Among the Polish troops a number of men without sufficient clothing had died before day on the ramparts; in general, however, they endured the cold far better than the Turks, for the hope of victory strengthened them, and a faith, almost blind, that since the hetman had decided that they were to stiffen in the rain, the torment must come out infallibly for their good, and for the evil and destruction of the Turks. Still, even they greeted the first gleams of that morning with gladness.
At this same time Sobieski appeared at the battlements.
There was no brightness in the sky, but there was brightness on his face; for when he saw that the enemy intended to give battle in the camp he was certain that that day would bring dreadful defeat to Mohammed. Hence he went from regiment to regiment, repeating: “For the desecration of churches! for blasphemy against the Most Holy Lady in Kamenyets! for injury to Christendom and the Commonwealth! for Kamenyets!” The soldiers had a terrible look on their faces, as if wishing to say: “We can barely restrain ourselves! Let us go, grand hetman, and you will see!”
The gray light of morning grew clearer and clearer; out of the fog rows of horses’ heads, forms of men, lances, banners, finally regiments of infantry, emerged more distinctly each moment. First they began to move and advance in the fog toward the enemy, like two rivers, at the flanks of the cavalry; then the light horse moved, leaving only a broad road in the middle, over which the hussars were to rush when the right moment came.
Every leader of a regiment in the infantry, every captain, had instructions and knew what to do. Pan Kantski’s artillery began to speak more profoundly, calling out from the Turkish side also strong answers. Then musketry fire thundered, a mighty shout was heard throughout the whole camp,—the attack had begun.
The misty air veiled the view, but sounds of the struggle reached the place where the hussars were in waiting. The rattle of arms could be heard, and the shouting of men. The hetman, who till then had remained with the hussars, and was conversing with Pan Yablonovski, stopped on a sudden and listened.
“The infantry are fighting with the irregular janissaries; those in the front trenches are scattered,” said he to the voevoda.
After a time, when the sound of musketry was failing, one mighty salvo roared up on a sudden; after it another very quickly. It was evident that the light squadrons had pushed back the spahis and were in presence of the janissaries.
The grand hetman, putting spurs to his horse, rushed like lightning at the head of some tens of men to the battle; the voevoda of Rus remained with the fifteen squadrons of hussars, who, standing in order, were waiting only for the signal to spring forward and decide the fate of the struggle. They waited long enough after that; but meanwhile in the depth of the camp it was seething and roaring more and more terribly. The battle seemed at times to roll on to the right, then to the left, now toward the Lithuanian armies, now toward the voevoda of Belsk, precisely as when in time of storm thunders roll over the sky. The artillery-fire of the Turks was becoming irregular, while Pan Kantski’s batteries played with redoubled vigor. After the course of an hour it seemed to the voevoda of Rus that the weight of the battle was transferred to the centre, directly in front of his cavalry.
At that moment the grand hetman rushed up at the head of his escort. Flame was shooting from his eyes. He reined in his horse near the voevoda of Rus, and exclaimed,—