Part 12

"Marry! that's right. 'Tis a good Island name, and he's a stout Island gentleman, too. 'Twill be a rare tussle."

The words of caution were given. The order to go followed, and the two strong figures on their powerful horses met in the midst.

There was a shout of applause from every one. The two lances flew up into a thousand splinters, the two horses fell back on their haunches, and the steel-clad figures, erect and firm, wheeling them round, rode back for fresh spears.

"'Twill be a marvel an one of them does not get an ugly knock," said Humphrey.

"Ay, marry will it; they're tough men-at-arms--but I wish one o' them splinters would hit that Paxhulle in the eye!" said Tom o' Kingston savagely; "it 'ud stop his leering for some time."

Once more the signal was given, and this time something was bound to go. The shock was tremendous.

"Holy Thomas! he's off! he's down! Mercy! but 'twas a fine stroke! Ah! my gay gentleman, but you're on your back now. Well done, Master Meaux! The Island for ever! A Meaux! A Meaux!"

The shouts of joy and the braying of the trumpets were long sustained and hearty. It was the first triumph of the popular side, and the enthusiasm was intense.

Sir Richard Cornwall had been overthrown without any disgrace to himself. In such a shock it was clear that every leather and strap of the horses' harness would be tried to the uttermost, and the girth of his saddle breaking, and the poitral also, he was borne backwards over the crupper to the ground, saddle and all going with him, and his horse nearly falling over backwards; for, like the good knight he was, he never let go of the reins.

"'Twas a pity Master Meaux was not matched against the Frenchman," said Humphrey.

"Ay; but he'll have to meet him before all's done. Who's coming now? Oh, I see, 'tis Master Bruyn. He won't be o' no account; he's been brought up too soft," commented Tom o' Kingston.

The first Breton knight now rode out again. It looked ominous for the Squire of Affeton.

But as if divining the popular wish, and in no way desirous of winning fame only at the spear-point, Sir Alain de Kervignac rode the three courses with great skill of horsemanship, but little exercise of strength. And so the Island knight got off scatheless and with honour.

"He's a right gentle knight that Breton. He could have knocked that poor youth all to pieces had he liked; he's as courteous as he's stout." And all the crowd agreed with Master Paxhulle, and shouted their approval.

There still remained five knights, without counting Bowerman, Newenhall, and Ralph, who were eager to try their prowess with the challengers. The day was getting on; there did not seem a chance of being able to finish the courses unless some of the combatants were disabled in their first tilt. This became apparent to the knights-challengers. They therefore said that as enough had been done for courtesy and love of the ladies, and time was getting on, they would now tilt hardily, and sparing neither man nor horse, and that as they knew there were some youths among their antagonists, they gave this notice to prevent their being hurt.

"The coxcombs," said Bowerman, when this was announced, "do they think to frighten us away by words? They are getting afeard for their cattle; but I'll do my best," and Ralph Lisle agreed with him heartily though silently. Not so thought Newenhall, and he determined he would willingly miss his turn when it came, and so let the others get the knocks instead of himself.

Three other knights also signified their intention of giving those who were more desirous of the honour of encountering the challengers than they were, the priority of place.

These were Sir John Keineys and Masters Dineley and Leigh, who were all men past the prime of life, and who had merely entered to support the manhood of the Island. Thus only the three pages of the Captain of the Wight, with Dick Oglander, from Nunwell, were left; for Master Tichborne, from Lemerston, had not arrived yet. Master Bowerman now offered himself.

He was greeted with applause, for the crowd had heard the announcement of the challengers, and admired the pluck of the young aspirants to fame who were left.

Everyone knew that it was the page's first tilt, and the accident from which he had been suffering, combined with the pluck he showed in not retiring when he might easily have done so without loss of honour, created a strong feeling in his favour.

The Breton knight was loth also to hurt him, and in their first encounter he hit Bowerman very lightly on the shield, receiving the lance of his opponent on his own helmet, from which the last remnant of his crest was shorn.

"Well done, Master Bowerman, thou'rt upholding our Island right manfully," called out some of the bystanders.

