Thus the homeless ones kept Easter in the mountains.

They were yet singing when Jemilian returned; and, service over, he informed his master he had found a.n.u.sia exactly as Taras had predicted.

"She has even made ready for the soldiers," the man said. "The rest of the people seem utterly confident, firmly believing that this night you will storm the manor-house; and they are all preparing to witness it, for a.n.u.sia refused to give them your message."

"What!" cried Taras, staggering.

"Refused point-blank," repeated Jemilian. "This is her answer--I took care to remember it: 'Tell him,' she said, 'I shall be grateful for any news of my lord and master, but I entreat him to send me word about himself only, not concerning his plans or the movements of those against him; for I will not speak an untruth when the men of the law ask me, and I will keep a clean heart. That is my prayer, let him grant it or not, as he pleases; but one thing I will never do, however urgently he may demand it--I refuse to be the go-between, carrying his messages to the village. I shall not do so in the present instance, although his news is for the good of the people entirely, and I will not do it in any case whatever. I will not share his guilt, nor his punishment in the end--tell him so, he will understand. He has made our children fatherless, he shall not make them motherless as well.' This is her message!"

Taras grew white as death; but before he could answer another messenger arrived, a lad whom the Royal Eagle had despatched from Zablotow, his news being that the hussars were due at Zulawce by nightfall, to antic.i.p.ate Taras's expected attempt on the manor.

The hetman looked anxious, Jemilian lending words to his fear. "There will be trouble," he said "if the soldiers come upon the excited villagers in the night."

"There will!" cried Taras, "they must be warned at any risk. You must go back directly, as fast as your horse will carry you. And if my wife still refuses, you must get Father Leo to tell them."

Jemilian promised his best, but Taras continued anxious, growing even more so with the setting sun, "All the misery of my life, so far, has struck me unawares," he said to his friend Nashko, "and I doubt whether a presaging voice is given to the heart of man; yet there is something within me making me sore afraid for my wife and children this night."

On waking in the morning from restless slumbers, he found Jemilian by his side. The old man looked wan, and his brow was clouded.

"They have been killed?" cried Taras, starting up.

"Not the mistress or the children," said Jemilian; "but blood has flowed." He was already on his way back when the tumult arose, and, returning cautiously, he learned what had happened, and that the smith had received his death-wound.

"Do not take it to heart so much, dear master," said the man, interrupting his report, for Taras was groaning pitifully. "The blood which has been shed lies neither at your door nor at your wife's. She did manage to have the people warned through Father Leo."

"At _my_ door!" cried Taras, wildly. But, checking himself, he requested to be left alone. It was some time before he showed himself to his men, and then, with a silent nod only to their greeting, he departed into the lonely wood.

The rough men were at a loss to understand him. "Why, this is excellent news," they said. "Such butchery would rouse the most law-abiding people in the land!" The Jew alone guessed what moved the captain's heart, and took courage to go after him. He found him lying beneath a fir-tree, with a gloomy face and evidently suffering.

"Taras!" he said, taking his hand, "I understand your grief; but the comfort remains that you did your best to avert this trouble."

But the captain shook his head. "A man must reap what he sows," he said.

"Do you repent of the step you have taken?"

"No!" he cried, vehemently. "Oh! how little you understand me! If I had not done so already, I would this day declare war against those that are in power. I have but done what I _must_ do. But _what_ that means--all the fearful scope of my undertaking--has only now grown plain to me.... And more," he added, hoa.r.s.ely ... "there is another thing! I used to think at times that possibly I might come to an evil end through this work of mine. Now I know it; I see now that my end can not, must not, be a good one...."

"What has come to you, Taras?" cried the Jew, alarmed.

"I cannot explain it," said the captain, with a wistful look; "it is a voice within me, not of the mind, but of the heart. I know it now!"

The following morning the deputies of the village, Wa.s.silj, the butcher, and Hritzko Pomenko, appeared before Taras, delivering their message.

"We are convinced that you will stand by us," they said, "and only wish to know what time you fix for the revenge."

He had listened quietly, but then made answer with a terrible sternness: "Hearken!" he said, "if you had asked me to help you in attacking the hussars, I would have refused, both for your sakes, since it would harm you in the end, and for the sake of justice itself; for these soldiers have only obeyed those they are bound to obey. I would have reasoned with you, advising you to keep quiet, and if nevertheless you had suffered wrong I would have made those responsible who ordered it. But now you actually ask me to lift the arm of murder against the Whitecoats, who have done you no injury. I have but one answer, therefore--'Get ye gone from the camp of the avenger!' How could I have anything to do with men capable of the thought even of a.s.sa.s.sination?"

"Taras!" exclaimed Wa.s.silj, staggering as though he had received a blow; but young Hritzko stood rooted to the ground, his eyes wide open with amazement. Taras's men, on the contrary, looked sullenly before them in plain disapproval.

"Yes," continued Taras; "let me repeat it. What you are thinking of is not an act of sacred vengeance, but of revengeful murder. If I were not sure you would never dare an attack without me, G.o.d knows I would send word of your intention to the officer on the spot."

"Taras," now cried Hritzko, in his turn. "How is it? Have we not heard your solemn declaration of war against the Emperor, and now you will not rid us of his soldiers, the instruments of tyranny?"

"No," replied Taras, firmly, "I will not, because I am not an a.s.sa.s.sin, but a champion of justice."

"A champion afraid of shedding blood?" interposed the butcher, scornfully.

"A champion who will not shed innocent blood, unless it be the only way of making justice victorious," returned Taras, solemnly. "If the mandatar were at Zablotow under the protection of these soldiers, and I had a force sufficient to risk an attack, I would do so this very night. For he has sinned against the law of G.o.d, and must be brought to judgment; and since Right is the most sacred thing upon earth, it is better to shed blood than let this holy thing be dragged low. But except for such reason, I will never consent to endanger an innocent life, lest the deed rise against me and mine in the day of judgment."

