For the Right Part 39

This arranged, the a.s.sembly fell into a procession, and with bared heads proceeded to the field of strife, amid the ringing of bells and the solemn strains of the _Te Deum_. The "free judge" and his elders led the march, and with their own hands, while the singing continued, they pulled the black cross from its present place, replanting it where it had stood formerly, at three feet distance from the river. This done, the four white-haired men fell on their knees, and, spreading forth their arms, thrice kissed the recovered soil, all the people doing likewise, amid sobs and tears.

After which Simeon stepped forth, saying: "I require every one here to witness, as I also ask Him above, that we have only taken back that which belongs to us by right, and which was taken from us by a wicked fraud.... We pray Thee, Thou Ruler above, to prevent such fraud in the future, and we will fight to the death rather than permit it again.

This is our solemn oath!"

"Our solemn oath!" repeated the men in chorus, lifting their right hands. And with faces beaming with satisfaction the people returned to the village.

Nor was their confidence at all lowered for some little time. The word of the free judge seemed being fulfilled, peace and diligence continuing here, while bloodshed and misery spread over the land.

Neither was the village interfered with for changing its const.i.tution, the authorities and the troops having more than enough on their hands already. No illusion had prevailed at that war council at Colomea concerning the difficulty of dealing with the bandits; but the utter failure of all operations. .h.i.therto exceeded even the worst antic.i.p.ations. In fact, the chance had never yet offered for having even a brush with the enemy; and although the flying columns continued to scour the land, never a hajdamak did they set eyes upon. They somehow always arrived just too late, or they sought for them on the banks of the Dniester while they did their work by the Pruth; or strove to protect the east of the province, where the avenger had just been heard of, while Taras quietly, but surely, carried out his judgments in the west. It seemed altogether useless that the number of soldiers out against him was doubled, and even trebled, by the arrival of further troops; and nothing seemed to come of spending large sums of money upon private spies, when the mandatars and others grew shy of giving their information, lest they should suffer for it sooner or later. Taras, with all the machinery of Government against him, continued his awful work, utterly undisturbed, all through May and June; nor did the presence of soldiers throughout the troubled districts hinder him in the least from extending his raids far and wide, and making his power felt in every direction. And, in spite of the almost appalling penetration he showed in singling out his victims, never mistaking the innocent for the guilty--in spite of his repeated injunctions to the peasantry to forbear from acts of violence themselves, and to render every just tribute conscientiously--the terror at the jurisdiction he had established, as it were, in the face of the law, and which one would scarcely have conceived possible within the boundaries of a powerful, well-ordered State, grew and spread till nothing short of a panic filled the length and breadth of the land. The authorities had to listen to the wildest reproaches of the excited people, although they strained every nerve in the execution of their duty. But with all their honest efforts they could not even suggest an explanation of the means by which this strange bandit was holding his ground against them. With their erroneous notions concerning his numbers, their absolute ignorance of his hiding-places--of which the bog-island near Nazurna was the most important--and not in the least aware to what extent the peasantry aided and abetted him as his willing informers, the speed and temerity of his movements could not but be a mystery. He seemed everywhere and nowhere, and did his work with impunity. By the middle of July four thousand soldiers were out against him, and yet it appeared hopeless to look for an ending of this reign of terror.

Now the men of Zulawce watched this state of affairs rather with satisfaction than otherwise. For the more useless military intervention appeared, the greater was their confidence in being able to maintain their self-const.i.tuted liberty unmolested. But all of a sudden the day dawned that should teach them it was not so easy to break away from the leading-strings of sovereignty.

It was a dull, grey morning in July; rain was pouring in endless streams. The sodden roads were deserted, and so were the fields. The two fellows whom Wa.s.silj, the butcher, had placed by the toll-booth near the river, did stay at their post, it is true, for the place was dry and comfortable enough, but instead of keeping a careful look-out, they had retired to their pallets and were snoring blissfully. These somnolent youths started suddenly, rubbing their eyes, for heavy footfalls on the wooden bridge had broken on their slumbers; they stared, wondering if they could be dreaming; but no, it was flat reality--they even recognised the face of the officer who was leading hither his men, Captain Stanczuk. They rushed from the booth, fired off their muskets by way of giving the alarm, and, racing towards the village, they kept shouting at the top of their voices. The soldiers had to slacken their pace on account of the fearful state of the roads, so that the youths reached the village a good while before them.

And when Captain Stanczuk brought up his men in sight of the inn, he found the road barricaded by some overturned waggons, while bundles of f.a.ggots were being heaped up hastily, and some fifty men stood with muskets levelled, ready to defend the place. Now Stanczuk had special orders to avoid bloodshed, if possible; but his kindly prudence hardly required such instruction. He stopped the advance of his men within a hundred yards of the villagers, and, riding on by himself fearlessly, requested to parley with the judge.

