Estout drew off his horse at these bold words, and Jaufry nerved him to sustain the shock; then ran they at each other with their utmost speed. Estout struck Jaufry on the shield's bright boss, and with such mighty strength, that through the riven metal went the lance, breaking the mail which guarded his broad chest, and grazing e'en the skin. Jaufry meanwhile had struck his foe in turn, and with so just an aim, he lost at once his stirrups and his seat, and rolled halfstunned upon the ground.
He rose again full quickly, pale with rage, and came with upraised sword towards Jaufry. The latter, wishing his good horse to spare, at once leapt on the sod and raised his shield. 'Twas just in time: Estout, in his fierce rage, brandished his sword with both his hands, and made it thunder down with such effect the shield was cloven to the arm.
“St. Peter!” murmured Jaufry, “thou dost covet this poor shield; still, if naught stay me, it shall cost thee dear.”
Suiting to such words the act, upon Estout's bright casque he then let fly so fierce a downward stroke, that fire issued therefrom. But the good helm of proof was not a whit the worse. With gathering fury Estout came again, and with one stroke pared from Sir Jaufry's shield the double rim, full half a palm of mail, and the left spur, which was cut through as the blade reached the ground.
Wondering at the vigour of his dreadful foe, Jaufry, on his side, struck a second time his burnished helm; and with such force, his sword in twain was broken, yet left it not upon the trusty steel even the slightest dent.
“Heaven!” thought Jaufry, “what doth this portend? confounded be the hand that helmet wrought, whereon my blade hath spent itself in vain!”
Then Estout, uttering a fearful cry as he beheld Sir Jaufry's sword in two, flew straight towards him, and in his turn struck the son of Dovon on the helm, smashing the visor as the blow came down. Had he not raised in time the remnant of his shield, which that fell stroke for aye destroyed, the combat had been done.
