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“Knight,” said Sir Jaufry, “thou dost press me sore; and I, good sooth, must be indeed bewitched; strike as I will upon that helm of thine, I cannot crack its shell.”
As thus he spoke, he launched a desperate blow with what was left him of his blade; which, falling on the casque of his stout foe like hammer on an anvil, for the time deprived him both of sight and sound. With dizzy eye and tottering step, Estout, thinking to strike at Jaufry, whom he would have cloven to the heel had he received the blow, let fall his sword with such unbounded rage, it struck into the ground, and buried half its blade. Before he could withdraw it, the young knight, casting aside the battered shield and broken sword, seized with both arms Estout about the waist, and that with such good-will, his very ribs were heard to crack within. To cast him to the ground, undo his helm, and seize his sword to strike off his foe's head, were but an instant's work.
Estout, who moved not, cried with feeble voice:
“Mercy, good knight! O, slay me not, but take of me such ransom as thou wilt; I own that thou hast vanquished me.”
“Thou shalt have mercy,” Jaufry then replied, “an thou do'st that which I shall now command.”
“It shall be done most willingly, my lord; thou canst not ask a thing I will not do.”
“In the first place,” said Jaufry, “thou shalt go and yield thyself a captive to King Arthur, with all these knights, to whom thou must restore what thou hast ta'en from them; and thou shalt then relate to that good king how I have thus o'ercome thee in the fight.”
“I will do so full willingly, by Heaven!” Estout replied.
“And now,” said Jaufry, “give to me thine arms; for mine have been all hacked and hewed by thee.”