Bran: Madman! Madman!
Gleva: You killed one of the Romans!
Third Attendant (stands before her): I was afraid. It was by the old forge in the forest. There's a brook by the forge.
Bran: Yes.
Third Attendant: He had fallen out of the ranks. He was stooping over the brook. I saw the sun sparkle upon his helmet as he dipped it into the water, and his strong, brown neck as he raised it. I crept close to him and struck at his neck as he drank.
Caransius: That was a good stroke.
Bran: A mad stroke.
Third Attendant: He fell over without a cry, and all his armour rattled once.
Bran: It will be the fire for our barns, and death for every tenth man of the tribe.
Third Attendant: No one saw.