When this book reached King Voukashin’s hands, his heart rejoiced and he assembled a large force and marched to Herzegovina. He marched to the lake by Momtchilo’s castle, where he hid in the neighbouring woods.
On the eve of Sunday, Momtchilo retired to his bed-chamber to rest upon the silken cushions, when lo! his consort came to him. She did not lay on the cushions, but stood by her spouse and her tears fell upon his head. Feeling the warm tears upon his knightly cheeks, the Voïvode looked up and said: “O Vidossava, my faithful consort! What great trouble afflicts thee, that thou shouldst shed tears upon my head?”
And Vidossava answered: “My Lord, thou Voïvode Momtchilo! I have no trouble but for thee! I have heard tell of a marvel which I have not seen with my own eyes. It is said that thou hast a wondrous winged steed but I cannot believe the story. It is some evil portent, and I fear thou wilt perish!”
The Winged Horse
Momtchilo was usually cautious, but this time he fell into the trap. “Vidossava, my dear consort,” said he, tenderly, “if that be all thy trouble I will easily console thee. Thou shalt see the wings of my steed Tchile:[5] when the first cocks crow go down to the new stables, Tchile will then unfold his wings, as thou wilt see.”
Saying this, he composed himself once more to slumber. But not so Vidossava. She watched to hear the first rooster’s crow, and at the sound she sprang to her feet, lit a lantern and a candle, took some fat of mutton and some tar, and hurried to the stables. And behold! she saw Yaboutchilo unfold a pair of wings which reached down to his hoofs. Vidossava anointed the pinions with the fat and tar and set fire to them with the flame of her candle. What did not burn she bound tightly under the belt of the steed. This done, she, the youthful one, went to the armoury and dipped Momtchilo’s favourite sword into salted blood. Then she returned to her consort’s chamber.
Momtchilo’s Dream
At daybreak Momtchilo awoke and spake thus to Vidossava: “Vidossava, my beloved spouse! I have had this night a strange dream: there appeared suddenly a cloud of fog from the accursed land of Vassoye and wrapped itself round Dourmitor. I rode through the cloud with my nine darling brothers and twelve first-cousins, together with my forty guards. In that fog, O my darling Vidossava! we lost sight of each other, never to meet again! God alone knows what this dream means, but I have a presentiment that some evil will befall us soon!”