Fire in the Steppe (68 page)

The famed archer let out two arrows at him; but both merely sounded on his armor with a groaning, and fell without effect on the grass. Pan Mushalski began to hesitate whether to send forth a third shaft against the neck of the steed, or rush on the bey with his sabre. But while he was thinking of this on the way, the bey saw him and urged on his black stallion.

Both met in the middle of the field. Pan Mushalski, wishing to show his great strength and take Hamdi alive, struck up his sword with a powerful blow and closed with him; he seized the bey's throat with one hand, with the other his pointed helmet, and drew him from his horse. But the girth of his own saddle broke; the incomparable bowman turned with it, and dropped to the ground. Hamdi struck the falling man with the hilt of his sword on the head and stunned him. The spahis and mamelukes, who had feared for Hamdi, shouted with joy; the Poles were grieved greatly. Then the opposing sides sprang toward one another in dense groups,—one side to seize the bowman, the other to defend even his body.

So far the little knight had taken no part in the skirmish, for his dignity of colonel did not permit that; but seeing the fall of Mushalski and the preponderance of Hamdi, he resolved to avenge the archer and give courage to his own men. Inspired with this thought, he put spurs to his horse, and swept across the field as swiftly as a sparrow-hawk goes to a flock of plover, circling over stubble. Basia, looking through a glass, saw him from the battlements, and cried at once to Zagloba, who was near her,—

"Michael is flying! Michael is flying!"

"You see him," cried the old warrior. "Look carefully; see where he strikes the first blow. Have no fear!"

The glass shook in Basia's hand. Though, as there was no discharge in the field yet from bows or janissary guns, she was not alarmed over-much for the life of her husband, still, enthusiasm, curiosity, and disquiet seized her. Her soul and heart had gone out of her body that moment, and were flying after him. Her breast was heaving quickly; a bright flush covered her face. At one moment she had bent over the battlement so far that Zagloba seized her by the waist, lest she might fall to the fosse.

"Two are flying at Michael!" cried she.

"There will be two less!" said Zagloba.

Indeed, two spahis came out against the little knight. Judging from his uniform, they knew that he was a man of note, and seeing the small stature of the horseman they thought to win glory cheaply. The fools! they flew to sure death; for when they had drawn near he did not even rein in his horse, but gave them two blows, apparently as light as when a mother in passing gives a push apiece to two children. Both fell on the ground, and clawing it with their fingers, quivered like two lynxes which death-dealing arrows have struck simultaneously.

The little knight flew farther toward horsemen racing through the field, and began to spread dreadful disaster. As when after Mass a boy comes in with a pewter extinguisher fixed to a staff, and quenches one after another the candles on the altar, and the altar is buried in shadow, so Pan Michael quenched right and left brilliant horsemen, Egyptian and Turkish, and they sank in the darkness of death. The Pagans recognized a master above masters, and their hearts sank within them. One and another withdrew his horse, so as not to meet with the terrible leader; the little knight rushed after the fugitives like a venomous wasp, and pierced one after another with his sting.

The men at the castle artillery began to shout joyously at sight of this. Some ran up to Basia, and borne away with enthusiasm, kissed the hem of her robe; others abused the Turks.

"Basia, restrain yourself!" cried Zagloba, every little while, holding her continually by the waist; but Basia wanted to laugh and cry, and clap her hands, and shout and look, and fly to her husband in the field.

He continued to carry off spahis and Egyptian beys till at last cries of "Hamdi! Hamdi!" were heard throughout the whole field. The adherents of the Prophet called loudly for their greatest warrior to measure himself with that terrible little horseman, who seemed to be death incarnate.

Hamdi had seen the little knight for some time; but noting his deeds, he was simply afraid of him. It was a terror to risk at once his great fame and young life against such an ominous enemy; therefore he feigned not to see him, and began to circle around at the other end of the field. He had just finished Pan Yalbryk and Pan Kos when despairing cries of "Hamdi! Hamdi!" smote his ear. He saw then that he could hide himself no longer, that he must win immeasurable glory or lay down his life; at that moment he gave forth a shout so shrill that all the rocks answered with an echo, and he urged on toward the little knight a horse as swift as a whirlwind.

