of his thigh, together
with the nerves and flesh. The giant escaped his clutches, roaring and
bellowing like a bull, for the lion had badly wounded him. Then raising
his stake in both hands, he thought to strike him, but missed his aim,
when the lion leaded backward so he missed his blow, and fell exhausted
beside my lord Yvain, but without either of them touching the other.
Then my lord Yvain took aim and landed two blows on him. Before he could
recover himself he had severed with the edge of his sword the giant's
shoulder from his body. With the next blow he ran the whole blade of his
sword through his liver beneath his chest; the giant falls in death's
embrace. And if a great oak tree should fall, I think it would make no
greater noise than the giant made when he tumbled down. All those who
were on the wall would fain have witnessed such a blow. Then it became
evident who was the most fleet of foot, for all ran to see the game,
just like hounds which have followed the beast until they finally come
up with him. So men and women in rivalry ran forward without delay to
where the giant lay face downward. The daughter comes running, and
her mother too. And the four brothers rejoice after the woes they have
endured. As for my lord Yvain they are very sure that they could not
detain him for any reason they might allege, but they beseech him to
return and stay to enjoy himself as soon as he shall have completed the
business which calls him away. And he replies that he cannot promise
them anything, for as yet he cannot guess whether it will fare well or
ill with him. But thus much did he say to his host: that he wished that
his four sons and his daughter should take the dwarf and go to my lord
Gawain when they hear of his return, and should tell and relate to him
how he has conducted himself. For kind actions are of no use if you are
not willing that they be known. And they reply: "It is not right that
such kindness as this should be kept hid: we shall do whatever you
desire. But tell us what we can say when we come before him. Whose
praises can we speak, when we know not what your name may be?" And he
answers them: "When you come before him, you may say thus much: that I
told you 'The Knight with the Lion' was my name. And at the same time
I must beg you to tell him from me that, if he does not recognise who I
am, yet he knows me well and I know him. Now I must be gone from here,
and the thing which most alarms me is that I ma