Fire in the Steppe (71 page)

"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."

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,—