Now an arrow, sent from a bow by some one of the Poles, sang near the ear of Pan Roh, and sank in the loins of the rider rushing before him. The man trembled to the right and the left; at last he bent backward, bellowed with an unearthly voice, and fell from the saddle.
Between Roh and the king there was now only one man. But that one, wishing evidently to save the king, instead of helping turned his horse. Kovalski came up, and a cannonball does not sweep a man from the saddle as he hurled him to the ground; then, giving a fearful shout, he rushed forward like a furious stag.
The king might perhaps have met him, and would have perished inevitably; but others were flying on behind Roh, and arrows began to whistle; any moment one of them might wound his horse. The king, therefore, pressed his heels more closely, bent his head to the mane, and shot through the space in front of him like a sparrow pursued by a hawk.
But Roh began not only to prick his own horse with the spurs, but to beat him with the side of the sabre; and so they sped on one after the other. Trees, stones, willows, flashed before their eyes; the wind whistled in their ears. The king’s hat fell from his head; at last he threw down his purse, thinking that the pitiless rider might be tempted by it and leave the pursuit; but Kovalski did not look at the purse, and rolled his horse on with more and more power till the beast was groaning from effort.
Roh had evidently forgotten himself altogether; for racing onward he began to shout in a voice in which besides threats there was also a prayer—
“Stop, for God’s mercy!”
Then the king’s horse stumbled so violently that if the king had not held the bridle with all his power the beast would have fallen. Roh bellowed like an aurochs; the distance dividing him from Karl Gustav had decreased notably.
After a while the steed stumbled a second time, and again before the king brought him to his feet Roh had approached a number of yards.
Then he straightened himself in the saddle as if for a blow. He was terrible; his eyes were bursting out, his teeth were gleaming from under his reddish mustaches. One more stumble of the horse, another moment, and the fate of the Commonwealth, of all Sweden, of the entire war would have been decided. But the king’s horse began to run again; and the king, turning, showed the barrels of two pistols, and twice did he fire.
One of the bullets shattered the knee of Kovalski’s horse; he reared, then fell on his forefeet, and dug the earth with his nose.
The king might have rushed that moment on his pursuer and thrust him through with his rapier; but at the distance of two hundred yards other Polish horsemen were flying forward; so he bent down again in his saddle, and shot on like an arrow propelled from the bow of a Tartar.
Kovalski freed himself from his horse. He looked for a while unconsciously at the fleeing man, then staggered like one drunk, sat on the road, and began to roar like a bear.
But the king was each instant farther, farther, farther! He began to diminish, to melt, and then vanished in the dark belt of pine scrub.
Meanwhile, with shouting and roaring, came on Kovalski’s companions. There were fifteen of them whose horses held out. One brought the king’s purse, another his hat, on which black ostrich feathers were fastened with diamonds. These two began to cry out—
“These are yours, comrade! they belong to you of right.”
Others asked: “Do you know whom you were chasing? That was Karl himself.”
“As God is true! In his life he has never fled before any man as before you. You have covered yourself with immense glory!”
“And how many men did you put down before you came up with the king?”
“You lacked only little of freeing the Commonwealth in one flash, with your sabre.”
“Take the purse!”
“Take the hat!”
“The horse was good, but you can buy ten such with these treasures.”
Roh gazed at his comrades with dazed eyes; at last he sprang up and shouted—
“I am Kovalski, and this is Pani Kovalski! Go to all the devils!”
“His mind is disturbed!” cried they.
“Give me a horse! I’ll catch him yet,” shouted Roh.
But they took him by the arms, and though he struggled they brought him back to Rudnik, pacifying and comforting him along the road.
“You gave him Peter!” cried they. “See what has come to this victor, this conqueror of so many towns and villages!”
“Ha, ha! He has found out Polish cavaliers!”
“He will grow tired of the Commonwealth. He has come to close quarters.”
“Vivat, Roh Kovalski!”
“Vivat, vivat, the most manful cavalier, the pride of the whole army!”
And they fell to drinking out of their canteens. They gave Roh one, and he emptied the bottle at a draught.
During the pursuit of the king along the Boyanovka road the Swedes defended themselves in front of the priest’s house with bravery worthy of their renowned regiment. Though attacked suddenly and scattered very quickly, they rallied as quickly around their blue standard, for the reason that they were surrounded by a dense crowd. Not one of them asked for quarter, but standing horse to horse, shoulder to shoulder, they thrust so fiercely with their rapiers that for a time victory seemed to incline to their side. It was necessary either to break them again, which became impossible since a line of Polish horsemen surrounded them completely, or to cut them to pieces. Shandarovski recognized the second plan as the better; therefore encircling the Swedes with a still closer ring, he sprang on them like a wounded falcon on a flock of long-billed cranes. A savage slaughter and press began. Sabres rattled against rapiers, rapiers were broken on the hilts of sabres. Sometimes
