For the Right Part 43

It was from the largest settlement that the call had come, and the far-off listeners had been seized with apprehension, lest the death-horn should announce the pa.s.sing away of the patriarch of the valley, Hilarion the Just; but by the time the pipes were heard it was known that it was for the burial of a stranger only, who in a sheltering homestead of Clan Rosenko had breathed his last. Old Jemilian was gone.

For more than a week he had lain wrestling with death, fighting his last battle bravely, with manly courage and resignation. Hilarion, not merely the ruler and guide of his people, but their adviser in sickness as well, had vainly endeavoured to succour the sinking life with healing herbs, and to tend the wound with practised skill. In vain, too, had been the almost pa.s.sionate care of the maiden Tatiana, who watched by the sick man day and night. The poor girl, feeling shy at first, and disconsolate among strangers, had been glad of the opportunity of showing her grat.i.tude to the hetman by soothing the sick-bed of his servant and friend.

Jemilian himself was almost impatient of so much solicitude. "I know that I am going to die," he kept repeating; "and it is well. One duty only I have yet to perform, and the good G.o.d will give me the needful strength before I go."

What this one thing might be which yet bound him to life he was in no hurry to disclose, not even to Taras, whose devotion and loving care for the wounded man were only equalled by Tatiana's. Once only, when the hetman had to leave him for a couple of days at the call of duty, the well-kept secret seemed about to be told. For Taras had learned that Green Giorgi, reinforced by several of his own late followers, had dared to resume his predatory life, and he at once resolved to bring those scoundrels to justice, Jemilian himself urging him not to delay.

And when the fearless band was mounted, and Taras once more returned to the sick-bed to take leave of his friend, the wounded man suddenly grew restless, looking doubtfully at the girl. Tatiana understood, and left the two by themselves. "Dear master," said Jemilian; "you may be absent for several days, and I may be gone when you return; yet I must not die without telling you one thing!"

"I shall find you alive, and, please G.o.d, getting better," said Taras, cheeringly. "But if it is any comfort to you----"

The old man shook his head. "No," he said, falteringly; "I think I will wait till death tightens its hold; for if, after all, I should recover by some miracle it were terrible ... terrible ... to have told you! No!

go your way, dear master, and G.o.d bless you.... I will wait!"

And as Taras rode along at the head of his followers he kept thinking of these strange words; but explanation there seemed none, and his attention presently was otherwise engaged. The enterprise was successful as usual, if not fully, for Green Giorgi himself was not among the hajdamaks he waylaid and caught, and Taras had to be satisfied with punishing his accomplices. The two most guilty he ordered to be shot, while the rest were disarmed and shorn of their hair.

Returning to the settlement, he found his faithful old servant alive still, but his last hour evidently at hand. But not yet did he refer to his secret, and Taras cared not to inquire. Not till the last sands were running through did the old man open his lips. It was near midnight; he had been lying still with closed lids, but, suddenly endeavouring to raise himself, he gazed anxiously at the pale, beautiful girl who sat by his side. "Tatiana," he whispered; "for G.o.d's sake, where is my master? Call him--I am going!"

She hastened away, and in another minute Taras was by the side of the dying man, taking hold of his hand tenderly. And Jemilian having satisfied himself that they were alone, began with laboured breath:--

"I have to make a confession to you, and to ask a promise. Hear me--a dying man cannot use many words. Do you know what, after all, will be your end?"

Taras kept silence, a stony look stealing over his face.

"The gallows!" whispered the old man, and shuddered. "It is an evil death, Taras--a horror to yourself and a lasting disgrace for your children! And therefore I have been resolved fully and firmly to save you from such a death, my poor, dear, dear master! I have sworn to myself, if ever we should fall into their hands, and there were no hope of escape, to shoot you myself with these hands of mine."

"Jemilian!"

"Do not hate me; for never man loved you more truly than I did when binding myself with that oath. You know what it would have cost me to do the deed! But you are the n.o.blest soul, the best and most lovable man that ever lived, and such a one shall not be tortured to death on the gallows...."

Taras, quite unable to speak, had fallen on his knees by the side of the bed, and was hiding his face in the rough bearskin which covered the limbs of the dying man.

Jemilian continued: "The Almighty is calling me hence, and I am not able to show you that love! But I cannot die in peace without endeavouring to save you from so horrible a death, for your own sake and for the sake of your little ones whom I have helped you to rear.

Promise me, therefore, Taras--I entreat you promise me--that you will do yourself what I had intended."

"I cannot," groaned the unhappy man.

"Why not? Poor, dear master! Ah! I know how you dread the gallows!--not the dying, but the rope! The mere thought of it fills you with horror and loathing unspeakable. I know it, for who knows you better than I do? For this and no other reason you have granted the bullet to even the blackest rascal we ever brought to his doom. And to yourself you refuse it--why should you?"

