As if it were now the Shrewd Hellgard is going to revenge the imprudent Khazars; their villages and their fields for the violent raid he has doomed to the swords and the fires; surrounded with his bodyguard the Great Duke in the Constantinople armor in front of the host rides his fast steed.
From the dark woods to meet him an inspired magician walks out; the old man versed of the future events worships only Perun. In prayer and divination he has spent all his life. And so the Shrewd Hellgard has approached on the wise aged man.
-«Tell me, magician, the favorite of gods what will come true in the life with me? How soon for glad and delight of the enemies-neighbors I will be filled up by the burial earth? Tell me the truth, do not fear or be frightened of me: as the gift you may keep any horse.»
-«The wizards are not afraid of the mighty mundane lords and have no need in the princely awards; their prophetic tongues are both truthful and free, and friendly with the heavenly will. The future years are concealed in a haze; but I can see your lot on the bright forehead.
Listen, remember my word: fame is joy for a warrior; the great victory has grorified your name; there is your shield on the Constantinople's gates; neither the waves nor the land are disobedient to you; foes are jealous and envy of such marvelous destiny.
Your horse is not scared of the dangerous deeds; he is feeling the master's will, now quiet he stands still under the hail of enemy's arrows, now rushes at the top of speed as an arrow in the battlefield. He doesn't care a straw about both the cold and the skirmish of slashing... And still you are to accept your death from this steed.»
-«Farewell, my companion, my devoted servant, it's time for us to part; have a rest now! No foot will step in your gilded stirrups. Farewell, be consoled-yet mind out, do remember me.» -«You, pages, get away the steed.»
At the top of a high hill the Shrewd Hellgard and his warriors feast clinking with the cheerful goblets. Their curls are white like the clean morning snow. They call to mind the past times and the battles where against enemies they valiantly fought.
-«Where's my comrade?» - said the Shrewd Hellgard.-«Tell me, where is my true steed? Whether does he keep well? Is his gait still easy and steady? Is he yet the same frisky and playful?» In reply the Shrewd Hellgard hears: -«On some steep mound long since your fast steed has fallen asleep into the dead dream.»
Mighty Hellgard his head has drooped and then thinks: -«What is divination? Magician, you are a mad old liar! If I despised your prediction, up till now I would rode my true steed.» And so he wishes to see the bones of his dead horse.
The Great Duke steps on his horse's skull quietly saying: -«Sleep, my lonely friend! Your old master has endured you: at the funeral feast, not far off, not with your blood the feather grass will be crimsoned under the finishing stroke of a pole-axe and to my ashes will be given to drink.
So that's where my doom was concealed! Well, to be sure! A bone threatened me with the death!» From the skull a deadly snake hissing meanwhile creeps out; like a black ribbon it wraps round his leg and suddenly stung the Shrewd Hellgard screams.
