ong them the king and
his chosen knights.

The wilderness was red with blood, the air was rent with shouts
of victory and cries of agony or despair. And there, in the midst
of it all, ringed round with grave, courteous Saracens, stood the
emir, clad above his mail in his white robe and jewelled turban,
facing the great Christian knight, with harness hacked and
reddened, the light of battle shining in his fierce eyes, and a
smile upon his stained features.

For those who watched the battle was forgotten--or, rather, its
interest was centred on this point.

"It will be a good fight," said one of them to Godwin, whom they
had suffered to rise, "for though your brother is the younger and
the heavier man, he is hurt and weary, whereas the emir is fresh
and unwounded. Ah! they are at it!"

Hassan had struck first and the blow went home. Falling upon the
point of Wulf's steel helm, the heavy, razoredged scimitar
glanced from it and shore away the links from the flap which hung
upon his shoulder, causing the Frank to stagger. Again he struck,
this time upon the shield, and so heavily that Wulf came to his
knees.

"Your brother is sped," said the Saracen captain to Godwin, but
Godwin only answered:

"Wait."

As he spoke Wulf twisted his body out of reach of a third blow,
and while Hassan staggered forward with the weight of the missed
stroke, placed his hand upon the ground, and springing to his
feet, ran backwards six or eight paces.

"He flies!" cried the Saracens; but again Godwin said, "Wait."
Nor was there long to wait.

For now, throwing aside his buckler and grasping the great sword
in both his hands, with a shout of "A D'Arcy! A D'Arcy!" Wulf
leapt at Hassan as a wounded lion leaps. The sword wheeled and
fell, and lo! the shield of the Saracen was severed in two. Again
it fell, and his turbaned helm was cloven. A third time, and the
right arm and shoulder with the scimitar that grasped it seemed
to spring from his body, and Hassan sank dying to the ground.

Wulf stood and looked at him, while a murmur of grief went up
from those who watched, for they loved this emir. Hassan beckoned
to the victor with his left hand, and throwing down his sword to
show that he feared no treachery, Wulf came to him and knelt
beside him.

"A good stroke," Hassan said faintly, "that could shear the
double links of Damascus steel as though it were silk. Well, as I
told you long ago, I knew that the hour of our meeting in war