The trumpeter of Krakow

by Eric P. Kelly

“Yes—I have a curious notion,” answered the scholar, “that he may be able to help us. We have much to explain to the King, and the man’s presence will make our story more credible. And who knows, perhaps the alchemist himself may get help—he needs some light thrown into that brain of his, and since he is harmless, it will do no damage to take him.”

Pan Kreutz’s hands and face had been washed and dried, and most of the fire grime had left him; the scholar’s robe was useless, however, and Pan Andrew hung a kontusz or long coat about his shoulders.

Joseph was there with the three men; Wolf had been left behind sleeping upon the floor of the high tower room. Joseph’s mother and Elzbietka were under the protection of the day watchman who relieved Pan Andrew at dawn. It was necessary for Pan Andrew and Jan Kanty to assist the alchemist in walking at times when his feet would shuffle curiously like those of a man walking in his sleep, but he plodded along bravely, not yet realizing quite clearly what was happening about him yet confident that the two men near him were his friends and were leading him to some good place.

From Castle Street they turned at length up the long slope leading to the castle on the Wawel. Behind them lay street after street of desolation, of smoking ruins, of masses of wood still flaming; amidst these ruins men were still working valorously tearing down charred beams and hurling in tons and tons of water from the water wagons, which were now all drawn by horses. One side of Castle Street had suffered badly, the houses on the Street of the Pigeons were entirely destroyed, St. Ann’s Street had but few buildings left, while much devastation had been done along the Street of the Bakers, the Street of the Goldsmiths, and the Street of the Jews and Broad Street.

Jan Kanty’s company was challenged twice by guards on the way to the palace, but when the soldiers recognized the good father, they were at once passed along without question. It was another proof to Joseph of the esteem in which the man was held; in himself, however, there was not the least indication of pride and ostentation, he was as simple as a child in most matters affecting worldly things, and yet his name was as magic even in the court of the King. At length they all stood in the little passageway on the Wawel through which one passes to the palace, and here the guard, with spear raised in salute to the scholar, bade the company wait until he went to see if an audience might be had.

The soldier came back quickly. “The King,” he said gravely, “will grant any request that may be made by Father Jan Kanty; he only begs that the company wait a few minutes until a present audience is finished.”

They waited perhaps fifteen minutes until an important-looking functionary in a blue robe came to announce that King Kazimir Jagiello would receive Jan Kanty and his friends.

Out into a wide court they went, following the courtier in blue, up a marble staircase to the left and along a balcony. Then suddenly a door was flung back and they were in the presence of the King.

To Joseph, remembering it afterward, it all seemed like a dream, it was all so quiet and without ceremony. King Kazimir had chosen to receive them in a small antechamber in which he often met certain persons who were to be received without the usual ceremony of presentation, and Jan Kanty was one of the privileged ones that he met in such fashion.

Joseph and his father dropped upon one knee in front of the King. He was sitting in a high-backed chair without a canopy, which bore at its highest peak a royal crown; this crown was just above the monarch’s head so that at first it seemed as if it were actually upon his head and he were crowned. He wore a huge purple robe which fell clear to the tops of his soft leather sandals; it had a great collar embroidered with silks of many colors and in many patterns; a heavy gold chain held the folds of the collar together, and beneath the collar folds could be seen a rich vest embroidered with gold. The sleeves of the robe were immense and hung down far below his knees as he sat there; the robe itself was fringed with heavy fur. His head covering was a simple cap of the same color as the robe, flat, soft, and turned up a trifle at each side.