there be an end of all this." And he took his sword and strode through
the hall towards her; she rose from the ground and stood up, stooping
a little, her head sunk between her shoulders, her black eyes turned
up and gloaming, like a tigress about to spring. When he came within
some six paces of her something in his eye daunted her, or perhaps the
flashing of his terrible sword in the torch-light; she threw her arms
up with a great shriek, and dashed screaming about the hall. Amald's
lip never once curled with any scorn, no line in his face changed: he
said, "Bring her here and bind her."

But when one came up to her to lay hold on her she first of all ran at
him, hitting with her head in the belly. Then while he stood doubled
up for want of breath, and staring with his head up, she caught his
sword from the girdle, and cut him across the shoulders, and many
others she wounded sorely before they took her. Then Arnald stood by
the chair to which she was bound, and poised his sword, and there was
a great silence.

Then he said, "Men of the House of the Lilies, do you justify me in
this, shall she die?" Straightway rang a great shout through the hall,
but before it died away the sword had swept round, and therewithal was
there no such thing as Swanhilda left upon the earth, for in no
battle-field had Arnald struck truer blow.

Then he turned to the few servants of the palace and said, "Go now,
bury this accursed woman, for she is a king's daughter." Then to us
all, "Now knights, to horse and away, that we may reach the good town
by about dawn." So we mounted and rode off.

What a strange Christmas-day that was, for there, about nine o'clock