He was tall and great of thew and sinew--a giant
among men, towering head and shoulders even above the tall Frankish
warriors.

"Allow me to fulfil your wishes, sire," he said. "Sir Morvan has sent
me his glove, and if to-morrow I do not bring you his head I will
willingly part with my own."

On the next morning Morvan's squire came to his master trembling
violently.

"Seigneur," he said, with ashy countenance, "the King's Moor is here
and bids you defiance."

Morvan rose and took his sword.

"Alas! my dear master," said the squire, "take heed what you do, I
pray you, for I assure you that this Moor is nothing but a demon who
practises the most horrible enchantments."

Morvan laughed. "Well, we shall see whether this demon can withstand
cold steel or not," he said. "Go and saddle my black horse."

"Saving your grace," said the page, "if you will hearken to my words
you will not fight on the black charger. He has been bewitched.
Moreover, you will notice that when you enter the lists to fight the
Moor he will cast his mantle to the ground. But do not follow his
example, for should your mantle fall beneath his the strength of the
black giant will be doubled. When the Moor advances to the attack make
the sign of the Cross with the shaft of your lance, and when he rushes
upon you in his battle-fury receive him with the steel. If you do this
you may be sure that your lance will not break."

The heroes met within the lists. The King of France and his nobles had
followed the giant Moor in order to witness the combat, and when all
had been seated the trumpets sounded and the two champions rushed
together with the utmost fury. They circled round one another like
eagles seeking an opening to strike. Now one struck, then the other,
and the blood flowed down their bright armour. The Frankish King in
high excitement called out:

"Ho! black crow of the sea, pierce me now this merle."

At these words the giant assailed Morvan most furiously, as a great
tempest assails a ship. The lances crossed, but that of the Moor broke
like matchwood. Both leaped to earth, sword in hand, and rushed at
each other like lions. Many lusty strokes were given and taken, and
from their armour flew sparks like those from a smith's anvil. Then
the Moor, grasping his sword with both hands, made ready to strike a
mighty blow, when swift and trenchantly Morvan thrust his blade far
into the arm-pit and the heart and the giant tumbled to the earth l