“Thanks to you, good and noble youths. Go now into the treasure-house and take from thence whatever your hearts desire.”
Then the black-browed maiden came forward and led them to the vaults, turning her white shoulders from them as they chose whatever seemed good to them. When they returned to the kitchen they found the dry-eyed widow mother preparing clothes and boots and food and wine for them that they might clothe themselves afresh and feast well before they went into the city to speak with the men of Novgorod.
After supper they sat quietly near the stove and the widow mother was the first to break the silence. “Yet Sadko came back to Novgorod the Great,” she said; “Sadko came back to take his ease in his own city.”
“But Sadko was a trader,” said the black-browed maid with quiet scorn.
“Tell on,” said the brave bodyguard. And the maiden said, “It will pass the time till morning if I tell you the tale of Merchant Sadko which has been told in Novgorod since you went away in your red ship with fair white linen sails.” So she seated herself at the feet of the widow mother on the red bricks of the floor for humility, and told her story to the listening youths, the tale of
Merchant Sadko, the Rich Guest of Novgorod.
In Novgorod the Great dwelt Sadko the harpist, who had no store of treasure except the golden tones of his harp of maple-wood. He went about to the great feasts of the nobles and made all merry with his playing.
Now for three days Sadko had not been bidden to any merry feast, and his heart grew sad within him. So he went down to the shore of Lake Ilmen and sat down upon a blue stone. And there, to soothe his spirit, he began to play upon his harp of maple-wood, and played from early morning until far into the night. Then a great storm arose; the waves lashed up the shore to the blue stone on which Sadko sat, and great terror seized upon the heart of the minstrel so that he returned to Novgorod in haste and disquiet.
The stormy night passed, another day dawned fair and peaceful, but still Sadko was not bidden to a merry feast. So he went again to the shore of the lake, again a storm arose, and again he returned to Novgorod in haste and disquiet.
The stormy night passed, another day dawned fair and peaceful, but even yet Sadko was not bidden to a merry feast. So he went again to the shore of the lake, again a storm arose, but this time the heart of Sadko grew stout, and he went on with his playing though his fingers trembled sorely. Then the Water Tsar arose from the lake and said to Sadko: