Chapter II: Part 2

By this time the royal company had somewhat recovered their composure, and in order to hide their confusion were busily conversing about the day before yesterday. When Ilya arrived they were seated at the white tables eating savoury viands from the board and drinking green wine and sweet mead; and they complimented Ilya very prettily, as soon as he had washed himself. When the feast was over, the Prince gave the hero the supreme honour of ever henceforth styling himself Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck, for it was reckoned the highest honour that a hero should take his title from the land on which he was born, especially if it was owned by his father; and Ilya, being a true gentleman, valued this distinction infinitely higher than a heaped-up waggon-load of red gold, another of white silver, and a third of fine seed pearls.

As for those bones of the Magic Bird which were scattered to the winds, as they fell to earth they became seeds of the blood-red poppy, from the flowers of which came the first sweet whistling nightingales who know nothing of the roar of the lion or the hiss of the serpent.

ILYA AND FALCON THE HUNTER

One day Ilya rode his shaggy bay steed Cloudfall across the open steppe; and as he went slowly onward he was thinking deeply, for he had performed many deeds of the greatest valour, and was now wondering greatly what he should do next.

"I have visited many lands," he said in a brooding voice, "and have seen many strange people, but for a long time I have not visited Kiev, where I took Nightingale the Robber as a prisoner firmly bound to my stirrup of bright steel. I will go now to Kiev once more, so that I may see what is happening in the household of Prince Vladimir."

Raising his head and smiling quietly like a man filled with a secret purpose, he gave Cloudfall the rein, and before he could say "Svyatogor" he was in the city of Kiev, where it was told him by a cook whom he met hurrying across the street that Prince Vladimir was holding a merry feast.

Ilya at once tethered Cloudfall to the carven pillar in the cathedral court and took his way on foot to the banquet-hall of Prince Vladimir, which he entered without invitation, knowing that all wayfarers were welcome to the board of the hospitable Prince.

As soon as he had passed the threshold, Ilya bowed to North, South, East, and West, and then to Prince Vladimir and Princess Apraxia in particular, thinking that the royal couple would surely have a clear remembrance of all the wonderful things that had taken place on his last visit to their town. But neither the Prince nor the Princess knew him again, and it was as a perfect stranger that Vladimir addressed him.

"What is your name and to which horde do you belong?" he asked; "and have you any title of degree?"

"Fair Sun Vladimir," said Ilya, who was secretly taken aback at his reception, but determined not to show it, "I am called Nikita from beyond the Forest."

"Welcome, my brave and merry little fellow," said the Prince with great heartiness; "sit down at our board and eat and drink freely. You will find a little room at the lower end of yonder table. I am sorry there is not more room, but your sharp eyes will see at once that I feast to-day a noble company of princes, statesmen, wealthy merchants, and bold warrior-maids as well as sixty great Russian heroes whose adventures have been many."

Now Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck did not relish the tone of the Prince's speech, and felt it a deep humiliation that the conqueror of Nightingale the Robber should break the royal bread at the lower end of the table. His anger rose, and raising his head he cried:

"Fair Sun Vladimir, do you think to place me among the crows while you feast with the eagles? Nay! I will not eat bread with those beneath my degree."

Such a speech from a man who had made no claim to higher rank than that of Nikita from beyond the Forest, who was clearly a nobody, roused in turn the anger of the Prince. He sprang nimbly to his feet, his face as black as a thunder-cloud, and roared like a crowded den of wild beasts:

"Ho, there, ye mighty heroes of Holy Russia! Will you hear yourselves classed with carrion crows? Seize the stranger, but take care that three of you hold each arm, hale him to the courtyard and strike off his head." Then there was a great commotion, and the cooks began to wring their hands, for they knew that if they did not keep the food hot while the quarrel was proceeding, the Prince would need new cooks on the following day.

Three heroes grasped the right arm of Ilya and three heroes grasped his left arm. He waved his right hand and three heroes fell breathless to the floor of red brick; then he waved his left hand and three heroes fell on top of them. Thereupon Vladimir roared out a command that twelve fresh heroes should seize him, but these champions fared like their fellows. Then twelve more rose before him and six more behind; and these met the same fate as the rest.

Meanwhile the cooks had been able to snatch away the dishes from beneath the nose of the angry Prince and were now hurrying away to place them in the ovens. Then they heaved in unison such a sigh of relief that the fire burned as brightly as it burns upon a frosty night.

Ilya strode forth from the banquet-hall and the anger burned fiercely within his breast. When he reached the courtyard he turned about and fitted an arrow to his bow. As he drew the cord he whispered to the shaft, "Fly, my dart, about the princely towers and strike off the spires and crosses of gold from the royal palace." Off went the arrow, but it did not travel by a straight road. It made a circuitous tour of the pinnacles and domes of the stately building, and as it went on its way spire after spire and cross after cross tumbled down upon the pavement. Ilya gathered up these golden trophies, went to the tavern in the market-place and ordered the landlord to bring out his best green wine, for which he would pay with the royal spires and crosses. Then he stood in the doorway and invited all the loafers of the market-place to come and drink the health of Prince Vladimir, who had been good enough, as he grimly remarked, to provide the means of drinking it.

