Pan Michael

Pan Michael ran, like a spirit, along the walls. "Don't fire! Wait for the word!" cried he, at every gun.

The dragoons were lying flat at the battlements, panting with rage. Silence followed; there was no sound but that of the quick tread of the janissaries, like low thunder. The nearer they came, the more certain they felt of taking both castles at a blow. Many thought that the remnant of the defenders had withdrawn to the town, and that the battlements were empty. When they had run to the fosse, they began to fill it with fascines and bundles of straw, and filled it in a twinkle. On the walls, the stillness was unbroken.

But when the first ranks stood on the stuff with which the fosse had been filled, in one of the battlement openings a pistol-shot was heard; then a shrill voice shouted, —

"Fire!"

At the same time both bulwarks, and the prolongation joining them, gleamed with a long flash of flame. The thunder of cannon, the rattle of musketry, and the shouts of the assailants were mingled. When a dart, hurled by the hand of a strong beater, sinks half its length in the belly of a bear, he rolls himself into a bundle, roars, struggles, flounders, straightens, and again rolls himself; thus precisely did the throng of janissaries and volunteers. Not one shot of the defenders was wasted. Cannon loaded with grape laid men flat as a pavement, just as a fierce wind levels standing grain with one breath. Those who attacked the extension, joining the bulwarks, found themselves under three fires, and seized with terror, became a disordered mass in the centre, falling so thickly that they formed a quivering mound. Ketling poured grape-shot from two cannon into that group; at last, when they began to flee, he closed, with a rain of lead and iron, the narrow exit between the bulwarks.

The attack was repulsed on the whole line, when the janissaries, deserting the fosse, ran, like madmen, with a howl of terror. They began in the Turkish intrenchments to hurl flaming tar buckets and torches, and burn artificial fires, making day of night, so as to illuminate the road for the fugitives, and to make pursuit difficult for a sortie.

Meanwhile Pan Michael, seeing that crowd enclosed between the bulwarks, shouted for his dragoons, and went out against them. The unfortunate Turks tried once more to escape through the exit; but Ketling covered them so terribly that he soon blocked the place with a pile of bodies as high as a wall. It remained to the living to perish; for the besieged would not take prisoners, hence they began to defend themselves desperately. Strong men collected in little groups (two, three, five), and supporting one another with their shoulders, armed with darts, battle-axes, daggers, and sabres, cut madly. Fear, terror, certainty of death, despair, was changed in them into one feeling of rage. The fever of battle seized them. Some rushed in fury single-handed on the dragoons. These were borne apart on sabres in a twinkle. That was a struggle of two furies; for the dragoons, from toil, sleeplessness, and hunger, were possessed by the anger of beasts against an enemy that they surpassed in skill in using cold weapons; hence they spread terrible disaster.

Ketling, wishing on his part to make the scene of struggle more visible, gave command to ignite tar buckets, and in the light of them could be seen irrestrainable Mazovians fighting against janissaries with sabres, dragging them by the heads and beards. The savage Lusnia raged specially, like a wild bull. At the other wing Pan Michael himself was fighting; seeing that Basia was looking at him from the walls, he surpassed himself. As when a venomous weasel breaks into grain where a swarm of mice are living, and makes terrible slaughter among them, so did the little knight rush like a spirit of destruction among the janissaries. His name was known to the besiegers already, both from previous encounters and from the narratives of Turks in Hotin. There was a general opinion that no man who met him could save himself from death; hence many a janissary of those enclosed between the bulwarks, seeing Pan Michael suddenly in front, did not even defend himself, but closing his eyes, died under the thrust of the little knight's rapier, with the word "kismet" on his lips. Finally resistance grew weak; the remnant of the Turks rushed to that wall of bodies which barred the exit, and there they were finished.

The dragoons returned now through the filled fosse with singing, shouting, and panting, with the odor of blood on them; a number of cannon-shots were fired from the Turkish intrenchments and the castle; then silence followed. Thus ended that artillery battle which lasted some days, and was crowned by the storm of the janissaries.

"Praise be to God," said the little knight, "there will be rest till the morning kindya at least, and in justice it belongs to us."

