"Ha!" said Tenczynski, "persuade the Krzyzak to withdraw the complaint."
"I have asked him."
"And what?" asked the king, stretching his neck; "what did he say?"
"He answered me thus: 'You ought to have asked me for pardon on the road to Tyniec; you would not then; now I will not.'"
"And why didn't you do it?"
"Because he required us to dismount and apologize on foot."
The king having put his hair behind his ears, commenced to say something when a courtier entered to announce that the Knight of Lichtenstein was asking for an audience.
Having heard this, Jagiello looked at Jasko of Tenczyn, then at Macko. He ordered them to remain, perhaps with the hope that he would be able to take advantage of this opportunity and using his kingly authority, bring the affair to an end.
Meanwhile the Krzyzak entered, bowed to the king, and said: "Gracious lord! Here is the written complaint about the insult which I suffered in your kingdom."
"Complain to him," answered the king, pointing to Jasko of Tenczyn.
The Krzyzak, looking directly into the king's face, said: "I know neither your laws nor your courts; I only know, that an envoy of the Order can complain only to the king."
Jagiello's small eyes flashed with impatience; he stretched out his hand however, and accepted the complaint which he handed to Tenczynski.
The castellan unfolded it and began to read; but the further he read, the more sorrowful and sad his face became.
"Sir," said he, finally, "you are seeking the life of that lad, as though he were dangerous to the whole Order. Is it possible that the Knights of the Cross are afraid even of the children?"
"The Knights of the Cross are not afraid of anyone," answered the comthur, proudly.
And the old castellan added: "And especially of God."
The next day Powala of Taczew testified to everything he could before the court of the castellan, that would lessen the enormity of Zbyszko's offence. But in vain did he attribute the deed to childishness and lack of experience; in vain he said that even some one older, if he had made the same vow, prayed for its fulfillment and then had suddenly perceived in front of him such a crest, would also have believed that it was God's providence. But one thing, the worthy knight could not deny; had it not been for him, Zbyszko's spear would have pierced the Krzyzak's chest. Kuno had brought to the court the armor which he wore that day; it appeared that it was so thin that Zbyszko with his great strength, would have pierced it and killed the envoy, if Powala of Taczew had not prevented him. Then they asked Zbyszko if he intended to kill the Krzyzak, and he could not deny it. "I warned him from afar," said he, "to point his lance, and had he shouted in reply that he was an envoy, I would not have attacked him."