For once the loafers hesitated to lift the green wine to their lips. "What will the Prince do to us in the morning," they asked, "when he finds that we have drunk up all his golden spires and crosses?"

"Drink, my men," said Ilya. "To-morrow I myself will reign as Prince in Kiev town, and ye shall be my chiefs." Then they drank and drank again; but Ilya of Murom did not put the bowl to his lips in such company, for he merely meant to use these men in his determination to win respect and ample apology from the Prince.

In the meantime Prince Vladimir sat at the board with the hungry revellers about him; but he was so deeply wrapped in thought that he did not even notice that the cooks had taken away the dishes. "Who is this who has come to town?" he asked moodily. Then a young nobleman, whose name was Nikitich, sprang to his nimble feet and said, "I have met all the mighty heroes of Holy Russia save one, and that one is Ilya of Murom, who, I have heard, will not die in battle. This wonderful visitor is no Nikita from beyond the Forest. It must be none other than Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck. I fear, my Prince, with all respect to your Highness, that you did not know how to pay worthy honour to your guest either at his coming or his going."

The Prince's face lighted up, for the young nobleman who had spoken was the only man in the whole of the company who could read and write, and on that account was privileged to speak his mind when his fellows feared for their heads. "Whom shall we send," asked Prince Vladimir, "to invite the hero to our banquet?" (At these words some of the cooks hurried off to prepare fresh food.) "My royal chamberlain will not know how to address him, and my chief page is like a peacock--only fit to strut about in the sun among the women. Go you, Nikitich, for you can read and write and therefore have supernatural wisdom. Bow down before him, with your forehead upon moist Mother Earth, and invite him by his name and title thrice repeated to honour us with his presence at a worshipful feast.

"Say that I did not, to my lasting sorrow, recognise him when I placed him at the lower end of the board, but that now I entreat him to honour us with his truly remarkable presence. Tell him that I bear no ill-will for what has passed, and that instead of sitting at the lower end of the board--though there is now more room in that quarter--he shall sit in the great corner near to the Princess Apraxia herself."

Now Nikitich, having learnt to read and write, did not act upon rash impulse, but stood for a few moments looking supernaturally wise and weighed the matter with the utmost circumspection. "Shall I go?" he asked himself. "It may mean sudden death for me at the hands of Ilya. On the other hand, it will certainly mean slow death at the hands of Prince Vladimir if I do not obey. Perhaps I had better go." Then with a low bow to the Prince and another to the Princess, he left the banquet-hall with the step of resolution.

In a few moments he came to the tavern where he saw Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck sitting grimly watching the loafers while they drank the health of Prince Vladimir. "It will be better," said Nikitich to himself, "if I come upon him from behind, for then I shall be able to deliver my message without being put in deadly fear by his eyes of terror." So he approached Ilya from behind as he sat there and, placing his hands upon the hero's mighty shoulders, told him all that Prince Vladimir had said; but being able to read and write, and therefore full of supernatural wisdom, he missed out the sentence about the Prince bearing no ill-will for what had passed.

Had he been able to watch the face of Ilya as he spoke the Prince's message, Nikitich would have seen a bright gleam of laughter steal into the terrible eyes of the Old Cossáck. But when the speech was over, Ilya did not turn his head. "It is well for you, young Nikitich," he said grimly, "that you come upon me from behind. If you had approached me from before, your body would have been dust and ashes before now. Go at once and deliver to Prince Vladimir the following message in answer to his own:

"Let strict orders be issued to all the inn-keepers of Kiev and Chernigof that they invite all who care to come to quaff green wine at the expense of Prince Vladimir; and for those who care not for green wine let vodka, the drink of the peasants, be provided; while those who love neither shall drink sweet mead beloved of fair ladies and their squires. By this all men shall know that Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck who led captive Nightingale the Robber is now come to town. Let the Prince also prepare an honourable banquet and reserve the great corner near the high table for me.

"Otherwise," continued Ilya, at last turning his head and fixing his heroic eyes on the young man of supernatural wisdom who could both read and write, "otherwise----" But the ambassador of Prince Vladimir did not stay to enquire what would happen. The sight of Ilya's countenance was enough for him, and only the drunken loafers heard the completion of the hero's threat "--the Prince shall reign in Kiev no longer than to-morrow's morn."

Then quickly, quickly, very very quickly, and with lightning speed, ran the wise young man to Prince Vladimir, and quickly, quickly, very very quickly, and with lightning speed, were the "requests" of Ilya complied with. Great crowds drew to the tavern, though they came not to drink but to see the Old Cossáck. They were however disappointed, for Ilya had gone, post-haste upon the heels of the envoy, to take his place at the banquet, taking his invitation for granted. But being a true gentleman, he bowed on entering the hall to the North, South, East, and West, and then in particular to Prince Vladimir and Princess Apraxia.

