Conradt’s face, however, as he drew nigh the stall, was of aspect so hateful and wicked that Wulf stilly, but with all speed, left his place and crept nearer, keeping in shelter behind the great racks of harness, to learn what might be toward. As he did so he was filled with amaze and wrath to see the hunchback, sword in hand, reach over the low wall of the stall and thrust at Siegfried. The horse shied over and avoided the blade, though, from the plunge he made, Wulf deemed that he had felt the point.
While the watcher stood dumfounded, wondering what the thing might mean, Conradt sneaked around to the other side, plainly minded to try that wickedness again, whereupon Wulf sprang forward, snatching up, on his way, a flail that lay to his hand, flung down by one of the men from the threshing-floor.
“Have done with yon!” he called as he ran; and forgetting, in his wrath, both the rank and the weakness of the misdoer, he shrieked: “What is’t wouldst do? Out with it, ere I husk thy soul from its shell with this!” and he raised the flail.
Taken unaware though he was, Conradt, who was rare skilful at fence, guarded on the instant, and by a clever twist of his blade cut clean in twain the leather hinge that held together the two halves of the flail. ’Twas a master stroke whereat, angry as he was, Wulf wondered, nor could he withhold a swordsman’s delight in the blow, albeit the sword’s wielder was plain proven a ruffian.
“WULF COULD NAUGHT BUT FEND AND PARRY WITH HIS STICK.”
He had small time to think, however, for by now Conradt let at him full drive, and he was sore put to it to fend himself from the onslaught, having no other weapon than the handle of the flail.
Evil was in the hunchback’s eyes as he pressed up against his foe, and evil lay at his heart as well, as Wulf was not slow to be aware. The latter could naught but fend and parry with his stick; but this he did with coolness and skill, as he stood back to wall against the stall, watching every move of that malignant wight with whom he fought.
Up, down, in, out, thrust, parry, return! The sounds filled the barn. Wulf was the taller and equally skilled, but Conradt’s weapon gave him an advantage that, but for the blindness of his hatred, had soon won his way for him. But soon he was fair weary with fury, and Wulf began to think that he would soon make end of the trouble, when he felt a sharp prick, and something warm and wet began to trickle down his right arm, filling his hand. Conradt saw the stain and gave a joyful grunt.
“One for thee, tinker,” he gasped, his breath nigh spent. “I’ll let a little more of thy mongrel blood ere I quit.”