"They burned him on a pile."
"What for?"
"Because he used to say that a layman could understand G.o.d"s secrets as well as the clergy."
"They punished him severely!"
"But righteously!" shouted the abbot, "because he had blasphemed against the Holy Ghost. What do you think? Is a layman able to interpret any of G.o.d"s secrets?"
"He cannot by any means!" exclaimed the wandering seminarists, together.
"Keep quiet, you _shpilmen_!" said the abbot; "you are not ecclesiastics, although your heads are shaved."
"We are not "_shpilmen_," but courtiers of Your Grace," answered one of them, looking toward a large bucket from which the smell of hops and malt was filling the air.
"Look! He is talking from a barrel!" exclaimed the abbot. "Hej, you s.h.a.ggy one! Why do you look at the bucket? You will not find any Latin at the bottom of that."
"I am not looking for Latin, but for beer; but I cannot find any."
The abbot turned toward Zbyszko, who was looking with astonishment at such courtiers as these, and said:
"They are _clerici scholares_;[83] but every one of them prefers to throw his books aside, and taking his lute, wander through the world. I shelter and nourish them; what else can I do? They are good for nothing, but they know how to sing and they are familiar with G.o.d"s service; therefore I have some benefit out of them in my church, and in case of need, they will defend me, because some of them are fierce fellows! This pilgrim says that he was in the Holy Land; but I have asked him in vain about some of the seas and countries; he does not know even the name of the Greek emperor nor in what city he lives."
"I did know," said the pilgrim, in a hoa.r.s.e voice; "but the fever I caught at the Danube, shook everything out of me."
"What surprises me most is, that they wear swords, being wandering seminarists," said Zbyszko.
"They are allowed to wear them," said the abbot, "because they have not received orders yet; and there is no occasion for anyone to wonder because I wear a sword even though I am an abbot. A year ago I challenged Wilk of Brzozowa to fight for the forests which you pa.s.sed; but he did not appear."
"How could he fight with one of the clergy?" interrupted Zych.
At this the abbot became angry, struck the table with his fist, and exclaimed:
"When I wear armor, then I am not a priest, but a n.o.bleman! He did not come because he preferred to have his servants attack me in Tulcza. That is why I wear a sword: _Omnes leges, omniaque iura vim vi repellere cunctisque sese defensare permittunt!_ That is why I gave them their swords."
Hearing the Latin, Zych, Macko and Zbyszko became silent and bent their heads before the abbot"s wisdom, because they did not understand a word of it; as for the abbot, he looked very angry for a while, and then he said:
"Who knows but what he will attack me even here?"
"Owa! Let him come!" exclaimed the wandering seminarists, seizing the hilts of their swords.
"I would like to have him attack me! I am longing for a fight."
"He will not do that," said Zych. "It is more likely that he will come to bow to you. He gave up the forests, and now he is anxious about his son.
You know! But he can wait a long time!"
Meanwhile the abbot became quieted and said:
"I saw young Wilk drinking with Cztan of Rogow in an inn in Krzesnia.
They did not recognize us at once, because it was dark; they were talking about Jagienka."
Here he turned to Zbyszko:
"And about you, too."
"What do they want from me?"
"They do not want anything from you; but they do not like it that there is a third young man near Zgorzelice. Cztan said to Wilk: "After I tan his skin, he will not be so smooth." And Wilk said: "Perhaps he will be afraid of us; if not, I will break his bones!" Then they a.s.sured each other that you would be afraid of them."
Hearing this Macko looked at Zych, and Zych looked at him; their faces expressed great cunning and joy. Neither of them was sure whether the abbot had really heard such a conversation, or whether he was only saying this to excite Zbyszko; but they both knew, and Macko especially, that there was no better way to incite Zbyszko to try to win Jagienka.
The abbot added deliberately:
"It is true, they are fierce fellows!"
Zbyszko did not show any excitement; but he asked in a strange tone that did not sound like his voice:
"To-morrow is Sunday?"
"Yes, Sunday."
"You will go to church?"
"Yes!"
"Where? to Krzesnia?"
"That is the nearest!"
"Well, all right then!"
CHAPTER IX.
Zybszko, having joined Zych and Jagienka, who were accompanying the abbot and his retinue to Krzesnia, rode with them, because he wanted to show the abbot that he was afraid neither of Wilk of Brzozowa, nor of Cztan of Rogow. He was again surprised at Jagienka"s beauty. He had often seen her in Zgorzelice and Bogdaniec, dressed beautifully; but never had she looked as she did now when going to church. Her cloak was made of red broadcloth, lined with ermine; she wore red gloves, and on her head was a little hood embroidered with gold, from beneath which two braids fell down on her shoulders. She was not sitting on the horse astride, but on a high saddle which had an arm and a little bench for her feet, which scarcely showed from beneath her long skirt. Zych permitted the girl to dress in a sheepskin overcoat and high-legged boots when at home, but required that for church she should be dressed not like the daughter of a poor _wlodyczka_,[84] but like the _panna_ of a mighty n.o.bleman. Two boys, dressed like pages, conducted her horse. Four servants were riding behind with the abbot"s seminarists, who were armed with swords and carried their lutes. Zbyszko admired all the retinue, but especially Jagienka, who looked like a picture. The abbot, who was dressed in a red cloak, having enormous sleeves, resembled a traveling prince. The most modest dress was worn by Zych, who requiring magnificent display for the others, for himself cared only for singing and joy.
Zych, Zbyszko, Jagienka and the abbot rode together. At first the abbot ordered his _shpilmen_ to sing some church songs; afterward, when he was tired of their songs, he began to talk with Zbyszko, who smiled at his enormous sword, which was as large as a two-handed German sword.
"I see," said he gravely, "that you wonder at my sword; the synod permits a clergyman to wear a sword during a journey, and I am traveling. When the holy father forbade the ecclesiastics to wear swords and red dresses, most a.s.suredly he meant the men of low birth, because G.o.d intended that n.o.blemen should wear arms; and he who would dare to take this right from a n.o.bleman, would oppose His eternal will."
"I saw the Mazovian Prince Henryk, when he fought in the lists," said Zbyszko.
"We do not censure him, because he fought," answered the abbot, raising his finger, "but because he married and married unhappily; _fornicarium_ and _bibulam_ had taken _mulierem_, whom _Bachum_ since she was young _adorabat_, and besides that she was _adultera_, from whom no one could expect any good." He stopped his horse and began to expound with still greater gravity:
"Whoever wishes to marry, or to choose _uxorem_ must ascertain if she is pious, moral, a good housekeeper and cleanly. This is recommended not only by the fathers of the church, but also by a certain pagan sage, called Seneca. And how can you know whether you have chosen well, if you do not know the nest from which you take your life companion? Because another sage has said: _Pomus nam cadit absque arbore._ As is the ox, so is the skin; as is the mother, so is the girl. Prom which you, a sinner, must draw this moral,--that you must look for your wife not far away, but near; because if you get a bad one, you will cry as did the philosopher, when his quarrelsome wife poured _aquam sordidam_ on his head."