These rascally Greeks are murdering their Prefect under our very windows.' 'The lying cur! Serve him right for cheating us.

He has plenty of guards.

Why can't the fool take care of himself ?' 'They have all run away, and I saw some of them hiding among the mob.

As I live, the man will be killed in five minutes more.' 'Why not ?' 'Why should he, when we can save him and win his favour for ever?
The men's fingers are itching far a fight; it's a bad plan not to give hounds blood now and then, or they lose the knack of hunting.' 'Well, it wouldn't take five minutes.' 'And heroes should show that they can forgive when an enemy is in distress.' 'Very true! Like an Amal too!' And the Amal sprang up and shouted to his men to follow him.
'Good-bye, my pretty one.

Why, Wulf,' cried he, as he burst out into the court, 'here's our monk again! By Odin, you're welcome, my handsome boy! come along and fight too, young fellow; what were those arms given you for ?' 'He is my man,' said Wulf, laying his hand on Philammon's shoulder, 'and blood he shall taste.' And out the three hurried, Philammon, in his present reckless mood, ready for anything.
'Bring your whips.