And the wife showed him the way. Emelian left the town and saw some soldiers drilling. He stopped and watched them. The soldiers finished their drill and sat down to rest. Emelian approached them and asked, “Can you tell me, mates, how to get to—I don’t know where and bring back—I don’t know what.”
The soldiers were perplexed at his words.
“Who sent you?” they asked.
“The King,” he said.
“We too,” they said, “since the day we became soldiers want to go to—we don’t know where and find—we don’t know what, but we’ve never been able to find it and so cannot help you.”
Emelian sat with the soldiers awhile then went on his way. He wandered and wandered till he came to a wood. In the wood was a cottage and in the cottage sat an old woman, a peasant soldier’s mother, spinning at her wheel, and she wept as she spun and moistened her fingers with the tears that flowed from her eyes.
“Who are you?” she cried in anger when she saw Emelian.
Emelian gave her the spindle and said that his wife had sent him. The old woman instantly softened and began to ask him questions. And Emelian told her his whole story of how he had married the maiden and gone to live in the town, and how he had been taken to the King’s as a yard-porter, and of the work he had done in the palace, and the temple he had built in a night, and the river and ships he had made, and that now the King had sent him to—I don’t know where to bring back—I don’t know what.
The old woman listened to what he had to say and ceased her weeping. She began to mutter to herself, “The time has come, I see. Very well,” she said aloud; “sit down, my son, and have something to eat.”
Emelian had something to eat and the old woman said to him, “Here is a ball of thread; roll it before you and follow wherever it leads. You will have to go a long way, to the very sea. When you come to the sea you will see a large town. Ask to be allowed to stay the night in the outermost house and look for what you want there.”