The two chargers ate in peace, and Diuk, taking heart again, entered the pavilion, bowing as he passed the threshold to North, South, East, and West, and especially to—the owner who slept in one corner with a terrible snore. Diuk came forward, and looking closer knew at once that the sleeper was none other than Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck, wrapt in one of the deep sleeps for which he was as famous as for heroic deeds.
“Rouse ye, Ilya of Murom,” cried Diuk; “it is time to go to royal Kiev town so as to be present at matins on Easter morn.” But Ilya slept on and snored and stirred not. Again Diuk shouted, and again without result; but at his third shout the great warrior unclosed his eyes in a manner which seemed to suggest that he had been sleeping a hound’s sleep and said:
“Ho, stranger, tell me your name and horde.” Then Diuk told him all the truth.
“Why, then,” asked Ilya, “have you roused me from my heroic sleep. Do you wish to go with me out upon the open plain and see which of us shall carry home the head of the other?”
“Nay,” said Diuk in great haste. “Why should I fight with Ilya upon the open plain? Death will not come to you in battle. As there is one sun in the daylight sky and one moon in the dark blue heavens, so there is one Ilya of Murom in Holy Russia.”
This speech was courteous enough and fitting for the mouth of a young hero, and it pleased Ilya mightily. He sprang at once to his nimble feet, caught Diuk by his white hands, kissed him upon his sugar lips, and swore with him eternal friendship, making the solemn exchange of the cross. And Diuk thought no more of home or of his lady mother and her tears of loneliness.
Then the young hero and the old sat down in the fair pavilion and ate and drank well but not too well; and when that memorable feast was ended, Ilya said to Diuk:
“Go now alone upon your way to Kiev town, and if any one there shall mock at you send me word of it. But do not take your part when the boasting time shall come.”
With a heart full of hope and youthful expectation, Diuk rode on alone to Kiev town; and when he came there Rough-Coat leapt over the walls and flew like a whirlwind to the palace of white stone. In the courtyard Diuk leapt lightly to the ground, planted the butt end of his spear in the soil, and flung his bridle over the point. Then he looked up and saw the Princess Apraxia looking out of the window and said out loudly, “The washerwoman, I suppose.” But he also bowed to her and asked, “Where is Prince Vladimir, the Fair Sun of Kiev?”
Thereupon the Princess Apraxia raised her head with a look of scorn and passed into the shadow of her apartment; and it was the serving men in the courtyard who answered the young man’s question. “Royal Vladimir,” they said, “is on his way to the Easter Mass.” So Diuk mounted Rough-Coat once again and rode off to the Cathedral. At the great door he let his horse go free and entered the hall of the ambassadors, but he did not bow to North, South, East, and West and especially to any one, but gazed about and scanned the faces of all the congregation. When the service was over the courteous prince sent a messenger to invite the strange youth to the palace, and to this man Diuk replied lightly and by no means courteously: