“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.
‘It was clear that her fascination still worked upon the hearts of the prisoners’
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,