“Now, O King Kálin, we have taken the old Cossack, Ilyá of Múrom, and have brought him to thee, O King. Do to him as thou wilt.”
Then the dog, King Kálin spoke to Ilyá, and said:
“Now, thou old Cossack, Ilyá of Múrom! A young puppy have they let loose against my great army! How couldst thou alone overcome my great host? Unchain Ilyá’s nimble feet and unloose his white hands.” [[67]]
So the Tartars removed the bonds from his feet and hands, and the dog, King Kálin said:
“Now old Cossack, Ilyá of Múrom! Sit down with me at my table, and eat of my sugar sweetmeats and drink of my honey drink. Wear my costly garments, and take from my chest of gold what thou needest. Serve no longer the Prince Vladímir, but serve the dog, King Kálin.”
And Ilyá answered the King:
“I will not sit at the same table with thee, nor eat thy sugar sweetmeats, nor drink of thy honey drinks. I will not wear thy costly garments, nor take gold from thy chest. I will not serve thee, thou dog, King Kálin, but will serve my Faith and country, and defend the churches of God and Vladímir the Prince and the Princess Apráxia.”
Then went forth the old Cossack, Ilyá of Múrom, from that tent of white linen, into the free and open plain. And the pagan Tartars began to press upon him and tried to surround him, hoping to gain possession of the old Cossack’s gear. Ilyá saw that he must bestir himself, and he seized a Tartar by his feet and began to swing him round, began to strike the Tartars with the Tartar, till they began to flee from him. And the old Cossack went thus through the whole Tartar army, and came forth into the free and open plain, and cast the Tartar on one side.
Then Ilyá walked on through the open plain, and [[68]]he had neither horse nor weapons, but he whistled a mighty whistle, and his good steed heard him on the open plain, and galloped to the old Cossack his master. The old Cossack, Ilyá got upon his good steed and rode on through the plain till he came to a high hill, and he leapt up the hill and looked down towards the west. And in the west near the white tents stood the good horses of the heroes. Ilyá turned that way with his good war-horse. He took his strong bow and bent it with his white hands. He tightened the bowstring of silk, placed the sharp arrow, and into the white tent shot he that arrow, saying:
“Fly, O sharp arrow, fly to the white tent. Take the roof off the white tent, and go, thou arrow, to the white breast of my godfather. Creep thou into his breast and make a scratch, only a small scratch, a small scratch, not a large one. He sleeps there and takes his ease, and little can I do here alone.”