Boguslav had no choice but to fight, to conquer or perish; it was impossible for him to think of retreat.
“Very well,” said Kmita; “he has good cavalry, but heavy. He will not have use for it in the mud of to-day.”
Then he turned to Akbah Ulan. “You have grown poor,” said he, striking him on the stomach with his fist; “but after the battle you will fill your paunch with the prince’s ducats.”
“God has created the enemy, so that men of battle might have some one to plunder,” said the Tartar, with seriousness.
“But Boguslav’s cavalry stands in front of you.”
“There are some hundreds of good horses, and yesterday a regiment of infantry came and intrenched itself.”
“But could they not be enticed to the field?”
“They will not come out.”
“But turn them, leave them in the rear, and go to Yanov.”
“They occupy the road.”