"But, Taras," pleaded Hritzko, "this is all very well as regards ourselves or the soldiers, but what of yourself? Do you think they would have the slightest compunction in slaying you, wherever they find you?"

"We will take care of ourselves," said Taras, quietly.

"I trust you may," rejoined the butcher. "Come, Hritzko, let us be gone."

But the young man went up closer to Taras. "What answer would you have us take back to our people?" said he, clasping Taras's hand. "They are in the worst of moods, bitterly resenting the military interference, but they have full confidence in your coming. All their fury will be turned against you if we tell them how you judge of their purpose. Have you no other message, Taras, which we might take back to them?"

"No," replied the captain, sternly. "Thank you for your good intentions; but I have put off the fear of man, since I serve G.o.d. Tell them the plain truth."

This happened about noon on the Tuesday. Towards evening Taras a.s.sembled his men, some forty in number by this time, to hold his first council of war, laying before them the two most important points of his latest information. Wa.s.silj Soklewicz had come back with the news of the mandatar's matrimonial intentions, and that he was in the habit of spending his evenings at the Armenian's villa. The Royal Eagle also had returned from Kossowince, reporting that the complaints of that parish against their avaricious and hard-hearted priest were but too well founded; he had suspended all church functions, and was distraining for t.i.thes pitilessly.

"The measure of iniquity, both of the mandatar and of the priest, is full to overflowing," Taras said. "Let us, then, hesitate no longer to do the work, ridding the fair earth of these scoundrels. There is danger in both undertakings, for soldiers are quartered at the manse of Kossowince, and the villa which harbours the mandatar of an evening is near the well-garrisoned district town. But we will rest our courage in the Almighty, and do the deed. To-morrow, Wednesday, afternoon we start, reaching Kossowince by night, to bring the evil-doer there to his doom, and before the midnight of Thursday we must be ready for pa.s.sing judgment on the mandatar. Will you follow me?"

"Urrahah!" was the wild answer of delight, and as the men gathered round their watch-fires the excitement of action was among them. Nashko only had retired by himself, musing sadly.

"Poor Taras!" he said, sighing. "These fellows understand his meaning no better than any brute cattle could follow a Sunday's sermon. They think him a misguided fool for trusting me, and they resented his refusal to the people of Zulawce. But for his resolve to fall to work he might have found himself obliged to begin his judgments upon his own followers in the first place. Their meanness is forced back now within their own hearts, but it will break out again sooner or later. He will hold his own against the men of the law, but who shall keep his soul undefiled from the breath of these lawless ones?"

With the earliest dawn the men began getting themselves ready for the intended raid, polishing their arms and grooming their horses, whilst Taras held farther counsel with Nashko and the Royal Eagle, giving to each his special orders. The morning pa.s.sed in high excitement.

But suddenly--the sun was just nearing the zenith--the alarm was given from the direction of the Red Hollow, and all eyes turned thither; the figure of a horseman was seen coming at full speed down the steep declivity. "The fellow is mad," was the general outcry, "he will break his neck in a moment."

Taras also was straining his eyes, and grew white with apprehension, having recognised his young servant, Halko. "There is trouble at home!"

he cried, rushing to meet the messenger.

But in spite of the headlong career to which the bold rider forced his helpless steed, he reached the rocky entrance of the valley safely, and then, just at the last reckless plunge, the poor animal rolled over, the young man, in a flying leap, coming to the ground. A cry of horror burst from the expectant band, but the horse only lay gasping; the youth jumping up from his fall like a wild-cat, hastened onward with quickening steps, stopping in front of Taras.

"The chestnut is done for," he panted, "but I have kept my promise, to reach you by noon. This is the mistress's message!" And he reported how the commissioner had threatened a.n.u.sia. All the band had a.s.sembled round him, listening eagerly. "The cowards!" they cried when he had done, "being afraid of us, they are going to wage war upon women!"

Taras alone seemed calm. "It is well," he said to the youth; "did you not say the commissioner intends to return in the evening? We will have a word with him, then. Julko, I will ask you to bring him hither, not harming him, but blindfolding his eyes.... You, Halko, go back to my wife, and tell her to be of good cheer."

The Royal Eagle forthwith led off his men in the direction of the Pruth, Taras quietly setting himself to inspect the preparations of the others, seeing to the needful ammunition, the necessary rations, and holding everything in readiness for the night's expedition. Watching him thus calmly engaged, one would scarcely have guessed that such a message had just reached him, and that he was expecting a meeting that must stir his troubled heart to its depth. At dusk all was in readiness, the men standing by their horses, listening impatiently for any sign of Julko's return. But the last glimmer of daylight faded, the stars shone forth, and night spread her mantle over the mountains; not a sound yet, save the murmuring whispers in the tall firs and, far off, the hooting of an owl.

"The bird of ill omen!" said the men, with bated breath; "who can tell what may have happened to Julko?"

But Taras heeded them not, lost in thought. The bird's dismal cry had wakened another voice within him; or, rather, it appeared like an echo of his own inner consciousness, which, rising from the depths of his being, quivered through him in awful agony. And then it seemed as though the bird kept crying: "You are about to shed the blood of man--you! you!"

Jemilian went up to him. "They keep us waiting here rather long!" he said anxiously. Taras shivered and stared at him. The man had to repeat his remark.

"Never mind," he now made answer, his voice rising as though to silence that other voice within; and he drew himself up. "Julko may have had to wait before catching him, and the way up the ravine is difficult even in daylight.... But is it that you are afraid of the dark, children that you are! Well, then, light a fire; it will serve at the same time to show off that coward of a commissioner when he does arrive."