So the two brothers went away: Simon to fight, and Tarás to buy and sell. And Simon the Soldier conquered a kingdom for himself; and Tarás the Stout made much money in trade.
When the two brothers met, each told the other: Simon how he got the soldiers, and Tarás how he got the money. And Simon the Soldier said to his brother, “I have conquered a kingdom and live in grand style, but I have not money enough to keep my soldiers.”
And Tarás the Stout said, “And I have made much money, but the trouble is, I have no one to guard it.”
Then said Simon the Soldier, “Let us go to our brother. I will tell him to make more soldiers, and will give them to you to guard your money, and you can tell him to make money for me to feed my men.”
And they drove away to Iván; and Simon said, “Dear brother, I have not enough soldiers; make me another couple of ricks or so.”
Iván shook his head.
“No!” says he, “I will not make any more soldiers.”
“But you promised you would.”
“I know I promised, but I won’t make any more.”
“But why not, fool?”
“Because your soldiers killed a man. I was ploughing the other day near the road, and I saw a woman taking a coffin along in a cart, and crying. I asked her who was dead. She said, ‘Simon’s soldiers have killed my husband in the war.’ I thought the soldiers would only play tunes, but they have killed a man. I won’t give you any more.”
And he stuck to it, and would not make any more soldiers.