"Because it were cowardly and a sin against G.o.d!"

"Nay, surely the Almighty will judge your soul with the same justice and mercy whether you appear before His judgment-seat a month sooner or later. I cannot doubt that!... And cowardly? I do not understand you...."

"Yes, cowardly!" cried Taras, pa.s.sionately, and rising to his feet. "It is my appointed lot to be a guardian of the Right, and to strive to carry out the will of G.o.d concerning it, as far as may be possible to mortal man. I must not, I dare not renounce that sacred duty. If ever I fall into their hands I shall hope and endeavour to make good my escape, and continue fulfilling the duty which is laid upon me. Yes! in the very sight of the gallows I shall cling to the hope that the Judge above will set me free, though it be by a miracle, to carry on His work."

The dying man was silent; he fell back on his bed and closed his eyes.

Taras bent over him. And once again those faithful eyes opened on him fully, and the old servant whispered, scarcely audibly: "Farewell, dear master, and may G.o.d in His mercy be with you in death." A deep breath, and Jemilian was gone.

They laid him out in the morning after their way in the mountains, with a crucifix at his head, but with a jug of water at his right hand, bread and salt at his left, and the skin of a newly-killed kid at his feet, "for the other G.o.ds." And after that they buried him beneath a mighty fir-tree in the Dembronia Forest. No priest prayed over the dead, the aged Hilarion only whispered his ancient spells handed down from generation to generation, believed in by all, and understood by none. They filled up the grave, discharging their muskets over it, and finally cut a cross into the bark of the tree, not forgetting some mysterious signs by the side of it "for the other G.o.ds."

Then they returned to the settlement to partake of the funeral meal.

But as they entered the enclosure Taras perceived a youth standing by the hedge, at the sight of whom he gave a stifled cry.

It was young Halko, the farm-servant, who, with glistening eyes, now burst upon his master and kissed his hand. "Thanks be to G.o.d," he cried, struggling with tears, "we shall all be happy again! The mistress and the children have been set free! They are waiting to see you at the hamlet of Magura, at the lower end of the valley."

"My horse!" cried Taras, turning to his men. "And why have they not come all the way?"

"Because of the two gentlemen. It was they who refused to come further, lest you might think they wished to discover your encampment--our little Father Leo, I mean, and that old lawyer of Colomea who was your counsel in the suit."

"And what have they come for?"

"To bring you good news, master--really. The men of Zulawce are to have their field back, and the wrong is to be righted."

Taras grew white and then crimson, and again the glow yielded to a deadly pallor. But he asked no farther question, and, mounting his horse, he raced down the valley at a pace which left Halko fax behind him.

The meeting between husband and wife was deeply affecting. Taras flew towards her without giving a glance at the men, and a.n.u.sia, with a wild cry, buried her face on his shoulder. And they stood clasping each other speechless, only their tears kept flowing. At length Taras freed himself from her arms, and turned to his children, little Tereska beginning to cry with fear when that strange-looking grey-haired man caught her up, kissing her wildly; the little girl did not recognise her father, nor did the younger boy. Wa.s.silj only clung to him sobbing, "Oh, father dear, you look so ill--so ill!"

Taras made no answer, he took the boy on his knee, fondling him and closing his month with kisses when he would have spoken. It was as though he feared human words might destroy the blessedness of this meeting. And almost anxiously he avoided the eye of either the pope or the lawyer; still less could he have offered them greeting. He kept lifting, now this child to his knee, now that, pressing them to his heart closely; and drawing his wife down beside him, he pa.s.sed his hand tenderly over her grief-worn face. "Do not speak," he whispered, and she nodded, hiding her head in his bosom, to weep her sorrows away.

Father Leo and Dr. Starkowski had withdrawn modestly, watching that most touching scene from a distance only. "There is every hope of his yielding," whispered the lawyer. "G.o.d grant that it be so," returned the priest, less confident, evidently.

Half-an-hour might have pa.s.sed, when Taras roused himself, once more clasping his wife and kissing the children with a pa.s.sionate fervour, as though separation once more were at hand. And now he went up to the men, expressing his pleasure at seeing them, but his voice trembled as with apprehension, "What is it you have to tell me?" he inquired.

"We are sent hither by order of the Government," said Starkowski, producing a written doc.u.ment and explaining its contents. It was a paper drawn up by the district governor, instructing the present bearers, and containing, in full, the resolutions come to in Vienna.