But that was an apparent rest only, for when night was still deeper they heard in the silence the sound of hammers beating the cliff.

"That is worse than artillery," said Ketling, listening.

"Now would be the time to make a sortie," said the little knight; "but 'tis impossible; the men are too weary. They have not slept and they have not eaten, though they had food, for there was no time to take it. Besides, there are always some thousands on guard with the miners, so that there may be no opposition from our side. There is no help but to blow up the new castle ourselves, and withdraw to the old one."

"That is not for to-day," answered Ketling. "See, the men have fallen like sheaves of grain, and are sleeping a stone sleep. The dragoons have not even wiped their swords."

"Basia, it is time to go home and sleep," said the little knight.

"I will, Michael," answered Basia, obediently; "I will go as you command. But the cloister is closed now; I should prefer to remain and watch over your sleep."

"It is a wonder to me," said the little knight, "that after such toil sleep has left me, and I have no wish whatever to rest my head."

"Because you have roused your blood among the janissaries," said Zagloba. "It was always so with me; after a battle I could never sleep in any way. But as to Basia, why should she drag herself to a closed gate? Let her remain here till morning."

Basia pressed Zagloba with delight; and the little knight, seeing how much she wished to stay, said, —

"Let us go to the chambers."

They went in; but the place was full of lime-dust, which the cannon-balls had raised by shaking the walls. It was impossible to stay there, so they went out again, and took their places in a niche made when the old gate had been walled in. Pan Michael sat there, leaning against the masonry. Basia nestled up to him, like a child to its mother. The night was in August, warm and fragrant. The moon illuminated the niche with a silver light; the faces of the little knight and Basia were bathed in its rays. Lower down, in the court of the castle, were groups of sleeping soldiers and the bodies of those slain during the cannonade, for there had been no time yet for their burial. The calm light of the moon crept over those bodies, as if that hermit of the sky wished to know who was sleeping from weariness merely, and who had fallen into the eternal slumber. Farther on was outlined the wall of the main castle, from which fell a black shadow on one half of the courtyard. Outside the walls, from between the bulwarks, where the janissaries lay cut down with sabres, came the voices of men. They were camp followers and those of the dragoons to whom booty was dearer than slumber; they were stripping the bodies of the slain. Their lanterns were gleaming on the place of combat like fireflies. Some of them called to one another; and one was singing in an undertone a sweet song not beseeming the work to which he was given at the moment: —

"Nothing is silver, nothing is gold to me now,Nothing is fortune.Let me die at the fence, then, of hunger,If only near thee."

But after a certain time that movement began to decrease, and at last stopped completely. A silence set in which was broken only by the distant sound of the hammers breaking the cliffs, and the calls of the sentries on the walls. That silence, the moonlight, and the night full of beauty delighted Pan Michael and Basia. A yearning came upon them, it is unknown why, and a certain sadness, though pleasant. Basia raised her eyes to her husband; and seeing that his eyes were open, she said, —

"Michael, you are not sleeping."

"It is a wonder, but I cannot sleep."

"It is pleasant for you here?"

"Pleasant. But for you?"

Basia nodded her bright head. "Oh, Michael, so pleasant! ai, ai! Did you not hear what that man was singing?"

Here she repeated the last words of the little song, —

"Let me die at the fence, then, of hunger,

If only near thee."

A moment of silence followed, which the little knight interrupted, —

"But listen, Basia."

"What, Michael?"

"To tell the truth, we are wonderfully happy with each other; and I think if one of us were to fall, the other would grieve beyond measure."

Basia understood perfectly that when the little knight said "if one of us were to fall," instead of die, he had himself only in mind. It came to her head that maybe he did not expect to come out of that siege alive, that he wished to accustom her to that termination; therefore a dreadful presentiment pressed her heart, and clasping her hands, she said, —

"Michael, have pity on yourself and on me!"

The voice of the little knight was moved somewhat, though calm.

"But see, Basia, you are not right," said he; "for if you only reason the matter out, what is this temporal existence? Why break one's neck over it? Who would be satisfied with tasting happiness and love here when all breaks like a dry twig, – who?"

