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But the Bohemian, Hlawa, now approached with two of Zbyszko's retainers in order to take it off from the deceased, therefore the curious surrounded Zbyszko, praising and extolling him to the skies, because they justly thought that his fame would redound to the credit of the whole Mazovian and Polish knighthood.
"We are not with her court. We are returning from Litwa, from Prince Witold. Better for us if we had never met any court! This misfortune has come from that." Here Macko began to tell about what had happened in the inn; he spoke about the meeting with the princess and about Zbyszko's vow.
And the old castellan added: "And especially of God." The next day Powala of Taczew testified to everything he could before the court of the castellan, that would lessen the enormity of Zbyszko's offence.
The priest put her near Zbyszko's bed and having put the stole round their hands, began the customary rite. On the princess' honest face the tears were dropping one after another; but she was not uneasy within, because she believed she was doing well, uniting these two lovely and innocent children.
We cannot do it, it is the king's affair. It may be soon or not ... God only knows. But meanwhile I must go to them." "Is it not with ransom for Zbyszko?" As his father mentioned Zbyszko's name young Wilk's face became pale with hatred. But Macko replied quietly: "May be with ransom but not for Zbyszko." These words intensified the curiosity of both lords of Brzozowa.
For these reasons, they granted Zbyszko several weeks, and perhaps more, of life, to make his final arrangements and to bid his friends farewell. Macko visited him every day and tried to console him. They spoke sorrowfully about Zbyszko's inevitable death, and still more sorrowfully about the fact that the family would become extinct. "It cannot be otherwise, unless you marry," Zbyszko said once.
At times it seemed to him almost certain that Danusia would return to Spychow, under Zbyszko's powerful protection.... "He is a strong man," he thought; "he will not permit anybody to injure her."
Zbyszko caught her in his arms and pressed her to his chest, bidding her farewell; but Danusia instead of nestling to him and embracing him, immediately took her white veil from her head and wrapped it around Zbyszko's head, and began to cry in her tearful, childish voice: "He is mine! He is mine!" "He is hers!" shouted the powerful voices of the knights. "To the castellan!"
Skirwoilla did not repel the embrace. Finally, withdrawing his head from Zbyszko's arm, he looked at him benignantly, breathing heavily. "Well," he said, after a moment's silence. "Well, to-morrow I will give orders for the prisoners to be hanged, but if you want any one of them, I will give him to you."
He also concluded that the battle had taken place quite early, perhaps earlier than Zbyszko's fight, for the corpses were livid and swollen, and some of them torn by wolves, that scattered in the thickets at the approach of armed men. In face of these circumstances Zbyszko resolved not to wait for Skirwoilla, but to return to the original safe camp.
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