Pan Michael

group of janissaries collected within range, white smoke bloomed out on the walls, balls fell among the janissaries, and they scattered as a flock of sparrows when someone sends fine shot at them from a musket. Meanwhile the Turks, not knowing evidently that in both castles and in the town there were guns of long range, pitched their tents too near. This was permitted, by the advice of Pan Michael; and only when time of rest came, and troops, escaping from heat, had crowded into those tents, did the walls roar with continuous thunder. Then rose a panic; balls tore tents, broke poles, struck soldiers, hurled around sharp fragments of rocks. The janissaries withdrew in dismay and disorder, crying with loud voices; in their retreat they overturned other tents, and carried alarm with them everywhere. On the men disordered in this way Pan Michael fell with cavalry, and cut them till strong bodies of horsemen came to their aid. Ketling directed this fire mainly; besides him, the Polish mayor made the greatest havoc among the Pagans. He bent over every gun, applied the match himself, and covering his eyes with his hand, looked at the result of the shot, and rejoiced in his heart that he was working so effectively.

The Turks were digging approaches, however, making intrenchments and fixing heavy guns in them. But before they began to fire from these guns, an envoy of the Turks came under the walls, and fastening to a dart a letter from the Sultan, showed it to the besieged. Dragoons were sent out; these brought the envoy at once to the castle. The Sultan, summoning the town to surrender, exalted his own might and clemency to the skies.

“My army” (wrote he) “may be compared to the leaves of the forest and the sands of the sea. Look at the heavens; and when you see the countless stars, rouse fear in your hearts, and say one to another, ‘Behold, such is the power of the believers!’ But because I am a sovereign, gracious above other sovereigns, and a grandson of the God of Justice, I receive my right from above. Know that I hate stubborn men; do not oppose, then, my will; surrender your town. If you resist, you will all perish under the sword, and no voice of man will rise against me.”

They considered long what response to give to that letter, and rejected the impolitic counsel of Zagloba to cut off a dog’s tail and send it in answer. They despatched a clever man skilled in Turkish; Yuritsa was his name. He bore a letter which read as follows:⁠—

“We do not wish to anger the Sultan, but we do not hold it our duty to obey him, for we have not taken oath to him, but to our own lord. Kamenyets we will not surrender, for an oath binds us to defend the fortresses and churches while our lives last.”

After this answer the officers went to their places on the walls. Bishop Lantskoronski and the starosta took advantage of this, and sent a new letter to the Sultan, asking of him an armistice for four weeks. When news of this went along the gates, an uproar and clatter of sabres began. “But I believe,” repeated this man and that, “that we are here burning at the guns, and behind our shoulders they are sending letters without our knowledge, though we are members of the council.” At the evening kindya the officers went in a body to the starosta, with the little knight and Pan Makovetski at their head, both greatly afflicted at what had happened.

“How is this?” asked Makovetski. “Are you thinking already of surrender, that you have sent a new envoy? Why has this happened without our knowledge?”

“In truth,” added the little knight, “since we are called to a council, it is not right to send letters without our knowledge. Neither will we permit anyone to mention surrender; if anyone wishes to mention it, let him withdraw from authority.”

While speaking he was terribly roused; being a soldier of rare obedience, it caused him the utmost pain to speak thus against his superiors. But since he had sworn to defend the castle till his death he thought, “It behooves me to speak thus.”

The starosta was confused and answered, “I thought this was done with general consent.”

“There is no consent. We will die here!” cried a number of voices.

“I am glad to hear that,” said the starosta; “for in me faith is dearer than life, and cowardice has never come near me, and will not. Remain, gracious gentlemen, to supper; we will come to agreement more easily.”

But they would not remain.

“Our place is at the gates, not at the table,” said the little knight.

At this time the bishop arrived, and learning what the question was, turned at once to Pan Makovetski and Volodyovski.

“Worthy men!” said he, “each has the same thing at heart as you, and no one has mentioned surrender. I sent to ask for an armistice of four weeks; I wrote as follows; ‘During that time we will send to our king for succor, and await his instructions, and further that will be which God gives.’ ”

When the little knight heard this he was excited anew, but this time because rage carried him away, and scorn at such a conception of military matters. He, a soldier since childhood, could not believe his ears, could not believe that any man would propose a truce to an enemy, so as to have time himself to send for succor.

The little knight looked at Makovetski and then at other officers; they looked at him. “Is this a jest?” asked a number of voices. Then all were silent.

“I fought through the Tartar, Cossack, Moscow, and Swedish wars,” said Pan Michael, at last, “and I have never heard of such reasons. The Sultan has not come hither to please us, but himself. How will he consent to an armistice, when we write to him