The Deluge. Vol. 2

Confusion began, and – a thing without example hitherto – panic, which the officers put down with the greatest effort. The king, who remained on horseback till daylight, saw what was taking place; he understood what might come of that, and called a council of war at once in the morning.

That gloomy council did not last long, for there were not two roads to choose from. Courage had fallen in the army, the soldiers had nothing to eat, the enemy had grown in power.

The Swedish Alexander, who had promised the whole world to pursue the Polish Darius even to the steppes of the Tartars, was forced to think no longer of pursuit, but of his own safety.

"We can return by the San to Sandomir, thence by the Vistula to Warsaw and to Prussia," said Wittemberg; "in that way we shall escape destruction."

Douglas seized his own head: "So many victories, so many toils, such a great country conquered, and we must return."

To which Wittemberg said: "Has your worthiness any advice?"

"I have not," answered Douglas.

The king, who had said nothing hitherto, rose, as a sign that the session was ended, and said,

"I command the retreat!"

Not a word further was heard from his mouth that day.

Drums began to rattle, and trumpets to sound. News that the retreat was ordered ran in a moment from one end of the camp to the other. It was received with shouts of delight. Fortresses and castles were still in the hands of the Swedes; and in them rest, food, and safety were waiting.

The generals and soldiers betook themselves so zealously to preparing for retreat that that zeal, as Douglas remarked, bordered on disgrace.

The king sent Douglas with the vanguard to repair the difficult crossings and clear the forests. Soon after him moved the whole army in order of battle; the front was covered by artillery, the rear by wagons, at the flanks marched infantry. Military supplies and tents sailed down the river on boats.

All these precautions were not superfluous; barely had the march begun, when the rearguard of the Swedes saw Polish cavalry behind, and thenceforth they lost it almost never from sight. Charnyetski assembled his own squadrons, collected all the "parties" of that region, sent to Yan Kazimir for reinforcements, and pursued. The first stopping-place, Pjevorsk, was at the same time the first place of alarm. The Polish divisions pushed up so closely that several thousand infantry with artillery had to turn against them. For a time the king himself thought that Charnyetski was really attacking; but according to his wont he only sent detachment after detachment. These attacked with an uproar and retreated immediately. All the night passed in these encounters, – a troublesome and sleepless night for the Swedes.

The whole march, all the following nights and days were to be like this one.

Meanwhile Yan Kazimir sent two squadrons of very well trained cavalry, and with them a letter stating that the hetmans would soon march with cavalry, and that he himself with the rest of the infantry and with the horde would hasten after them. In fact, he was detained only by negotiations with the Khan, with Rakotsy, and with the court of Vienna. Charnyetski was rejoiced beyond measure by this news; and when the day after the Swedes advanced in the wedge between the Vistula and the San, he said to Colonel Polyanovski, —

"The net is spread, the fish are going in."

"And we will do like that fisherman," said Zagloba, "who played on the flute to the fish so that they might dance, and when they would not, he pulled them on shore; then they began to jump around, and he fell to striking them with a stick, crying: 'Oh, such daughters! you ought to have danced when I begged you to do so.'"

"They will dance," answered Charnyetski; "only let the marshal, Pan Lyubomirski, come with his army, which numbers five thousand."

"He may come any time," remarked Volodyovski.

"Some nobles from the foot-hills arrived to-day," said Zagloba; "they say that he is marching in haste; but whether he will join us instead of fighting on his own account is another thing."

"How is that?" asked Charnyetski, glancing quickly at Zagloba.

"He is a man of uncommon ambition and envious of glory. I have known him many years; I was his confidant and made his acquaintance when he was still a lad, at the court of Pan Krakovski. He was learning fencing at that time from Frenchmen and Italians. He fell into terrible anger one day when I told him that they were fools, not one of whom could stand before me. We had a duel, and I laid out seven of them one following the other. After that Lyubomirski learned from me, not only fencing, but the military art. By nature his wit is a little dull; but whatever he knows he knows from me."

"Are you then such a master of the sword?" asked Polyanovski.

"As a specimen of my teaching, take Pan Volodyovski; he is my second pupil. From that man I have real comfort."

"True, it was you who killed Sweno."

"Sweno? If some one of you, gentlemen, had done that deed, he would have had something to talk about all his life, and besides would invite his neighbors often to dinner to repeat the story at wine; but I do not mind it, for if I wished to take in all I have done, I could pave the road from this place to Sandomir with such Swenos. Could I not? Tell me, any of you who know me."

"Uncle could do it," said Roh Kovalski.

Charnyetski did not hear the continuation of this dialogue, for he had fallen to thinking deeply over Zagloba's words. He too knew of Lyubomirski's ambition, and doubted not that the marshal would either impose his own will on him, or would act on his own account, even though that should bring harm to the Commonwealth. Therefore his stern face became gloomy, and he began to twist his beard.

"Oho!" whispered Zagloba to Pan Yan, "Charnyetski is chewing something bitter, for his face is like the face of an eagle; he will snap up somebody soon."

Then Charnyetski said: "Some one of you, gentlemen, should go with a letter from me to Lyubomirski."

"I am known to him, and I will go," said Pan Yan.

"That is well," answered Charnyetski; "the more noted the messenger, the better."

Zagloba turned to Volodyovski and whispered: "He is speaking now through the nose; that is a sign of great change."

In fact, Charnyetski had a silver palate, for a musket-ball had carried away his own years before at Busha. Therefore whenever he was roused, angry, and unquiet, he always began to speak with a sharp and clinking voice. Suddenly he turned to Zagloba: "And perhaps you would go with Pan Skshetuski?"

"Willingly," answered Zagloba. "If I cannot do anything, no man can. Besides, to a man of such great birth it will be more proper to send two."

Charnyetski compressed his lips, twisted his beard, and repeated as if to himself: "Great birth, great birth – "

"No one can deprive Lyubomirski of that," remarked Zagloba.

Charnyetski frowned.

"The Commonwealth alone is great, and in comparison with it no family is great, all of them are small; and I would the earth swallowed those who make mention of their greatness."

All were silent, for he had spoken with much vehemence; and only after some time did Zagloba say, —

"In comparison with the whole Commonwealth, certainly."

"I did not grow up out of salt, nor out of the soil, but out of that which pains me," said Charnyetski; "and the Cossacks who shot this lip through pained me, and now the Swedes pain me; and either I shall cut away this sore with the sabre, or die of it myself, so help me God!"

"And we will help you with our blood!" said Polyanovski.

Charnyetski ruminated some time yet over the bitterness which rose in his heart, over the thought that the marshal's ambition might hinder him in saving the country; at last he grew calm and said, —

"Now it is necessary to write a letter. I ask you, gentlemen, to come with me."

Pan Yan and Zagloba followed him, and half an hour later they were on horseback and riding back toward Radymno; for there was news that the marshal had halted there with his army.

"Yan," said Zagloba, feeling of the bag in which he carried Charnyetski's letter, "do me a favor; let me be the only one to talk to the marshal."

"But, father, have you really known him, and taught him fencing?"

"Hei! that came out of itself, so that the breath should not grow hot in my mouth, and my tongue become soft, which might easily happen from too long silence. I neither knew him nor taught him. Just as if I had nothing better to do than be a bear-keeper, and teach the marshal how to walk on hind legs! But that is all one; I have learned him through and through from what people tell of him, and I shall be able to bend him as a cook bends pastry. Only one thing I beg of you: do not say that we have a letter from Charnyetski, and make no mention of it till I give the letter myself."