Ilija, the Muromer, took him, bound him fast to his saddle, and rode away to Kiev. At the side of the road stood the palace of Robber Nightingale, and as he rode by the robber’s daughters were sitting at the open window.
“There comes our father,” said the youngest, “riding, and bringing with him a peasant, tied to his saddle.”
The eldest looked at him carefully, and began to weep bitterly.
“It is not our father,” said she, “that rides there, but a strange man who has made him prisoner.”
Then they called out to their husbands—
“Dear husbands, ride out against this stranger, and deliver our father from him. Let not such shame come on us!”
Their husbands were mighty riders, and they came out to attack the Russian horseman; and they had good horses and sharp lances, and thought it would be an easy matter to kill him. When Robber Nightingale saw them, he called out and said—
“My dear sons, let no shame come on you, and do not attack so brave a knight, for if you do he will but slay you. Ask him, rather, to enter the house and drink with us.”
When Ilija heard the invitation he turned to enter the palace, suspecting no treachery; but the eldest daughter had hung a beam, by means of a chain, over the entrance, so that she might kill him as he rode through. When Ilija saw that he gave her a stroke with his lance and killed her. Then he rode on to Kiev and came to the prince’s palace. He entered the palace, prayed to God, and saluted the nobles.
“Tell me, my good young man,” said the prince, “what is your name, and to what place you belong?”