the shield of his opponent, being of more brittle stuff, did seem as though it would have cloven asunder with the desperate strokes of Sir Tarquin’s sword.  Nothing daunted, Sir Lancelot brake ofttimes through his adversary’s guard, and smote him once until the blood trickled down amain.  At this sight, Sir Tarquin waxed ten times more fierce; and summoning all his strength for the blow, wrought so lustily on the head of Sir Lancelot that he began to reel; which Tarquin observing, by a side blow struck the sword from out his hand, with so sharp and dexterous a jerk that it shivered into a thousand fragments.

“Now yield thee, Sir Knight, or thou diest;” and with that the cruel monster sprang upon him to accomplish his end.  Still Sir Lancelot would not yield, nor sue to him for quarter, but flew on his enemy like the ravening wolf to his prey.  Then were they seen hurtling together like wild bulls—­Sir Lancelot holding fast his adversary’s sword, so that in vain he attempted to make a thrust therewith.

“Thou discourteous churl! give me but the vantage of a weapon like thine own, and I will fight thee honestly and without flinching.”

“Nay, Sir Knight of the Round Table, but this were a merry deed withal, to help thee unto that wherewith I might perchance mount some goodly bough for the crows to peck at,” replied Tarquin.  Terrible and unceasing was the struggle; but in vain the giant knight attempted to regain the use of his sword.  Then Sir Lancelot, with a wary eye, finding no hope of his life save in the use or accomplishment of some notable stratagem, bethought him of the attempt to throw his adversary by a sudden feint.  To this end he pressed against him heavily and with his whole might, then darting suddenly aside, Sir Tarquin fell to the ground with a loud cry; which Sir Lancelot espying, leapt joyfully upon him, thinking to overcome his enemy; but the latter, too cunning to be thus caught at unawares, kept his sword firmly holden, and his enemy was still unprovided with the means of defence.  Now did Sir Lancelot begin to doubt what course he should pursue, when suddenly the damsel, who, having bound up the wounds of the captive knight as he lay, and now sat a little way off watching the event, cried out with a shrill voice—­

“Sir Knight, the tree:—­a goodly bough for the gathering.”  Then did Sir Lancelot remember the weapons that were there, along with the shields and the body-armour of the knights Sir Tarquin had vanquished.  Starting up, ere his enemy had recovered himself, he snatched a broad falchion from the bough, and again defied him to the combat.  But the fight was fiercer than before; so that being sore wounded, and the day exceeding hot, they were after a season fain to pause for breath.

“Thou art the bravest knight I ever encountered,” said Sir Tarquin, “and I would crave thy country and thy name; for, by my troth and the honour of my gods, I will give thee thy request on one condition, and release thy brethren of the Round Table; for why should two knights of such pith and prowess slay each other in one day?”