“I came to woo your daughter Lovely, Prince Vladimir, and if you will not give her to me with your blessing, I will take her with your curse.”
“You shall have her by my own consent,” said the King, “for with such a wooer her own consent does not greatly matter.”
Then Prince Vladimir seized the occasion to make a great wedding-feast, which lasted with intervals for resting for the full space of three days. When the feast was over the bride and bridegroom were about to be led to the church to take the golden crowns, but the ambassador sat sad and silent in the hall.
“What ails you on your wedding morning?” asked the father of the bride.
“I know not,” was the reply. “It may be that my father has died or my mother, and my heaviness is the sign of grief. Perchance I need some music. Call the harp players, and let us see if they can dispel my heaviness.”
So the harpers were called, and they sang of the great deeds of Svyatogor, of Ilya of Murom, and of Ivan the son of Golden Tress, but for all their skill and sweetness the heaviness of the ambassador was not dispelled.
“I heard in my own home,” he said, when the music ceased, “of a skilful player upon the harp of maple wood whose name was Stavr of Chernigof. Send for him, and let us see if he can dispel my heaviness.”
“If I do it not,” said Vladimir in his royal beard, “I shall anger the stern King Yetmanuila Yetmanuilovich. If I do it, Stavr may be freed from my prison.” Yet he did it.
Then Stavr came, and, standing before the ambassador, plucked the strings of his harp of maple wood. And he sang brave songs of heroic victory, and gentle songs of constancy in love. As he sang, the ambassador began to sleep and dream, and from these signs the royal host knew well that his guest was pleased and delighted and thankful beyond measure. Then with a gentle sigh the envoy woke and the music ceased.
“A boon, O Prince,” cried he; “let Stavr go to my white pavilion to entertain my brave body-guard as he has entertained me.”