I fell on him and we fought. He had fine armour
and a shield while I had none, but I held the long sword while he only
wielded a battle-axe. I knew that if he could get in a blow with that
battle-axe, I was sped, since the bull's hide of my jerkin would never
stand against it. Therefore it was my business to keep out of his reach.
This, being young and active, for the most part I made shift to do,
especially as he could not move very quickly in his mail. The end of it
was that I cut him on the arm through a joint in his harness, whereon he
rushed at me, swearing French oaths.
I leapt on one side and as he passed, smote with all my strength. The
blow fell between neck and shoulder, from behind as it were, and such
was the temper of that sword named Wave-Flame that it shore through his
mail deep into the flesh beneath, to the backbone as I believe. At least
he went down in a heap--I remember the rattle of his armour as he fell,
and there lay still. Then we fled on down the steep path, I holding the
bloody sword with one hand and Lady Blanche with the other, while she
thanked me with her eyes.
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