CHAPTER I.

Jurand, finding himself in the castleyard, did not know at first where to go, because the servant, who had led him through the gate, had left him and gone toward the stables. It is true, the soldiers stood near the palisades, either singly or in groups, but their faces were so insolent, and their looks so derisive, that the knight could easily guess that they would not show him the way, and even if they were to make a reply to his question, it would be a brutal or an indignant one.

Some laughed, pointing at him with their fingers, others commenced to throw snow at him, like yesterday. But he, noticing a door larger than the others, over which was cut out in stone Christ on a cross, turned to it, thinking that if the count and the elders were in another part of the castle or in other rooms, somebody must set him right.

And so it happened. The instant Jurand approached that particular door, both halves of it opened suddenly, and there stood before it a youth with a head shaven like the clericals, but dressed in a worldly dress, who inquired:

“Are you Sir Jurand of Spychow?”

“I am.”

“The pious count ordered me to guide you. Follow me.”

And he commenced to lead him through a great vaulted vestibule toward a staircase. At the stairs though he halted, and casting a glance at Jurand, again inquired:

“But have you no weapon with you? I was ordered to search you.”

Jurand threw up his arms, so that his guide might be able to view his whole figure, and replied:

“Yesterday I gave up everything.”

Then the guide lowered his voice and said almost in a whisper:

“Be careful then not to break out into anger, because you are under might and superior force.”

“But also under God’s will,” returned Jurand.

Then he looked more carefully at his guide, and observing in his face something in the nature of mercy and sympathy, said:

“Honesty looks through your eyes, young man! Will you answer sincerely to what I question?”

“Make haste, sir,” said the guide.

“Will they return the child to me?”

And the youth raised his brows wonderingly.

“Is your child here?”

“My daughter.”

“That lady in the tower near the gate?”

“Yes. They promised to send her away if I surrendered to them.”

The guide waved his hand to signify that he knew nothing, but his face expressed trouble and doubt.

Then Jurand further asked:

“Is it true, that Shomberg and Markward are watching her?”

“Those brethren are not in the castle. Take her away though, sir, ere the nobleman Danveld regains his health.”

Hearing that, Jurand shivered, but there was no time to ask any more questions, because they had arrived at the hall on the upper floor in which Jurand was to face the chief Shchycienski. The youth, after having opened the door, retreated toward the stairs.

The knight of Spychow entered and found himself in a roomy apartment, very dark, because the lead-framed, oval-shaped panes transmitted very little light; furthermore the day was wintry and cloudy. There was, it is true, a fire burning in a large chimney at the other end of the apartment, but the green logs produced little flame. Only after a time, when Jurand’s eyes became used to the darkness, he distinguished a table behind which were knights sitting, and behind them a whole group of armed warriors and servants also armed, among whom the castle fool held a tame bear by a chain.

Jurand had frequently met Danveld some time before, and afterward had seen him twice at the court of the prince of Mazowsze, as delegate, but several years had p