but bethinking him
that ever a woman must be more helpless than a man, he wheeled his
horse, rode upon her captor and beat him to the earth. The damsel
thanked him earnestly and told him how the knight was her own
cousin, who had that day carried her off by craft from her father's
castle. As they talked, there came up twelve knights who had been
seeking the lady everywhere; so to their care Sir Bors delivered
her, and rode with haste in the direction whither his brother had
been borne. On the way, he met with an old man, dressed as a
priest, who asked him what he sought. When Sir Bors had told him,
"Ah! Bors," said he, "I can give you tidings indeed. Your brother
is dead"; and parting the bushes, he showed him the body of a dead
man, to all seeming Sir Lionel's self. Then Sir Bors grieved
sorely, misdoubting almost whether he should not have rescued his
own brother rather than the lady; and at the last, he dug a grave
and buried the dead man; after which he rode sorrowfully on his
way.

When he had ridden many days, he met with a yeoman whom he asked if
there were any adventures in those parts. "Sir," said the man, "at
the castle; hard by, they hold a great tournament." Sir Bors
thanked him and rode along the way pointed out to him; and
presently, as he passed a hermitage, whom should he see sitting at
its door but his brother, Sir Lionel, whom he had believed dead.
Then in great joy, he leaped from his horse, and running to Lionel,
cried: "Fair brother, how came ye hither?" "Through no aid of
yours," said Sir Lionel angrily; "for ye left me bound and beaten,
to ride to the rescue of a maiden. Never was brother so dealt with
by brother before. Keep you from me as ye may!" When Sir Bors
understood that his brother would slay him, he knelt before him
entreating his pardon. Sir Lionel took no heed, but mounting his
horse and taking his lance, cried: "Keep you from me, traitor!
Fight, or die!" And Sir Bors moved not; for to him it seemed a sin
most horrible that brother should fight with brother. Then Sir
Lionel, in his rage, rode his horse at him, bore him to the ground
and trampled him under the horse's hoofs, till Bors lay beaten to
the earth in a swoon. Even so, Sir Lionel's anger was not stayed;
for, alighting, he drew his sword and would have smitten off his
brother's head, but that the holy hermit, hearing the noise of
conflict, ran out of the hermitage and threw himself upon Sir Bors.
"Gentle knight," he cried, "