The unhappy lad stammered out faint excuses, in broken English; "he had not meant to do it--the thing rose up so suddenly"--and the like. But in the first place his captors did not understand his language sufficiently to make out the excuses, neither were they in the mood to receive any. "What is the law?" said Etienne; "does it not say that he who slays a hare shall lose the hand that did the deed; and here is a poacher taken red handed. Louis, where is thy hunting knife?" "We need not trouble to take him to the castle; off with his hand, and let him go." Their hunting knives, with which they were accustomed to "break up" the deer, were in their girdles, and, shame to say, the other two youths at once assented to Etienne's proposal to execute the law themselves. So they dragged their intended victim to a stump, and Etienne prepared to execute the cruel operation which he had witnessed too often not to know how to do it. Poor Eadwin appealed in vain for mercy. They were laughing at his fright, and indeed there was so little sympathy between Norman lord and English thrall, that pity found no place to enter into the relations between them: it was the old Roman and his slave over again. But an unexpected deliverer was at hand. Just as the young "noble" was about to execute the threat; when the poor wrist was already extended by force on a rude stump; when the knife was already drawn from its sheath, Wilfred appeared on the scene, and, in a tone the Norman lads started to hear from him, exclaimed: "Let him go; touch him if you dare; he is my foster brother; my thrall, if anybody's." "Like cleaves to like," said Etienne, sarcastically; "but, my fair brother, thou wilt hardly interfere with the due course of the law." "Law! the law of butchers and worse than butchers--devils. Let him go." "Hadst thou not better try to rescue him? Thou hast not yet found an opportunity to show thy prowess." Wilfred lost all control, sprang at Etienne, struck him in a downright English fashion between the eyes, and knocked him down. The knife fell from his hand, and Wilfred seized it before the other youths could recover from their astonishment, and flung it into a pond close at hand. Etienne rose up. Now my young readers will probably anticipate a bout at fisticuffs; but no such vulgar a combat commended itself to the proud young Norman, even thus suddenly humiliated; neither did he, under these very trying circumstances, lose his self command. Yet his hatred was none the less, nor did he cherish a less deadly design. "Let the young brute go," said he, as he arose, pointing to Eadwin. "There is something more important to be settled now than the question whether the young porker shall retain his cloven hoof or not. Wilfred, dost thou know thou hast struck a gentleman?" "I have struck a young butcher." "Thanks; churls fight with words; knights, and would-be knights, with swords. Draw, then, and defend thyself; Pierre and Louis will see fair play."