reeled.  Ay, by St. Chad!  Lozelle who went down beneath that mighty blow which missed the head but fell upon his shoulder, and lay there like a log, till presently the moonlight shone upon his mailed hand stretched upward in a prayer for mercy.  From house-top and terrace wall, from soaring gates and battlements, the multitude of the people of the Assassins gathered on either side the gulf broke into a roar that beat up the mountain sides like a voice of thunder.  And the roar shaped itself to these words: 

“Kill him! kill him! kill him!”

Sinan held up his hand, and a sudden silence fell.  Then he, too, screamed in his thin voice: 

“Kill him!  He is conquered!”

But the great Wulf only leaned upon the cross-handle of his brand, and looked at the fallen foe.  Presently he seemed to speak with him; then Lozelle lifted the blade that lay beside him and gave it to him in token of surrender.  Wulf handled it awhile, shook it on high in triumph, and whirled it about his head till it shone in the moonlight.  Next, with a shout he cast it from him far into the gulf, where it was seen for a moment, an arc of gleaming light, and the next was gone.

Now, taking no more heed of the conquered knight, Wulf turned and began to walk towards his horse.

Scarcely was his back towards him when Lozelle was on his feet again, a dagger in his hand.

“Look behind you!” yelled Godwin; but the spectators, pleased that the fight was not yet done, broke into a roar of cheers.  Wulf heard and swung round.  As he faced Lozelle the dagger struck him on the breast, and well must it have been for him that his mail was good.  To use his sword he had neither space nor time, but ere the next stroke could fall Wulf’s arms were about Lozelle, and the fight for life begun.

To and fro they reeled and staggered, whirling round and round, till none could tell which of them was Wulf or which his foe.  Now they were on the edge of the abyss, and, in that last dread strain for mastery, seemed to stand there still as stone.  Then one man began to bend down.  See! his head hung over.  Further and further he bent, but his arms could not be loosened.

“They will both go!” cried the multitude in their joy.

Look!  A dagger flashed.  Once, twice, thrice it gleamed, and those wrestlers fell apart, while from deep down in the gulf came the thud of a fallen body.

“Which—­oh, which?” cried Rosamund from her battlement.

“Sir Hugh Lozelle,” answered Godwin in a solemn voice.

Then the head of Rosamund fell forward on her breast, and for a while she seemed to sleep.

Wulf went to his horse, turned it about on the bridge, and throwing his arm around its neck, rested for a space.  Then he mounted and walked slowly towards the inner gate.  Pushing through the guard and officers, Godwin rode out to meet him.

“Bravely done, brother,” he said, when they came face to face.  “Say, are you hurt?”