er
the damsel.

But ever as before she railed at him, telling him he had conquered the
black knight by a cowardly blow; but Beaumains would answer her nothing
in anger.

Anon they came to the edge of a vast and dark forest, and from its
shadows came a knight in green armour, who cried to the damsel:

'Lady, is that my brother the Black Knight whom ye bring riding behind
ye?'

'Nay, sir knight, it is not your brother,' she replied. 'It is but a
kitchen knave who by treachery hath slain your noble brother, the
Knight of the Black Lands.'

'Thou traitor!' cried the green knight. 'Now shalt thou surely die, for
my brother, Sir Percard, was a most noble knight and a valiant. And to
think that he fell by the dirty hand of a knave is great shame.'

'I am no knave!' said Beaumains, 'but of lineage as high as thine,
maybe. And I slew your brother in knightly fashion.'

But the green knight stayed not to answer, and they hurtled together,
and clashed midway as if it were thunder. And Beaumains' stroke was so
mighty that both the green knight and his horse fell to the ground.

Swiftly the green knight rose to his feet, and then, Beaumains having
alighted, they rushed together with their swords, and stood a long time
hacking, thrusting and parrying. And each hurt the other sorely.

'Oh, my lord, the green knight,' cried the damsel, 'why do ye stand so
long fighting with that kitchen knave? A shame it is to see a proved
knight matched by a dirty scullion! Slay him for me and be done!'

Shamed by her words the green knight gave a fierce stroke and clove
Beaumains' shield in twain. Then Beaumains, smarting with this blow,
and in anger at the words of the lady, suddenly gave the green knight
so great a stroke that he fell upon his knees, and then was thrust
grovelling upon the earth.

Swiftly Beaumains cut the fastenings of his helm, and, tearing it off,
lifted his sword to strike off the other's head.

But the green knight prayed of his mercy and pleaded hard for his life.

'Thou shalt plead in vain,' said Beaumains, 'unless this lady shall beg
thy life of me.'

'Shame on thee, thou kitchen knave!' cried the lady, biting her lip
with anger. 'Thinkest thou I shall crave aught of thee, and be so
beholden to thee?'

'Then he shall die!' cried Beaumains.

'O lady, suffer me not to die!' cried the prostrate knight, 'when a
fair word from you will save my life. And you, sir knight, give me my
life, and I will yield myse