“My relative is cut to pieces at Yavorov by Boguslav himself; hardly has he escaped with his life.”
A moment of silence followed.
“The letter is written in Bransk, in fright and confusion,” said he; “therefore it contains not a word touching Boguslav’s power, which must, I think, be considerable, since, as I read, two squadrons and a regiment of infantry are cut to pieces. It must be, however, that Boguslav fell on them unawares. The letter gives nothing positive.”
“I am certain now,” said Prince Michael, “that Boguslav wants to seize all Podlyasye, so as to make of it a separate or feudal possession in the treaties. Therefore he has surely come with as much power as he could possibly get. I have no other proofs save a knowledge of Boguslav. He cares neither for the Swedes nor the Brandenburgers, only for himself. He is an uncommon warrior, who trusts in his fortunate star. He wants to win a province, to avenge Yanush, to cover himself with glory; and to do this he must have a corresponding power, and has it, otherwise he would not march on us.”
“For everything the blessing of God is indispensable,” said Oskyerko; “and the blessing is with us!”
“Serene great mighty hetman,” said Kmita, “information is needed. Let me loose from the leash with my Tartars, and I will bring you information.”
Oskyerko, who had been admitted to the secret and knew who Babinich was, supported the proposal at once and with vigor.
“As God is good to me, that is the best idea in the world! Such a man is needed there, and such troops. If only the horses are rested.”
Here Oskyerko was stopped, for the officer of orderlies entered the room again.
“Serene great mighty hetman!” said he.
Sapyeha slapped his knees and exclaimed. “They have news! Admit them.”
After a while two light-horsemen entered, tattered and muddy.
“From Horotkyevich?” asked Sapyeha.
“Yes.”
“Where is he now?”
“Killed, or if not killed, we know not where he is.”
The hetman rose, but sat down again and inquired calmly—
“Where is the squadron?”
“Swept away by Prince Boguslav.”
“Were many lost?”
“We were cut to pieces; maybe a few were left who were taken captive like us. Some say that the colonel escaped; but that he is wounded I saw myself. We escaped from captivity.”
“Where were you attacked?”
“At Tykotsin.”
“Why did you not go inside the walls, not being in force?”
“Tykotsin is taken.”
The hetman covered his eyes for a moment with his hand, then he began to pass his hand over his forehead.
“Is there a large force with Boguslav?”
“Four thousand cavalry, besides infantry and cannon; the infantry very well trained. The cavalry moved forward, taking us with them; but luckily we escaped.”
“Whence did you escape?”
“From Drohichyn.”
Sapyeha opened wide his eyes. “You are drunk. How could Boguslav come to Drohichyn? When did he defeat you?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“And is he in Drohichyn?”
“His scouting-parties are. He remained in the rear himself, for some convoy is captured which Pan Kotchyts was conducting.”
“He was conducting Panna Borzobogati!” cried Kmita.
A silence followed. Boguslav’s success, and so sudden, had confused the officers beyond measure. All thought in their hearts that the hetman was to blame for delay, but no one dared say so aloud.
Sapyeha, however, felt that he had done what was proper, and had acted wisely. Therefore he recovered first from the surprise, sent out the men with a wave of his hand, and said—
“These are ordinary incidents of war, which should confuse no one. Do not think, gentlemen, that we have suffered any defeat. Those regiments are a loss surely; but the loss might have been a hundred times greater if Boguslav had enticed us to a distant province. He is coming to us. We will go out to meet him like hospitable hosts.”
Here he turned to the colonels: “According to my orders all must be ready to move?”
“They are ready,” said Oskyerko. “Only saddle the horses and sound the trumpet.”
“Sound it today. We move in the morning at dawn, without fail. Pan Babinich will gallop ahead with his Tartars, and seize with all haste informants.”
Kmita had barely heard this when he was outside the door, and a moment later hurrying on as his horse could gallop to Rokitno.
And Sapyeha also did not delay long.
It was still night when the trumpets gave out their prolonged sounds; then cavalry and infantry poured forth into the field; after them stretched a long train of squeaking wagons. The first gleams of day were reflected on musket-barrels and spear-points.
And they marched, regiment after regiment, squadron after squadron, in great regularity. The cavalry sang their matins, and the horses snorted sharply in the morning coolness, from which the soldiers predicted sure victory for themselves.
Their hearts were full of consolation; for the knighthood knew from experience that Sapyeha weighed everything, that he labored with his head, that he considered every undertaking from both sides, that when he began a thing he would finish it, and when he moved he would strike.
At Rokitno the lairs of the Tartars were cold; they had gone the night before, hence must have pushed far in advance. It surprised Sapyeha that along the road it was difficult to learn anything of them, though the division, numbering, with volunteers, several hundred, could not pass without being seen.
The most experienced officers wondered greatly at this march, and at Pan Babinich for being able to lead in such fashion.
“Like a wolf he goes through the willows, and like a wolf he will bite,” said they; “he is as if born for the work.”
But Oskyerko, who, as has been said, knew who Babinich was, said to Sapyeha—
“It was not for nothing that Hovanski put a price on his head. God will give victory to whom he chooses; but this is sure, that war with us will soon be bitter for Boguslav.”
“But it is a pity that Babinich has vanished as if he had fallen into water,” answered the hetman.
Three days
