CHAPTER XIII.
Next morning early the Cossacks marched out of the Saitch, foot andhorse. Though blood had not yet stained the steppes, the war had begun.Regiment followed regiment; just as if locusts, warmed by the springsun, had swarmed in the reeds of Chertomelik, and were flying to thefields of the Ukraine. In the woods behind Bazaluk the warriors of thehorde were waiting, ready for the march. Six thousand chosen men, armedincomparably better than ordinary partisan robbers, composed thecontingent which the Khan sent to the Zaporojians and to Hmelnitski. Atthe sight of them the Cossacks hurled their caps into the air. The gunsand muskets rattled. The shouts of the Cossacks, mingling with the"Allah" of the Tartars, struck the dome of heaven. Hmelnitski and TugaiBey, both under their banners, galloped toward each other on horseback,and exchanged formal greetings.
The order of march was formed with the rapidity peculiar to Tartars andCossacks; then the troops moved on. The horde occupied both Cossackwings; the centre was formed by Hmelnitski and his cavalry, behindwhich marched the terrible Zaporojian infantry. Farther in the rearwere the gunners, with their cannon; still farther the tabor-wagons, inthem camp-servants and stores of provisions; finally, the herdsmen,with reserve herds and cattle.
After they had passed the forest of Bazaluk the regiments flowed out onthe level country. The day was clear, the field of heaven unspotted bya cloud. A light breeze blew from the north to the sea; the sun playedon the lances, and on the flowers of the plain. The primeval steppeswere spread before the Zaporojians like a boundless sea, and at thissight joy embraced the Cossack hearts. The great red standard, with thearchangel, was inclined repeatedly in greeting to the native steppe;and following its example, every bunchuk and regimental standard waslowered. One shout sprang from all breasts.
The regiments deployed freely on the plain. The drummers and buglerswent to the van of the army; the drums thundered, trumpets and buglessounded, and in concert with them a song, sung by thousands of voices,reverberated through the air and the earth,--
"O steppes, our native steppes, Ye are painted with beautiful flowers, Ye are broad as the sea!"
The teorbanists dropped the reins, and bending back in the saddles,with eyes turned to the sky, struck the strings of their teorbans; thecymbalists, stretching their arms above their heads, struck theirbrazen disks; the drummers thundered with their kettledrums; and allthese sounds, together with the monotonous words of the song and theshrill whistle of the tuneless Tartar pipes, mingled in a kind ofmighty note, wild and sad as the Wilderness itself. Delight seized allthe regiments; the heads bent in time with the song, and at last itseemed as if the entire steppe, infected with music, trembled togetherwith the men and the horses and the standards.
Frightened flocks of birds rose from the steppe and flew before thearmy like another army,--an army of the air. At times the song andmusic stopped; then could be heard the rustling of banners, thetramping and snorting of horses, the squeak of the tabor-wagons,--likethe cry of swans or storks.
At the head of the army, under a great red standard and the bunchuk,rode Hmelnitski, in a red uniform, on a white horse, holding a gildedbaton in his hand.
The whole body moved on, slowly marching to the north, covering like aterrible wave the rivers, groves, and grave-mounds, filling with itsnoise and sound the space of the steppe.
But from Chigirin, from the northern rim of the Wilderness, there movedagainst this wave a wave of the armies of the crown, under theleadership of young Pototski. Here the Zaporojians and the Tartars wentas if to a wedding, with a joyful song on their lips; there the serioushussars advanced in grim silence, going unwillingly to that strugglewithout glory. Here, under the red banner, an old experienced leadershook his threatening baton, as if certain of victory and vengeance;there in front rode a youth with thoughtful countenance, as if knowing,his sad and approaching fate. A great expanse of steppe still dividedthem.
Hmelnitski did not hurry, for he calculated that the farther youngPototski went into the Wilderness, the farther he went from the twohetmans, the more easily could he be conquered. Meanwhile new fugitivesfrom Chigirin, Povolochi, and all the shore towns of the Ukraine gavedaily increase to the Zaporojian power, bringing also news from theopposite camp. From them Hmelnitski learned that the old hetman hadsent his son with only two thousand cavalry by land and six thousandCossacks, with one thousand German infantry in boats by the Dnieper.Both these divisions were ordered to maintain communication with eachother, but the order was violated from the first day; for the boats,borne on by the current of the Dnieper, went considerably in advance ofthe hussars going along the shore, whose march was greatly delayed bythe crossings at all the rivers falling into the Dnieper.
Hmelnitski, wishing that the distance between them should be increasedstill more, did not hurry. On the third day of his march he disposedhis camp around Komysha Water, and rested.
At that time the scouts of Tugai Bey brought informants,--two dragoonswho just beyond Chigirin had escaped from the camp of Pototski.Hurrying on day and night, they had succeeded in getting considerablyin advance of their camp. They were brought immediately to Hmelnitski.
Their account confirmed what was already known to Hmelnitski concerningthe forces of young Stephen Pototski; but they brought himintelligence, besides, that the leaders of the Cossacks sailing down inthe boats with the German infantry were old Barabash and Krechovski.
When he heard the last name, Hmelnitski sprang up. "Krechovski? thecommander of the registered Pereyaslav Cossacks?"
