"Nobly hast thou done," said Lancelot, laughing, the while
he amended his horse, "but let not the first stroke turn thy
head, else will the tail of thy helmet hang down afore thee
and mar the second stroke!"

So he kept his horse in hand and guided him warily, making
feint now on this side and now on that, until he was aware
that the youth grew hot with the joy of fighting and sought to
deal with him roughly and bigly. Then he cast aside his spear
and drew sword, and as Martimor walloped toward him, he
lightly swerved, and with one stroke cut in twain the young
fir-tree, so that not above an ell was left in the youth's
hand.

Then was the youth full of fire, and he also drew sword
and made at Sir Lancelot, lashing heavily as, he would hew
down a tree. But the knight guarded and warded without
distress, until the other breathed hard and was blind with
sweat. Then Lancelot smote him with a mighty stroke upon the
head, but with the flat of his sword, so that Martimor's breath
went clean out of him, and the blood gushed from his mouth, and
he fell over the croup of his horse as he were a man slain.

Then Sir Lancelot laughed no more, but grieved, for he
weened that he had harmed the youth, and he liked him passing
well. So he ran to him and held him in his arms fast and
tended him. And when the breath came again into his body,
Lancelot was glad, and desired the youth that he would pardon
him of that unequal joust and of the stroke too heavy.