"My father is not here yet," replied Hritzko. "But there will be no parleying, save by means of bullets."

"Well," replied the captain, quietly, "if you set so little store by your lives, I cannot help it. But not being such a foolhardy idiot myself I think I will just wait for your father's pleasure." And turning his horse, he rode back to his men.

He had to wait a considerable while, but not in vain. The number of men holding the barricade had, indeed, increased till almost every man of the village was present, and nearly all were in a belligerent mood; but behind them their wives were lamenting, preparing the way for the pope's and the judge's influence. It would be no more than good sense, these urged, to hear first what the officer might have to say; and after some altercation it was agreed that Simeon, with his son and the three elders, should accompany Father Leo to the soldiers.

The captain rode forth to meet them. "Good day to your reverence, and good day to you all!" he said, smiling pleasantly. "I have been waiting patiently for an explanation of this nonsense! Don't you think you are rather foolish, considering the times?"

The half-bantering tone of his address somewhat disconcerted them, but after a pause the judge returned: "Then what are you here for, captain?

If you have any idea of calling us to order after your fas.h.i.+on, we'll just defend ourselves. And as for the field we have taken back----"

"Your fields are no business of mine," said the officer, as blandly as before, "and you may continue King of Zulawce yet awhile, my good friend. My present orders concern no one but a.n.u.sia Barabola and her children. I have to arrest them, and take them to Colomea."

"That shall never be!" cried Hritzko furiously, and even Father Leo flushed crimson with indignation.

"It would be nothing short of a dastardly wrong, captain!" he exclaimed. "I pledge my life that the poor woman has no share whatever in her husband's doings."

The honest officer winced. "Your reverence is aware," he said, lowering his voice, "that the soldier's duty is to obey his orders, and not to question them."

"And the poor children, are they to be held accountable for their father?"

"I have to obey my instructions," repeated Stanczuk; "and if your reverence will use your influence and prevent any interference with my duty, you will but act in accordance with the sacred office you bear."

The pope was silent; but even if he had shared the officer's views and fallen in with his suggestion as to his influence, he would have had little chance of exercising it. For the peasants had decided for themselves, old Simeon stepping forth, saying as he crossed himself: "Sir captain, while there is a man alive here to defend her, you shall not lay hands on this unhappy woman and her children. We are fully aware that we endanger our own wives and children in opposing you, but we cannot help it. Why, we should deserve to be struck dead on the spot if we suffered such wickedness against the widow and her orphans.

There, you may do your duty--we shall do ours!"

He turned to go, but the captain touched his arm, almost pleadingly.

"Have you really considered," he cried, "what misery your refusal may bring on this village? There is bloodshed enough in these days; do not add to it, I pray you. Go and consult the people--I will wait."

But Simeon shook his head and turned away without another word, followed by the rest of them, Father Leo included. When they had reached the barricade and informed the people of the demand made upon them, there was but one voice of indignant refusal. a.n.u.sia's servant, Halko, rushed off towards the farm, but all the rest of the men stood like a wall, crying: "You have spoken well, judge, we will never permit it!" And the women ceased wailing, but Father Leo, with speechless agony, folded his hands, looking on.

Hritzko took the command, and the peasants, besides holding several of the cottages near, stationed themselves all about the raised ground on which the church stood, where they found ample cover. They knelt with muskets levelled, prepared to fire.

"Let them approach within thirty paces," cried Hritzko, "and, at a sign from my whistle, receive them with a volley. Be ready!"

The captain waited for twenty minutes, and then, sorely against his will, drew his sword, and heading his men, gave the word to advance.

The drums beat, the men started at the double, with bayonets fixed.

The peasants, in accordance with the orders received, allowed them to approach without firing. The soldiers had reached Wilko's cottage, when Hritzko lifted the whistle to his mouth. But before he could give the sign, a hand was laid on his arm, pressing it down with a good deal of force. "You shall not fire!" a loud voice was heard to say peremptorily; "I will not have it!"

The young man started amazed. Before him, tall and commanding, stood the wife of Taras, with little Tereska on her arm; an old woman-servant followed with the little boys, sobbing piteously. The children, too, were crying. But a.n.u.sia, though pale, was calm as death; she stood erect, and her face bore that expression of stony composure which, ever since that terrible Palm Sunday, appeared to have taken the place of her naturally pa.s.sionate disposition. "I will not have a shot fired,"

she said; "I shall go with the soldiers."

"a.n.u.sia!" exclaimed Simeon, "will you deliver up yourself and your poor children to certain death?"

"We are all in G.o.d's hand," she said. "For my sake no wife shall be made a widow, no child fatherless." ... And, turning to the servant, she added, "Come!"

