und 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 it up 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. The Queen bound up their
wounds as best she might, but Camoys was much dissatisfied.

"For reasons of His own, madame," he observed, "and doubtless for
sufficient ones, God has singularly favored your cause. I am neither a
fool nor a pagan to question His decision, and you two may go your way
unhampered. But I have had my head broken with my own helmet, and this I
consider to be a proceeding very little conducive toward enhancing my
reputation. Of your courtesy, messire, I must entreat another meeting."

Osmund shrank as from a blow. Then, with a short laugh, he conceded that
this was Camoys' right, and they fixed upon the following Saturday, with
Poges Copse as the rendezvous.

"I would suggest that the combat be a outrance," Gui Camoys said, "in
consideration of the fact it was my own helmet. You must undoubtedly be
aware, Messire Osmund, that such an affront is practically without any
parallel."

This, too, was agreed upon, and they bade one another farewell.

Then, after asking if they needed money, which was courteously declined,
Gui Camoys rode away, and sang as he went. Osmund Heleigh remained
motionless. He raised quivering hands to the sky.

"Thou hast judged!" he cried. "Thou hast judged, O puissant Emperor of
Heaven! Now pardon! Pardon us twain! Pardon for unjust stewards of Thy
gifts! Thou hast loaned this woman dominion over England, all
instruments to aid Thy cause, and this trust she has abused. Thou hast
loaned me life and manhood, agility and wit and strength, all instruments
to aid Thy cause. Talents in a napkin, O God! Repentant we cry to Thee.
Pardon for unjust stewards! Pardon for the ungirt loin, for the service
shirked, for all good d