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 that this was the enemy which menaced their freedom and independence.

While they were still a distance away, Zakhar was finishing his speech: “Here comes the Boyarin, who boasts that his gracious king granted him our lands, our bodies, our liberty and our souls. See how insolently he proceeds in the knowledge of his king’s good graces and that he is the king’s servant and his slave! We do not need the graciously benign mercy of a boyar nor do we have need for becoming vassals! That is the reason why he hates us and calls us “stinkers”, louts. But we are fully aware that his supercilious posturings are silly and that an upright, free man cares nothing for arrogance but on the contrary, bases his nobility upon the tranquillity of his conscience and the power of his wisdom. Let us then display our superiority by our dignity and our wisdom that we should not humiliate him but that he, himself, within the depths of his own soul, should be humiliated! I have finished!”

A gentle stir of satisfaction and happy resolution swept over the gathering. Zakhar walked back to his seat. Momentarily complete silence reigned over the folk-mote, until Tuhar Wolf neared the gathering and greeted them, “Good day, Citizens!” touching his helmet with his hand but without removing it from his head.

“Good day to you, Boyarin!” answered the assemblage.

Tuhar Wolf, with disdainful, presumptuous strides took his stand on the platform under the linden tree and with a brief sweep of his glance over the gathered populace, began peremptorily, “You have called me before you and so I have come. What is it that you want of me?”

These words were spoken in a lofty, brisk tone, which evidently was meant by the boyar to manifest his preeminence over the town-mote. He did not look at the people directly but toyed with his battle-axe turning it about in his hands as if its shining blade and bronze head amused him, showing very