They cried aloud, and seizing their weapons, for
a little would have violated the love-day. They made ready to cross
the river to the Island, and to avenge their lord upon the Gauls.
Arthur cried loudly to his Britons to observe their covenant,
commanding that not a man should move to his help that day. He gripped
Excalibur sternly in his hand, resolving that Frollo should pay
dearly for his triumph. Arthur dressed his shield above his head, and
handselling his sword, rushed upon Frollo. Frollo was a passing good
knight, hardy and strong, in no whit dismayed by the anger of his
adversary. He raised his own glaive on high, striking fiercely at
Arthur's brow. Frollo was strong beyond the strength of man. His brand
was great and sharp, and the buffet was struck with all his power. The
blade sheared through helm and coif alike, so that King Arthur was
wounded in his forehead, and the blood ran down his face.
When Arthur felt the dolour of his hurt, and looked upon his blood, he
desired nothing, save to wreak evil on the man who had wrought this
mischief. He pressed the more closely upon Frollo. Lifting Excalibur,
his good sword, in both hands, he smote so lustily that Frollo's head
was cloven down to his very shoulders.
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