Again he struck, this time upon the shield, and so heavily that Wulf came to his knees.
"Your brother is sped," said the Saracen captain to Godwin, but Godwin only answered: "Wait." As he spoke Wulf twisted his body out of reach of a third blow, and while Hassan staggered forward with the weight of the missed stroke, placed his hand upon the ground, and springing to his feet, ran backwards six or eight paces.
"He flies!" cried the Saracens; but again Godwin said, "Wait." Nor was there long to wait.
For now, throwing aside his buckler and grasping the great sword in both his hands, with a shout of "A D'Arcy! A D'Arcy!" Wulf leapt at Hassan as a wounded lion leaps.

The sword wheeled and fell, and lo! the shield of the Saracen was severed in two.

Again it fell, and his turbaned helm was cloven.

A third time, and the right arm and shoulder with the scimitar that grasped it seemed to spring from his body, and Hassan sank dying to the ground.
Wulf stood and looked at him, while a murmur of grief went up from those who watched, for they loved this emir.

Hassan beckoned to the victor with his left hand, and throwing down his sword to show that he feared no treachery, Wulf came to him and knelt beside him.
"A good stroke," Hassan said faintly, "that could shear the double links of Damascus steel as though it were silk.