Page:Sienkiewicz - The knights of the cross.djvu/494

56 Then be spoke again of Yurand, of his evil fate, and the unutterable wrongs which he had suffered from the Knights of the Order, who first of all had murdered his beloved wife without cause, and then, paying vengeance with vengeance, had carried off his daughter, and tormented him with such cruel tortures that even Tartars would not have been able to invent anything to surpass them. Matsko and Hlava gritted their teeth when they thought that even the liberation of Yurand was a new and calculated cruelty. The old knight promised himself therefore in soul that he would try to find out accurately how that all was, and then pay for it with interest.

In such conversation and thoughts the journey to Spyhov passed. After a clear day came a calm, starry night, so they did not halt for a night rest; three times, however, they fed the horses plentifully. They crossed the boundary while it was still dark, and at dawn, under the direction of a hired guide, they were on the land of Spyhov. Old Tolima held everything under an iron hand there, evidently, for barely had they entered the forest when two armed men came out toward them; but these, seeing that there were no troops, merely a small escort, not only let them pass without question, but conducted them through flooded places and swamps impassable for persons unacquainted with the district.

At the castle, Tolima and Father Kaleb received the guests. The tidings that their lord had come, brought back by pious people, flew like lightning through the castle. But when they saw how he had come from the hands of the Knights of the Cross, such a storm of threats and rage burst forth that if there had been a knight in the dungeons of Spyhov no human power could have saved him from an awful death.

Horsemen wished to mount immediately, gallop to the boundary, seize what Germans they could find, and cast their heads at the feet of Yurand; but Matsko curbed this wish of theirs, for he knew that Germans lived in towns and castles, while the village people were of the same blood as he and Yurand 's men, though living under the constraint of foreigners. But neither shouts, nor uproar, nor the squeak of well-sweeps could rouse Yurand, whom they carried from the wagon to his room on a bearskin, and placed on a bed there. At his side remained Father Kaleb, his friend from years of youth, and his foster-brother,