But Captain Stanczuk had understood the strange scene, and ordered his men to halt. The peasants, too, were standing motionless with surprise.

a.n.u.sia deliberately went up to the officer. "Here I am," she said, "and here are my children."

But the gallant soldier, on looking into the tearless, grief-bound face of that poor peasant woman, was filled with a sensation of awe the like of which he had never known before. He felt as though he must bend the knee as to a queen or empress. "Come," he said, reverently, "we brought a carriage for you."

She nodded, and forthwith would have moved towards the vehicle, which followed in the rear; but the villagers had recovered themselves, and were pressing round her. The officer nowise interfered, for he could see in their faces that they intended no further enmity. They surrounded her, deeply moved, some even sobbing when she lifted her children into the carriage as it drew up, and others kissed her garment, crying, "Farewell, a.n.u.sia! we shall never forget it!" Father Leo breaking out pa.s.sionately, "You are a brave woman; no saint ever did a greater thing for her people--it shall not be forgotten, indeed.... And your farm shall be cared for, we shall be proud to do it!"

"Thank you," she said, gently, and could no longer forbid her tears, the big drops running down her face: but soon the rigid calm returned.

"I am quite ready," she said to the officer.

The drums beat, and the procession started, down to the river and across the bridge, towards the distant town.

At dusk the following day they arrived at Colomea, and that same evening a.n.u.sia was ushered into the presence of the governor.

That honest, stout-hearted gentleman had looked forward to this hour as to the bitterest trial of his life, and had indeed resisted it as long as he could; but his remonstrances with the governor of the province had been fruitless, though seconded by every magistrate of the district; and even their united request to be dismissed rather than forced to obey in this matter availed not. The Lemberg authorities had returned word that no doubt the question of their dismissal might be considered in due time, but for the present they must keep to their posts, obeying their superiors. And thus the high-minded old governor had been obliged with his own hand to draw up the order for an arrest, which in his eyes was the worst act of violence yet committed; but having done this, he insisted on conducting the inquiry himself, lest the wrong he could not help should be carried out harshly. Mr.

Wenceslas Hajek by this time had recovered his sprits sufficiently to quit his voluntary retreat in the city gaol for his own chambers, and the apartment he had occupied--not really a cell, but a private room of the chief warder's--had been made ready for a.n.u.sia, the governor himself superintending the arrangements and giving various directions for her comfort. This done, he returned to his office, awaiting her coming with a beating heart.

She entered, but he scarcely found courage to look up, busying himself with a sheet of paper to hide his emotion.

"Are you cognisant of your husband's crimes, or aiding him in any way?"

"No, sir."

"I am forced, nevertheless, to keep you in custody; but I will have you well treated. I shall daily inquire after your own and your children's well-being."

He waved his hand, and a.n.u.sia was taken back to her place of confinement. The old man remained by himself, pacing his office for the best part of an h.o.a.r, deeply agitated; now gesticulating with his hands, now talking wildly. Having calmed down a little, he returned to his desk to make his report to the Provincial Governor, adorning it with all the flourishes approved of by the profession of the period; but he took care that his dutiful letter should end with these words: "Never again may a representative of the law within this realm of Austria feel himself thus lowered in the eyes of the accused brought to his bar, and may his excellency, the Governor-Provincial, not find cause to lament the consequences of this measure!"

But even before his note of warning could reach the ears it was meant for, the thunderbolt of vengeance had fallen--fearfully, terribly indeed! On the second night after a.n.u.sia's arrival at the city gaol the district governor was roused from sleep--a certain clerk, Joseph Dorn by name, had arrived with news that brooked no delay.

The poor governor positively shook with apprehension; for that clerk had been ordered to accompany one of the stipendiary magistrates, who in the morning had set out to the village of Jablonow, where a certain matter had to be settled by local evidence. The gentleman's name was Hohenau, he being a worthy German from the Rhine, advanced in years, and universally respected for his integrity. Now, although, after the attack upon Kap.r.o.nski, Taras had not again laid hands on any officer of the law, the governor decided, nevertheless, that Hohenau, whom he loved as a friend, should not undertake the journey, short as it was, without a special escort of forty dragoons. He was expected to return late at night; what if the clerk had come back without him!... The governor tried to battle with this thought as with an apparition.

"Nonsense!" he said; "what should have happened?" and he stepped boldly into his ante-room. But one look into the man's face showed him that his fears were only too well founded. That clerk, who had served half his life as a sergeant of the constabulary, till pensioned off to his present post, and who was not likely to grow faint at the sight of a shadow, was leaning against the wall, white as death, and trembling in every limb.

"He has been killed?" gasped the governor.

"He has!" groaned the clerk.