“For sooth,” quoth the other, “so fiercely thou speakest I will no
longer let thine errand wait its reward.” Then he braced himself to
strike, frowning with lips and brow, ’twas no marvel that he who hoped
for no rescue misliked him. He lifted the axe lightly and let it fall
with the edge of the blade on the bare neck. Though he struck swiftly it
hurt him no more than on the one side where it severed the skin. The
sharp blade cut into the flesh so that the blood ran over his shoulder
to the ground. And when the knight saw the blood staining the snow, he
sprang forth, swift-foot, more than a spear’s length, seized his helmet
and set it on his head, cast his shield over his shoulder, drew out his
bright sword, and spake boldly (never since he was born was he half so
blithe), “Stop, Sir Knight, bid me no more blows. I have stood a stroke
here without flinching, and if thou give me another, I shall requite
thee, and give thee as good again. By the covenant made betwixt us in
Arthur’s hall but one blow falls to me here. Halt, therefore.”