“That is well thought of,” said the King.

So a swift messenger was sent to Warwick Castle, and he presently returned with Guy’s armor.  He at once put it on, and the people marveled that it should fit him so well, for none knew, or guessed, that the pilgrim was Guy himself.

Guy went then out to meet the giant, and all the people crowded to the walls of Winchester to watch their champion fight.

Colbrand came forth.  He was so huge that no horse could carry him, and he wore a whole wagon-load of weapons.  His armor was pitch-black except his shield, which was blood-red and had a white owl painted upon it.  He was a fearsome sight to look upon, and as he strode along shaking his spear every one trembled for Guy.

It was a terrible and unequal fight.  Tall though Guy was, he could reach no higher than the giant’s shoulder with his spear, but yet he wounded him again and again.

“I have never fought with any like thee,” cried Colbrand.  “Yield, and I will ask King Anlaf to make thee a general in the Danish army.  Castle and tower shalt thou have, and everything that thou canst desire, if thou but do as I counsel thee.”

“Better death than that,” replied Guy, and still fought on.  At last, taking his battle-axe in both hands, he gave Colbrand such a blow that his sword dropped to the ground.  As the giant reeled under the stroke, Guy raised his battle-axe once more.

  “His good axe he reared on high
  With both hands full mightily;
  He smote him in the neck so well,
  That the head flew that very deal. 
  The giant dead on the earth lay;
  The Danes made great sorrow that day.”

Seeing their champion fall, the Danes fled to their ships.  England was saved.

Then out of the city came all the people with the priests and King in great procession, and singing hymns of praise as they went, they led Guy back.

The King brought Guy to his palace and offered him splendid robes and great rewards, even to the half of the kingdom.  But Guy would have none of them.  “Give me my pilgrim’s dress again,” he said.  And, in spite of all the King could say, he put off his fine armor and dressed himself again in his dark pilgrim’s robe.

“Tell me at least thy name,” said the King, “so that the minstrels may sing of thy great deeds, and that in years to come the people may remember and bless thee.”

“Bless God, not me,” replied Guy.  “He it was gave me strength and power against the giant.”

“Then if thou wilt not that the people know,” said the King, “tell thy name to me alone.”

“So be it,” said Guy.  “Walk with me half a mile out of the city, thou and I alone.  Then will I tell thee my name.”

So the King in his royal robes, and the pilgrim in his dull, dark gown, passed together out of the city gate.  When they had gone half a mile, Guy stood still.  “Sire,” he said, “thou wouldst know my name.  I am Guy of Warwick, thine own knight.  Once thou didst love me well, now I am as thou dost see me.”