As Milosh stood drinking in the fresh beauty of the early morning a page of King Michael called loudly from a tower of the royal castle: "Listen, O Serbian Tsar Doushan! Behold, in the valley beneath the walls of the city is the champion of our king! Thou must fight a duel with him, either thyself or by a substitute. If thou dost not overcome him thou shalt not go from this place safely, neither shalt thou take back with thee so much as one of thy wedding-guests! Still less shalt thou take with thee the princess Roksanda!"
Doushan heard the haughty message and sent a strong-voiced crier among the wedding-guests. Here and there he stood shouting loudly the tsar's message: "Has any mother given birth to a fearless hero who will take up the challenge in our tsar's stead? To him who is brave enough to fight the champion the tsar will grant nobility." But alas! when the crier had gone through the camp no hero had come forward to claim the honour of doing battle for the tsar.
When Doushan heard this, he struck his knee with his right hand, exclaiming: "Woe is me! O mighty Creator! If I had now my darling nephews, the two Voïnovitchs, I should not lack a champion." The tsar had hardly ended his lamentation when Milosh, leading his steed, appeared before the tsar's tent. "O my Lord, thou mighty tsar!" said he, "have I thy leave to fight this duel?"
The tsar answered: "Thou art welcome, O youthful Bulgar! But, alas, there is slender likelihood that thou canst overpower the haughty hector of the king. If, however, thou dost succeed, verily I will ennoble thee!"
Milosh leaped to his saddle, and as he turned his fiery Koulash from the tsar's tent, he carelessly threw his lance on his shoulder with its point turned backward. Seeing this, Doushan called to him: "Do not carry, O my son, thy lance so! Turn the point forward, lest the proud Venetians laugh at thee!" But Milosh answered: "Attend, O my tsar, unto thine own dignity, and be not anxious concerning mine! If need arise I shall easily turn my lance correctly; if not, I may just as well bring it back in this wrong wise!"
As Milosh rode on through the field of Ledyen, the ladies and maidens of Ledyen looked upon him, and, laughing, they exclaimed: "Saints in heaven! a marvel! What a substitute for a Serbian emperor! The young man has even no decent clothes upon him! Be merry, thou hector of the king, for hardly shalt thou need to unsheath thy sword!"