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 and traitors. The Berkuts never soil their hands or their hearts with deceitful spilling of blood!”

“That’s enough of such talk my children! Wait and I will send them an answer myself, with my own hands.” And turning about he went to the engine upon whose laddleladle [sic] lay a huge slab of stone and with a strong, firm hand, took hold of the rope which held the ladle in its loading position.

“Father, father!” cried Peace-Renown, running after him, “what are you going to do?”

But Zakhar yielded no whit. As if he had not heard her cry, he quietly adjusted the ladle and aimed it at the enemies.

In the meantime Burunda and Tuhar Wolf vainly awaited an answer from the Tukholians. Maxim hung his head silently resigned to accept his fate, as he stood beneath Burunda’s upraised battle-axe. Only Tuhar Wolf for some reason trembled.

“Oh, why should we have to wait so long!” cried Burunda finally. “Once we were born and once we must die. But before I die, you vile vassal, must die first!” And he swung a powerful arm backward the better to cleave open Maxim’s head. In a flash Tuhar Wolf’s sword gleamed above Maxim’s head and the threatening, murderous arm of Burunda, together with its upraised battle-axe, was slashed off from the shoulder in one movement, falling spattered with blood like a piece of cord-wood into the water.

Burunda howled with fury and pain and with his left hand seized Maxim by the chest. His eyes filled with loathing, he turned towards the treacherous boyar. Maxim ducked and with all the strength at his command butted the ferocious Turkoman with his head and shoulders on the left side of his body so that Burunda lost his balance and toppled over into the water, pulling Maxim after him.

In the ensuing second the huge stone cast by the Tukholian trebuchet under Zakhar Berkut’s guidance hummed through