The Knights of the Cross. Volume III

CHAPTER I.-1

CHAPTER I.Jurand, finding himself in the castleyard, did not know at first where to go, because the servant, who had led him through the gate, had left him and gone toward the stables. It is true, the soldiers stood near the palisades, either singly or in groups, but their faces were so insolent, and their looks so derisive, that the knight could easily guess that they would not show him the way, and even if they were to make a reply to his question, it would be a brutal or an indignant one.

Some laughed, pointing at him with their fingers, others commenced to throw snow at him, like yesterday. But he, noticing a door larger than the others, over which was cut out in stone Christ on a cross, turned to it, thinking that if the count and the elders were in another part of the castle or in other rooms, somebody must set him right.

And so it happened. The instant Jurand approached that particular door, both halves of it opened suddenly, and there stood before it a youth with a head shaven like the clericals, but dressed in a worldly dress, who inquired:

“Are you Sir Jurand of Spychow?”

“I am.”

“The pious count ordered me to guide you. Follow me.”

And he commenced to lead him through a great vaulted vestibule toward a staircase. At the stairs though he halted, and casting a glance at Jurand, again inquired:

“But have you no weapon with you? I was ordered to search you.”

Jurand threw up his arms, so that his guide might be able to view his whole figure, and replied:

“Yesterday I gave up everything.”

Then the guide lowered his voice and said almost in a whisper:

“Be careful then not to break out into anger, because you are under might and superior force.”

“But also under God’s will,” returned Jurand.

Then he looked more carefully at his guide, and observing in his face something in the nature of mercy and sympathy, said:

“Honesty looks through your eyes, young man! Will you answer sincerely to what I question?”

“Make haste, sir,” said the guide.

“Will they return the child to me?”

And the youth raised his brows wonderingly.

“Is your child here?”

“My daughter.”

“That lady in the tower near the gate?”

“Yes. They promised to send her away if I surrendered to them.”

The guide waved his hand to signify that he knew nothing, but his face expressed trouble and doubt.

Then Jurand further asked:

“Is it true, that Shomberg and Markward are watching her?”

“Those brethren are not in the castle. Take her away though, sir, ere the nobleman Danveld regains his health.”

Hearing that, Jurand shivered, but there was no time to ask any more questions, because they had arrived at the hall on the upper floor in which Jurand was to face the chief Shchycienski. The youth, after having opened the door, retreated toward the stairs.

The knight of Spychow entered and found himself in a roomy apartment, very dark, because the lead-framed, oval-shaped panes transmitted very little light; furthermore the day was wintry and cloudy. There was, it is true, a fire burning in a large chimney at the other end of the apartment, but the green logs produced little flame. Only after a time, when Jurand’s eyes became used to the darkness, he distinguished a table behind which were knights sitting, and behind them a whole group of armed warriors and servants also armed, among whom the castle fool held a tame bear by a chain.

Jurand had frequently met Danveld some time before, and afterward had seen him twice at the court of the prince of Mazowsze, as delegate, but several years had passed since that time; yet, notwithstanding the darkness, he recognized him instantly, because of his obesity, his face, and finally because he sat in the centre behind the table in an armchair, his hand being circled by wooden splints and resting upon the arm of the chair. To his right sat the old Zygfried von Löve of Insburk, an inexorable foe of the Polish race in general, and particularly of Jurand of Spychow; to his left were the younger brethren, Godfried and Rotgier. Danveld had invited them purposely, to witness his triumph over a threatening foe, and at the same time to enjoy the fruits of the treason which they had plotted together, and in the accomplishment of which they had assisted. They sat now comfortably dressed in soft dark cloth, with light swords at their sides. They were joyous and self-confident, and looking upon Jurand with that pride and extreme contempt which they always bore in their hearts toward the weaker and vanquished.

The silence lasted a long while, because they wished to satiate themselves with the sight of the man whom they had previously dreaded, and who stood before them now with his head bowed upon his breast, and dressed like a penitent in sackcloth, and with a rope around his neck, upon which was suspended the scabbard of his sword.

They also apparently wanted as great a number of people as possible to witness his humiliation, for through a side door, leading into other rooms, whoever pleased entered, and the hall was nearly half filled with armed men. They all looked with extreme eagerness at Jurand, conversing loudly and making remarks about him.

But he gained confidence, at the sight of them, because he thought to himself:

“If Danveld did not wish to keep his promise, he would not have ordered so many witnesses.”

Meanwhile Danveld raised his hand, and stopped the conversation; he then made a sign to one of the warriors, who approached Jurand, and catching the rope which encircled his neck, dragged him a few steps nearer the table.

And Danveld looked triumphantly at those present and said:

“Look, how the power of religion defeats anger and pride.”

“May God always grant it so!” answered those present.

Then again followed a moment of silence, after which Danveld turned to the prisoner:

“You were biting the faith like a mad dog, therefore God has caused you to stand before us, with a rope around your neck, looking for charity and mercy.”

