course, out of the question; upon the other hand,
I observe that you lack weapons of defence. Yet if you will have the
kindness to assist me in unarming, your courtesy will place our commerce
on more equal footing."

Osmund had turned very white. "I am no swordsman, messire--"

"Now, this is not handsome of you," Camoys began. "I warn you that
people will speak harshly of us if we lose this opportunity of gaining
honor. And besides, the woman will be burned at the stake. Plainly, you
owe it to all three of us to fight."

"--But I refer my cause to God. I am quite at your service." "No, my
Osmund!" Dame Alianora then cried. "It means your death."

He spread out his hands. "That is God's affair, madame."

"Are you not afraid?" she breathed.

"Of course I am afraid," said Messire Heleigh, irritably.

After that he unarmed Camoys, and presently they faced each other in
their tunics. So for the first time in the journey Osmund's long
falchion saw daylight. He had thrown away his dagger, as Camoys had
none.

The combat was sufficiently curious. Camoys raised his left hand. "So
help me God and His saints, I have upon me neither bone, stone, nor
witchcraft wherethrough the power and the word of God might be
diminished or the devil's power increased."

Osmund made similar oath. "Judge Thou this woman's cause!" he cried,
likewise.

Then Gui Camoys shouted, as a herald might have done, "Laissez les
aller, laissez les aller, laissez les aller, les bons combatants!" and
warily each moved toward the other.

On a sudden Osmund attacked, desperately apprehensive of his own
cowardice. Camoys lightly eluded him and slashed at Osmund's undefended
thigh, drawing much blood. Osmund gasped. He flung away his sword, and
in the instant catching Camoys under the arms, threw him to the ground.
Messire Heleigh fell with his opponent, who in stumbling had lost his
sword, and thus the two struggled unarmed, Osmund atop. But Camoys was
the younger man, and Osmund's strength was ebbing rapidly by reason of
his wound. Now Camoys' tethered horse, rearing with nervousness, tumbled
his master's flat-topped helmet into the road. Osmund caught up this
helmet and with it battered Camoys in the face, dealing severe blows.

"God!" Camoys cried, his face all blood.

"Do you acknowledge my quarrel just?" said Osmund, between horrid sobs.

"What choice have I?" said Gui Camoys, very sensibly.

So Osmund rose, blind with tears and shivering. Th