“We will be ready, your Majesty,” answered Rosald; but Geirald remained silent. “How can we possibly fight against a giant that has killed fifty knights?” cried Geirald, when they were outside the castle. “The king only wants to get rid of us! He won’t think about us for the next three days—that is one comfort—so we shall have plenty of time to cross the borders of the kingdom and be out of reach.” “We mayn’t be able to kill the giant, but we certainly can’t run away till we have tried,” answered Rosald. “Besides, think how glorious it will be if we DO manage to kill him! I know what sort of weapon I shall use. Come with me now, and I will see about it.” And, taking his friend by the arm, he led him into a shop where he bought a huge lump of solid iron, so big that they could hardly lift it between them. However, they just managed to carry it to a blacksmith’s where Rosald directed that it should be beaten into a thick club, with a sharp spike at one end. When this was done to his liking he took it home under his arm. Very early on the third morning the two young men started on their journey, and on the fourth day they reached the giant’s cave before he was out of bed. Hearing the sound of footsteps, the giant got up and went to the entrance to see who was coming, and Rosald, expecting something of the sort, struck him such a blow on the forehead that he fell to the ground. Then, before he could rise to his feet again, Rosald drew out his sword and cut off his head. “It was not so difficult after all, you see,” he said, turning to Geirald. And placing the giant’s head in a leathern wallet which was slung over his back, they began their journey to the castle. As they drew near the gates, Rosald took the head from the wallet and handed it to Geirald, whom he followed into the king’s presence. “The giant will trouble you no more,” said Geirald, holding out the head. And the king fell on his neck and kissed him, and cried joyfully that he was the “bravest knight in all the world, and that a feast should be made for him and Rosald, and that the great deed should be proclaimed throughout the kingdom.” And Geirald’s heart swelled with pride, and he almost forgot that it was Rosald and not he, who had slain the giant. By-and-by a whisper went round that a beautiful lady who lived in the castle would be present at the feast, with twenty-four lovely maidens, her attendants. The lady was the queen of her own country, but as her father and mother had died when she was a little girl, she had been left in the care of this king who was her uncle.