Vladimir rose quickly to his feet and cried with hands extended, "Ho, there, Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck. Here is a place for you beside me, in the great corner near the stove. Or if it please you to sit elsewhere it shall be as you will." So Ilya sat in the great corner, and before long the cooks and the serving men were passing to and fro like a whirlwind.

Now, as they sat at meat and as the wine pails freely passed, there happened a very great wonder; for Prince Vladimir turned to pledge Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck, and behold! he no longer sat in the great corner. The Prince rubbed his eyes in astonishment, but the Princess, with a somewhat scornful smile, told him to look for Ilya under the banquet table. Then they looked, but Ilya was not there. So the Prince sent out messengers upon the broad road which ran for forty furlongs to the city of Galich; but Ilya was not upon the broad road, and the only man they met was an old pilgrim who was making his way slowly and painfully to Kiev town. His smock was tattered with use, and a ragged girdle was bound about his waist. His cap was heavy with moisture, his feet were covered with rotten straw, and he leaned so heavily upon a crooked staff that the moist earth squirted out beneath his step.

The ancient pilgrim entered the town and went to the chief inn, where he asked courteously enough for a pail and a half of green wine. "You old grey dog," said the inn-keeper, "we do not trust such as you, nor can we give you green wine without your money." Then the old man took from his neck a cross of gold, wonderfully chased, of great weight, and clearly of as great antiquity. "Take this cross in payment," he said, but not one of the men dared to handle it. Then seeing that the old man was faint for want, the peasants about the place gave each a kopeck that he might have his wine; and when it was brought to him he drank it in a draught and a half and at a breath and a half. Having done this, he climbed upon the stove, lay down as if he were in his mother's cottage, and fell fast asleep.

Very early in the morning, as the warm red sun arose, the old pilgrim descended from the stove, went down to the cellars, burst open the door with his foot, took a cask of wine under each arm and rolled a third before him with his right great toe. So he came out to the green meadow and then into the market-place, where he shouted out, in a voice wonderfully strong for so aged a pilgrim, "Ho, ye peasants of the village, come to the old man's feast." By this time, however, the men from the tavern were upon him; but though there were many of them they could not take the wine from the old man, so they went to make their complaint to Prince Vladimir.

"Bring him before me," said the royal judge, and they did so. Then the ancient pilgrim raised his eyes, and by means of the smile in the depths of them Vladimir knew him for Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck.

"Plague upon my love of fun," said Ilya, "but these thick-headed varlets are easily imposed upon. Let me pay them for my fun and, Prince, give me work worthy of a hero."

"The time demands a hero's help," said Prince Vladimir, "for my royal city goes in fear by day and passes sleepless nights in terror for Falcon the Hunter, who rides the heavens and can pass over the loftiest barriers to hurl his fiery darts upon every golden pinnacle which rears upward to the sky. Make a barrier, Ilya, upon the road by which he comes, and check him, if you can, with fiery shafts from your magic bow."

Then Ilya's eyes gleamed with pleasure, and he called for six of the mightiest heroes to help him to form a barrier in the path of Falcon the Hunter; and among the six was Nikitich, the young man of supernatural wisdom who could both read and write, as well as Vaska Longskirt, who was very brave but hampered in his fighting by his voluminous coat in which he defied the white world. The seven made a strong barrier on the road by which Falcon the Hunter took his flight, so strong that no horseman ever so swift could gallop by, nor wayfarer circumvent it; no wild beast could break it, and if a ravening eagle or carrion crow soared above it the fiery darts of Ilya brought it down in a shower of feathers and a rain of blood. "Surely," said Princess Apraxia, whose bright eyes always closed involuntarily as Falcon the Hunter was seen riding upon the clouds, "we shall be safe from the horror that stalks in the darkness by reason of the barrier of Ilya of Murom."

But late that night young Falcon the Hunter passed by, leaping from one low black cloud to another, and with a dazzling smile scorning the barrier of the seven heroes. In the early dawn Ilya went forth and traced the footsteps of his black horse--a blasted pine tree with its heart scorched to charcoal, a tall tower, and several golden pinnacles of the royal pavilion lying upon the bosom of moist Mother Earth. He went back to his brother heroes. "While we slept until the white dawn," he cried in a loud voice, "Falcon the Hunter swept by in his malignity. What a barrier is this of ours! What a fortress! Let us arm ourselves, my friends, and go out upon the steppe to seek this rash intruder whose malignant glance causes the Princess Apraxia to close her eyes in fear." Then they sat down in a circle to hold a wise council, having no immediate fear of Falcon the Hunter, who never came to the city of many golden pinnacles while the sun shone broadly upon it.

"Whom shall we send against Falcon the Hunter?" asked Ilya, who did not intend to go himself until the others had failed. "It is of little use sending Vaska Longskirt, for he will get entangled in the tails of his coat. Nikitich must go, and if he finds that Falcon the Hunter is a Russian he shall swear eternal brotherhood with him on behalf of all of us. But if he finds he is an infidel he shall challenge him to mortal combat."

