Page:Sienkiewicz - The knights of the cross.djvu/568

 130 "He is frivolous and a rogue, perhaps, but to me he is very well-wishing, and I fear no treachery on his part."

"In that case let him ride ahead, for if he overtakes them they will not be frightened. He will say that he has fled from captivity, which they will believe easily. It will be better so; for if they see us from a distance, they will be able either to hide somewhere or make ready to defend themselves."

"At night he will not advance alone, for he is timid," answered Zbyshko; "but in the daytime it would be better as you say. I will tell him to halt three times in the day and wait for us; if we do not find him at the halting-place it will mean that he is with them, then we can follow on his trail and strike unexpectedly."

"But will he not forewarn them?"

"No. He is more well-wishing to me than to them. I will tell him, too, that when we attack we will bind him also, so that he need not fear their revenge afterward. Let him not know us at all."

"Then dost thou think to leave them among the living?"

"Well, how is it to be?" answered Zbyshko, with vexation. "If this were in Mazovia, or somewhere in our country, we could challenge them, as I challenged Rotgier, and fight to the death with them; but here in their land this cannot be. Here it is a question of Danusia, and of speed. Here we must act in a breath and quietly, so as not to call peril on our heads by inquiring; after that, as you have said, we are to rush with what breath is in our horses to Mazovia. If we strike unexpectedly, we may find them without weapons, nay, without swords even! How kill them then? It would be a shame. We are both belted knights, and so are they."

"That is true," answered Matsko. "But it may not come to fighting."

Zbyshko wrinkled his brows and on his face was expressed deep resolution, evidently innate in all men from Bogdanets; at that moment he had become, especially in his looks, as much like Matsko as if he had been his uncle's own son.

"How I should like," said he, in a deep voice, "to throw that bloody cur Siegfried under Yurand's feet! God grant me to do so!"

"Oh, may He grant it!" repeated Matsko, immediately.

Thus conversing, they rode over a good piece of road.