Then Palomides arose lightly, and smote him upon the helm that he fell down right to the earth.

And therewith he raced off his helm and said: Corsabrin, yield thee or else thou shalt die of my hands.

Fie on thee, said Corsabrin, do thy worst.

Then he smote off his head.

And therewithal came a stink of his body when the soul departed, that there might nobody abide the savour.