"Yes, there was."
"And a dumb boy with the old man,--a lad?"
"Yes; there was."
"What did the minstrel look like?"
"He was not old, heavy, had eyes like a fish, and on one of them a cataract."
"Oh, that is he!" muttered Anton, and inquired further: "And the boy?"
"Oh, father ataman," said the ferryman, "an angel, out and out! We have never seen such a boy."
In the mean while they were coming to the sh.o.r.e.
"Ah, we will bring her to the ataman!" muttered Anton to himself. Then he turned to the Cossacks: "To horse!"
They shot on like a flock of frightened bustards, though the road was difficult, for the country was broken into gorges. But they entered a broad ravine at the bottom of which was a kind of natural path formed by the flowing of a spring. The ravine extended to Kavraiets. They rushed on some miles without halting; Anton, on the best horse, ahead.
The broad mouth of the ravine was already visible when Anton suddenly pulled in his horse till his hind shoes crushed the stones.
"What is this?"
The entrance was suddenly darkened with men and horses. A troop entered in pairs, and formed six abreast. There were about three hundred hors.e.m.e.n. Anton looked; and although he was an old soldier hardened to every danger, his heart thumped within his breast and on his face came a deathly pallor. He recognized the dragoons of Prince Yeremi.
It was too late to flee. Anton"s party was separated from the dragoons by scarcely two hundred yards, and the tired horses of the Cossacks could not go far in escape. The dragoons, seeing them, rode up on a trot. In a moment the Cossacks were surrounded on every side.
"Who are you?" asked the commander, sternly.
"Bogun"s men!" answered Anton, seeing that it was necessary to tell the truth. But recognizing the lieutenant whom he had seen in Pereyaslav, he cried out at once with pretended joy: "Oh, Pan Kushel! Thank G.o.d!"
"Ah! is that you, Anton?" asked the lieutenant, looking at the essaul.
"What are you doing here? Where is your ataman?"
"The Grand Hetman has sent our ataman to the prince to ask for a.s.sistance; so he has gone to Lubni, and he has commanded us to go along through the villages to catch deserters."
Anton lied as if for hire; but he trusted in this,--since the dragoons were going away from the Dnieper, they could not know yet of the attack on Rozlogi, nor of the battle at Va.s.silyevka, nor of any of Bogun"s undertakings.
Still the lieutenant added: "One might say you wanted to steal over to the rebellion."
"Oh, Lieutenant, if we wanted to go to Hmelnitski, we should not be on this side of the Dnieper."
"That," said Kushel,--"is an evident truth which I am not able to deny. But the ataman will not find the prince in Lubni."
"Where is he?"
"He was in Priluka; but it is possible that he started yesterday for Lubni."
"Too bad! The ataman has a letter from the hetman to the prince. And may I make bold to ask if you are coming from Zolotonosha?"
"No; we were stationed at Kalenki, and now we have received orders to go to Lubni, like the rest of the army. From there the prince will move, with all his forces. But where are you going?"
"To Prohorovka, for the peasants are crossing there."
"Have many of them fled?"
"Oh, many, many!"
"Well, then, go! G.o.d be with you!"
"Thank you kindly, Lieutenant. G.o.d conduct you!"
The dragoons opened their ranks, and Anton"s escort rode out from among them to the mouth of the ravine.
After he had issued from the ravine, Anton stopped and listened carefully; and when the dragoons had vanished from sight, and the last echo had ceased, he turned to his Cossacks, and said,--
"Do you know, you simpletons, that were it not for me, you would soon be gasping, empaled on stakes, in Lubni? And now, forward, even if we drive the last breath out of our horses!"
They rushed on with all speed.
"We are lucky, and doubly so," thought Anton,--"first, in escaping with sound skins, and then because those dragoons were not marching from Zolotonosha, and Zagloba missed them; for if he had met them, he would have been safe from every pursuit."
In truth, fortune was very unfavorable to Zagloba in not letting him come upon Kushel and his company; for then he would have been rescued at once, and freed from every fear.
Meanwhile the news of the catastrophe at Korsun came upon Zagloba at Prohorovka like a thunderbolt. Reports had already been pa.s.sing through the villages and farmhouses on the road to Zolotonosha of a great battle, even of the victory of Hmelnitski; but Zagloba did not lend them belief, for he knew from experience that every report grows and grows among the common people to unheard of dimensions, and that specially of the preponderance of the Cossacks the people willingly told wonders. But in Prohorovka it was difficult to doubt any longer.
The terrible and ominous truth struck like a club on the head.
Hmelnitski had triumphed, the army of the king was swept away, the hetmans were in captivity, and the whole Ukraine was on fire.
