Simultaneously his other opponent had rushed in and thrust.

It was a risk Crispin was forced to take, trusting to his armour to protect him.

It did him the service he hoped from it; the trooper's sword glanced harmlessly aside, whilst the fellow himself, overbalanced by the fury of his onslaught, staggered helplessly forward.
Ere he could recover, Crispin had spitted him from side to side betwixt the straps that held his back and breast together.
As the two men went down, one after the other, the watching troopers set up a shout of rage, and pressed forward in a body.

But the Tavern Knight stood his ground, and his points danced dangerously before the eyes of the two foremost.

Alarmed, they shouted to those behind to give them room to handle their swords; but too late.