After slaying the tyrant—so the story tells us—King Arthur restored the squire, who was merely wounded, and then the two, mounting their steeds, rode up to the castle gates. The king rode in front, and at his saddle bow there hung the bloody head of the dead tyrant.
Arthur raised his lance, and with it thundered on the outer gate.
“Ho! warder,” cried the king, “open instantly!”
But the warder made answer—
“Who art thou who knockest so loudly? Know that I hold the castle for Sir Terrible, and that I open only when my master comes.”
At which the king laughed.
“Then open hastily,” said he, “for thy master is here even now.”
And swinging his arms, he hurled the gory head of the traitor knight over the iron spikes of the gate, so that it fell with a thud at the feet of the warder. The terrified fellow shrieked and fled, and his cries rang through the castle, causing the men-at-arms to grasp their weapons and stand at attention.
By this time the king was hammering loudly at the gate—great blows that shook the stout oaken portal so that it trembled in its sockets, and threatened to fall into splinters.
“By my troth,” cried the captain of the men-at-arms, “but ’tis a mighty arm which deals such blows. No wonder our master fell before it.”