Still presently I found there
was cause to doubt, for when, parrying his first thrust, I drove at him
with all my strength, instead of piercing him through and through the
ancient sword, Wave-Flame, bent in my hand like a bow as it is strung,
telling me that beneath his Joseph's coat of silk Deleroy wore a shirt
of mail.
Then I cried: "_A-hoi!_" as Thorgrimmer my ancestor may have done when
he wielded this same sword, and while Deleroy still staggered beneath
my thrust I grasped Wave-Flame with both hands, wheeled it aloft, and
smote. He lifted his arm round which he had wound his cloak, to protect
his head, but the sword shore through cloak and arm, so that his hand
with the glittering rings upon it fell to the floor.
Again I smote for, as both of us knew, this business was to the death,
and Deleroy fell down dead, smitten through the brain.
Kari smiled gently, and lifting the cloak, shook it out and threw it
over what had been Deleroy. Then he took my sword and while I watched
him idly, cleansed it with rushes from the floor.
Next I heard a sound from the neighbourhood of the fire, and bethinking
me of Blanche turned to speak to her, though what I was going to say God
knows for I do not.
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