They deal their blows with greater frequency than the
man who stakes his money at dice and never fails to double the
stakes every time he loses; yet, this game of theirs was very
different; for there were no losses here, but only fierce blows
and cruel strife. All the people came out from the house: the
master, his lady, his sons and daughters; no man or woman, friend
or stranger, stayed behind, but all stood in line to see the
fight in progress in the broad, level field. The Knight of the
Cart blames and reproaches himself for faintheartedness when he
sees his host watching him and notices all the others looking on.
His heart is stirred with anger, for it seems to him that he
ought long since to have beaten his adversary. Then he strikes
him, rushing in like a storm and bringing his sword down close by
his head; he pushes and presses him so hard that he drives him
from his ground and reduces him to such a state of exhaustion
that he has little strength to defend himself. Then the knight
recalls how the other had basely reproached him about the cart;
so he assails him and drubs him so soundly that not a string or
strap remains unbroken about the neck-band of his hauberk, and he
knocks the helmet and ventail from his head. His wounds and
distress are so great that he has to cry for mercy.
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