knights of Poland. As God is true! Juan of Aragon is coming; he is the greatest knight of all in Christendom. Do ye not know that from Aragon he sent his gauntlet to your Zavisha, so that it should not be said in foreign courts that there is on earth another man who is his equal?“

The arrival of De Lorche, the sight of him, and conversation with the man so roused Zbyshko from that painful torpor in which he had been buried, that he listened to the news with curiosity. Of Juan of Aragon he knew, for it was the duty of every knight in that age to know and recollect the names of all who were most renowned as champions; the fame of the nobles of Aragon, especially of Juan, had passed through every Christian land. No knight had ever equalled him inside barriers; the Moors fled at the very sight of his armor; and the opinion was universal that he was the greatest knight in Christendom.

At this news, therefore, the warlike, knightly soul of Zbyshko responded, and he asked very eagerly,—

“Did he challenge Zavisha Charny?“

“It is about a year since the gauntlet came and Zavisha sent his own to Aragon.“

“Then will Juan come surely?“

“It is not known whether he will come, but there are reports that he will. The Knights of the Order have sent him an invitation long ago.“

“God grant us to see such things.“

“God grant!“ said De Lorche. “And though Zavisha should be killed, as may happen easily, it is great glory for him that such a man as Juan of Aragon challenged him; nay, honor for thy whole people.“

“We shall see!“ answered Zbyshko. “I only say, 'God grant us to see such things.'“

“And I add my voice.“

But their wish was not to be accomplished then; for the old chroniclers relate that the duel of Zavisha with the renowned Juan of Aragon took place only some years later in Perpignan, where in presence of the Emperor Sigismund, Pope Benedict XIII., the King of Aragon, and many princes and cardinals, Zavisha Charny of Garbov hurled down from his horse with the first touch of his lance his opponent, and won a famous victory. Meanwhile both Zbyshko and De Lorche comforted their hearts, for they thought that even if Juan of Aragon could not appear at that time, they would see famous deeds of knighthood, for champions were not lacking in Poland who were little inferior to Zavisha, and among the guests of the Order it was possible at all times to find the foremost men in wielding weapons from France, England, Burgundy, and Italy,—men ready to struggle for the mastery with every comer.

“Hear me,“ said Zbyshko to Pan de Lorche. “It is irksome to me without my Uncle Matsko, I am in a hurry now to ransom him, so I will start for Plotsk to-morrow. But why shouldst thou stay here? If thou art my captive, come with me, and thou wilt see Yagello and the Polish court.“

“I desired to ask this of thee,“ said De Lorche, “for I have long wished to see the Polish knights, and besides I have heard that the ladies of the royal court are more like angels than dwellers in this earthly vale.“

“A little while ago thou didst say something like this of Vitold's court,“ remarked Zbyshko.

CHAPTER III.

Zbyshko had said to himself in spirit reproachfully that while suffering he had forgotten his uncle. And since he was accustomed in every case to accomplish quickly whatever he had planned, he set out with De Lorche for Plotsk the next morning. Roads at the boundary even in time of greatest peace were full of peril because numerous ruffian bands were upheld there by the Knights of the Order, and attended by their fostering care. With this King Yagello reproached them keenly. In spite of complaints which were supported in Rome even, in spite of threats and stern measures of justice, the neighboring comturs often permitted their hirelings to join robber bands, disowning, it is true, those who had the ill fate to fall into Polish hands, but giving refuge to those who returned with booty and prisoners, not only in villages of the Order, but also in castles.

Into robber hands of just this kind did travellers fall frequently and also inhabitants near the border, and especially were children of wealthy parents snatched away for the sake of ransom. But the two young knights, having considerable retinues, composed each, besides wagoners, of a number of armed footmen and mounted attendants, did not fear attack, and reached Plotsk without adventure; there a pleasant surprise met them immediately on their arrival.

At the inn they found Tolima, who had come a day earlier. It had happened in this way: the starosta of the Order at Lubav, hearing that Tolima, when attacked near Brodnitsa, had succeeded in hiding a portion of the ransom, sent him back to that castle with an order to the comtur to force him to show where the money was hidden. Tolima made use of that circumstance and fled. When the knights wondered that he had succeeded so easily, he explained the affair to them as follows: “It was all through their greed. The comtur at Brodnitsa would not send a more numerous guard with me, for he did not wish to make a noise about the money. Perhaps he had agreed with the man of Lubav to divide, and they thought if there was noise they would have to send a large part to Malborg, or give those Von Badens all thou didst remit to them. So he sent only two guards to take me,—one a confidential man at arms, who had to row with me on the Drventsa, and some kind of scribe. Since they wished no one to see us, they sent us at nightfall, and ye know that the boundary is near by there. They gave me an oar of oak—well—and God's favor, for here I am in Plotsk.“

“I know, but did not the others return?“ called out Zbyshko.

A savage smile lighted Tolima's face.

“The Drventsa flows always into the Vistula,“ said he. “How could they return against the current? The Knights of the Cross will find them perhaps in Torun.“

After a while he added, turning to Zbyshko,—

“The comtur of Lubav took from me a part of the money, but that which I hid when attacked I recovered, and have given it, lord, to thy attendant for keeping; he lives in the castle with the prince, and it is safer in his hands than with me in the inn here.“