Both dealt such blows on the shield
slung from their necks, and upon their helmets barred with gold,
that they crushed and damaged them. But Lancelot presses him
hard and gives him a mighty blow upon his right arm which, though
encased in mail, was unprotected by the shield, severing it with
one clean stroke. And when he felt the loss of his right arm, he
said that it should be dearly sold. If it is at all possible, he
will not fail to exact the price; he is in such pain and wrath
and rage that he is well-nigh beside himself, and he has a poor
opinion of himself, if he cannot score on his rival now. He
rushes at him with the intent to seize him, but Lancelot
forestalls his plan, for with his trenchant sword he deals his
body such a cut as he will not recover from until April and May
be passed. He smashes his nose-guard against his teeth, breaking
three of them in his mouth. And Meleagant's rage is such that he
cannot speak or say a word; nor does he deign to cry for mercy,
for his foolish heart holds tight in such constraint that even
now it deludes him still. Lancelot approaches and, unlacing his
helmet, cuts off his head. Never more will this man trouble him;
it is all over with him as he falls dead. Not a soul who was
present there felt any pity at the sight.
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