Then Nikitich sprang to his nimble feet, saddled and mounted his good steed, and rode forth to the place where a great river met the dark-grey sea. As he looked along the straight road he saw a rider before him who sat upon his horse with the assurance of youth and victory. His black steed was full of mettle and fresh from the untamed steppe. At each leap he covered a furlong, and the marks which the hoofs of his horse made upon the bosom of moist Mother Earth were as large as a ram or a full-grown sheep. Flames flashed from the mouth of the steed, lighting up the heavy clouds which hung over the dark-grey sea, sparks of blue fire showered from his nostrils, and from his erected ears smoke curled in tiny wreaths which quivered and then vanished in mid-air. The helmet on the head of the hero glowed like fire, and blue rays of light darted from ornaments on his doublet, from his pointed spurs and his stirrups of bright steel. At his left stirrup ran a swift grey-hound, and a fire-eating dragon was chained to the right which sang and whistled with a strange music as the horse and its rider passed on towards the dark-grey sea. From shoulder to shoulder hopped the clear-eyed bird from which Falcon the Hunter took his name, and as it passed it plucked at the long yellow locks of the rider, which streamed upon his shoulders like tongues of living flame.

The knight sat easily upon the back of his strange steed, and as he rode he amused himself by hurling his bright steel mace towards the lowering clouds which hung threatening over the dark-grey sea. It flashed across the cloudy barrier, making a bright reflection in the heaving water, and then returned obedient to the hand of Falcon the Hunter without touching either sea or land in its flight. As he played, Falcon the Hunter spoke to his wonderful mace: "Lightly as I now whirl this mace aloft, even so lightly will I twirl Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck."

Then Nikitich called out, "Ho, there, Falcon the Hunter! Have you no fear of our barrier?"

Falcon replied over his shoulder, "'Tis not for youths even of supernatural wisdom to pursue me in the open plain. It is high time that you were hiding from me in the deep depths of a feather-bed."

When Falcon the Hunter spoke, the waters of the sea were troubled, flecks of foam appeared upon the deep, and the shallows were choked with sand. The charger of Nikitich trembled sorely and fell down upon its knees, while its rider sank upon the bosom of moist Mother Earth, where he lay as if in a trance for the space of three full hours. When he awoke, the sun was shining brightly, the waves upon the ocean danced in glee, and the tumbled rack of grey clouds on the horizon was all dispersed and scattered. But Falcon the Hunter was no longer to be seen, for with all his terrors he was afraid of the jolly sun with his broad and welcoming smile.

Nikitich now mounted his charger and rode off at once to report to Ilya the Old Cossáck. The old man listened quietly and then said with a sigh, "I grow old, and yet there is none coming after me to take my place." Then he saddled his good charger Cloudfall and sprang upon his back without making any use of the stirrups. On the saddle-strap hung his war club, mighty in weight; on his left hip rested his sharp sword and in his hand he held his silken whip; but for this encounter he placed most reliance upon the fiery darts in the quiver upon his broad back and in the strength of his mighty bow. Thus armed he rode forth into the darkness of the mountains, where he found Falcon the Hunter leaping from summit to summit and rousing the cavernous echoes with his fear-compelling voice. But neither the flashing flames nor the rolling angry accents struck terror to the heart of Ilya, for with a quick movement he shifted his quiver, which was open at both ends, so that the points of the darts pointed heavenwards, and from these points streamed a blue radiance which enveloped the form of the hero like a protecting halo.

Above the noise of the voice of Falcon the Hunter was heard the voice of the heroic Ilya. "Ho there!" he cried, "Thief, dog, braggart! Why have you passed our barrier without doing reverence to me or asking my leave?" When the Hunter heard this challenge he turned and rode at Ilya, and for a moment, though only for a moment, the heart of the hero died within him. But with a tightening of the strap of that wonderful quiver, so that even in the fight his fiery darts should point heavenwards, he rushed into the fray. First they fought with their maces until these snapped short at the hilt, but neither fighter was wounded in the least. Then their swords flashed fire until both were splintered, but still neither fighter was wounded in the least. Next they fought with their spears until both were shattered, and even yet neither fighter was wounded in the least. Last of all they lighted down upon the ground and fought hand to hand.

All day they fought, till stormy even, till black midnight, till the grey dawn, and so they did the second day, and likewise the third. Then Ilya waved his right hand, and his left foot slipped from under him. Down he fell like a stack of hay, but as he fell he was able to move his quiver so that the fiery darts with their streaming blue fire pointed directly heavenwards. As he lay there Falcon the Hunter planted himself upon his breast and struck at him with a flashing dagger of steel. But the blow fell upon the upturned points of those wonderful darts and spent itself on the broad bosom of moist Mother Earth.

"See!" cried Ilya with a grim laugh. "It was foretold of me that I should not die in battle. Oh, brave good youth, tell me from what horde you come and who were your parents."

