And the Miserable fell at her feet.
“My lord brother,” said the younger son, “wilt thou be pleased to fall at my feet likewise, and kiss them, for that thou hast made me do the work of a serf?”
“That I will not,” said the Miserable.
“Thou wilt not?”
“I will not,” said the Miserable, and stepped back a pace.
“Come hither,” said his brother.
“I will not,” said the Miserable.
Then the younger ran at him, and, bearing him to the ground without difficulty, began thumping and pommelling him, and striking him in the face with his golden spurs, saying: “Avenge thyself, Siewert Halewyn the Invincible. None can stand against thee, save I. Thou hast long treated us as serfs in thy house, now I will treat thee as a cheese and crush thee underfoot. Why dost thou not now caper as a kid, or fly away as a bird, Siewert the enchanted?” and, going into a frenzy of rage, he drew his knife, saying: “I will cut thee off thy head unless thou cry mercy.”
“I will not,” said the Miserable.
But his mother, hearing these words, took quickly from the fire a handful of embers, and notwithstanding their heat, threw them into the eyes and mouth of the younger brother, saying: “Thou shalt not kill my first-born, wicked son.”