strike no blow, fearing lest my death should come upon me, and so I should be robbed of her.  But God fought with His aged servant who in his youth was the first of knights.  He slew my men, then fled on with the woman, Eve of Clavering.  I followed, knowing that he was sore wounded and must die, and that then the beauty which has lured me to shame and ruin would be mine, if only for an hour.  I followed, and here at this place of evil omen, where first I saw my foe, I found you, O Incarnate Sword of Vengeance.”

Murgh unfolded his bare arms and lifted his head, which was sunk upon his breast.

“Your pardon,” he said gently, “my name is Hand of Fate and not Sword of Vengeance.  There is no vengeance save that which men work upon themselves.  What fate may be and vengeance may be I know not fully, and none will ever know until they have passed the Gateway of the Gods.  Archer the grave is deep enough.  Come forth now and let us learn who it is decreed shall fill it.  Knights, the hour is at hand for you to finish that which you began at Crecy and at Venice.”

Hugh heard and drew his sword.  Acour drew his sword also, then cried out, pointing to Grey Dick: 

“Here be two against one.  If I conquer he will shoot me with his bow.”

“Have no fear, Sir Thief and Liar,” hissed Grey Dick, “for that shaft will not be needed.  Slay the master if you can and go safe from the squire,” and he unstrung his black bow and hid it in its case.

Now Hugh stepped to where Red Eve stood, the wounded Sir Andrew leaning on her shoulder.  Bending down he kissed her on the lips, saying: 

“Soon, very soon, my sweet, whom I have lost and found again, you will be mine on earth, or I shall be yours in heaven.  This, then, in greeting or farewell.”

“In greeting, beloved, not in farewell,” she answered as she kissed him back, “for if you die, know that I follow hard upon your road.  Yet I say that yonder grave was not dug for you.”

“Nay, not for you, son, not for you,” said Sir Andrew lifting his faint head.  “One fights for you whom you do not see, and against Him Satan and his servant cannot stand,” and letting fall the sword hilt he stretched out his thin hand and blessed him.

Now when Acour saw that embrace his jealous fury prevailed against his fears.  With a curse upon his lips he leapt at Hugh and smote, thinking to take him unawares.  But Hugh was watching, and sprang back, and then the fray began, if fray it can be called.

A wild joy shining in his eyes, Hugh grasped his long sword with both hands and struck.  So great was that blow that it bit through Acour’s armour, beneath his right arm, deep into the flesh and sent him staggering back.  Again he struck and wounded him in the shoulder; a third time and clove his helm so that the blood poured down into his eyes and blinded him.

Back reeled Acour, back to the very edge of the grave, and stood there swaying to and fro.  At the sight of his helplessness Hugh’s fury seemed to leave him.  His lifted sword sank downward.