The Deluge: An Historical Novel of Poland, Sweden, and Russia. Vol. 1Sienkiewicz, Henryk
History
The Deluge: An Historical Novel of Poland, Sweden, and Russia. Vol. 1
Sienkiewicz, Henryk
Historical fiction; Poland -- History -- John II Casimir, 1648-1668 -- Fiction
"And I would rather have a bullet in my forehead," said Volodyovski,
"than sit with folded arms during such an unfortunate war."
"Do not blaspheme, Michael," answered Zagloba, "for from the wagon,
should a convenient moment come, you may give a plunge, and from Birji
also; but it is hard to escape with a bullet in the forehead. I foresaw
that that traitor would not dare to put bullets in our heads."
"Is there a thing which Radzivill does not dare to do?" asked Mirski.
"It is clear that you have come from afar and know him not. On
whomsoever he has sworn vengeance, that man is as good as in the grave;
and I remember no instance of his forgiving any one the slightest
offence."
"But still he did not dare to raise hands on me!" answered Zagloba.
"Who knows if you have not to thank me for your lives?"
"And how?"
"Because the Khan loves me wonderfully, for I discovered a conspiracy
against his life when I was a captive in the Crimea. And our gracious
king, Yan Kazimir, loves me too. Radzivill, the son of a such a one,
did not wish to break with two such potentates; for they might reach
him, even in Lithuania."
"Ah! what are you saying? He hates the king as the devil does holy
water, and would be still more envenomed against you did he know you to
be a confidant of the king," observed Stankyevich.
"I think this," said Oskyerko. "To avoid odium the hetman would not
stain himself with our blood, but I could swear that this officer is
bearing an order to the Swedes in Birji to shoot us on the spot."
"Oi!" exclaimed Zagloba.
They were silent for a moment; meanwhile the wagon had rolled into the
square of Kyedani. The town was sleeping, there were no lights in the
windows, only the dogs before the houses snapped angrily at the passing
party.
"Well," said Zagloba, "we have gained time anyhow, and perhaps a chance
will serve us, and some stratagem may come to my head." Here he turned
to the old colonels: "Gentlemen, you know me little, but ask my
comrades about the hot places in which I have been, and from which I
have always escaped. Tell me, what kind of officer is this who commands
the convoy? Could he be persuaded not to adhere to a traitor, but take
the side of his country and join us?"
"That is Roh Kovalski of the Korab Kovalskis," answered Oskyerko.
"I know him. You might as well persuade his horse as him; for as God is
bountiful I know not which is more stupid."
"But why did they make him officer?"
"He carried the banner with Myeleshko's dragoons; for this no wit is
needed. But he was made officer because his fist pleased the prince;
for he breaks horseshoes, wrestles with tame bears, and the man has not
yet been discovered whom he cannot bring to the earth."
"Has he such strength?"
"That he has such strength is true; but were his superior to order him
to batter down a wall with his head he would fall to battering it
without a moment's delay. He is ordered to take us to Birji, and he
will take us, even if the earth had to sink."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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