“That is so,” said the others, “that is indeed so, and true, and wise, and intelligent. Our friend must be the next Elder of Novgorod the Great.”
So the servant maid of the rag-merchant told the servant maid of another trader, who told the black-browed maid at the castle, only to find that she knew all about it already, for her master had told her two days before.
“Mother,” said Vasily that morning, “I shall go to the feast of the men of Novgorod.”
“My dear child,” said the old lady, “there is always room for the guest who is bidden, but none for the guest who is unbidden.” But her gentle counsel placed no restraint upon Vasily who, when the time came, summoned his bodyguard and walked straight into the banquet-hall, asking no leave of the gatekeepers nor yet of the lackeys at the doors. He strode forward to the wall-bench in the great corner by the stove and sat down there to wait his turn to be served. No man present dared withstand him, and he glared down the table in such a ferocious manner that many of the citizens burnt their tongues by forgetting to blow upon their broth.
“Ah, well,” said one of them, as he made a brave attack upon a great sirloin of beef, “Vasily may be here but he wasn’t invited, while we were invited,—in fact I invited myself.”
“Ah, yes,” piped the small rag-merchant, who wore a coat of greater value than any, “we were invited but he wasn’t.” And with this consolation they went on with their feasting, Vasily being served as nobly as the rest with meat of the richest and wine of the greenest.
As the banquet went on the spirits of the citizens arose, and the small rag-merchant began to think that he might some day be bold enough to challenge even Vasily to mortal combat. As for the turbulent lord himself, he stood up when the merriment was at its height and issued a mighty challenge. He would go, he said, with his brave bodyguard on the following day to the bridge over the Volkof river, and would hold his own against all the men of Novgorod. Then he stalked from the room and across the snow-covered streets to his own palace.
At the doorway he was met by his widow mother, who noticed at once that he was aroused to turbulent anger. “Did they pass you with the dishes,” she asked, “or did they jeer at you?” Vasily was too much moved to reply, but the bodyguard told her all the truth. Then the widow mother put her shoes upon her bare feet, cast her mantle of fine sables over her cold shoulders and went her way down, down into the deep vaults below the palace. There she heaped up a bowl with rich red gold, another with white silver, and a third with fine seed pearls; and having called the black-browed maiden, who came from her room with hair unbound and feet all bare, the two women crossed the white courtyard and passed along the silent streets until they came to the hall where the citizens were finishing their banquet.
The widow mother went forward to the great corner with the black-browed maid close behind her, and holding out the glittering bowls, said to the chief citizens:
“Hail, ye men of Novgorod! Forgive now the fault of Vasily my turbulent son.”