For the Right

by Karl Emil Franzos

The band had been on a raid as far as the river Sereth, and was returning in forced rides under cover of the night, taking their rest during the day in their various hiding-places, and once more was encamped now by the Crystal Springs.

But before the first day was out Taras reassembled his men, announcing that they must be ready to start at sundown for Ispas, and thence to the southern Bukowina, because several Roumanian communities had sent him their grievous complaints.

The information was received with a growl of disapproval, and a voice was heard, "What, already, before we are half rested?" Another following it up with a plain "We refuse!" While yet another added, "We sha'n't move a step, unless we see what we shall gain by it!" But these cries were half smothered in the swelling surf of a general discontent.

Taras's friends pressed round him--those few in number who in life or death would be true to him--Nashko, the faithful Jemilian and his fellow-servant Sefko, the youths Wassilj and Lazarko, and several others. They had caught up their muskets in real alarm, prepared to stand by him to the end; and to judge from the increasing uproar, violence indeed seemed imminent. The mutinous band pressed closer and closer to the captain.

But he stood motionless, with eyes bent on the ground, and his face wore the expression of stern, unflinching resolve, which had grown habitual with him. "Speak to them," whispered Jemilian, hoarsely. "Speak, or you are lost!" But he shook his head. Presently, however, he drew himself up, fixing a penetrating glance upon the foremost of the heaving crowd, and such was the power of his eye that they fell back cowed and confounded.

He lifted his hand. "Silence!" he cried, continuing, with a voice not over loud, but wonderfully impressive, "If you have aught to say, or to ask of me, here I am! But I will not brook disorder! Who is to be spokesman for the rest? Let him step forth."

There was but a low murmuring now, like rumbling thunder, ceasing gradually as the men fell to debating more quietly among themselves. The Huzuls gathered round the Royal Eagle, urging him evidently to inform the hetman of their wishes. Others again, the worst of the lot, pressed round a herculean fellow of the name of Iwon Pistak, who had been in the service of one of the victims of Taras's judgments, and had joined the band but recently. A third body in the background was seen clustering round Sophron, the former choir-leader; and while the others kept muttering with wrathful or threatening faces, these latter seemed to cling together for mutual support, requiring no words in their trouble.

An expression of disappointment, deep and bitter, passed over Taras's features. He had refused to believe what Nashko and Jemilian had told him concerning the splitting up of the band into factions--he could see it now distinctly for himself. Alas! how far matters must have gone already, how often the men must have consulted among themselves, and how fully their minds must have been made up, if at this moment of excitement the division could take place thus easily and naturally.

"Who is to be spokesman?" he repeated, expecting Iwon Pistak to step forth with an insolent demand. But he was mistaken--this man of might shrugged his shoulders, refusing the honour. Taras could hear him say with a loud whisper, "You see, he is sure to shoot down the first that dares tell him. Of course he will then be shot in his turn; still I decline to be that first one!"

Taras was on the point of yielding to his indignation, when his attention was diverted from that miserable wretch; for suddenly there stood before him, pale and trembling, one of those from whom he scarcely would have expected the spirit of resistance--it was the late choir-leader, Sophron.