"It is time," growled Falcon the Hunter, "that you should shave your head and go to a monastery." At this taunt the heart of Ilya grew hot and his blood, still youthful, boiled within him. With a mighty blow of his fist he struck Falcon on his black breast, hurling him skywards, though not so high as the heavy clouds which lowered above the heroic fight. When the Hunter fell once more, Ilya sprang to his nimble feet and sat in his turn upon the breast of his enemy.

"Tell me now, good youth," he said, "the name of thy land, thy horde, and thy father."

"When I sat upon thy breast," growled Falcon the Hunter, "I did not enquire of thee thy land, thy horde, and thy parentage, for these things concern not me, the enemy of all mankind. And if I sat upon it again I would pierce your bosom, pluck out your heart and examine it in mere curiosity, and then scatter the fragments of your white body over the plain, to be torn by the grey wolf and picked by the black crows."

Then Ilya asked his enemy no more questions but drew forth his shining dagger of steel; and at the sight of this gleaming weapon the heart of Falcon the Hunter sank within his breast and he gave the answer required of him:

"I come from far across the sea, from the palace of grey stone where the sun has no power to enter, and my mother was the warrior-queen Zlatigorka. The name of my father I do not know. When I left the palace of grey stone my mother, who now is gentle, told me to meet Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck if I could, and having met him to dismount from my horse and do reverence to him, touching my forehead upon the bosom of moist Mother Earth."

Then the fierce eyes of Ilya grew soft with compassion, and his mind went back to the far-off day when he crossed the deep-blue sea in the strength of his manhood to see the palace of grey stone and to talk with the warrior-queen who ruled there; for he had vowed that he would win the love of that brave Princess and take her as his bride. Now, being a hero, and the maiden a right worthy mate for him, he could not hope, nor would he care, to win the Princess except he had first proved that he was stronger than she; and for a long time the two had striven day after day until at times their hearts were sick of the eternal conflict, yet neither could bring it to an end. Then at last the warrior-queen had weakened and had yielded, and had found more joy in yielding than in conquest; and Ilya had given her his golden ring set with a ruby red as a flaming heart, while she had given him a wondrous cross of gold to wear upon his heroic breast; and the two had lived in the palace of grey stone until a son was born to them and the fighting queen had forgotten her weapons and her warrior strength in her motherhood. Then Ilya had been called away on one of his many quests, and the boy had grown up without his heroic guidance--to become a scourge to his gentle mother and to all mankind. And as he thought on these matters, the heart of Ilya was saddened beyond measure, and stooping over Falcon the Hunter he took him by his white hands, kissed his lips and called him his son, weeping greatly as he looked upon him. Then raising his hands he blessed him and said:

"Ride, my son, to the margin of the waters, and then cross the grey sea until you come to the palace of grey stone and to your lady mother who lives only in her memories. Greet her lovingly from me, and say that Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck keeps her ever in his golden heart."

Then Falcon the Hunter rose to his feet and prepared to do his father's bidding. But when he came to the porch of the palace of grey stone these were the words he uttered:

"Ho, there, bold and evil woman! Come forth! Was it indeed the son of a peasant whom you gave me for a father?"

Then his mother came out upon the porch, and though her face was grey with double grief and she stooped as if she needed the strong arm of a brave man about her shoulders, the undutiful son struck at her with his flashing sword and she fell dead upon the pavement.

Even this piteous sight did not touch the cold and fiery heart of Falcon the Hunter, who shouted out so that the walls of the palace of grey stone rang again, "I go now to give the old peasant, Ilya of Murom, to speedy death." Thereupon he crossed the grey sea over which the angry clouds were lowering, mounted his charger, and rode quickly towards the fair white linen pavilion of Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck.

Lifting the curtain of the tent, he found his father sleeping and hurled a burning shaft at him; but it struck the wondrous cross of gleaming gold which Ilya wore upon his heroic breast and glanced harmlessly aside, though the mighty blow roused the hero from his slumber. He leapt from his couch, seized his undutiful son by his yellow curls, and laid him lifeless upon the plain. So Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck freed the people of Holy Russia from their fear of Falcon the Hunter, the enemy of all mankind.

THE ADVENTURE OF THE BURNING WHITE STONE

Ilya of Murom rode Cloudfall across the open steppe. For nigh three hundred years he had ridden, and he wondered at the youthfulness of his heart which constant danger had kept fresh and young. "Ah, old age, old age! Thou hast chased and overtaken even Cloudfall in the open steppe, and like a bleached raven hast alighted on my head--but not on my arm." Then with a youthful gesture he flung out his sword arm, tightened the girth of Cloudfall and gave the rein to the shaggy bay steed.

Away went Cloudfall like the wind, and Ilya as he sat upon him was like the falcon clear. There was no need of bridge or ferryman for this heroic traveller, for good Cloudfall leapt over shining lake and rushing river, quivering bog and reedy swamp. And as they rode they came to a place where three roads met, and there stood a burning white stone on which was inscribed: "He who rides to the right shall gain great wealth; he who rides to the left shall gain a wife; he who rides straight forward shall gain his death." Then Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck halted and stood still with his head bowed in an attitude of the deepest thought.