Zagloba lost his head at first, for he was in a terrible position.
Fortune had not favored him on the road, for at Zolotonosha he did not find the garrison, and the old fortress was deserted. He doubted not for a moment that Bogun was pursuing him, and that sooner or later he would come upon his trail. He had doubled back, it is true, like a hunted hare; but he knew, through and through, the hound that was hunting him, and he knew that that hound would not allow himself to be turned from the trail. Zagloba had Bogun behind, and before him a sea of peasant rebellion, slaughter, conflagration, Tartar raids, and raging mobs. To flee in such a position was a task difficult of accomplishment, especially with a young woman who, though disguised as a minstrel boy, attracted attention everywhere by her extraordinary beauty. In truth, it was enough to make a man lose his head.
But Zagloba never lost it long. Amid the greatest chaos in his brain he saw perfectly one thing, or rather felt it most clearly,--that he feared Bogun a hundred times more than fire, water, rebellion, slaughter, or Hmelnitski himself. At the very thought that he might fall into the hands of the terrible leader, the skin crept on his body.
"He would flay me," repeated he, continually. "But in front is a sea of rebellion!"
One method of salvation remained,--to desert Helena, and leave her to the will of G.o.d; but Zagloba did not wish to do that, and did not let the thought enter his head. What was he to do?
"Ah," thought he, "it is not the time to look for the prince. Before me is a sea; I will give a plunge into this sea. At least I shall hide myself, and with G.o.d"s aid swim to the other sh.o.r.e." And he determined to cross to the right bank of the Dnieper.
This was no easy task at Prohorovka. Nikolai Pototski had already collected for Krechovski and his men all the scows and boats, large and small, from Pereyaslav to Chigirin. In Prohorovka there was only one leaky scow. Thousands of people, fleeing from the neighborhood of the Dnieper, were waiting for that scow. All the cottages, cow-houses, barns, sheds in the entire village were taken. Everything was enormously dear. Zagloba was in truth forced to earn a bit of bread with his lyre and his song. For twenty-four hours there was no pa.s.sage.
The scow was injured twice, and had to be repaired. Zagloba pa.s.sed the night sitting on the bank of the river with Helena, together with crowds of drunken peasants who were sitting around fires. The night, too, was windy and cold. The princess was worn out and in pain, for the peasant boots galled her feet; she was afraid of becoming so ill as to be unable to move. Her face grew dark and pale, her marvellous eyes were quenched; every moment she feared that she should be recognized under her disguise, or that Bogun"s men would come up. That same night she beheld a terrible sight. A number of n.o.bles who had tried to take refuge in the domains of Vishnyevetski from Tartar attack were brought from the mouth of the Ros by peasants, and put to death on the bank of the river.
Besides this, in Prohorovka there were two Jews, with their families.
The maddened crowd hurled them into the river; and when they did not go to the bottom at once, they were pushed down with long sticks, together with their wives and children. This was accompanied by uproar and drunkenness. Tipsy men frolicked with tipsy women. Terrible outbursts of laughter sounded ominously on the dark sh.o.r.es of the Dnieper. The winds scattered the fire; red brands, and sparks driven by the wind, flew along, and died on the waves. Occasionally alarm sprang up. At one time and another a drunken, hoa.r.s.e voice would cry in the darkness, "Save yourselves! Yeremi is coming!" And the crowd rushed blindly to the sh.o.r.e, trampled on one another, and pushed one another into the water. Once they came near running over Zagloba and the princess. It was an infernal night, and seemed endless. Zagloba begged a quart of vudka, drank himself, and forced the princess to drink; otherwise she would have fainted or caught a fever. At last the waves of the Dnieper began to whiten and shine. Light had come. The day was cloudy, gloomy, pale. Zagloba wished to cross, with all haste, to the other side.
Happily the scow was repaired, but the throng in front of it was enormous.
"A place for the grandfather, a place for the grandfather!" cried Zagloba, holding Helena between his outstretched arms, and defending her from the pressure. "A place for the grandfather! I am going to Hmelnitski and Krivonos. A place for the grandfather, good people! My dear fellows, may the black death choke you and your children! I cannot see well; I shall fall into the water; my boy will be drowned. Give way, children! May the paralysis shake every limb of you; may you die on the stake!"
Thus brawling, begging, pushing the crowd apart with powerful arms, he urged Helena forward to the scow, clambered on himself, and then began to brawl again,--
"There are plenty of you here already. Why do you crowd so? You will sink the scow. Why do so many of you push on here? Enough, enough! Your turn will come; and if it doesn"t, small matter!"