The next course was very well ridden also, the lances splintering, and Bowerman, although reeling from the shock, kept his seat and rode on to the end. Elated by his success, the natural boastfulness of the young man came out.

"Look to your seat, Sir Breton," he called out before the last course, "for I mean to topple thee out of it."

"Beshrew the lad for a braggart!" growled Sir John Trenchard, scandalised alike at the breach of etiquette and the boastfulness of the boy.

The Sire de Kervignac said nothing; he only courteously bowed, and awaited the signal to charge. It soon came, and they met as before, but with a different result.

The Breton knight, as expert as he was brave and strong, seeing how eager and boastful the young man was, determined to read him a lesson. As Bowerman leant well forward, too much so for a firm seat, instead of aiming his spear at the page's body, or, indeed, directing it at all, the Sire de Kervignac struck a violent blow with the handle or butt-end of his lance over the lance of his antagonist, beating it down, and breaking it all to pieces, with the further result that Bowerman, who was preparing to push with all his might against the expected resistance of the body of his opponent, meeting with no obstacle, and drawn still further over by the blow on his lance, overbalanced himself, and before he could recover his seat, a rude knock from the butt-end of his antagonist's spear, as he rode past, completed his discomfiture, and he fell headlong to the ground.

"'Twas all his own fault," said Tom o' Kingston. "The Frenchman never meant to hurt him, and would have left him alone, had he not been such a braggart. It ought to do him good."

It was so evident to all the crowd that Bowerman had drawn this fall upon himself that they applauded the knight, and had no words of sympathy for the esquire.

The only antagonist left who had not yet tried his luck was Ralph Lisle.

"That surely can't be Master Lisle, the new page?" said Mistress Bremeskete.

"Ay, but 'tis though; he sits stiffly, don't he?"

"And what a size he looks. He'll be a great knight one day. As 'tis, he looks as if he could swallow the little Frenchman at the other end."

"Marry, you're right, and 'tis a fine horse he's on. 'Twas Mistress Lisle sent him that this morning."

"My! you don't say so! And she gives her favour to that French knight, and a horse to her kinsman. Well, I'd rather be her kinsman. Leastways, he's got something."

Ralph's heart was bounding with excitement. He tried to remember all the instructions he had received. He could see Yolande seated amid the beauty and rank of the Island. She was looking his way, not at the knight who wore her favour. She had bidden him win it with the horse he bestrode. His blood rose; he would do all he could. He sat his horse with thews strung tight and nerves braced.

"Are you ready?"

Down came his lance.

"My faith! he looks a gallant knight," said the Captain of the Wight to Yolande. "I trust Sir Amand will spare him."

"I'faith, Sir Captain, I think 'twill be the other way," said Yolande. "He's well skilled, I hear, and as for strength and weight, look at horse and man."

Lord Woodville glanced at Yolande a questioning glance, and smiled.

"It's no use your smiling like that, my Lord Woodville. I know what you are thinking about; but do you, with your knowledge of the world, think I should fall in love with a boy?" and Yolande laughed a scornful laugh.

Lord Woodville made no answer; he only sighed, and turned to look at the lists. The last word had been said.

With vigorous determination in Ralph's bent back, lance close pressed in rest, and helm well under shield, the boy went straight for his prize. He had selected a heavy lance, seeing how many others had splintered, and feeling confident in his strength to wield it. With sure aim he struck the upper part of his antagonist's visor, and, forcing it up with the violence of the well-planted blow, he bent the metal back, and, still keeping his spear jammed in the twisted iron, while his well-trained horse pressed on with all his force, Ralph actually pulled the knight backwards out of his saddle, and tumbled him over to the ground.

The shouts of applause and astonishment were deafening. The people jumped, and surged, and shouted, and waved their caps and handerchiefs in a perfectly bewildering way. For some time nothing could be heard or seen but the hilarious cries and struggling crowd. It was with the utmost difficulty the men-at-arms and yeomen could keep the lists clear. Men were crowding forward to shake Ralph's hand.