But Basia began to tremble from weeping, and to repeat, —

"I will not hear this! I will not! I will not!"

"As God is dear to me, you are not right," repeated the little knight. "Look, think of it: there above, beyond that quiet moon, is a country of bliss without end. Of such a one speak to me. Whoever reaches that meadow will draw breath for the first time, as if after a long journey, and will feed in peace. When my time comes, – and that is a soldier's affair, – it is your simple duty to say to yourself: 'That is nothing! Michael is gone. True, he is gone far, farther than from here to Lithuania; but that is nothing, for I shall follow him.' Basia, be quiet; do not weep. The one who goes first will prepare quarters for the other; that is the whole matter."

Here there came on him, as it were, a vision of coming events; for he raised his eyes to the moonlight, and continued, —

"What is this mortal life? Grant that I am there first, waiting till some one knocks at the heavenly gate. Saint Peter opens it. I look; who is that? My Basia! Save us! Oh, I shall jump then! Oh, I shall cry then! Dear God, words fail me. And there will be no tears, only endless rejoicing; and there will be no Pagans, nor cannon, nor mines under walls, only peace and happiness. Ai, Basia, remember, this life is nothing!"

"Michael, Michael!" repeated Basia.

And again came silence, broken only by the distant, monotonous sound of the hammers.

"Basia, let us pray together," said Pan Michael, at last.

And those two souls began to pray. As they prayed, peace came on both; and then sleep overcame them, and they slumbered till the first dawn.

Pan Michael conducted Basia away before the morning kindya to the bridge joining the old castle with the town. In parting, he said, —

"This life is nothing! remember that, Basia."

CHAPTER LVI

The thunder of cannon shook the castles and the town immediately after the kindya. The Turks had dug a fosse at the side of the castle, five hundred yards long; in one place, at the very wall, they were digging deeply. From that fosse there went against the walls an unceasing fire from janissary muskets. The besieged made screens of leather bags filled with wool; but as long balls and bombs were hurled continually from the intrenchments, bodies fell thickly around the cannon. At one gun a bomb killed six men of Volodyovski's infantry at once; at other guns men were falling continually. Before evening the leaders saw that they could hold out no longer, especially as the mines might be exploded any moment. In the night, therefore, the captains led out their companies, and before morning they had transferred, amid unbroken firing, all the guns, powder, and supplies of provisions to the old castle. That, being built on a rock, could hold out longer, and there was special difficulty in digging under it. Pan Michael, when consulted on this matter at the council, declared that if no one would negotiate, he was ready to defend it a year. His words went to the town, and poured great consolation into hearts, for people knew that the little knight would keep his word even at the cost of his life.

At the evacuation of the new castle, strong mines were put under both bulwarks and the front. These exploded with great noise about noon, but caused no serious loss to the Turks; for, remembering the lesson of the day before, they had not dared yet to occupy the abandoned place. But both bulwarks, the front and the main body of the new castle, formed one gigantic pile of ruins. These ruins rendered difficult, it is true, approach to the old castle; but they gave perfect protection to sharpshooters, and, what is worse, to the miners, who, unterrified at sight of the mighty cliff, began to bore a new mine. Skilful Italian and Hungarian engineers, in the service of the Sultan, were overseers of this work, which advanced rapidly. The besieged could not strike the enemy either from cannon or musket, for they could not see them. Pan Michael was thinking of a sortie, but he could not undertake it immediately; the soldiers were too tired. Blue lumps as large as biscuits had formed on the right shoulders of the dragoons, from bringing gunstocks against them continually. Some could hardly move their arms. It became evident that if boring were continued some time without interruption, the chief gate of the castle would be blown into the air beyond doubt. Foreseeing this, Pan Michael gave command to make a high wall behind the gate, and said, without losing courage, —

"But what do I care? If the gate is blown up, we will defend ourselves behind the wall; if the wall is blown up, we'll have a second one made previously, and so on, as long as we feel an ell of ground under our feet."

"But when the ell is gone, what then?" asked the starosta.

"Then we shall be gone too," said the little knight.

