The life of Vladimir was now one of great happiness. His conquests had procured him riches in superfluity; a long period of peace had augmented the prosperity of his country; his subjects loved him as their father; and the tenderness of Milolika made earth seem to him as heaven.
One day as in company with his consort and his Bojars, he sat in the golden chamber by his oaken table, holding a festival in memory of a victory over the Greeks, the sound of a warrior's horn was heard at a distance. The rejoicings in the lofty hall suddenly ceased. The monarch and the Bojars cast their eyes to the ground, full of thought and heaviness. Swâtorad alone, the spirited Voivode of Kiev, started up from the table, and leaving his goblet undrained, approached the great monarch. "Thou art," spake he, as he bent low before him, "thou art our father and our lord, thou art the child of renown: wherefore sinks thy head? Why does the sound of the warrior's horn make thy heart heavy? Even if it be a hostile knight who now appears before the capital, hast thou not enough brave heroes to confront any foe? Away then! Send forth thy heralds to demand who dares to defy the country of the Russians?"
Vladimir looked friendly upon the gallant Swâtorad, and thus replied to his address: "I thank thee for thy zeal, good Swâtorad; but my anxiety does not arise from fear. I have defeated hosts, made myself master of fortified cities, and overthrown kings: how should I know fear? But it was my desire henceforth to preserve to my subjects the blessing of peace, and that alone is the cause that this challenge to combat makes me sorrowful. If however it must be so, I will defend my country and myself. Go and send heralds to demand who dares to come forth against Kiev, to challenge Vladimir to battle?"
The brave Swâtorad immediately sent forth two heralds, who sprang upon their horses and rushed to the open plain, where they at once beheld a monstrous tent, before which a horse of unusual size was grazing. As soon as the horse perceived them, he stamped upon the ground, and cried aloud in a human voice: "Awake powerful son of the dragon, Tugarin awake! Kiev sends heralds to thee."
This marvel considerably astounded the heralds, and their amazement was increased when they beheld issuing from the tent a giant of the most monstrous kind, beneath whose footsteps the earth resounded. Yet they did not lose their composure, but discharged their commission as beseemed them well. "Who art thou?" cried they, after they had courteously bent before him. "Who art thou, bold youth from a foreign land? What is thy name, and how stands thy report in thy father-land? Art thou a Czar, or a Czarewitsch? A king or a king's son? We are sent by the invincible prince of Kiev, the son of renown, by Vladimir, to ask thee why thou darest to advance against Kiev?—how thou darest to challenge him to combat?"
The questions displeased the giant, and he fell into fierce wrath. Lightning flashed from his eyes, his nose sent forth sparks, and he addressed the heralds in a voice of thunder: "Contemptible wights, how dare ye to put such questions to me? The herald's staff alone protects you from my fury. Return, and tell your prince that I am come to fetch his head, in order to carry it to the great king, Trewul, of Bulgaria, who is wrath with him, for the abduction of his sister Milolika. Tell him, that nought can save him; neither the summit of the mountain, nor the darkness of the forest, and that he cannot redeem his head by gold, nor by silver, by jewels, nor by pearls. What I am called, and what my report is in my country, it needs not that you should know; sufficient, that I show you what I can perform." At these words, he grasped an enormous stone, which lay near the tent, and flung it with such force into the air, that it resembled a little speck.
Full of terror, the heralds returned to Kiev, and presenting themselves before the monarch, related what they had seen and heard. When Milolika heard that the horse had called the stranger knight Tugarin, Son of the Dragon, she grew pale, and a stream of tears bedewed her cheeks. "Ah," cried she, "beloved husband, we are lost! Nought can save us, but our flight to the sacred Bug. Tugarin is an invincible enchanter. His magic power ceases only on the shores of the Bug. Thither let us fly."[1]
[1] The river Bug was especially held sacred by the Slavonians, and its waters possessed the power to destroy all kinds of magic.
Vladimir endeavoured to re-assure his consort. He represented to her that the brave warriors, and the walls of the impregnable Kiev, would afford them sufficient protection; but Milolika was not to be comforted. "Thou knowest not, beloved husband," said she, sobbing and crying, "how dangerous is this giant, Tugarin, to me and my family, and how bitterly he must hate thee, since he was my betrothed, and awaited my hand." Vladimir besought Milolika to explain to him this enigma, and she related the following:—
"I am the daughter of the Bulgarian king, Bogoris, and of the princess Kuridana. My birth-place is the city Shikotin, where my parents were wont to pass the summer months. As this city lies on the banks of the Volga, it offers great facilities for fishing, a diversion to which my mother was extremely partial.