Pan Michael saw him from a distance, and pressed also with his heels his Wallachian bay. Others ceased the armed argument. At the castle Basia, who had seen just before all the deeds of the terrible Hamdi, grew somewhat pale, in spite of her blind faith in the little knight, the unconquerable swordsman; but Zagloba was thoroughly at rest.

"I would rather be the heir of that Pagan than that Pagan himself," said he to Basia, sententiously.

Pyentka, the slow Lithuanian, was so certain of his lord that not the least anxiety darkened his face; but seeing Hamdi rushing on, he began to hum a popular song,—

The men closed in the middle of the field between two ranks, looking on from a distance. The hearts of all died in them for a moment. Then serpentine lightning flashed in the bright sun above the heads of the combatants; but the curved blade flew from the hand of Hamdi like an arrow urged by a bowstring; he bent toward the saddle, as if pierced with a blade-point, and closed his eyes. Pan Michael seized him by the neck with his left hand, and placing the point of his sabre at the armpit of the Egyptian, turned toward his own men. Hamdi gave no resistance; he even urged his horse forward with his heel, for he felt the point between his armpit and the armor. He went as if stunned, his hands hanging powerless, and from his eyes tears began to fall. Pan Michael gave him to the cruel Lusnia, and returned himself to the field.

But in the Turkish companies trumpets and pipes were sounded,—a signal of retreat to the skirmishers. They began to withdraw toward their own forces, taking with them shame, vexation, and the memory of the terrible horseman.

"That was Satan!" said the spahis and mamelukes to one another. "Whoso meets that man, to him death is predestined! Satan, no other!"

The Polish skirmishers remained awhile to show that they held the field; then, giving forth three shouts of victory, they withdrew under cover of their guns, from which Pan Pototski gave command to renew fire. But the Turks began to retreat altogether. For a time yet their burnooses gleamed in the sun, and their colored kefis and glittering head-pieces; then the blue sky hid them.

On the field of battle there remained only the Turks and Poles slain with swords. Servants came out from the castle to collect and bury the Poles. Then ravens came to labor at the burial of the Pagans, but their stay was not long, for that evening new legions of the Prophet frightened them away.

On the following day, the vizir himself arrived before Kamenyets at the head of a numerous army of spahis, janissaries, and the general militia from Asia. It was supposed at once, from the great number of his forces, that he would storm the place; but he wished merely to examine the walls. Engineers came with him to inspect the fortress and earthworks. Pan Myslishevski went out this time against the vizir with infantry and a division of mounted volunteers. They began to skirmish again; the action was favorable for the besieged, though not so brilliant as on the first day. Finally, the vizir commanded the janissaries to move to the walls for a trial. The thunder of cannon shook at once the town and the castle. When the janissaries were near the quarters of Pan Podchaski, all fired at once with a great outburst; but as Pan Podchaski answered from above with very well-directed shots, and there was danger that cavalry might flank the janissaries, they retreated on the Jvanyets road, and returned to the main camp.

In the evening, a certain Cheh (Bohemian) stole into the town; he had been a groom with the aga of the janissaries, and being bastinadoed, had deserted. From him the Poles learned that the Turks had fortified themselves in Jvanyets, and occupied broad fields on this side of Dlujek. They asked the fugitive carefully what the general opinion among the Turks was,—did they think to capture Kamenyets or not? He answered that there was good courage in the army, and the omens were favorable. A couple of days before, there had risen on a sudden from the earth in front of the Sultan's pavilion, as it were a pillar of smoke, slender below, and widening above in the form of a mighty bush. The muftis explained that that portent signified that the glory of the Padishah would reach the heavens, and that he would be the ruler to crush Kamenyets,—an obstacle hitherto invincible. That strengthened hearts greatly in the army. "The Turks," continued the fugitive, "fear Pan Sobieski, and succor; from time past they bear in mind the peril of meeting the troops of the Commonwealth in the open field, though they are willing to meet Venetians, Hungarians, or any other people. But since they have information that there are no troops in the Commonwealth, they think generally that they will take Kamenyets, though not without trouble. Kara Mustafa, the kaimakan, has advised to storm the walls straightway; but the more prudent vizir prefers to invest the town with regular works, and cover it with cannon-balls. The Sultan, after the first skirmishes, has inclined to the opinion of the vizir; therefore it is proper to look for a regular siege."