"To-morrow," concluded the lawyer, "the governor himself will repair to Zulawce to re-examine the witnesses in person. And, since he is fully determined to get at the bottom of the matter, there is no doubt but that the contested field will be adjudged to the parish, and that the perjured witnesses, together with the scoundrel who led them on, will meet with their fullest deserts. And this is resolved upon, as you understand from this communication, for the sake of justice itself, and quite irrespective of what decision you may arrive at concerning yourself. But we ask you, whether there be any just reason left why you should refuse submission to the Emperor, the guardian of justice in this realm."

Taras drew one deep breath after another, but answer there was none.

"Husband!" cried a.n.u.sia, wildly, "tell them you are satisfied."

"Do not press him," interposed Father Leo. "Let us consider the matter calmly.... Taras," he continued, "I do not want to urge upon you the claims of ordinary wisdom, which might well prevail with you, in order to preserve your life, not only from ignominious death, but for your children's sake and their future welfare; for I know that no such consideration has influenced your actions. .h.i.therto and that you follow the voice of your conscience only; but this I will ask of you--does your conscience permit you to continue striving in your own might, and with fearful means, to bring about a result which will be attained peaceably by the faithful endeavour of those who are called to this duty?"

"This is the very point," said Taras, slowly. "I do not know that these endeavours are faithful! Look back on all this sad experience. Grievous crimes have been perpetrated at Zolawce--robbery and perjury. I appealed to the law, considering no personal sacrifice too great to obtain relief; but every effort proved vain. The robber was left to enjoy the benefit of his deed, and the perjurers could mock honest men!

Three years nearly have pa.s.sed since this happened, and the matter was not likely ever to be taken up again. Now you tell me that the men of the law nave suddenly remembered their duty. Why so? What is the reason that, all of a sudden, they feel called upon to try the case over again?--why are they willing to do so? Because these months past they have stood in terror of me, and I have left them no peace!... I ask you, doctor, as an honest man--would the case ever have come to be tried over again if I had followed your advice, and lived down my disappointment as a peaceable subject on my farm?"

"Yes, possibly," returned the lawyer. "I mean it is just as likely that some other chance had made it advisable----"

"That will do!" interrupted Taras. "By your own showing, then, it was a mere matter of chance, and you were brought to seek for the right in the present instance only because of my forcing you on to it through dire warfare. But for this, I repeat, you would not have lifted a finger to right the wrong! This is an evil state of things, and must not continue, for it opposes the beautiful will of G.o.d. The case does but lend force, then, to my belief that a judge and avenger is grievously needed in this country. This, however, is not the only, not even the chief, thing I must strive to rectify. I found greater wrongs left unpunished elsewhere; and, knowing that the men of Zulawce would not miss their opportunity of getting back their field for themselves, there was no need for me to see to it. I soon perceived there were other evil-doers in the land, not greater scoundrels, perhaps, than Hajek, but with greater scope for wrong; and therefore I judged well to punish and remove them first, and to bring him to his doom when I can do so without too great an effort or loss of life. But to come to those other cases, or to take one only as an example--who, I ask you, would ever have thought of ridding the people of Kossowince from that vilest of oppressors if I had not done it? And how, then, can I be sure that such things shall not happen again--not once, but in scores of cases?

Can you pledge yourselves that such wrongs shall never again be possible? Will you yourselves be the surety that in future no man shall be oppressed in this country, or his cry for redress die away unheard?"

"This is more than we can promise," said the lawyer; "but----"

"It needs no further word! I maintain that a judge and avenger was required in this country, and will still be required; and therefore----"

"Taras!" cried a.n.u.sia, with a shriek of despair, and clutching his arm, "forbear! Speak not lightly; it concerns our deepest welfare--it is a question of life or death!"

Once more the pope interfered. "Hear me, Taras," he said, speaking with a forced calm; "I do not condemn your answer so far, for it is no more than must be expected from your nature and your way of thinking, such as I have known them these years. And as a tree could not change the colour of its leaves at any man's bidding, you also could not have spoken differently, for your words are the outcome of your very being.

But I should have to condemn you if you were to disregard that which I will point out to you now, and which no doubt has escaped you hitherto.

Listen to me! You are grievously mistaken if you imagine that the law in itself is to blame, or that the Emperor wishes his judges to close an eye when poor peasants are ill-used by rich and powerful oppressors.

The law is all right, and those that are appointed to dispense it are required to take a solemn oath that in all cases they will be just and impartial. And again, you are mistaken if you think that our magistrates sometimes pa.s.s an unjust verdict wilfully." Taras broke in with a pa.s.sionate exclamation, but the pope stopped him. "I know what you are going to say," he cried; "you want to remind me that your wife and your children were arrested. I shall come to that presently. Let me urge upon you that, taking all in all, the intentions of the magistrates are good, and the laws are good. Just call to mind your experience as a whole, and tell me, speaking honestly, as before the face of Almighty G.o.d, Is it the just or the unjust verdicts which are the exception?"