ere set over
against the other, laced each in his mail, and seated on his warhorse.
The strong destriers were held with bit and bridle, so eager were they
for the battle. The riders bestrode the steeds with lifted shields,
brandishing great lances in their hands. It was no easy matter to
perceive--however curiously men looked--which was the stouter knight,
or to judge who would be victor in the joust. Certainly each was a
very worthy lord and a right courageous champion. When all was made
ready the knights struck spurs to their steeds, and loosing the rein
upon the horses' necks, hurtled together with raised buckler and lance
in rest. They smote together with marvellous fierceness. Whether by
reason of the swerving of his destrier, I cannot tell, but Frollo
failed of his stroke Arthur, on his side, smote the boss of his
adversary's shield so fairly, that he bore him over his horse's
buttock, as long as the ash staff held Arthur drew forth his sword,
and hastened to Frollo to bring the battle to an end. Frollo climbed
stoutly on his feet. He held his lance before him like a rod, and the
king's steed ran upon the spear, so that it pierced deeply in his
body. Of this thrust the destrier and his rider alike came tumbling to
the ground. When the Britons saw this thing, they might not contain
themselves for grief. They cried aloud, and seizing their weapons, for
a little would have violated the love-day. They made ready to cross
the river to the Island, and to avenge their lord upon the Gauls.
Arthur cried loudly to his Britons to observe their covenant,
commanding that not a man should move to his help that day. He gripped
Excalibur sternly in his hand, resolving that Frollo should pay
dearly for his triumph. Arthur dressed his shield above his head, and
handselling his sword, rushed upon Frollo. Frollo was a passing good
knight, hardy and strong, in no whit dismayed by the anger of his
adversary. He raised his own glaive on high, striking fiercely at
Arthur's brow. Frollo was strong beyond the strength of man. His brand
was great and sharp, and the buffet was struck with all his power. The
blade sheared through helm and coif alike, so that King Arthur was
wounded in his forehead, and the blood ran down his face.

When Arthur felt the dolour of his hurt, and looked upon his blood, he
desired nothing, save to wreak evil on the man who had wrought this
mischief. He pressed the more closely upon Frollo. Lifting Excalibur,
his