"I am an old man," he said to himself, "and have all the wealth I need, for it wearies me to count it. Why should an old man wish for a wife? I will take the straight road though Death should sit athwart it." Then he added, lifting his head with the light of unquenched youth still in his eyes, "It may be that Death and I shall come to grips in one more great adventure."

Then the youthful Old Cossáck rode onward for leagues and leagues until at last he entered a gloomy forest into which he advanced for some distance, and then met a band of forty thousand robbers who cast eighty thousand envious eyes (save one, for the chief had lost an eye in a battle) upon the goodly proportions and intelligent appearance of Cloudfall the shaggy bay steed. "In all our lives," they said one to another, "we have never seen such a horse. Halt then, good youth, halt, thou hero of Holy Russia!" And they would have forced him to halt but Ilya said:

"Ho, ye robber horde! Why kill an old man and rob him? I have no money in my wallet save five hundred roubles. The cross of gold upon my breast is worth only five hundred--to any one of your company--my cloak of sables about three thousand, my cap and my sandals about five hundred each, my bridle, set with precious stones, about a thousand. My saddle, bordered with eagle feathers,--I hunted that eagle over the blue sea on the way to the palace of grey stone--is priceless and therefore of no value to any of your company. Between the ears of Cloudfall and under his eyes are clear stones of purest jacinth, but he wears these, not for youthful vanity, but because they help him to see for thirty miles on all sides as he bounds across the open steppe. As for my faithful shaggy bay steed Cloudfall, he is worth nothing at all, except to me. Here then is my inventory. Value me I pray you for yourselves."

The robber leaders jeered as they replied, "Thou art old and talkative, Cossáck. Since we took to roaming across the white world, we have never met with such a fool. Why, thou art so foolish that thou hast told us all the clear truth. Seize the old man, my brothers."

But as the robbers advanced upon him, Ilya of Murom drew a fiery dart from his quiver, and fixing it to his terrible bow shot at a tree to his right hand which was the grandmother of all the oaks. The mighty trunk was shivered into fragments, and the earth was ploughed up round about by the force of that tremendous blow, at the sound of which all the robbers fell flat upon the earth, where they lay for the space of five hours before they recovered themselves. And when they arose again to an erect posture the leader said:

"Good youth, noble hero of Holy Russia! Enter thou into comradeship with us. Take from our goodly store whatever pleases you of golden treasure, embroidered cloth, horses and cattle." But Ilya laughed the jolly laugh of the adventurer to whom goods and gear, however rich, are a trouble and a burden. "Ah, brothers, my brave foes," he said, "I have no wish to be troubled with guarding treasure, feeding horses, and tending cows and sheep. I must ride and ride ever onward across the open steppe and leave the guarding of treasure to shop-keepers and merchants who live in towns behind bolts and bars."

Then Ilya of Murom turned Cloudfall in his tracks, and came again to the burning white stone, from which he erased the inscription and wrote in its place:

I, Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck, have ridden straight forward
and have not gained my death.

Once more the aged hero with the heart of youth rode out into the open steppe, turning this time to the left. He rode onward for three hundred miles and then came to a smooth meadow as green as an emerald stone, and upon this meadow stood a wonder of wonders. It was too small to be called a city and too large to be called a village. It was, in truth, a beautiful palace of white stone with roofs of shining gold and strange three-cornered towers.

Ilya drew rein before the golden gateway, whereupon there came forth upon the green sward forty beautiful maidens, who walked proudly behind Princess Zenira the All Fair. Ilya dismounted and bowed low, whereupon the beautiful Princess took him by his white hands, kissed him on the lips, and invited him to a feast in the banquet-hall of the palace of white stone. "I have travelled far in Holy Russia," said Ilya of Murom, "but I have never seen such a fair palace or such beautiful ladies." The maidens bowed their heads, like ears of corn before a gentle breeze, and the Princess led the hero within the palace.

When they came to the banquet-hall, Ilya bowed to North, South, East, and West, and especially to the Princess Zenira, who placed him at the table of fair white oak in the big corner and brought him food of the best with sweet mead to drink. "Do not eat or drink of these things until you are satisfied, good youth," she said gently, "for there is more to come." But Ilya looked at her as she spoke, and looked at her again, and for a third time he scanned her face and found it beautiful with the beauty of the newly-fallen snow on the wide steppe when the moon rises; that was the beauty of the Princess Zenira. Then Ilya's eyes fell once more upon the fair white oak of the table and he said, speaking as one who knows his meaning, "I have ridden for three hundred miles and my hunger and thirst are as heroic as my steed." So he ate and drank his fill.

Then as his head seemed to droop upon his breast, though in reality he was more wide awake than ever, the Princess Zenira led him to a rich warm chamber at one side of which stood a broad bed of yew wood and ivory with pillows of the softest down.

"Here you will rest as on the lap of your mother," said the fair Princess, "but I advise you to lie near to the brick wall which is warm from the stove beneath." "Nay," said the hero, "I will lie upon the outer edge for I often rise in the night to see for myself that Cloudfall is well stabled." Then without more ado, he seized the fair Princess Zenira by the middle and flung her upon the bed of yew wood against the wall.

