The Wozny he pursued, and after long
Searching, he spied him hid behind the oven.
He collared him, and to the courtyard dragged
And to his breast the Penknife holding, said:
“The Count, Sir Wozny, ventures to entreat
That you will deign proclaim forthwith, before.
The brother nobles, this his intromission
Upon the castle, and Soplica’s mansion,
The village, seedlands, fallows; in a word,
Cum grovis, woodis, et boundariebus,221
Peasantis, atque rebus omnibus,
Et quibusdam aliis. As thou
Knowest, so bark thou, leave thou nothing out.”
“Sir Klucznik, wait awhile,” Protasy said
Boldly, his hands upon his girdle laid;
“I am ready from all parties to fulfil
Commands, but I must warn you that such act,
By violence extorted, will possess
No force in law, proclaimed too in the night.”
“What violence is there?” said the Klucznik; “here
Is no assault. I rather courteously
Entreat you. If it seems unto you dark,
I with my Penknife will a fire upraise,
That speedily shall glimmer in your eyes,
As though in seven churches.”—“Old Gervasy,”
The Wozny said, “why makest thou such haste?
I am a Wozny; it is not my business
To sift the action. It is known to you,
A party will bespeak a Wozny, and
Dictate to him the thing they will, and he
Proclaims it. He is herald of the law,
And none may chastise heralds. Therefore I
Know not why thus you hold me under guard.
I presently will write an act; let some one
Bring me a lantern here. But I meanwhile
Proclaim: Be silent, brothers!” And to speak
With greater clearness, mounted he upon
A mighty pile of beams, that underneath
The orchard hedge were heaped to dry. He climbed
Upon the pile, and all at once, as though
The wind had blown him off, he from their eyes
Had vanished. ’Mid the cabbages they heard him;
They saw among the dark hemp his white cap
Flit like a pigeon by. The Bucket fired
Thereat, but missed his aim. The hop-poles now
Began to crackle; now Protasy walked
Among the hops. “I do protest,” he cried,
Certain of his escape, for him behind
The bed and marshes of the streamlet lay.
After this protestation, which had sounded
As the last cannon shot o’er conquered ramparts,
Ceased all resistance in Soplica’s house.
The hungry nobles plundering went around,
And gathered what they might. The Baptist made
His quarters in the cattle-shed, and sprinkled
One ox and two calves on the head. And Razor
Had in their throats his sabre buried deep.
The Awl had used with equal diligence
His little sword, and pierced some sucking pigs
Beneath the shoulder-blades. Now carnage threatened
The birds. The watchful geese, who one time saved
Rome from the treachery of Gauls, now cackled
In vain for help. Instead of Manlius,
The Bucket enters in their roost, he strangles
Some of the birds, and to his girdle binds
The others living; vainly, with hoarse throats,
The geese cry out; in vain the hissing ganders
Nip the invader with their beaks; he forth
Rushes, with down all covered, that in flakes
Falls, thick as sparks. By motion of their wings
Borne on, as though by wheels, he seemeth Chochlik,
The winged evil sprite. But fiercer carnage,
Although less noisy, ’mid the poultry raged.
Young Bustard entered in the henhouse; there,
Mounting by ladders, caught with ropes, and drew
Down from above the cockerels, crested hens,
And tufted; strangled each one after each,
And threw them in a heap. Most lovely birds,
Nourished on pearly groats! O heedless Bustard!
What impulse thus did urge thee? Nevermore
Will prayers of thine appease Sophia’s wrath.
Gervasy now remembered former times.
He ordered kontusz girdles to be brought,
And thereby from Soplica’s cellar drew
Casks of old spirits, liquors, and of beer.
He drew the bungs from some, the others seize
The noblemen; with ready will, as thick
As ants, they roll them to the castle; there
The whole crowd gather for the night; the Count
Has there made his headquarters. They now lay
A hundred fires, they boil, they roast, they fry;
The tables bend beneath the load of meat,
Drink flows in rivers. All the noblemen
Would eat, and drink, and sing this whole night through;
But gradually they began to sleep,
And yawn; eye is extinguished after eye,
And all the assembly nods; each where he sat
Falls down; the one falls with a dish, the other
Over a kettle, one by a beef quarter.
Thus sleep, death’s brother, has the victors vanquished.
Book IX
The Battle
Of the danger resulting from disorderly camping out—Unexpected succour—Sad situation of the nobles—A begging friar’s rounds are an omen of rescue—Major Plut by excessive gallantry draws a storm on himself—A shot from a pocket-pistol the signal of war—Deeds of the Baptist, deeds and danger of Matthew—The Bucket saves Soplicowo by an ambush Cavalry auxiliaries, attack on infantry—The deeds of Thaddeus—Duel of the leaders, interrupted by treachery—The Wojski by a decisive manoeuvre turns the scale of war—The bloody deeds of Gervasy—The Chamberlain a magnanimous victor.
And in such sound sleep lay they that they woke not
At shine of lanterns, nor the entering
Of several men, who fell upon the nobles
As those wall-spiders named scythe-spiders pounce
On flies half-sleeping. Scarcely one may buzz,
With lengthy legs its cruel conqueror
Embraces it around, and strangles it.
But sounder than the sleep of flies, the sleep
Was of the nobles; not one buzzed; they all
Lay there as lifeless, though by powerful arms
Seized, and rolled over like to packs of straw.
Alone the Bucket, who no equal owned
In all the district for his strength of head
At banquets, could two firkins drink of mead
Ere his tongue tripped him, or his legs him failed,
Though he had feasted long, and deeply slept,
Gave yet some sign of life. He oped one eye,
And saw—true nightmares. Two most dreadful faces
Right o’er him! each a pair of whiskers bore.
He felt their breath, their whiskers touch his lips,
They move their fourfold hands like wings around.
Afraid, he tried to sign the cross; in vain
Would raise his hand, the right hand pinioned seemed;
He moved the left; he felt, alas! the spirits
Had bound him like an infant swathed in bands.
He feared things yet more dreadful, oped his eyes,
And lay unbreathing, stiff, and all but dead.
But yet the Baptist strove to save himself.
It was too late! already
