Again they fell back,
measuring the distance with an eager and impetuous glance, and again
they rushed on, as if to overwhelm each other by main strength, when, as
fortune would have it, their lances shivered, both of them at once, in
the rebound. The end of Sir Lancelot's spear, as it broke, struck his
adversary's steed on the shoulder, and caused him to fall suddenly, as
if sore wounded. Sir Tarquin leaped nimbly from off his back; which Sir
Lancelot espying, he cried out--
"Now will I show thee the like courtesy; for, by mine honour and the
faith of a true knight, I will not slay thee at this foul advantage."
Alighting with haste, they betook themselves to their swords, each
guarding the opposite attack warily with his shield. That of Sir Tarquin
was framed of a bull's hide, stoutly held together with thongs, and, in
truth, seemed well-nigh impenetrable; whilst the shield of his opponent,
being of more brittle stuff, did seem as though it would have cloven
asunder with the desperate strokes of Sir Tarquin's sword. Nothing
daunted, Sir Lancelot brake ofttimes through his adversary's guard, and
smote him once until the blood trickled down amain.
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