No mailed hauberk protected the interloper's back and there was a space there for steel to quiver between his shoulder blades.
The newcomer did not see, but the eyes of the wounded man seemed to have been cleared by the scuffle.

He was now free, and from the floor he snatched the round shield which the ex-priest had carried, and hurled it straight at the creeping miscreant.

It was a heavy oaken thing with rim and boss of iron, and it caught him fairly above the ear, so that he dropped like a poled ox.

The stranger turned his head to see what was happening.

"A lucky shot, friend," he cried.