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was stretched to breathless tensity； when； almost as his enemy was against
the barriers； Myles paused and rested。
〃Out upon it！〃 exclaimed the Earl of Mackworth； almost shrilly in his
excitement； as the sudden lull followed the crashing of blows。 〃Why doth
the boy spare him？ That is thrice he hath given him grace to recover； an he
had pushed the battle that time he had driven him back against the
barriers。〃
It was as the Earl had said； Myles had three times given his enemy
grace when victory was almost in his very grasp。 He had three times
spared him； in spite of all he and those dear to him must suffer should his
cruel and merciless enemy gain the victory。 It was a false and foolish
generosity； partly the fault of his impulsive youthmore largely of his
romantic training in the artificial code of French chivalry。 He felt that the
battle was his； and so he gave his enemy these three chances to recover； as
some chevalier or knight… errant of romance might have done； instead of
pushing the combat to a mercifully speedy end and his foolish generosity
cost him dear。
In the momentary pause that had thus stirred the Earl of Mackworth to
a sudden outbreak； the Earl of Alban sat upon his panting； sweating war…
horse； facing his powerful young enemy at about twelve paces distant。 He
sat as still as a rock； holding his gisarm poised in front of him。 He had； as
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the Earl of Mackworth had said； been wounded twice； and each time with
the point of the sword； so much more dangerous than a direct cut with the
weapon。 One wound was beneath his armor； and no one but he knew how
serious it might be； the other was under the overlapping of the epauhere；
and from it a finger's…breadth of blood ran straight down his side and over
the housings of his horse。 From without； the still motionless iron figure
appeared calm and expressionless； within； who knows what consuming
blasts of hate； rage； and despair swept his heart as with a fiery whirlwind。
As Myles looked at the motionless； bleeding figure； his breast swelled
with pity。 〃My Lord；〃 said he； 〃thou art sore wounded and the fight is
against thee； wilt thou not yield thee？〃
No one but that other heard the speech； and no one but Myles heard
the answer that came back； hollow； cavernous； 〃Never； thou dog！ Never！〃
Then in an instant； as quick as a flash； his enemy spurred straight upon
Myles； and as he spurred he struck a last desperate； swinging blow； in
which he threw in one final effort all the strength of hate； of fury； and of
despair。 Myles whirled his horse backward； warding the blow with his
shield as he did so。 The blade glanced from the smooth face of the shield；
and； whether by mistake or not； fell straight and true； and with almost
undiminished force； upon the neck of Myles's war…horse； and just behind
the ears。 The animal staggered forward； and then fell upon its knees； and at
the same instant the other； as though by the impetus of the rush； dashed
full upon it with all the momentum lent by the weight of iron it carried。
The shock was irresistible； and the stunned and wounded horse was flung
upon the ground； rolling over and over。 As his horse fell； Myles wrenched
one of his feet out of the stirrup； the other caught for an instant； and he
was flung headlong with stunning violence； his armor crashing as he fell。
In the cloud of dust that arose no one could see just what happened； but
that what was done was done deliberately no one doubted。 The earl； at
once checking and spurring his foaming charger； drove the iron…shod war…
horse directly over Myles's prostrate body。 Then； checking him fiercely
with the curb； reined him back； the hoofs clashing and crashing； over the
figure beneath。 So he had ridden over the father at York； and so he rode
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over the son at Smithfield。
Myles； as he lay prostrate and half stunned by his fall； had seen his
enemy thus driving his rearing horse down upon him； but was not able to
defend himself。 A fallen knight in full armor was utterly powerless to rise
without assistance； Myles lay helpless in the clutch of the very iron that
was his defence。 He closed his eyes involuntarily； and then horse and rider
were upon him。 There was a deafening； sparkling crash； a glimmering
faintness； then another crash as the horse was reined furiously back again；
and then a humming stillness。
In a moment； upon the scaffolding all was a tumult of uproar and
confusion； shouting and gesticulation； only the King sat calm； sullen；
impassive。 The Earl wheeled his horse and sat for a moment or two as
though to make quite sure that he knew the King's mind。 The blow that
had been given was foul； unknightly； but the King gave no sign either of
acquiescence or rebuke； he had willed that Myles was to die。
Then the Earl turned again； and rode deliberately up to his prostrate
enemy。
When Myles opened his eyes after that moment of stunning silence； it
was to see the other looming above him on his war…horse； swinging his
gisarm for one last mortal blowpitiless； merciless。
The sight of that looming peril brought back Myles's wandering senses
like a flash of lightning。 He flung up his shield； and met the blow even as
it descended； turning it aside。 It only protracted the end。
Once more the Earl of Alban raised the gisarm； swinging it twice
around his head before he struck。 This time； though the shield glanced it；
the blow fell upon the shoulder…piece； biting through the steel plate and
leathern jack beneath even to the bone。 Then Myles covered his head with
his shield as a last protecting chance for life。
For the third time the Earl swung the blade flashing； and then it fell；
straight and true； upon the defenceless body； just below the left arm； biting
deep through the armor plates。 For an instant the blade stuck fast； and that
instant was Myles's salvation。 Under the agony of the blow he gave a
muffled cry； and almost instinctively grasped the shaft of the weapon with
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both hands。 Had the Earl let go his end of the weapon； he would have won
the battle at his leisure and most easily； as it was； he struggled violently to
wrench the gisarm away from Myles。 In that short； fierce struggle Myles
was dragged to his knees； and then； still holding the weapon with one hand；
he clutched the trappings of the Earl's horse with the other。 The next
moment he was upon his feet。 The other struggled to thrust him away； but
Myles； letting go the gisarm； which he held with his left hand； clutched
him tightly by the sword…belt in the intense； vise…like grip of despair。 In
vain the Earl strove to beat him loose with the shaft of the gisarm； in vain
he spurred and reared his horse to shake him off； Myles held him tight； in
spite of all his struggles。
He felt neither the streaming blood nor the throbbing agony of his
wounds； every faculty of soul； mind； body； every power of life； was
centered in one intense； burning effort。 He neither felt； thought； nor
reasoned； but clutching； with the blindness of instinct； the heavy； spiked；
iron… headed mace that hung at the Earl's saddle…bow； he gave it one
tremendous wrench that snapped the plaited leathern thongs that held it as
though they were skeins of thread。 Then； grinding his teeth as with a
spasm； he struck as he had never struck beforeonce； twice； thrice full
upon the front of the helmet。 Crash！ crash！ And then； even as the Earl
toppled sidelong； crash！ And the iron plates split and crackled under the
third blow。 Myles had one flashing glimpse of an awful face； and then the
saddle was empty。
Then； as he held tight to the horse； panting； dizzy； sick to death； he felt
the hot blood gushing from his side； filling his body armor； and staining
the ground upon which he stood。