of the Red Shield was stretched there, blood and sinews and bones in torment. He saw a musical harper walking on the battlefield.
âWhat are you looking for?â he asked the harper.
âI am sure that you are weary,â said the harper. âCome up and set your head on this little hillock, and sleep.â
He went up and he lay down. He drew a snore: and then he was on his feet, brisk, swift and active.
âYou are dreaming,â said the harper.
âI am,â said he.
âWhat did you see?â said the harper.
âA musical harper, taking a rusty old sword to lift off my head.â
Then he seized the harper, and he drove the brainin fiery slivers through the back of his head.
And after that time he was under spells that he should not kill a musical harper for ever, except with his own harp.
He heard weeping about the field. âWho is that?â he called.
âYour three true foster-brothers,â they said, âlooking for you from place to place today.â
âI am stretched here,â he said, âblood and sinews and bones in torment.â
âIf we had the Great Dug of the World that the hag has, the mother of Dark of Dim,â they said, âwe should not be long in healing you.â
âShe is dead herself up there,â he said, âand she has nothing you may not get.â
And they said, âWe are out of her spells for ever.â
They brought down the Great Dug of the World and bathed him with the stuff that was in it, and he rose up, the Warrior of the Red Shield, as whole and as healthy as he had ever been. He went home with them, and they passed the night in pleasure.
The next day, the three foster-brothers looked out and they saw the Warrior in the Wet Cloak, the Big Son of the Son of All, coming to the town. And he was their true foster-brother also.
They went to meet him, and they said, âMan of my love, avoid us and the town this day.â
âWhy?â said the Big Son of the Son of All.
âThe Warrior of the Red Shield is here, and he islooking for you to kill you because of the fist that you put over the day you took the three teeth from the kingâs mouth.â
âGo home,â said the Big Son of the Son of All, âand tell him to run away and to flee, or else I shall take the head off him.â
And although this was secret, the Warrior of the Red Shield knew: and he went out on the other side of the hall, and he struck a shield blow and a fight kindling.
The Big Son of the Son of All went after him, and they began at one another.
    There was no trick done by shield man or skiff man
    Or with cheaterâs dice
    That the heroes did not do:
    The pen trick, trick of nicking, trick of notches,
    The apple of the juggler throwing it catching it
    Into each other and their laps,
    Frightfully, furiously,
    Bloodfully, groaning, hurtfully,
    They would drive three red sparks from their armour,
    Driving from the shield wall, and flesh
    Of their breasts and tender bodies,
    As each one slaughtered the other.
âAre you not silly?â said the Big Son of the Son of All, âTo hold wrestle and combat against me?â
âHow am I silly?â said the Warrior of the Red Shield.
âBecause there is no warrior in the great world alive that can kill me till I am hit above the top of my britches,â said the Big Son of the Son of All. âAnd the kingâs three teeth are in my pouch. Try if it will be you that shall take them out.â
When the Warrior of the Red Shield heard where the Big Son of the Son of All kept his death, he had two blows for the blow, two stabs for the stab, and the third into the earth, till he had dug a hole. Then he jumped backwards.
The Big Son of the Son of All, the