you, and the motto of a great and noble house, and, by the Rood, I
think, likewise a prophecy!" Thus speaking the stranger stooped, and
taking up the other sword faced Beltane therewith, saying in soft and
wheedling tones: "Come now, let us fight together thou and I, and deny
me not, lest,--mark me this well, youth,--lest I spit at thee again."

Then he raised his sword, and smote Beltane with the flat of it, and
the blow stung, wherefore Beltane instinctively swung his weapon and
thrilled with sudden unknown joy at the clash of steel on steel; and
so they engaged.

And there, within the leafy solitude, Beltane and the stranger fought
together. The long blades whirled and flashed and rang upon the
stillness; and ever, as they fought, the stranger smiled his wry smile,
mocking and gibing at him, whereat Beltane's mouth grew the grimmer and
his blows the heavier, yet wherever he struck, there already was the
stranger's blade to meet him, whereat the stranger laughed fierce and
loud, taunting him on this wise:

"How now, thou dauber of colours, betake thee to thy little brush,
belike it shall serve thee better! Aye me, betake thee to thy little
brush, 'twere better fitted to thee than a noble sword, thou daubing
boy!"

Now did my Beltane wax wroth indeed and smote amain until his breath
grew short and thick, but ever steel rang on steel, and ever the
stranger laughed and gibed until Beltane's strokes grew slower:--then,
with a sudden fierce shout, did the stranger beset my Beltane with
strokes so swift and strong, now to right of him, now to left, that the
very air seemed full of flaming, whirling steel, and, in that moment,