“I should be loth to kill so brave a knight,” said the Governor of Jerusalem. “I offer you your life; take it at my hands.”
“I can accept nothing from you but blows,” said Roland, quietly; “because I feel certain I can give you as good as I take, and perhaps even throw in a little over.”
“As you please,” said Angoulaffre; and once more they resumed the fight.
The giant flung aside his lance, and took a battle-axe, the sight of which gave the spectators a fit of cold shivers. Roland also laid aside his spear, and drew Durandal from its sheath.
Veillantif seemed endowed with human intelligence. The brave creature divined the slightest wish of its master. Now it bounded, now it scoured the plain; anon it charged or it reared, and ever it went unhurt through the shower of blows. The horse of the Saracen was not worth half of Roland’s. Its size and weight rendered it difficult to manage. For some minutes it coughed incessantly, and scarcely obeyed bit or spur. Roland, by a clever turn, took the giant in flank, and with one blow of his tremendous sword clove in two the horse of his opponent.
Angoulaffre came to earth, seated between the two severed halves of his steed, and bellowing with astonishment and anger.
