"Sir Herald, whereas and forinasmuch as this, my Lord of Tong himself, himself declaring fool, is so himself-like as to meet in combat each and every of his challengers--themselves ten, my lord that is fool, himself himself so declaring, now declareth by me that am no fool but only humble esquire--messire, I say, doth his esquire require that I, the said esquire, should on his part impart as followeth, namely and to wit: That these ten gentle knights, the said challengers, shall forthwith of themselves choose of themselves, themselves among themselves thereto agreeing, which of themselves, among themselves of themselves so chosen, shall first in combat adventure himself against my Lord of Tong himself.
And moreover, should Fortune my lord bless with victory, the nine remaining shall among themselves choose, themselves agreeing, which of themselves shall next, thus chosen of themselves, themselves represent in single combat with this very n.o.ble, fool-like Lord of Tong, my master.
Furthermore, whereas and notwithstanding--"
"Hold, sir!" cried the Chief Herald, fingering hara.s.sed brow. "Pray thee "bate--O, abate thy speechful fervour. Here forsooth and of truth is notable saying--O, most infallibly--and yet perchance something discursive and mayhap a little involved."
"Nay, Sir Herald," quoth the esquire, "if involved "twill be resolved if revolved, thus: Here be ten lords would fight one, and one--that is my lord who is but one--ten fight one by one. But that ten, fighting one, may as one fight, let it be agreed that of these ten one be chosen one to fight, so shall one fight one and every one be satisfied--every one of these ten fighting one, one by one. Thus shall ten be one, and one ten fight one by one till one be discomfited. Shall we accord the matter simply, thus?"
"Sir," quoth the Chief Herald, gasping a little, "Amen!"
"O!" cried the d.u.c.h.ess, clapping her hands, "O Yolande, hark to this rare esquire! Surely, I have heard yon cunning tongue ere this?"
But Yolande gazed ever where Sir Palamon, having taken his station, set himself in array. For now, the ten knights having chosen one to represent them, forth rode their champion resplendent in shining mail and green surcoat with heralds before to proclaim his name and rank.
"Yolande," quoth the d.u.c.h.ess softly, "pray--pray this Lord of Tong may tilt as bravely as he doth sing, for Sir Thomas of Th.o.r.n.yd.y.k.e is a notable jouster."
The trumpets blew a fanfare and, levelling their pointless lances, both knights gave spur, their great horses reared, broke into a gallop and thundered towards each other.
But hard midway upon the green surcoat, Sir Palamon"s stout lance so truly smote, That, "neath the shock, the bold Sir Thomas reeled And, losing stirrups, saddle, lance and shield, Down, down upon the ling outstretched he fell And, losing all, lost breath and speech as well.
Thus, silent all, the bold Sir Thomas lay, Though much, and many things, he yearned to say, Which things his squires and pages might surmise From the expression of his fish-like eyes E"en as they bore him from that doleful place; While, near and far, from all the populace, Rose shout on shout that echoed loud and long: "Sir Palamon! Sir Palamon of Tong!"
So came these ten good knights, but, one by one, They fell before this bold Sir Palamon, Whose lance unerring smote now helm, now shield, That many an one lay rolling on the field.
But each and all themselves did vanquished yield; And loud and louder did the plaudits grow, That one knight should so many overthrow.
Even Sir Gui, within his silken tent Scowled black in ever-growing wonderment.
But the Knight of Tong, his gaudy shield a little battered, his fine surcoat frayed and torn, leaped from his wearied steed and forthwith mounted one held by his tall esquire, a mighty charger that tossed proud head and champed his bit, pawing impatient hoof.
"Aha!" quoth the esquire, pointing to ten fair steeds held by ten fair pages. "Oho, good brother, most puissant Knight of Tong, here is good and rich booty--let us begone!"
"Nay," answered the Knight, tossing aside his blunt tilting-spear, "here is an end to sportful dalliance--reach me my lance!"
"Ha, is"t now the Red Gui"s turn, brother? The Saints aid thee, in especial two, that, being women, are yet no saints yet awhile--see how they watch thee, sweet, gentle dames! Their prayers go with thee, methinks, brother, and mine also, for the Red Gui is forsooth a valiant rogue!"
And now, mounted on the great black war-horse, the Knight of Tong rode up the lists:
His scarlet plume "bove shining helm a-dance, His bannerole a-flutter from long lance, Till he was come where, plain for all to spy, Was hung the shield and blazon of Sir Gui, With bends and bars in all their painted glory, Surcharged with hand ensanguined--gules or gory.
Full upon this b.l.o.o.d.y hand smote the sharp point of Sir Palamon"s lance; whereupon the watching crowd surged and swayed and hummed expectant, since here was to be no play with blunted weapons but a deadly encounter.
Up started Sir Gui and strode forth of his tent, grim-smiling and confident. Quoth he:
"Ha, my Lord of Tong, thou"rt grown presumptuous and over-venturesome, methinks. But since life thou dost hold so cheap prepare ye for death forthright!"
So spake the Lord of Ells and, beckoning to his esquires, did on his great tilting-helm and rode into the lists, whereon was mighty roar of welcome, for, though much hated, he was esteemed mighty at arms, and the accepted champion of the Duchy. So while the people thundered their acclaim the two knights galloped to their stations and, reining about, faced each other from either end of the lists,
And halted thus, their deadly spears they couched, With helms stooped low, behind their shields they crouched; Now rang the clarions; goading spurs struck deep, The mighty chargers reared with furious leap And, like two whirlwinds, met in full career, To backward reel "neath shock of splintering spear: But, all unshaken, every eye might see The b.l.o.o.d.y hand, the scarred gules falcons three.