And behold the bed of yew with pillows of softest down was false, for it turned on a pivot when the weight was cast upon the side nearer to the brick wall, and the fair Princess was hurled down into her dungeon, forty fathoms deep. Then Ilya turned and left the chamber, and coming out into the courtyard said in the voice of him who must be obeyed: "Give me the keys of gold which unlock the doors of the dungeon and show me the way to the dark vaults beneath this palace of white stone." So they pointed out the way, and he found it choked with yellow sand and barred with huge logs of wood.

He had really no need of keys of gold, silver, iron, or steel; for in the strength of his heroic anger he tore the locks asunder with his hands and forced back the doors with his heels until they burst from their frames. Then came forth from the dungeons forty Tsars and Tsareviches, forty kings and princes, with their eldest sons, together with Nikitich the youth of supernatural wisdom, who could both read and write, but whose wonderful learning had not made him proof against the wiles of Princess Zenira although her beauty was only that of the newly-fallen snow upon the steppe illumined by the cold rays of the rising moon.

There stood this great company, blinking their eyes in the light and looking very foolish, and as they hummed and ha'ed and wondered how to explain themselves, the fair Princess Zenira, as beautiful as ever, came round a corner of the dark passage, and her moonlight beauty lit up the darkness of the dungeon. In spite of all their experiences it was clear that her fascination still worked upon the hearts of the prisoners, and seeing this Ilya cried in a voice which shook the vaults until they re-echoed again and again, "Tsars, to your tsardoms; kings, to your kingdoms; Nikitich, to my side; and, being delivered, say a prayer for Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck."

In a few moments the whole company with the exception of Nikitich was racing pell-mell across the emerald meadow, and having dismissed the youth of supernatural wisdom, Ilya advanced sternly upon the fair Princess Zenira. He took her by her lily-white hands and bound her to three Cossáck ponies fresh from the farthest steppe. Then he drove them apart and turned his head that he might not see the end of that white witch; and he divided her treasure among the prisoners, sending each man's share to his kingdom, and gave the fair white palace to the flames.

Once more Ilya returned to the burning white stone, crossed out the old inscription and wrote yet another which ran:

I, Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck, have ridden to the left and
have not gained a wife

"I will go now," said Ilya, "upon the last road, where wealth is to be won." So he rode again over the open steppe, and came at length to a green meadow where deep pits were dug, and then to a dark and gloomy forest in which there was a mountain cave filled with fair red gold, white silver, and fine seed pearls; and above the entrance to the cave, in the face of the smooth rock, were carved the words,

"This treasure will fall to Ilya of Murom."

For seven days Ilya sat wondering what he should do to dispose of the treasure. Then he arose and went to the nearest town, where he hired builders and carpenters, architects and workers in metal. These men he set to work to build a fair cathedral on the place where the gloomy forest had stood, and when the glorious building was completed, he instituted church singing and the sound of bells, for in these things his soul delighted. When this work had been finished--and it occupied a fair space of time--Ilya returned to Kiev city, where the courteous Prince Vladimir asked him where he had been.

Sitting down in the great corner near the stove, the old man smiled gently, stretched his feet to the blaze, and told the Prince the Adventure of the Three Roads and of the Burning White Stone. Then he yawned and went to bed in the peace of accomplishment.

HOW QUIET DUNAI HAD BROUGHT THE PRINCESS APRAXIA TO KIEV

The tale of the wedding of Vladimir and the Princess Apraxia was one which was often told after a banquet; and here it is:

Quiet Dunai was a great traveller, and one who loved to move without turbulence, leisurely and at his chosen ease. From land to land he wandered, both seeing and observing, across the green and open steppe in summer, but resting in the winter within whatever palace of fair white stone he could find a seat in the great corner and hearers who would listen quietly to his traveller's tales.

At last he came to the kingdom of Lithuania, where in the palace of the monarch he served for three years as equerry with the care of the King's horses and chargers; for three more years he served as Grand Steward with the oversight of the great banquets with which the King honoured his nobles; for three more years he served as Groom of the Chambers, and knew all the King's mind. And during all these years he loved, at times somewhat turbulently but yet on the whole quietly and devotedly and faithfully and hopefully, the Princess Nastasya, who in her turn favoured him silently and kept him ever in her golden heart.

Now, on a certain day, the King of Lithuania made a great feast and invited all his nobles to share his hospitality. Quiet Dunai was very busy with the preparations for the banquet, and on one of his many visits to the King's apartments he happened to meet, quite by accident, the Princess Nastasya. She looked at him quietly and said:

"Go not to this banquet, quiet Dunai, for there will be much eating and more drinking, and when the boasting time comes near the end of the feast you will brag of me."

"I know you will, Dunai," she added gently, and Dunai looked at her quietly, feeling in his heart that what she said could not be denied. "Then they will set upon you, Dunai, and you will lose your head." Hereupon the Princess sighed gently and looked down at the point of her golden slipper. But Dunai, quiet as he was, had no mind to avoid the feast, and declared his intention of being present; and the Princess turned and left him humming a light song which seemed to have lost its merriment.

