On the Field of Glory Part 49

But not being quick-witted, they missed the point of the answer.

"Who would not like?" inquired they. "Who?"

Pan Serafin shrugged his shoulders.

"The prince bishop of Cracow, the German emperor, and the king of France," answered he.

He gave the sign then, and all started.

They pa.s.sed Belchantska, and advanced again among tilled fields, fallow land, meadows, and broad wind-swept s.p.a.ces which were bordered on the horizon by a blue rim of forest. At Yedlina they stopped for a second rest, during which the brewers, the citizens, and the peasants took farewell of Father Voynovski--and before evening they stopped for their first night rest at Radom.

Martsian had not given the least sign of life. They learned that he had pa.s.sed the day previous in Radom, and had drunk with his company, but had gone home for the night; hence the priest and Pan Serafin breathed with more freedom, judging that no danger threatened them now on the journey.

The prelate Tvorkovski furnished letters to Father Hatski, to Gninski, the vice-chancellor who, as they knew, was enrolling a whole regiment for the coming war at his own cost, and one also to Pan Matchynski. He was rejoiced to see Panna Anulka and Father Voynovski, for whom he felt a great friends.h.i.+p, and Pan Serafin, in whom he prized a skilled Latinist, who understood every quotation and maxim. He, too, had heard of Martsian's threats, but had lent no great weight to them, judging that if an attack had been planned it would have been made in the wilds of Kozenitse, more favorable for that kind of deed than the forests between Radom and Kieltse.

"Martsian will not attack you," said he to Pan Serafin, "and his father will not bring an action, for he would meet me; he knows that I have other weapons against him besides the church censure."

The prelate entertained them all day, and let them start only toward evening. Since danger seemed set aside most decidedly, Pan Serafin agreed to night travel, all the more since great heat was beginning.

The first five miles, however, they pa.s.sed during daylight. On the river Oronka, which here and there formed mora.s.ses, began again, in those days, extensive pine forests, which surrounded Oronsk, Sucha, Krogulha, and extended as far as Shydlovets, and beyond, toward Mrochkov and Bzin, down to Kieltse. They moved slowly, for in some places the old road lay among sandy hillocks and holes, while in others it sank very notably and became a muddy, stick-covered ridgeway. This ridge lay in a quagmire through which a man could pa.s.s neither with wagon nor horse, nor go on foot at any season, unless during very dry summers. These places enjoyed no good repute, but for this Pan Serafin and his party cared little; they were confident of their strength, and glad to move in cool air when heat did not trouble men, or flies annoy horses.

A clear and pleasant night came down quickly, with a full moon which appeared above the pine woods, enormous and ruddy, decreasing and growing pale as it rose, till in time it was white, and sailed like a silver swan through the dark blue of the night sky. The wind ceased, and the motionless pine wood was buried in a stillness broken only by the voices of gnats flying in from broad pools, and by the playing of landrails in the gra.s.s of the neighboring meadows.

Father Voynovski intoned: "Hail, O Wise Lady! and Mansions dear to G.o.d," to which the four ba.s.s voices of the Bukoyemskis and Pan Serafin answered immediately: "Adorned by the golden table and seven columns."

Panna Anulka joined the chorus, after her the attendants, and soon that pious hymn was resounding through the forest. But when they had finished all the "Hours," and repeated all the "Hail, Marys!" silence set in again. The priest, the brothers, and Pan Serafin conversed for some time yet in lowered voices; then they began to doze, and at last fell asleep soundly.

They did not hear either the "Vio! Vio!" of the drivers, or the snorting of horses, or the explosive sound made when hoofs were drawn out of mud on that long ridge way which lay in the sticky and reed-covered quagmire. The party came to the ridge somewhat before midnight. The shouts of attendants, who were advancing in front, first roused the sleepers.

"Stop! stop!"

All opened their eyes. The Bukoyemskis straightened in their saddles and sprang ahead promptly.

"But what is the matter?"

"The road is barred. There is a ditch across it, and beyond the ditch a breastwork."

The sabres of the brothers came biting from their scabbards and gleamed in the moonlight.

"To arms! an ambuscade!"

Pan Serafin found himself at the obstruction in one moment, and understood that there was no chance of being mistaken: a broad ditch had been dug across the ridgeway. Beyond the ditch lay whole pine trees which, with their branches sticking up, formed a great breastwork. The men who stopped the road in that fas.h.i.+on had evidently intended to let the party in on the ridge, from which there was no escape on either side, and attack in the rear then.

"To your guns! to muskets!" thundered Father Voynovski. "They are coming!"

In fact about a hundred yards in the rear certain dark, square forms, strange, quite unlike men, appeared on the ridge, and ran toward the wagons very quickly.

"Fire!" commanded the priest.

A report was heard, and brilliant flashes rent the night gloom. Only one form rolled to the earth, but the other men ran the more swiftly toward the wagons, and after them denser groups made their appearance.

Instructed by whole years of war, the priest divined straightway that those men were carrying bundles before them, straw, reeds, or willows, and that was why the first discharge had effected so little.

"Fire! In order! four at a time!--and at their knees!" cried he.

Two attendants held guns charged with slugs. These men took their places with others, and spat at the knees of the attackers. A cry of pain was heard promptly, and this time the whole front rank of bundles tumbled down to the mud on the ridgeway, but the next rank of men sprang over those who were prostrate, and came still nearer the wagons.

"Fire!" was commanded a third time.

