When they had rested they went to battle once more, tracing and foining
and hurtling together, so that none who beheld them could know which was
like to win the battle. Their clothing was so far hewn that the chains
of their coats of mail could be seen. Alpin had a cut across his knee,
Roderic's arm was bleeding.

Roderic was a wily man of war, and his wily fighting taught Alpin to be
wise and to guard well his bare head, for it was ever at his head that
Roderic aimed. Often he smote such strokes as made Alpin stagger and
kneel; but in a moment the youth leapt lightly to his feet and rushed at
his foe, until Roderic's arms and face were red with blood.

The crowd about them hailed Alpin's dexterous fighting with lusty cries
of approval, and none doubted that he would soon make an end of his
boastful antagonist. But neither had yet gained the upper hand.

So for a full half-hour they fought, until Alpin at length sorely
wounded Roderic on the shoulder. At that Roderic was wroth out of
measure, and he rushed upon Alpin, doubling his mighty strokes. Their
swords clashed and clanged and flashed in bright circles through the
air. But at last, by fortune, Roderic smote Alpin's sword out of his
hand, and if Alpin had stooped to pick it up surely he would have been
slain.

He stood still a moment and beheld his weapon with a sorrowful heart.
There was a deep groan of anguish from the crowd, and Kenric, seeing the
peril in which his brother was placed, would have rushed forward to
Alpin's help had not Duncan Graham held him back, fearing that he too
might find himself in Earl Roderic's power. Then Allan Redmain was about
to run in to Alpin's aid, but his father caught his arm and bade him