At last order and silence were somewhat restored, and then it was seen that the Breton knight was on his legs, and had pulled off his helmet, while blood was trickling down his face from the sharp edge of the broken visor having cut his forehead. In spite of this, he was loudly praising Ralph, and saying how glad he was the boy had got the victory.

This made him very popular, and the crowd raised cheer after cheer for the noble Breton knight and Master Ralph Lisle.

"There's no older name in the island, and 'tis a right noble line," said Tom o' Kingston. "'Tis right well done, and truly a marvellous feat of arms."

Meanwhile Ralph had ridden round the lists, and had taken up his place again with perfect modesty next to Master Meaux, young Trenchard, and Master Oglander, the only survivors of their party who could ride again.

*CHAPTER XV.*

*HOW THE COCKEREL CROWED.*

It was yet early in the afternoon, for the last courses had been finished much more speedily than was anticipated.

By the laws of the tilt, it was incumbent on the remaining knights-challengers to meet each one of the other knights who had not been unhorsed, if they desired to go on with the joust. Each of the knights who was unhorsed was disqualified from taking further part in that day's tilting.

Sir Alain de Kervignac, therefore, was left to encounter alone each of the other esquires who survived from the previous jousting. The fourth knight-challenger had not yet appeared. If he arrived before his companion was defeated, or before sundown, he might take part in the tilt.

After a little consultation with his comrades and the Marshal of the Lists, and a notification from Master Meaux that he and his companions demanded a completion of the courses, it was proclaimed that the right valiant, very hardy, and most illustrious knight, Alain de Kervignac, would tilt in succession with each of his opponents. This was delightful news to the crowd, and they cheered him vociferously, while the Captain of the Wight and Yolande sent him their greetings by the Marshal of the Lists.

It was now a little after four o'clock. The sun would not set for another two hours. The other challenger might arrive at any moment, and the chances would then be a little more equal.

Of the assailants of Sir Alain de Kervignac only two could really be reckoned formidable. Master Meaux and Ralph Lisle, from their having already tilted successfully, as well as from their greater bulk and weight, were dangerous antagonists; and although Sir Richard Cornwall had been unhorsed by an unfortunate accident, yet it was quite sufficiently evident that Master Meaux was a very formidable man-at-arms; and as for Ralph, it was abundantly manifest what he could do, in spite of his youth and inexperience.

While these preliminaries were going on, refreshments were handed round, and the competitors were regaling themselves with copious draughts of wine and hippocras. But Ralph had only taken a very moderate draught, having been warned by Sir John Trenchard not to take much refreshment of any kind while there was an immediate prospect of more work before him, as it was likely to unsteady the eye and hand.

Bowerman's mortification at his defeat was rendered tenfold more bitter by the success of Ralph. If he hated him before, his hatred had now become ruthless and implacable, and being naturally of an ungovernable disposition, he became utterly reckless of how he expressed or concealed his rage.

The all-engrossing thought was how could he injure this swaggering upstart, this minion of fortune, this stripling successful only because of the favouritism of his antagonist?

"Don't tell me," said Bowerman fiercely to the stolid Newenhall, for the twentieth time, "don't tell me that it was not all thought on beforehand. That giddy Yolande had got the Breton jackanapes, when she gave him her favour, to promise he would be gentle to her cousin, out of kindness to her family, and then, of course, he got a fall before that blundering lout. But he shall have a fall before I've done," he added savagely.

To all these fierce threats Newenhall only stolidly grunted, until at last Bowerman's fury, eager for an object immediately to vent itself upon, turned upon the luckless Willie, and hitting him a furious blow with the haft of his broken spear, which he still held in his hand, "Pig's Eyes" was knocked off his horse, to the great delight of the bystanders.

"You egg, you, why don't you answer sensibly instead of grunting?" said Bowerman, as he struck Newenhall.

Somewhat refreshed by this exhibition of his superiority, for "Pig's Eyes" was too much bumped by his clanging armour, and felt too dispirited, to retaliate, Bowerman sat on his horse amid the crowd that had gradually encroached upon the space round the lists, outside of which those knights who were disqualified from taking further part in the jousts were standing, or sitting on their horses.

