Part 4

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: