“Who and what art thou?” cried Du Guesclin, crossing himself with a hand that trembled in spite of all his courage.
“A demon,” replied a hollow voice from the barred helmet, in a tone of unutterable horror.
Bertrand fully believed the ghastly assertion, but it could not make him waver for a moment.
“If thou art indeed a demon,” said he, firmly, “I, as a Christian man, bid thee defiance; but if thou art spellbound by enchantment, my good steel may break the spell and set thee free. Tarry till I alight, for thou art on foot, and it shall never be said that I fought Satan himself unfairly.”
He leaped from his horse, and in a moment his axe and the stranger’s sword were clashing fiercely together and sending showers of sparks into the encircling gloom.
At the first crash and shock of blows the Breton hero was his own daring self once more. Demon or no demon, this strange foe could smite and be smitten; and at the familiar feeling of hand-to-hand combat all the ghostly terrors that had haunted him vanished like morning mist.
But, strong and brave as he was, he had for once met his match. The storm of strokes showered on him were dealt with the savage force of one who cared not for his own life could he but strike down his foe. Again and again did the great warrior reel back from such a blow as he had never felt before, and he might be pardoned if the conviction rose anew in his mind that he had to do with no mortal enemy.
How this strange combat might have ended it would be hard to say; but all at once, as the Phantom Knight dealt a tremendous blow right at his opponent’s head, his rusted sword snapped off at the hilt with a sharp crash, leaving him defenceless.
But this mishap, so far from daunting him, seemed to goad him to fury. With a cry of rage he hurled the broken weapon far away, and, springing like a tiger on Du Guesclin, seized him in a clutch that made every joint of his armour crackle.
But this mode of attack was not likely to take by surprise the best wrestler in Brittany. Quick as thought Bertrand dropped his axe, and, in turn, seized his foe in a hug worthy of a Polar bear, and the grapplers swayed to and fro, stamping, struggling, gasping, now one and now the other seeming to have the mastery.