Again came a salvo, with more effect this time, for the onrush was stopped, and disorder appeared among the attackers.

The priest acquired courage, for he knew that the attackers had outwitted themselves in the choice of position. It is true that not a living soul would escape in case they should triumph, and the bandits had this in view specially; but, not having men to hem in the party on all sides, they were forced to attack only over the ridgeway, hence in a thin body, which again lightened defence beyond common, so that five or six valiant warriors might ward off attack until daylight.

The attackers, too, began to use muskets, but caused no great damage, clearly because of poor weapons. Their first fire struck only a horse and one attendant. The Bukoyemskis begged to charge the enemy, guaranteeing to sweep right and left into the quagmire any men whom they might not crush in the mud of the roadway. But the priest, who kept their strength for the last, would not send them; he commanded the brothers, however, as excellent marksmen, to roast the attackers from a distance, and Pan Serafin commanded to watch the ditch sharply, and the breastwork.

"If they attack us from that side," said he, "they may do something, but they will not get us cheaply."

Then he hastened for a moment to the carriage where the ladies were praying without great fear, though audibly.

"Oh, this is nothing!" said he. "Have no fear!"

"I have no fear," answered Panna Anulka. "But I should like to be on horseback."

Shots drowned further words. The attackers, confused for a moment, pressed along the ridge now, with wonderful and simply blind daring, since it was clear that they would not effect much on that side.

"Hm!" thought the priest. "Were it not for the women, we might charge them."

And he had begun to think of sending the four brothers with four other good warriors, when he looked at both flanks and trembled.

On the two sides of that quagmire appeared crowds of men, who, springing from hillock to hillock, or along sheaves of reeds, which had been fixed in soft places on purpose, were running toward the wagons.

The priest turned to them, in the shortest time possible, two ranks of attendants, but he understood in a flash the extent of his peril. His party was surrounded on three sides. The attendants were, it is true, chosen men, who had been more than once in sharp struggles, but they were insufficient in number, especially as some had to guard extra horses. Hence it was evident that after the first fire, inadequate because of so many attackers, there would be a hand-to-hand struggle before guns could be loaded a second time, and the side which proved weaker would be forced to go down in that trial.

Only one plan remained, to retreat by the ridgeway, that is, leave the wagons, command the Bukoyemskis to sweep all before them, and push on behind the four brothers, keeping the women among the horses in the centre. So when they had fired at both sides again, the priest ordered the women to mount, and arranged all for the onrush. In the first rank were the four brothers, behind them six attendants, then Panna Anulka and Pani Dzvonkovski, at the side the priest and Pan Serafin, behind them eight attendants, four in a rank. After the charge and retreat from the ridgeway he intended to reach the first village, collect all the peasants, return then and rescue the wagons.

Still he stopped for a moment, and only when the attackers were little more than twenty yards distant, and when on a sudden wild sounds were heard beyond the breastwork, did he shout the order,--

"Strike!"

"Strike!" roared the Bukoyemskis, and they moved like a hurricane which destroys all things before it. When they had ridden to the enemy the horses rose on their haunches and plunged into the dense crowd of robbers, trampling some, pus.h.i.+ng others to the quagmire, overthrowing whole lines of people. The brothers cut with sabres unsparingly, and without stopping. There was great shouting, and splas.h.i.+ng of bodies as men fell into the water near the ridgeway, but the four dreadful hors.e.m.e.n pushed forward; their arms moving like those of a windmill to which a gale gives dreadful impetus. Some attackers sprang willingly into the water to save themselves; others put forks and bill-hooks against the onrus.h.i.+ng brothers. Clubs and spears were raised also; but again the horses reared, and, breaking everything before them, swept on like a whirlwind in a young forest.

Had not the road been so narrow, and those who were slashed had all escape barred to them, and those behind not pushed on those in front, the Bukoyemskis would have pa.s.sed the whole ridgeway. But since more than one of the bandits preferred battle to drowning, resistance continued, and, besides, it became still more stubborn. The hearts of the robbers were raging. They began to fight then not merely for plunder, or seizing some person, but from venom. At moments when shouts ceased, the gritting of teeth became audible and curses rose loudly.

The rush of the Bukoyemskis was arrested. It came to their minds at that moment that they would have to die, perhaps. And when, on a sudden, they heard still farther out there the tramping of horses, and loud shouts were raised in all parts of the thicket surrounding the quagmire, they felt sure that the moment of death was approaching.

Hence they smashed terribly; they would not sell their lives cheaply in any case.

But now something marvellous happened. Many voices were heard all at once shouting: "Strike!" Sabres gleamed in the moonlight. Certain hors.e.m.e.n fell to cutting and hewing in the rear of the robbers, who, because of this sudden attack, were seized in one instant with terror.

Escape in the rear was now closed to them; nothing remained but escape at either side of the roadway. Only some, therefore, offered a desperate resistance. The more numerous sprang like ducks to the turfy quagmire on both sides. The quagmire broke under them; then grasping gra.s.s, clumps, and reeds, they clung to hillocks, or lay on their bellies not to sink the first moment.

Only a small company, armed with scythes fixed to poles, defended themselves for some time yet with madness. Because of this many hors.e.m.e.n were wounded. But at last even this handful, seeing that for them there was no rescue whatever, threw down their weapons, fell on their knees, and begged mercy. They were taken alive to be witnesses.

Meanwhile hors.e.m.e.n from both sides stood facing one another, and raised their voices.