The feast was held, and when the guests had eaten well and drunk better, then came the boasting time, when quiet Dunai took his turn with the rest, telling of his far wanderings, of the King's favour and rewards, and of how the beautiful young Princess Nastasya kept him ever in her golden heart. Then the King grew very angry and cried out:

"Ho, there, ye headsmen, seize quiet Dunai by his white hands, lead him out upon the open steppe and chop off his turbulent head."

Without delay the pitiless headsmen bore down upon Dunai and seized him by the shoulders. "I go without help from you," he said quietly as he shook them off; "but as you lead me to the open steppe see that we pass by the window of the Princess Nastasya, who keeps me ever in her golden heart."

Then there happened a great wonder, and yet it was no wonder at all. Before they had reached the window of the Princess, Dunai said quietly, "Sleepest thou, Nastasya? Wakest thou not? Lo, they are leading Dunai to the open steppe to cut off his loving head."

Now the Princess lay sleeping when the whisper rustled through her casement and woke her very gently. Without delay she rose from her couch and put on a loose robe of fair white linen. But she had no time to fasten round it a girdle of gold, or to bind up her flowing tresses, before she heard the voice of Dunai once more, this time in tones of thunder, "Sleepest thou, Nastasya? Wakest thou not? Lo, they are leading Dunai to the open steppe to cut off his loving head."

Then the Princess ran with her feet all bare out into the open corridor, from which she could see the prisoner and his guards, and stretching out her little hands in piteous entreaty she cried:

"Ho, there, ye pitiless headsmen! Take what treasure you desire, but when you come to the open steppe set free quiet Dunai that he may wander once again. And take back to the King the head of some prisoner who has paid for his crimes with his death--some one, any one except quiet Dunai."

Then the headsmen made signs to the Princess that they would obey her, and the group passed out to the open steppe where quiet Dunai was set free and wandered on as he had done before he became the officer of the King of Lithuania and loved the Princess Nastasya. On he went, quietly watching until he came to Kiev town, where he went to the inn and entered into conversation with men of the place. From these fellows he learnt that Prince Vladimir was holding a great feast, and that his guests were eating the white swan and drinking green wine of priceless value.

As it happened, just at that moment the boasting time had come. One man bragged of his horse, another of his valour, a third of his sharp sword, a fourth of his young wife, and a wise man who had not drunk so well, of the goodness of his father and the tenderness of his mother. In time, Prince Vladimir grew weary of their boasting and stood up among them, whereupon all their voices were hushed.

"Boast not, my brothers," he said with a show of impatience. "Glory not in your horses, your great deeds, your golden treasures. Have not I red gold, white silver, and fine seed pearls in great abundance? But in one matter most of you outstrip me. For ye have wives loving and beautiful, while I, your Prince, am still unwed. Is there no Princess who is my mate, and who will wed with me? She must be like a goddess in stature and like a goddess in the perfection of her beauty, of delicate grace, and stately of gait like the peacock. There must be a faint flush in her face like unto the white hare, while her eyes must be falcon clear and full of light. Yellow hair must she have, with eyebrows of blackest sable, and her speech must be entrancing. Then, having found her, I shall have one beside me with whom I may think my deepest thoughts and take counsel, and to whom ye mighty princes, heroes, and all Kiev may pay homage as your queen."

Then all the guests grew silent, and for a long time no man spoke a word; and as often as the eye of Vladimir sought out one man, he took pains to hide himself behind some one bigger. At length there stood up in his place the bold, brave youth Nikitich, who could both read and write, and said:

"My lord and master, Prince Vladimir, have I leave to speak what is in my mind without fear of speedy death or distant exile or heavy chastisement?"

And Vladimir said, "Say on, Nikitich, and God may forgive you if you speak unwisely."

Then the bold youth said fearlessly:

"I know a fitting mate for you who is all that you have said, a beauty with whom none can compare in all the white world. For myself, I have not seen her, but of her loveliness I have often heard from my comrade, quiet Dunai, who sitteth now in the inn and hath no garments to fit him out for appearance at this honourable feast."

"Take my golden keys," said Vladimir, "and open my wardrobes. Choose from thence all that quiet Dunai requires of raiment, and bring him to me."

Then Nikitich went out and did all that the Prince had ordered; and as he passed through the streets with quiet Dunai by his side, the maidens and the wives, young and old, put forth their heads from the windows, asking each other across the narrow way, "Whence come such goodly youths as these?"

As soon as they had come into the banquet hall, Dunai bowed to North, South, East, and West, and especially to Prince Vladimir, and they gave him a seat in the great corner by the fair white oaken table. Then they set food and wine before him, and when he had refreshed himself, Prince Vladimir poured out green wine into a crystal goblet from the East with a rim of thick gold and brought it to quiet Dunai, who took the cup in one hand and quaffed its contents at a breath. Then he stood up and said steadily: