The Abbot was coming on. At the sound of the man’s voice he pulled in hard and rose in the saddle. “Touch him if you dare!” he cried and his voice rang out like a trumpet. “For every drop of his blood that’s spilled, I’ll roast one of you alive!” With that he went back to the starting place at a slow canter and then with all the deliberation in the world wheeled the horse once more about to face his foes. I saw now that he was anxious to end the fray. He dug the spurs in deeper than before. The arrows of the archers rattled against his casque and armor and fell without injury at the horse’s feet. He came on, but this time he took the mace from the saddle at his side. He struck the first man he met a blow in the arm. It cracked with a noise like the snapping of a dry branch, so by that I knew he had broken the bone. Like a flash the Abbot swung in his saddle. He struck the second man in the chest with his mailed fist. Then he rode through the others and came out in their rear. It was like mowing in a field of grain. The Abbot was the scythe and his enemies were standing stalks. At this second thrust the six of them, who had struck at him with what they had at their command, saw the futility of their attempts. They drew aside and lined themselves along the edge of the road. One of them began to unsling his quiver of arrows as a sign of submission when he glanced in an off-hand way down the road. Then he brightened up. He rose in his stirrups and uttered a loud cry to the others to follow him, sank his spurs into his horse and was off at a hard gallop. The Abbot by this time had wheeled about to face them once again. But they rode past him with the speed of the wind. I shaded my eyes and peered in the direction they were going. To my surprise I saw riding to meet them three other men, each of them on horseback with armor that covered them from head to heel. And what troubled me most was that the foremost carried a long lance in rest that sparkled and shone in the afternoon sun. A kind of fear ran through me for I realized that the odds were against us. It had been easy enough for the Abbot to tumble over men who were as open to attack as the archers. It would be a different thing to confront men who were armed equally as well as he, one of whom besides had a lance that could knock him from his seat before he could come at him with his shorter weapons like the sword and the mace. I waited with my breath in my throat. As soon as the Abbot saw over his shoulder these new enemies riding towards him, he touched the horse in the side and cantered slowly down the road. The three in armor spurred on faster. When the Abbot was within a stone’s throw of them he cut over to the edge of the highway. Then he hastened his speed. His enemy swerved to meet him and as the first of them came on lowered his lance to strike him full in the chest.