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Chapter 42

           "Why,nobleAthelstane,"saidtheBlackKnight,"ImyselfsawyoustruckdownbythefierceTemplartowardstheendofthestormatTorquilstone,andasIthought,andWambareported,yourskullwascloventhroughtheteeth."

           "Youthoughtamiss,SirKnight,"saidAthelstane,"andWambalied.Myteethareingoodorder,andthatmysuppershallpresentlyfindNothankstotheTemplarthough,whoseswordturnedinhishand,sothatthebladestruckmeflatlings,beingavertedbythehandleofthegoodmacewithwhichIwardedtheblow;hadmysteel-capbeenon,Ihadnotvalueditarush,andhaddealthimsuchacounter-buffaswouldhavespoilthisretreat.Butasitwas,downIwent,stunned,indeed,butunwounded.Others,ofbothsides,werebeatendownandslaughteredaboveme,sothatIneverrecoveredmysensesuntilIfoundmyselfinacoffin(anopenone,bygoodluck)placedbeforethealtarofthechurchofSaintEdmund’s.Isneezedrepeatedlygroanedawakenedandwouldhavearisen,whentheSacristanandAbbot,fullofterror,camerunningatthenoise,surprised,doubtless,andnowaypleasedtofindthemanalive,whoseheirstheyhadproposedthemselvestobe.Iaskedforwinetheygavemesome,butitmusthavebeenhighlymedicated,forIsleptyetmoredeeplythanbefore,andwakenednotformanyhours.

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