But their riders, leaping clear of
lashing hooves, drew their swords and, wasting no breath in words, beset
each other forthwith, smiting with right good will.
Sir Agramore's leopard shield was riven in twain by a single stroke, Sir
Palamon's scarlet plume was shorn away, but they fought only the fiercer
as, all untiring, the long blades whirled and flashed until their armour
rang, sparks flew, and the populace rocked and swayed and roared for very
joy. Once Sir Agramore was beaten to his knees, but rising, grasped his
sword in two hands and smote a mighty swashing blow, a direful stroke that
burst the lacing of Sir Palamon's great helm and sent it rolling on the
sward. But, beholding thus his adversary's face, Sir Agramore, crying in
sudden amaze, sprang back; for men all might see a visage framed in long,
black-curled hair, grey-eyed, but a face so direly scarred that none,
having seen it but once, might well forget.
"Par Dex!" panted Sir Agramore, lifting his vizor.
"Pertinax!" gasped Duke Jocelyn.
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