Thus spoke the deserter. Hearing this news. Pan Pototski and the bishop, the chamberlain, Pan Volodyovski, and all the other chief officers were greatly concerned. They had counted on storms, and hoped with the defensiveness of the place to repulse them with great loss to the enemy. They knew from experience that during storms assailants suffer great losses; that every attack which is repulsed shakes their courage, and adds boldness to the besieged. As the knights at Zbaraj grew enamoured at last of resistance, of battles and sorties, so the inhabitants of Kamenyets might acquire love for battle, especially if every attack ended in defeat for the Turks and victory for the town. But a regular siege, in which the digging of approaches and mines, the planting of guns in position, mean everything, might only weary the besieged, weaken their courage, and make them inclined to negotiation. It was difficult also to count on sorties, for it was not proper to strip the walls of soldiers, and the servants or townspeople, led beyond the walls, could hardly stand before janissaries.

Weighing this, all the superior officers were greatly concerned, and to them a happy result of the defence seemed less likely. In fact, it had small chance of success, not only in view of the Turkish power, but in view of themselves. Pan Volodyovski was an incomparable soldier and very famous, but he had not the majesty of greatness. Whoso bears the sun in himself is able to warm all everywhere; but whoso is a flame, even the most ardent, warms only those who are nearest. So it was with the little knight. He did not know how to pour his spirit into others, and could not, just as he could not give his own skill with the sword. Pan Pototski, the supreme chief, was not a warrior, besides, he lacked faith in himself, in others, in the Commonwealth. The bishop counted on negotiations mainly; his brother had a heavy hand, but also a mind not much lighter. Relief was impossible, for the hetman, Pan Sobieski, though great, was then without power. Without power was the king, without power the whole Commonwealth.

On the 16th of August came the Khan with the horde, and Doroshenko with his Cossacks, and occupied an enormous area on the fields, beginning with Ronen. Sufan Kazi Aga invited Pan Myslishevski that day to an interview, and advised him to surrender the place, for if he did he would receive such favorable conditions as had never been heard of in the history of sieges. The bishop was curious to know what those favors were; but he was shouted down in the council, and a refusal was sent back in answer. On August 18, the Turks began to advance, and with them the Sultan.

They came on like a measureless sea,—infantry, janissaries, spahis. Each pasha led the troops of his own pashalik, therefore inhabitants of Europe, Asia, and Africa. Behind them came an enormous camp with loaded wagons drawn by mules and buffaloes. That hundred-colored swarm, in various dresses and arms, moved without end. From dawn till night those leaders marched without stopping, moved from one place to another, stationed troops, circled about in the fields, pitched tents, which occupied such a space that from the towers and highest points of Kamenyets it was possible in no wise to see fields free from canvas. It seemed to people that snow had fallen and filled the whole region about them. The camp was laid out during salvos of musketry, for the janissaries shielding that work did not cease to fire at the walls of the fortress; from the walls an unbroken cannonade answered. Echoes were thundering from the cliffs; smoke rose and covered the blue of the sky. Toward evening Kamenyets was enclosed in such fashion that nothing save pigeons could leave it. Firing ceased only when the first stars began to twinkle.

For a number of succeeding days firing from the walls and at the walls continued without interruption. The result was great damage to the besiegers; the moment a considerable group of janissaries collected within range, white smoke bloomed out on the walls, balls fell among the janissaries, and they scattered as a flock of sparrows when some one sends fine shot at them from a musket. Meanwhile the Turks, not knowing evidently that in both castles and in the town there were guns of long range, pitched their tents too near. This was permitted, by the advice of Pan Michael; and only when time of rest came, and troops, escaping from heat, had crowded into those tents, did the walls roar with continuous thunder. Then rose a panic; balls tore tents, broke poles, struck soldiers, hurled around sharp fragments of rocks. The janissaries withdrew in dismay and disorder, crying with loud voices; in their retreat they overturned other tents, and carried alarm with them everywhere. On the men disordered in this way Pan Michael fell with cavalry, and cut them till strong bodies of horsemen came to their aid. Ketling directed this fire mainly; besides him, the Polish mayor made the greatest havoc among the Pagans. He bent over every gun, applied the match himself, and covering his eyes with his hand, looked at the result of the shot, and rejoiced in his heart that he was working so effectively.