“Yet, methinks, as a stranger, you cannot will be acquainted with our mode of combat,” said Arinbiorn. “Wherefore should not I be so?” answered Sir Otto; “was it then in vain that my father travelled through these foreign lands? On the contrary, he well knew all their warlike arts and manners, and carefully instructed me therein. But what exercise is there among you with which you suppose that I am unacquainted? Do you mean, perchance, the throwing of these long javelins, of which there is a heap lying in that corner?”--So with the speed of light he darted from his horse, seized one of the spears, and hurled it from him with such force, that it went singing through the air across the castle-court, and struck deep into an old elm-tree at the opposite side. Not attending to the astonishment of the Normans, Sir Otto then said,--“You must not judge me too severely by this first trial. I am, it is true, somewhat out of practice, and I have only done this in order to convince you that the northern mode of conflict is to me not unknown.”--So then all the young champions who were there present looked on Sir Otto as a chosen hero, and vied with each other who should have the honour of meeting him in the lists. Mid-day at last drew on, and the Knight of Trautwangen was never wearied of the northern pastimes of throwing the javelin,--of wrestling, or of fighting with the blunted broad-sword. As little did Asmandur seem tired of admiring the prowess of the victorious young hero. At length the black-visaged armourer himself came forward to try his fortune.--“I know very well,” said he to Sir Otto, “that thou wilt be the conqueror; yet, methinks, it must be a pleasure to try the effect of such noble and chivalrous blows as those which thou hast dealt about this day; and though I would willingly prove to you in good time that, above all things in the world, I am a skilful swordsmith, yet I should meanwhile gladly shew, that I can also wield arms when it is needful to do so.”--It happened as Asmandur had said. From Sir Otto’s arm he was forced to receive many powerful blows, any one of which, had the sword been sharp, might have cost him his life. At last, however, notwithstanding the bravery of his defence, his weapon was struck out of his hand, and sent away nine yards distant across the court. Afterwards, in a wrestling-match, though he failed not to do his utmost, yet at last he was overthrown in the sand, and Sir Otto held him by the legs and arms motionless.--“Let me go,” said Asmandur, breathless; and as Sir Otto lifted him up, he added,--“Yet, on the evening of this very day I shall prepare thy battle-sword, thou hero! and at the mid-day banquet, over the wine-cups, we shall sit together; for, methinks, thy strength will as little yield to the fiery juice of the grape, or to the foaming mead which we northern heroes are wont to quaff, as it has done to the powerful champions with whom thou hast this day contended.”