Peace had no charm for Vasily of Novgorod the Great, but where there was fighting to be done there he was at his best and happiest. Rest and ease had no attraction for him, but where the rover wandered there was the place of his journeying. His father, however, had lived in peace with the men of Novgorod the Great, and had died leaving to his widow and his only son a great store of treasure, a wide palace with a lofty tower, and a cellar full of green wine without price. When Vasily had reached the age of seven years his mother sent him to learn to read and write, for she longed to curb his fiery spirit with the rein of reflection which learning places upon the violent; and Vasily, being of a determined disposition, applied himself to learning with a will so that he succeeded better than all the scholars who studied by his side. But reading and writing did not curb his fiery spirit, nor even church singing in which he also excelled, and he could pass from the cathedral and the singing of holy songs to noisy brawls in the city streets in which he cracked heads as if they were nuts. He was so strong and thoughtless that even his friends ran down side paths to avoid meeting him, for it was said that he had one day torn out a young man's arm in the act of shaking hands with him, and had stricken another to the ground by clapping him playfully upon the back. As Vasily grew up his vigorous pranks began to terrify the good people of Novgorod, who came to his widow mother to beg for protection against her son. She was a peaceable, gentle lady, who was greatly alarmed at the strength which her son was developing, and she upbraided him with tears in her eyes. "My son," she said, "why do you delight in going about the city making cripples? At your age your father had no treasure to speak of, but he had a band of brave bodyguards, and was a wise leader among men and a judge among the people of Novgorod the Great." These gentle words displeased Vasily greatly, and instead of restraining him moved him to greater mischief. "Men shall speak of my might" he muttered as he left his mother, "and in after years shall boast even in Novgorod of the heroic deeds of their own townsman, aye, even if I crack hundreds of their own thick skulls for them. They will remember me when they have forgotten men of wisdom and of safe judgment." Then he proceeded to win his reputation. He went up to his own room in the top of his lofty tower and sat down at the table to write on a scroll of parchment, but it was no psalm or cathedral hymn which the turbulent scholar wrote. It was an invitation to a feast and ran thus: "Whosoever wishes to eat savoury viands ready to his hand and without cost to himself, as well as to drink green wine of priceless value and to wear embroidered robes of the best, let him come to the court of Vasily at once and instantly."