“hen Grettir drew his sword, Jokul’s Gift, swung at the mound-dwellers neck and chopped off his head. He placed the head up against the mound-dwellers buttocks and took all the treasure over to the rope.” […]
“Then jolly that gentle giant out jousted another,
Cut a wide swath as he scythed down warriors,
Woefully wounding those who stood in his way.” […]
“Ceasar’s sword glanced off Nennius’ helmet and cut into his shield so deeply that, when they had to abandon their hand-to-hand fight because of the troops who crowded in on them, the Emperor could not wrench his sword out.” […]
“Then Horwendil endeavoured to address the king first, asking him in what way it was his pleasure to fight, and declaring that one best which needed the courage of as few as possible. For, said he, the duel was the surest of all modes of combat for winning the meed of bravery, because it relied only upon native courage, and excluded all help from the hand of another.” […]
“Sinking his sword half a foot through the skin
So the hulk’s blood poured hot across the hilt;
Through the bladder and bowels he drove that blow,
Piercing his privates ripping them apart.” […]
When Snorri and his men arrive at the haystack, it is not mentioned that they exchanged any words. They launched their attack at once, mostly with spears, and Arnkel defended himself with the running-blade of his sled. […]
“Thierry sees he is wounded in the face – bright blood is falling on the grassy plain – hits Pinabel upon his smooth steel casque and cracks it, splits it open to the nasal, and busts his skull, so brains come spilling out, then wrenches free and lets him fall down dead.” […]
“When he hears the angel’s blessed voice, King Charles no longer is in fear or dread of death. His mind clears and his energy returns. With France’s sword he smashes the emir. He bursts apart the casque where jewels blaze, then cleaves his skull – the brains come spilling out – his face, clear down into his whitish beard, and throws him down, a corpse beyond recall.” […]
“Wallace unmov’d, the impetuous shock sustains,
And awful joy his gloomy brow serenes.
Straight rising to the blow, he aim’d a wound,
And brought his enemy stagg’ring to the ground.” […]
” I never saw, by heaven, a braver man; he collapsed half-conscious and leaning on his elbow welcomed his fate with a smile, laughed death to scorn, as he passed on to the other world exultant.” […]
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