Meanwhile he gave command to hurl hand-grenades at the enemy; these caused much damage. Most effective in this work was Lieutenant Dembinski, who killed Turks without number, until a grenade ignited too soon, burst in his hand, and tore it off. In this manner perished Captain Schmit. Many fell from the Turkish artillery, many from musket-shots fired by janissaries hidden in the ruins of the new castle. During that time they fired rarely from the guns of the castle; this troubled the council not a little. "They are not firing; hence it is evident that Volodyovski himself has doubts of the defence." Such was the general opinion. Of the officers no man dared to say first that it remained only to seek the best conditions, but the bishop, free of military ambition, said this openly; but previously Pan Vasilkovski was sent to the starosta for news from the castle. He answered, "In my opinion the castle cannot hold out till evening, but here they think otherwise."

After reading this answer, even the officers began to say, "We have done what we could. No one has spared himself, but what is impossible cannot be done; it is necessary to think of conditions."

These words reached the town, and brought together a great crowd of people. This multitude stood before the town-hall, alarmed, silent, rather hostile than inclined to negotiations. Some rich Armenian merchants were glad in their hearts that the siege would be ended and trading begin; but other Armenians, long settled in the Commonwealth and greatly inclined to it, as well as Poles and Russians, wished to defend themselves. "Had we wished to surrender, we should have surrendered at first," was whispered here and there; "we could have received much, but now conditions will not be favorable, and it is better to bury ourselves under ruins."

The murmur of discontent became ever louder, till all at once it turned into shouts of enthusiasm and vivats.

What had happened? On the square Pan Michael appeared in company with Pan Humyetski, for the starosta had sent them of purpose to make a report of what had happened in the castle. Enthusiasm seized the crowd. Some shouted as if the Turks had already broken into the town; tears came to the eyes of others at sight of the idolized knight, on whom uncommon exertions were evident. His face was black from powder-smoke, and emaciated, his eyes were red and sunken; but he had a joyous look. When he and Humyetski had made their way at last through the crowd, and entered the council, they were greeted joyously. The bishop spoke at once.

"Beloved brothers," said he, "Nec Hercules contra plures! The starosta has written us already that you must surrender."

To this Humyetski, who was very quick to action and of great family, not caring for people, said sharply: "The starosta has lost his head; but he has this virtue, that he exposes it to danger. As to the defence, let Pan Volodyovski describe it; he is better able to do so."

All eyes were turned to the little knight, who was greatly moved, and said, —

"For God's sake, who speaks of surrender? Have we not sworn to the living God to fall one upon another?"

"We have sworn to do what is in our power, and we have done it," answered the bishop.

"Let each man answer for what he has promised! Ketling and I have sworn not to surrender the castle till death, and we will not surrender; for if I am bound to keep the word of a cavalier to every man, what must I do to God, who surpasses all in majesty?"

"But how is it with the castle? We have heard that there is a mine under the gate. Will you hold out long?" asked numerous voices.

"There is a mine under the gate, or there will be; but there is a good wall behind the gate, and I have given command to put falconets on it. Dear brothers, fear God's wounds; remember that in surrendering you will be forced to surrender churches into the hands of Pagans, who will turn them into mosques, to celebrate foulness in them. How can you speak of surrender with such a light heart? With what conscience do you think of opening before the enemy a gate to the heart of the country? I am in the castle and fear no mines; and you here in the town, far away, are afraid! By the dear God! we will not surrender while we are alive. Let the memory of this defence remain among those who come after us, like the memory of Zbaraj."

"The Turks will turn the castle into a pile of ruins," said some voice.

"Let them turn it. We can defend ourselves from a pile of ruins."

Here patience failed the little knight somewhat. "And I will defend myself from a pile of ruins, so help me God! Finally, I tell you that I will not surrender the castle. Do you hear?"

"'But will you destroy the town?" asked the bishop. "If to go against the Turks is to destroy it, I prefer to destroy it. I have taken my oath; I will not waste more words; I will go back among cannon, for they defend the Commonwealth instead of betraying it."

Then he went out, and after him Humyetski, who slammed the door. Both hastened greatly, for they felt really better among ruins, corpses, and balls than among men of little faith. Pan Makovetski came up with them on the way.

