Then, like a thunderbolt, Ragnar’s axe swept down on the thane, and neither shield nor helm would have been of avail had that blow gone home.  Back leapt Griffin, and the axe shore the edge only of his shield; and then, shield aloft and point foremost, he flew on the earl before the axe had recovered from its swing, and I surely thought that the end had come, for the earl’s shield was lowered, and his face was unguarded.

But that was what he looked for.  Up and forward flew the round shield, catching the thane’s straightened arm along its whole length, and then, as sword and arm were dashed upwards, smiting him fairly in the face; and, like a stone, the Welshman was hurled from it, and fell backward in a heap on the grass three paces away.  It seemed to me that he was off his feet in his spring as the shield smote him.

There he lay, and Havelok strode forward and stood between the two, with his face to Griffin, for Ragnar had dropped his axe to rest when his foe fell.

“No blood drawn,” said my brother, “but no more fighting can there be.  The man’s arm is out.”

And so it was, for the mighty heave that turned the thrust had ended Griffin’s fighting for a long day.  But he did not think so.

The sweat was standing on his face in great beads from the pain, but he got up and shifted his sword to his left hand.

“It is to the death,” he cried; “I can fight as well with the left.  Stand aside.”

“An it had been so, you were a dead man now,” said Havelok, “for the earl held his hand where he might have slain.  If he had chosen, you might have felt his axe before you touched the ground.”

Thereat, without warning other than a snarl of “Your own saying,” Griffin leapt at my brother fiercely, only to meet a swing of his axe that sent his sword flying from his hand.  And that was deft of Havelok, for there is nothing more hard to meet than a left-handed attack at any time, and this seemed unlooked for.

“Well, I did say somewhat of this sort,” said Havelok; “but it was lucky that I had not forgotten it.”

Then he took the thane by the waist and left arm and set him down gently; and after that all the fury went from him, and he grew pale with the pain of the arm that was hurt.  But both I and the Welshmen had shouted to Griffin to hold, all uselessly, so quick had been his onset on his new foe.

Cadwal held his peace, biting his lip, but the other Welshman began to blame Griffin loudly for this.

“Nay,” said Havelok, smiling; “it was my own fault maybe.  The thane was overhasty certainly, but one does not think with pain gnawing at one.  Let that pass.

“Now, earl, I think that you may say what you have to say that will set things right once more.”

“Can none of us put the arm back first?” I said.  “I will try, if none else has done such a thing before, for it will not be the first time.”

“Put it back, if you can,” said Cadwal.  “If there is anything to be said, it had better be in some sort of comfort.”