Thrice thus they met, but at the fourth essay, Rose sudden shout of wonder and dismay, For, smitten sore through riven shield, Sir Gui Thudded to earth there motionless to lie.
Thus Sir Gui, Lord of Ells and Seneschal of Raddemore, wounded and utterly discomfited, was borne raging to his pavilion while the air rang with the blare of trumpet and clarion in honour of the victor. Thereafter, since no other knight thought it prudent to challenge him, Sir Palamon of Tong was declared champion of the tournament, and was summoned by the Chief Herald to receive the victor"s crown. But even as he rode towards the silk-curtained balcony, a distant trumpet shrilled defiance, and into the lists galloped a solitary knight.
Well-armed was he in proud and war-like trim, Of stature tall and wondrous long of limb; "Neath red surcoat black was the mail he wore; His glitt"ring shield a rampant leopard bore, Beholding which the crowd cried in acclaim, "Ho for Sir Agramore of Biename!"
But from rosy-red to pale, from pale to rosy-red flushed the d.u.c.h.ess Benedicta, and clenching white teeth, she frowned upon Sir Agramore"s fierce and warlike figure. Quoth she:
"Oh, sure there is no man so vile or so unworthy in all Christendom as this vile Lord of Biename!"
"Unless," said Yolande, frowning also, "unless it be my Lord Gui of Ells!"
"True, my Yolanda! Now, as thou dost hate Sir Gui so hate I Sir Agramore, therefore pray we sweet maid, pet.i.tion we the good Saints our valiant singer shall serve my hated Sir Agramore as he did thy hated Sir Gui--may he be bruised, may he be battered, may--"
"Oho, "tis done, my sweeting! A-hee--a-hi, "tis done!" croaked a voice, and starting about, the d.u.c.h.ess beheld a bent and hag-like creature,
With long, sharp nose that showed beneath her hood, A nose that curved as every witch"s should, And glittering eye, before whose baleful light, The fair Yolande shrank back in sudden fright.
"Nay, my Yolande," cried the d.u.c.h.ess, "hast forgot old Mopsa, my foster-mother, that, being a wise-woman, fools decry as witch, and my ten grave and learned guardians have banished therefor? Hast forgot my loved and faithful Mopsa that is truly the dearest, gentlest, wisest witch that e"er witched rogue or fool? But O Mopsa, wise mother--would"st thou might plague and bewitch in very truth yon base caitiff knight, Sir Agramore of Biename!"
""Tis done, loved daughter, "tis done!" chuckled the Witch.
"He groaneth, He moaneth, He aileth, He waileth, Lying sighing, Nigh to dying, Oho, I know "Tis so.
With bones right sore, Both "hind and fore, Sir Agramore Doth ache all o"er.
"He aileth sore yet waileth more--oho! I know, I have seen--in the chalk, in the ink, in the smoke--I looked and saw
"Sir Agramore, By bold outlaw, Bethwacked most sore As told before--"
"Nay, but, good Mopsa, how may this be? Sir Agramore rideth armed yonder, plain to my sight."
"Child, I have told thee sooth," croaked the Witch. "Have patience, watch and be silent, and shalt grow wise as old Mopsa--mayhap--in time.
"For, "tis written in the chalk, Sore is he and may not walk.
O, sing heart merrily!
I have seen within the smoke Bones bethwacked by l.u.s.ty stroke, Within the ink I looked and saw, Swathed in clouts, Sir Agramore; Dread of him for thee is o"er, By reason of a bold outlaw.
Sing, heart, and joyful be!"
"Go to, Mopsa, thou"rt mad!" quoth the d.u.c.h.ess. "For yonder is this hated lord very strong and hale, and in well-being whiles thou dost rave! Truly thou"rt run mad, methinks!"
But the old Witch only mumbled and mowed, and cracked her finger-bones as is the custom of witches.
Meantime, Sir Agramore, checking his fiery charger and brandishing heavy lance fiercely aloft, roared loud defiance:
"What ho! Ye knights, lords, esquires, and lovers of l.u.s.ty blows, hither come I with intent, sincere and hearty, to bicker with, fight, combat and withstand all that will--each and every, a-horse or a-foot, with sword, battleaxe or lance. Now all ye that love good blows--have at ye!"
Here ensued great clamour and a mighty blowing of trumpets that waxed yet louder when it was proclaimed that Sir Palamon, as champion of the day, had accepted Sir Agramore"s haughty challenge.
And now all was hushed as these two doughty knights faced each other and, as the trumpets brayed, charged furiously to meet with thunderous shock of breaking lances and reeling horses that, rearing backwards, fell crashing upon the torn and trampled gra.s.s. But their riders, leaping clear of lashing hooves, drew their swords and, wasting no breath in words, beset each other forthwith, smiting with right good will.
Sir Agramore"s leopard shield was riven in twain by a single stroke, Sir Palamon"s scarlet plume was shorn away, but they fought only the fiercer as, all untiring, the long blades whirled and flashed until their armour rang, sparks flew, and the populace rocked and swayed and roared for very joy. Once Sir Agramore was beaten to his knees, but rising, grasped his sword in two hands and smote a mighty swashing blow, a direful stroke that burst the lacing of Sir Palamon"s great helm and sent it rolling on the sward. But, beholding thus his adversary"s face, Sir Agramore, crying in sudden amaze, sprang back; for men all might see a visage framed in long, black-curled hair, grey-eyed, but a face so direly scarred that none, having seen it but once, might well forget.
"Par Dex!" panted Sir Agramore, lifting his vizor.
"Pertinax!" gasped Duke Jocelyn. "O Pertinax--thou loved and lovely smiter--ne"er have I been so sore battered ere now!"