“Now come down,” said the horse; “let me rest, and do thou rest, too.”
The horse went to the green meadow, and Boyislav lay on the grass and mused on the princess of White Island. Since he was wearied greatly, he fell asleep, but thought of the princess so that he sighed from sorrow when the horse roused him and said, “Let us go.”
Boyislav mounted in silence. They travelled till they saw the domes of a great city. “What city is this?” inquired Boyislav.
“Seest not,” asked the horse, “that is thy birthplace?”
“Sure enough! Go quickly, dear horse, that I may embrace my father.”
“Hurry not,” said the horse; “for it would be better for thee not to go.”
“Why?” asked Boyislav with wonder.
“Because thy father has uttered sentence of death against thee.”
“I do not believe that,” replied Boyislav, shaking his head; and the horse was silent.
Boyislav’s heart beat with joy when he entered the gates of his native place, but his joy was short-lived. He had scarcely passed one street when people began to gather around him, till at last an officer of the king’s army seized the bridle of his horse, and ordered the people who were standing around to seize his arms. All rushed like hungry birds of prey on the terrified Boyislav.