As the wine-cup passed, the heart of Prince Vladimir grew more and more generous, and he gave cities to one prince, towns to a second, villages to a third, and hamlets to another; but to Ilya he gave a cloak of marten skins with a collar of sables. Then the hero arose, left the banquet-hall with the cloak held out at arm’s length from him, and came at last to the kitchen. There he dragged the cloak about the brick floor by one sleeve as if he wished to defoul it and said savagely:
“Just as I drag about this cloak of marten skins with its collar of sables, I will drag about that poisonous serpent Tsar Kalin by his yellow curls. As I pour green wine upon this cloak,” suiting the action to the word, “I will pour out his heart’s blood.”
Then a kitchenmaid came with unwashed face into the presence of Prince Vladimir, and said without preface: “Ilya hath been in my kitchen and hath dragged about the brick floor the mantle of marten skins with the collar of sables, saying that even so would he drag Vladimir by his yellow curls. And he has poured green wine upon the mantle, saying that even so would he pour out the heart’s blood of Prince Vladimir.” Then wiping her hands upon her apron she added, “And I know not what to do in the matter.”
Prince Vladimir rose to his feet and his face was black with anger. “Ye mighty heroes!” he cried, raising his right hand aloft, “lead Ilya to our dungeon and place him behind the iron grating. Pile up trunks of oak trees against the door and heap yellow sand over all.”
At once a great company of heroes left the banquet-hall, and coming to the kitchen stood in a ring round Ilya, who smiled at them as a father might smile at his boys; and no man laid hands upon him, for he was the pride of them all. “Help us now, Ilya of Murom,” they said, “or Prince Vladimir will visit upon us his sore displeasure.” So Ilya, smiling still, called Cloudfall, saddled him and rode himself to the entrance of the dungeon. There he dismounted and let the shaggy bay steed go free, after having taken from him his saddle and plaited bridle.
Then Ilya went down into the dungeon, and the heroes set up the iron grating, piled up trunks of oak trees at the door, and heaped yellow sand over all, as the prince had commanded. After that they went back to their host, who praised them for their obedience and their expedition; but Princess Apraxia dug a deep passage underground, and with her own fair hands carried food of the richest and drink of the sweetest to Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck. And this went on for three years, until Tsar Kalin heard of it, and he was head of the Golden Horde, who in all his wanderings had seen no fairer lady than the Princess Apraxia, whom he meant to take as his own in spite of Prince Vladimir and all his band of well-fed heroes.
Tsar Kalin assembled the Golden Horde, which was in number like the yellow sands upon the seashore, to ride against the royal town of Kiev. Under him were forty Tsars and Tsareviches, and forty Kings and their heirs, each with a company of forty thousand men, and when the host was all assembled it stood along the banks of swift-flowing Mother Dnieper and round about Kiev town on all sides for a distance of a hundred miles all told—a goodly escort for a fair princess. When all was ready Tsar Kalin sat down upon an armless chair in his gold-embroidered tent of white linen, and wrote a letter in great haste, using a swan-quill pen with molten gold in place of ink, and crimson velvet in place of parchment. Then he called his best and favourite runner and gave the royal letter into his hands.
“Go,” he said, “to the town of Kiev, falsely styled ‘royal.’ Enter not by the gates of shining white oak, but leap over the city wall. Dismount not, but riding your charger enter without announcement the palace of white stone. Set the door wide open, but do not close it behind you. Bow not to North, South, East, or West, and do no special reverence to Prince Vladimir. But stand right over against him, and fling this letter upon the table, saying to him:
“Take this letter and ask Nikitich, the young man of supernatural wisdom who can both read and write, to tell thee what it contains, for it disposes in set terms of all your pretensions to royalty. Clean all the streets of Kiev town, take down the wonder-working crosses of the Holy Temples—but leave upon the domes the tall fiery darts of Ilya lest Falcon the Hunter should still be alive—and build stalls for horses in the churches. Cleanse also your palaces of white stone and prepare beds without number, for our host is great. Brew sweet liquors, for our thirst is also great, and let cask stand upon cask in noble array. For in less than two days Tsar Kalin and his great host shall walk the streets of Kiev, and our master shall wed the Princess Apraxia.”
The boldness and the careful detail of the command caused the heart of Prince Vladimir to sink very low, and the best he could imagine was to gain time. So he caused Nikitich to write a letter in reply, saying: “Cleaning and fermenting are both slow processes. I shall need a space of three months to prepare this city for its coming guests.” Then the favourite runner of Tsar Kalin brought this submissive reply to his master, and the truce was granted.