And so we were actually carried to Moscow to the Court of the Tsar, and since we were not allowed to ride together, nor to speak a word to one another on the way, I did not know what Mazeppa intended to do, or whether he would reveal or conceal what he knew of the vanished letter, or the object of our mission.
As for me I hoped, and prayed also, that I should be found courageous in the time of trial, and that I should not be forced to betray our trust under the anguish of the knout, which tears the flesh like the claws of a bear.
But in this matter, as in every position of difficulty, Mazeppa, born diplomatist and leader of men, found a way to escape—though not the most honourable. Since this is an honest record, however, and not a story drawn up for my own glorification or Mazeppa’s, I must admit that I was so greatly relieved and delighted by our unhoped-for escape from the knout or other torture, that I thought less of the end attained than of the means employed to attain it!
We were confined separately in Moscow, and I was surprised one day when—together with the jailor—Mazeppa entered my chamber.
‘We are free, Chelminsky,’ he said. ‘Come forth—we are in the Tsar’s favour.’
‘But how—how and why—we who were his arch enemies, and caught in the act of working for his disadvantage!’ I cried, hastening out of my captivity, however, and following him quickly from the house as I spoke.
‘The Tsar Alexis is the strong man,’ said Mazeppa. ‘I was brought before him and spoke with him, and I have discerned that it is so. From this time we are no longer registered vassals of the Pole: we are Russians, my friend, and shall henceforward offer our allegiance to the Tsar.’
‘Oh, Mazeppa!’ I exclaimed; ‘have you turned traitor and betrayed our own kith?’
‘Bah! we are all Cossacks: those are not more our kith than these; your own father fought the Poles—why not you?’