There was a decided movement of the crowd going on, and the heads of the people near the tent set apart for the knights-challengers' use, were all turned towards the pavilion.

Bowerman turned also to see what was passing. All he could see was the head of a tall man, half concealed under the folds of a voluminous hood which he wore, not unlike that worn by the jesters of the time, and very raggedly dressed. A common man, looking like a sailor, but of very powerful build, and with a swaggering expression of utterly reckless daring, was leading after him a horse, big-boned and vicious looking, and which bit at the crowd as it was led among them. On the horse's back was tied a large bundle, and two very strong lances were carried by another man of nearly as truculent appearance as that of his fellow. They were both armed with stout bills, bows and arrows, and axes stuck in broad leathern belts, strapped round their cowhide jerkins, which were undressed, and with the hair still adhering in several places.

The men forced their way up to the gate which led into the railed-off enclosure round the challengers' pavilion, and which was decorated with the four banners and shields of arms of the knights, excepting that the shield and banner of the fourth knight were perfectly plain, with no blazon on them. Arrived at the entrance, the leading man spoke a few words to the yeoman on guard, who looked very much astonished, and after eyeing the ragged individual suspiciously, remained erect and firm before the entrance, but beckoned to one of his comrades to come and speak with him.

The result of their conference was that this latter went off, and in a few minutes returned with the Marshal and Herald.

The ragged man awaited them with perfect composure, and while they were looking at him curiously, he saluted them with easy confidence, and handed the Herald a paper.

This official opened it, and scrutinised it carefully. He then in an amazed way handed it to the Marshal, who read it over very carefully also. This done, they conferred for a few moments apart, and then the Marshal said gravely,--

"Sir, will it please you to enter? The jousts are not yet over."

The ragged man bowed to the official ceremoniously, and bid the varlets who followed him lead the horse into the enclosure, which he also entered, and disappeared in the tent.

"'Tis the packhorse and baggage of the unknown knight," said one of the bystanders.

"Well, to be sure, but he do have odd varlets! and 'tis a shabby turn out."

"But where's the knight?" asked another.

"Oh, he's follering, surely!"

"Then he'd best look sharp, for there's the Breton knight going to begin."

All eyes were now turned upon the lists again.

The Marshal and Herald had returned. After speaking a few words to the Captain of the Wight, and handing him a note which the ragged man had given them, they took up their positions, and once more proclaimed silence.

The Captain of the Wight unfolded the scrap of paper, and with evident difficulty read the contents. His brow contracted, and a deep flush passed over his face.

"By St Nicholas, but 'tis too bold! He presumes over much on my knightly courtesy and the generosity of my nature," he muttered.

And now the mail-clad figures had taken up their positions.

The cautioning words came, soon followed by the order to go, and they rode for each other. The Breton well knew the importance of avoiding any catastrophe. Being a smaller and far lighter cavalier than the heavy man-at-arms opposed to him, he determined to husband his strength. He tilted therefore in such a way as to receive the least possible shock from his antagonist's spear, while he was little careful of doing him any harm, so long only as he maintained his own seat.

Being very skilful, Sir Alain de Kervignac attained his object completely, riding rather wide of the barrier, and so receiving the lance thrust of his adversary more athwart than directly on his breastplate.

The first two courses were ridden with no damage to either, but in the last one the Breton was struck so fiercely by Master Meaux that a part of his vambrace was bent back, and had it not broken off he must have been unhorsed; as it was, he recovered his seat to the admiration of every one, and rode back to the end of the lists, waving his spear aloft.

It was now young Trenchard's turn. No scruples of courtesy interfered any longer: the Breton was tilting for honour and to win the prize.

Changing his tactics, he charged the young man with fierce ardour, and the poor youth was hurled backwards over the crupper.

"Alack, poor lad!" said Mistress Bremeskete, "but he did right manfully."

"Now, surely that weakly Master Oglander will never try his luck?"

But it seemed otherwise, for he rode out to take up his position.

At this moment there was a loud murmur from the crowd. Shouts of derision and astonishment were heard on all sides.

"Mercy on us, what a rusty suit of armour! Surely he might have spent a little more money on his outside!" said one.