"The same, serene hetman!" answered the dragoons.
Hmelnitski turned to the colonels surrounding him. "Forward!" commandedhe, with thundering voice.
Less than an hour later the tabor was moving on, though the sun wasalready setting and the night did not promise to be clear. Certainterrible reddish clouds rolled along on the western side of theheavens, like dragons or leviathans, and approached one another as ifwishing to begin battle.
The tabor turned to the left, toward the bank of the Dnieper. The hostmarched quietly, without songs, without noise of drums or trumpets, andas quickly as the grass permitted, which was so luxuriant in thatneighborhood that the regiments buried in it were lost from view attimes, and the many-colored flags seemed to sail along the steppe. Thecavalry beat a road for the wagons and the infantry, which, advancingwith difficulty, soon fell considerably in the rear.
Night covered the steppes. An enormous red moon rose slowly in theheavens, but, hidden repeatedly by the clouds, flamed up and wasquenched like a lamp smothered by the blowing of the wind.
It was well after midnight when, to the eyes of the Cossacks and theTartars, black gigantic masses seemed outlined clearly on the darkbackground of the sky. These were the walls of Kudak.
Scouts, hidden by darkness, approached the fortress as carefully andquietly as wolves or night-birds. And now perhaps a surprise for thesleeping fortress!
But suddenly a flash on the ramparts rent the darkness. A terriblereport shook the rocks of the Dnieper, and a fiery ball, leaving acircle of sparks in the air, fell among the grass of the steppe. Thegloomy cyclops Grodzitski gave notice that he was watching.
"The one-eyed dog!" muttered Tugai Bey to Hmelnitski; "he sees in thenight."
The Cossacks avoided the fortress and marched on. They could not thinkof taking it at a time when the armies of the crown were marchingagainst them. But Grodzitski fired after them from his cannon till thewalls of the fortress trembled; not so much to injure them--for theypassed at a good distance--as to warn the troops sailing down theDnieper, who at that time might be not far away.
But the thunder of the guns of Kudak found echo first of all in theheart and hearing of Pan Yan. The young knight, brought by the commandof Hmelnitski with the Cossack tabor, became seriously ill on thesecond day. In the fight at Hortitsa he had not received, it is true, amortal wound, but he had lost so much blood that little life was leftin him. His w
ounds, dressed in Cossack fashion by the old inspector ofweights and measures, opened; fever attacked him, and that night he layhalf senseless in a Cossack telega, unconscious of God's world.
The cannon of Kudak first roused him. He opened his eyes, raisedhimself in the wagon, and began to look around. The Cossack taborglided along in the darkness, like a circle of dream figures, but thefortress roared and was lighted with rosy smoke; fiery balls sprangalong the steppe, snapping and barking, like infuriated dogs. At thissight such sadness and sorrow seized Skshetuski that he was ready todie on the spot, if he could only go even in spirit to his friends.War! war! and he in the camp of the enemy, disarmed, sick, unable torise from the wagon! The Commonwealth in danger, and he not flying tosave it! There in Lubni the troops are surely moving. The prince, withlightning in his eyes, is flying before the ranks; and on whatever sidehe turns his baton, three hundred lances strike like three hundredthunderbolts. Here a number of well-known faces begin to appear beforethe eyes of the lieutenant. Little Volodyovski, at the head of hisdragoons, with his thin sabre in hand,--the king of swordsmen; whoevercrosses weapons with him is as if in the tomb. There Pan Podbipientaraises his executioner's snatch-cowl! Will he cut off the three heads,or will he not? The priest Yaskolski waves the banners, and prays withhis hands lifted to heaven. But he is an old soldier; therefore, unableto restrain himself, he thunders out at times, "Strike! kill!" Mailedriders incline half-way to the horse's ear. The regiments rush on, opentheir ranks, and close. Battle and tumult are there!
Suddenly the vision changes. Before the lieutenant stands Helena, pale,with dishevelled hair; and she cries: "Save me, for Bogun pursues!"
Skshetuski tears himself from the wagon, till a voice--but a realone--calls to him: "Lie down, child, or I will bind you."
That was the essaul of the tabor, Zakhar, whom Hmelnitski had commandedto guard the lieutenant as the eye in his head. He puts him back in thewagon, covers him with a horse-skin, and asks: "What's the matter withyou?"
Now Skshetuski has perfect presence of mind. The visions vanish. Thewagons move along the very bank of the Dnieper. A cool breeze isblowing from the river, and the night is growing pale. Water-birds havebegun their morning noise.
"Listen, Zakhar! have we passed Kudak already?" asked Skshetuski.
"We have," answered the Zaporojian,
"And where are you going?"
"I don't know. There will be a battle, they say; but I don't know."
At these words Skshetuski's heart beat joyfully. He had supposed thatHmelnitski would besiege Kudak, and with that the war would begin.Meanwhile the haste with which the Cossacks pushed on permitted theinference that the armies of the Crown were already near, and thatHmelnitski was passing the fortress so as not to be forced to givebattle under its cannon.
"I may be free to-day," thought the lieutenant, and raised his eyes toheaven in thanks.