“Do not compare me with a dog, count,” replied Jurand, “because you thus lower the honor of those who met me and fell under my hand.”

At these words the armed Germans commenced to murmur: it was not known whether the daring answer aroused their anger or whether they were struck by its justice.

But the count, dissatisfied at such a turn of the conversation, said:

“Look, even now he spits into our eyes with arrogance and pride!”

Jurand then raised his hands, like a man who calls heaven to witness, and shaking his head, answered:

“God sees that my arrogance remained outside your gate; God sees and will judge, whether in dishonoring my knighthood, you did not dishonor yourself. There is the honor of a nobleman, which every one who has a belt around him, should respect.”

Danveld wrinkled his brows, but at that moment the castle fool started to rattle the chain to which he had fastened the bear, and called out:

“Sermon! sermon! the preacher from Mazowsze has arrived! Listen! to the sermon!”

Then turning to Danveld, he said:

“Sir! Duke Rosenheim ordered his sexton to eat the bell-rope from knot to knot whenever the latter awakened him too early for the sermon. This preacher has also a rope around his neck—make him also eat it up before he finishes his sermon.”

And, having said this, he gazed at the count in some alarm, being uncertain whether the count would laugh or whether his inappropriate remark would result in an order for a flogging for him. But the religious brethren, gentle, well-behaved, and even humble, whenever they felt they were not in power, did not know any limits before the defeated; therefore, Danveld not only nodded his head at the bear-leader as a sign that he permitted the mockery, but he himself burst out with such unheard-of roughness that the faces of the younger warriors expressed astonishment.

“Don’t complain that you were put to shame,” he said, “because even if I had made you a dogcatcher, a religious dogcatcher is better than you, knight!”

And the encouraged fool commenced to shout: “Bring the currycomb, comb the bear, and he in turn will comb your shags with his paws.”

At that, laughter was heard here and there, and a voice exclaimed from behind the religious brethren:

“You will cut reeds on the lake in the summer!”

“And catch crabs with your carcass!” exclaimed another.

A third added: “And now begin to drive away the crows from the hanging thief! There will always be plenty of work for you.”

Thus they made fun of the once terrible Jurand. The assembly gradually became joyous. Some, leaving the table, began to approach the prisoner and look at him closely, saying:

“This is the wild boar of Spychow, whose tusks our count has knocked out; his snout is surely foaming; he would gladly tear somebody, but he cannot!”

Danveld and others of the religious brethren, who at first had wished to give the hearing the solemn appearance of a court, seeing that the affair had turned out differently, also arose from their benches and mingled with those who approached Jurand.

The old Zygfried of Insburk was dissatisfied at that, but the count himself said:

“Be cheerful, there will be a greater joy yet!”

And they also commenced to look at Jurand, for this was a rare opportunity, because when any of the knights or servants had seen him before from so near, they had usually closed their eyes forever. Some of them also remarked:

“He is broad shouldered, although he has a fur beneath his sack; he could be wrapped up with pease straw, and exhibited in country fairs.”

Others again commenced to ask for beer in order to make the day a still pleasanter one.

And so in a few moments flowing pitchers began to clink and the dark hall became covered with the foam escaping from under the covers. The good-humored count said:

“That is just right, let him not think that his disgrace is of great importance!”

So they again approached him, and touching his chin with their pewters, said:

“You would like to drink, Mazovian snout!” and others, pouring the beer into their palms, cast it into his eyes, while he stood among them stunned and abused, until at last he moved toward the old Zygfried, and apparently feeling that he could not stand it any longer, he began to cry so loudly as to deafen the noise in the hall:

“By the t*****e of the Saviour and the salvation of the soul, restore to me my child, as you promised!”

And he attempted to seize the right hand of the old count who quickly withdrew and said:

“Avaunt, prisoner! what dost thou want?”

“I released Bergow from prison, and came myself, because in return you promised to restore my child who is here.”

“Who promised you that?” inquired Danveld.

“By the soul and faith, you, count!”

“You will not find any witnesses, but they amount to nothing, if honor and word are in question.”

“Upon your honor, upon that of the Order,” exclaimed Jurand.

“Then your daughter will be returned to you!” replied Danveld, and, turning to the others, remarked: “All that has happened to him here is an innocent trifle in comparison with his violence and crimes. But since we promised to return his daughter if he should appear and submit himself to us, then know, that the word of a Knight of the Cross is, like God’s word, irreproachable, and that that girl, whom we saved from the hands of robbers, shall now be given her liberty, and after an exemplary penance for his sins against the Order, he also shall be allowed to go back to his home.”

Such a speech astounded some, because, knowing Danveld and his old hatred for Jurand, they did not expect such honesty from him. Therefore old Zygfried, together with Rotgier and Brother Godfried, looked at him, raising and wrinkling their brows with astonishment, but he pretended not to observe their inquiring looks and said:

“I’ll send your daughter back under guard, but you must remain here until our guard returns safely and until you have paid your ransom.”