"'Tis one he's fished out o' the sea, and forgot to scrape the whelks off!" cried another.

"But he's surely no knight--only a poor hobbler," said Humphrey.

"Nay, he's a knight, sure enough; look at his gold spurs, and the collar round his neck--why, 'tis the 'suns' of York. He'd best be well befriended if he wears that; who can he be?" said Tom o' Kingston, eyeing the martial figure, firm seat, and knightly bearing of the new-comer, who, in spite of his somewhat old armour, which had been furbished up as brightly as possible, but which long use and many rough campaigns had soiled with rust and dints beyond all the labour of a diligent esquire to eradicate, looked every inch a tough man-at-arms.

"'Tis a powerful vicious-looking beast he rides, too; but where can he have come from? I never saw him go into the tent. The only man as I see go in was that mountebank sort of chap in that old hood," said Humphrey.

"Well, 'tis a parlous strange matter! We shall see something though," answered Tom o' Kingston.

One of the sailor-looking men accompanied him, carrying another strong spear. The other man had gone into the crowd again, and soon returned leading a girl by the hand; and, elbowing his way to the front, he secured a good position for his young companion and himself close to the lists, and not far from the Judges' gallery.

"Why, Lord Captain," said Yolande, "there's the little damsel with the large eyes we met at Appuldurcombe Priory."

Lord Woodville looked in the direction indicated, and was immediately moved in the same unaccountable way he had been at the time when he first saw her. "The same eyes, the very same eyes and brow," he murmured.

The "Rusty Knight," as the crowd called him, cantered to the end of the lists, saluted his companions, to whom he was apparently quite unknown, and also bowed gravely to the Captain of the Wight. He was entirely encased in armour, and the heavy tilting helmet hid his head and face completely.

Sir Alain de Kervignac was just preparing to tilt with young Oglander when the "Rusty Knight" entered the lists. He saluted the new comer, and offered him his place, which "he of the rusty armour" declined.

"Don't be rough on weakly Johnny," called out some of the crowd, as they saw the Breton prepare to charge him, but their kindly remonstrances were of little use, beyond serving to unnerve the youth they were intended to aid. His spear feebly struck the shield of his antagonist, while at the same time he received that of the Sire de Kervignac on his helmet, and was unseated immediately.

It was now Ralph's turn, and as he rode out to take up his place, the interest of the crowd was very great.

"'Tis only 'rusty irons' you've got to tackle, Master Lisle."

"Hit him where they've been a-scouring the whelks off of him," called out another; "the iron's sure to be thin there. You'll soon skewer him."

"Silence, you caitiffs!" called out the Master of the Lists, "or I'll have you whipped. Sergeant, smite one of those scurvy knaves over the costard."

This produced tranquillity for a short time, and the increasing excitement helped to keep the crowd quiet.

"Well now, 'tis just like David fighting Goliath!" cried Mistress Bremeskete, in admiration.

"Maybe," said Master Paxhulle; "but Goliath's got parlous rusty harness; and as for David, we can't see if he be ruddy or of a fair countenance; besides, I can't mind that ever they fought a horseback--"

"Nay, marry, what do that matter? we know Master Lisle's face is ruddy enough inside--"

"Oh, ay! I don't doubt. We's mostly ruddy inside, but David was ruddy outside."

"Marry! and good lack for your poor wits, Master Paxhulle! I don't mean his insides, but inside his helmet--but look at that little damsel with the large eyes. What's she doing?"

"Which? What, that little wench next the rough-looking varlet there?"

"Ay, that's her--she's making signs to Master Lisle surely."

"Well, now, so it seems. But he don't take no notice."

"What a state she is getting in! she'll begin crying soon. Poor little thing, be there no one to notice it for her?"

"Why, you see, Master Lisle is that cased in in his iron harness he couldn't see Bevis o' Hampton himself, or the giant Ascupart neither, if they was i' this crowd, so how is it likely he'd see a small wench like that?"

"Couldn't you, Master Paxhulle, go and jog his arm?"

"What, and get rapped over the costard by the Marshal's men?--not I."