“If you wish I will send another—Kharlamp or Myeleshko.”
“No, I would rather go myself; besides, Kharlamp is wounded.”
“That is better. I wanted to send Kharlamp yesterday to Volodyovski’s squadron to take command, and if need be force it to obedience; but he is an awkward fellow, and it turns out that he knows not how to hold his own men. I have no service for him. Go first for the sword-bearer and the maiden, and then to those squadrons. In an extreme case do not spare blood, for we must show the Swedes that we have power and are not afraid of rebellion. I will send the colonels away at once under escort; I hope that Pontus de la Gardie will consider this a proof of my sincerity. Myeleshko will take them. The beginning is difficult. I see that half Lithuania will rise against me.”
“That is nothing, your highness. Whoso has a clean conscience fears no man.”
“I thought that all the Radzivills at least would be on my side, but see what Prince Michael writes from Nyesvyej.”
Here the hetman gave Kmita the letter of Kazimir Michael. Pan Andrei cast his eyes over the letter.
“If I knew not the intentions of your highness I should think him right, and the most virtuous man in the world. God give him everything good! He speaks what he thinks.”
“Set out now!” said the prince, with a certain impatience.
XVIII
Kmita, however, did not start that day, nor the following, for threatening news began to arrive at Kyedani from every side. Toward evening a courier rushed in with tidings that Mirski’s squadron and Stankyevich’s also were marching to the hetman’s residence, prepared to demand with armed hand their colonels; that there was terrible agitation among them, and that the officers had sent deputations to all the squadrons posted near Kyedani, and farther on to Podlyasye and Zabludovo, with news of the hetman’s treason, and with a summons to unite in defence of the country. From this it was easy to see that multitudes of nobles would fly to the insurgent squadrons and form an important force, which it would be difficult to resist in unfortified Kyedani, especially since not every regiment which Radzivill had at hand could be relied on with certainty.
This changed all the calculations and plans of the hetman; but instead of weakening, it seemed to rouse his courage still more. He determined to move at the head of his faithful Scottish regiments, cavalry and artillery, against the insurgents, and stamp out the fire at its birth. He knew that the soldiers without colonels were simply an unorganized throng, that would scatter from terror at the mere name of the hetman. He determined also not to spare blood, and to terrify with examples the whole army, all the nobles, nay, all Lithuania, so that it should not dare even to tremble beneath his iron hand. Everything that he had planned must be accomplished, and accomplished with his own forces.
That very day a number of foreign officers went to Prussia to make new enlistments, and Kyedani was swarming with armed men. The Scottish regiments, the foreign cavalry, the dragoons of Myeleshko and Kharlamp, with the “fire people” of Pan Korf, were preparing for the campaign. The prince’s haiduks, his servants, and the citizens of Kyedani were obliged to increase the military forces; and it was determined to hasten the transfer of the prisoners to Birji, where it would be safer to keep them than in exposed Kyedani. The prince hoped with reason that to transport the colonels to a remote fortress, in which, according to treaty, there must be a Swedish garrison already, would destroy in the minds of the rebellious soldiers all hope of rescuing them, and deprive the rebellion itself of every basis. Pan Zagloba, the Skshetuskis, and Volodyovski were to share the lot of the others.
It was already evening when an officer with lantern in hand entered the cellar in which they were, and said—
“Prepare, gentlemen, to follow me.”
“Whither?” asked Zagloba, with a voice of alarm.
“That will be seen. Hurry, hurry!”
“We come.”
They went out. In the corridor Scottish soldiers armed with muskets surrounded them. Zagloba grew more and more alarmed.
“Still they would not lead us to death without a priest, without confession,” whispered he in the ear of Volodyovski. Then he turned to the officer; “What is your rank, I pray?”
“What is my rank to you?”
“I have many relatives in Lithuania, and it is pleasant to know with whom one has to do.”
“No time for inquiries, but he is a fool who is ashamed of his name. I am Roh Kovalski, if you wish to know.”
“That is an honorable stock! The men are good soldiers, the women are virtuous. My grandmother was a Kovalski, but she made an orphan of me before I came to the world. Are you from the Vyerush, or the Korab Kovalskis?”
“Do you want to examine me as a witness, in the night?”
“Oh, I do this because you are surely a relative of mine, for we have the same build. You have large bones and shoulders, just like mine, and I got my form from my grandmother.”
“Well, we can
