“Take parchment sufficient for three years and three days,” the young man went on, “and I promise you in prophecy that you will do homage to my servant-maids, mistaking each of them in turn for my lady mother.” Then he laughed gently as one who wins a fight by putting aside with naked arm the ponderous mace of his adversary.
The three talesmen set out at once, followed by three waggons heaped with parchment; and after many wanderings and not a few adventures Nikitich came to India the Glorious, on the verge of which they climbed a lofty mountain, from whence they beheld the land lying before them.
“Why, the country burns!” cried Nikitich in fearful amazement. But when they drew nearer they saw that it was only the glow of the golden roofs and the temple domes, blended with the colour of the yellow pathways spread with ruddy scarlet cloth. In the midst they saw the white stone palace of Diuk, which had three-and-thirty towers, whose rounded roofs were covered with green copper which is more precious than fine gold. Round about the gleaming palace spread a lovely garden, delicious in the coolness of its greenery, planted with all kinds of fruit trees, and surrounded by a high railing of gold pillars, set with knots of green copper and broken here and there with gates of brass. About the pathways of this pleasure-ground and in the verandahs of the palace walked the loveliest of maidens, attended by resplendent gallants, who played upon their musical instruments and sang gay songs of love and valour.
The talesmen were so much struck with wonder and amazement that it was a long time before they could summon up their courage to enter the palace garden, at whose gates no guards were set. At last they did so, and came to the first of the three-and-thirty towers, where they found an aged woman who looked as if she was the mother of a goodly son. Her dress was of silver thread mixed with a little silk, and her bearing had so much dignity that the visitors from Kiev found themselves bowing down before her almost without knowing what they were doing.
“Hail to thee!” said Nikitich, “thou honourable mother of the young Lord Diuk.”
“I am not my lord’s mother,” said the ancient woman, “I am the keeper of his cows.”
Then the talesmen were so much filled with vexation and shame that they left the palace garden and went out into the open plain, where they pitched a tent and went to bed without saying a word to each other.
On the next morning they came again and drew near to the second of the three-and-thirty towers, where they found an aged woman of comely face clad in cloth of silver and gold.
“Hail to thee!” said Nikitich brightly, “thou honourable mother of the young Lord Diuk.”
“I am not my lord’s mother,” said the aged woman, “I am his washerwoman.”