It seemed to me that he was off
his feet in his spring as the shield smote him.
There he lay, and Havelok strode forward and stood between the two, with
his face to Griffin, for Ragnar had dropped his axe to rest when his foe
fell.
"No blood drawn," said my brother, "but no more fighting can there be.
The man's arm is out."
And so it was, for the mighty heave that turned the thrust had ended
Griffin's fighting for a long day. But he did not think so.
The sweat was standing on his face in great beads from the pain, but he
got up and shifted his sword to his left hand.
"It is to the death," he cried; "I can fight as well with the left.
Stand aside."
"An it had been so, you were a dead man now," said Havelok, "for the
earl held his hand where he might have slain. If he had chosen, you
might have felt his axe before you touched the ground."
Thereat, without warning other than a snarl of "Your own saying,"
Griffin leapt at my brother fiercely, only to meet a swing of his axe
that sent his sword flying from his hand. And that was deft of Havelok,
for there is nothing more hard to meet than a left-handed attack at any
time, and this seemed unlooked for.
"Well, I did say somewhat of this sort," said Havelok; "but it was lucky
that I had not forgotten it."
Then he took the thane by the waist and left arm and set him down
gently; and after that all the fury went from him, and he grew pale with
the pain of the arm that was hurt.
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