"You savage rustic, you fail in all the duties of hospitality by denying the request of the King's son," bellowed the Lion of Poitiers at Neroweg, "just as you insulted us, your guests, by keeping your wife from the banquet, and by having your gold and silver vessels removed from the table even before the banquet was over! You are more of a bear than that animal, which you shall not kill. I forbid you--the mountebank has placed himself under the protection of Chram and of us, his men." "Companions!" cried Sigefrid, "shall we tolerate the heaping of insults upon our count?" "Just listen to the rustic brutes!" observed aloud one of Chram's warriors, "listen to them, barking as ever, without daring to bite." "I, Neroweg, king in this burg, as any king in his kingdom, I shall kill that bear! And if you say another word, you whom they call Lion, I shall knock you down at my feet with a blow from my axe, insolent palace cub!" "You dare insult me, you smut-covered boar!" screamed the Gallic renegade as, pale with anger, he drew his sword with one hand and with the other seized the count by the collar of his dalmatica. "You seem to want me to turn your throat into a sheath for my blade! Ask for mercy, or you are a dead man!" "Ha, you double thief! You wish to steal my gold necklace!" cried Neroweg, thinking only of defending his jewelry, and concluding from the gesture of his adversary that the latter's purpose was to rob him. "I was right to place my gold and silver vessels out of the clutches of all of you thievish palace cubs." "He calls us all thieves! To your swords, men of the royal bodyguard! Let us avenge our honor! Let us slash these rustics!" "Ha, bastard dogs!" cried Neroweg between whom and the Lion of Poitiers Sigefrid had thrown himself. "You speak of swords--here is one for you, and of good temper; you will taste it, profligate blasphemer, who have of a lion only the name! To me, my leudes! they have raised their hands against your count! Let us slash the royal bodyguard!" "Neroweg!" cried Chram interposing, as his favorite, who had shaken himself loose from Sigefrid, rushed at the count with upraised sword, "are you all fools to quarrel in this manner? Lion, I order you to put up your sword." "Oh, great St. Martin, blessings upon your name for giving me the opportunity to chastise the sacrilegious whelp who had the audacity to raise his switch at my holy bishop, and who has never ceased sneering at both the holy man and me since he stepped into my burg," cried the count, deaf to the words of Chram, and striving to reach his adversary, from whom he had been again separated in the midst of the uproar. "Boys, let us defend Neroweg!" Sigefrid called out to his fellow leudes of the count. "This is a good opportunity to prove to the braggards that our rough-looking swords are better than their parade weapons! To arms! Down with them to the last man!"