I don't even know why I'm bothering reviewing this. All of the romances in this book (save perhaps Havelok the Dane, which I'm studying and am therefore required to root for) are just hilarious for the way that nothing in them makes any sense whatsoever. We have lovers mistaking other people for their love (clearly don't love them that much then), bloodthirsty giants getting rewarded for slaughtering many innocent people, and a general lack of motivation in any given character's deeds. It's all laughably ludicrous.
I do, however, love the cadences of the language, the richness and the rhyme of Middle English which I think we've lost. That just about makes up for the lack of convincingness, although given that these are essentially old fairy-tales I'm not sure they were ever meant to be convincing.