"Michael," said he, "tell the truth, did you speak of resistance only to increase courage, or will you be able really to hold out in the castle?"

The little knight shrugged his shoulders. "As God is dear to me! Let the town not surrender, and I will defend the castle a year."

"Why do you not fire? People are alarmed on that account, and talk of surrender."

"We do not fire, because we are busy with hand-grenades, which have caused considerable harm in the mines."

"Listen, Michael, have you in the castle such defence that you could strike at the Russian gate in the rear? – for if, which God prevent, the Turks break through, they will come to the gate. I am watching with all my force; but with towns-people only, without soldiers, I cannot succeed."

To which the little knight answered: "Fear not, dear brother; I have fifteen cannon turned to that side. Be at rest too concerning the castle. Not only shall we defend ourselves, but when necessary we will give you reinforcement at the gates."

When he heard this, Makovetski was delighted greatly, and wished to go away, when the little knight detained him, and asked further, —

"Tell me, you are oftener at these councils, do they only wish to try us, or do they intend really to give Kamenyets into the hands of the Sultan?"

Makovetski dropped his head. "Michael," said he, "answer truly now, must it not end in that? We shall resist awhile yet, a week, two weeks, a month, two months, but the end will be the same."

Volodyovski looked at him gloomily, then raising his hands cried, —

"And thou too, Brutus, against me? Well, in that case swallow your shame alone; I am not used to such diet."

And they parted with bitterness in their hearts.

The mine under the main gate of the old castle exploded soon after Pan Michael's return. Bricks and stones flew; dust and smoke rose. Terror dominated the hearts of the gunners. For a while the Turks rushed into the breach, as rush sheep through the open gate of a sheepfold, when the shepherd and his assistants urge them in with whips. But Ketling breathed on that crowd with cartridges from six cannon, prepared previously on the wall; he breathed once, a second, a third time, and swept them out of the court. Pan Michael, Humyetski, and Myslishevski hurried up with infantry and dragoons, who covered the walls as quickly as flies on a hot day cover the carcass of a horse or an ox. A struggle began then between muskets and janissary guns. Balls fell on the wall as thickly as falls rain, or kernels of wheat which a strong peasant hurls from his shovel. The Turks were swarming in the ruins of the new castle; in every depression, behind every fragment, behind every stone, in every opening of the ruin, they sat in twos, threes, fives, and tens, and fired without a moment's intermission. From the direction of Hotin came new reinforcements continually. Regiment followed regiment, and crouching down among the ruins began fire immediately. The new castle was as if paved with turbans. At times those masses of turbans sprang up suddenly with a terrible outcry, and ran to the breach; but then Ketling raised his voice, the bass of the cannon drowned the rattle of musketry, and a storm of grapeshot with whistling and terrible rattling confused the crowd, laid them on the ground, and closed up the breach with a quivering mass of human flesh. Four times the janissaries rushed forward; four times Ketling hurled them back and scattered them, as a storm scatters a cloud of leaves. Alone amid fire, smoke, showers of earth-clods, and bursting grenades, he was like an angel of war. His eyes were fixed on the breach, and on his serene forehead not the slightest anxiety was evident. At times he seized the match from the gunner and touched the priming; at times he covered his eyes with his hand and observed the effect of the shot; at times he turned with a smile to the Polish officers and said, —

"They will not enter."

Never was rage of attack repulsed with such fury of defence. Officers and soldiers vied with one another. It seemed that the attention of those men was turned to everything save death; and death cut down thickly. Pan Humyetski fell, and Pan Mokoshytski, commander of the men of Kieff. At last the white-haired Pan Kalushovski seized his own breast with a groan; he was an old friend of Pan Michael, as mild as a lamb, but a soldier as terrible as a lion. Pan Michael caught the falling man, who said, "Give your hand, give your hand quickly!" then he added, "Praise be to God!" and his face grew as white as his beard. That was before the fourth attack. A party of janissaries had come inside the breach, or rather they could not go out by reason of the too thickly flying missiles. Pan Michael sprang on them at the head of his infantry, and they were beaten down in a moment with the butts of muskets.