CHAPTER XIII.OF THE SHARPENING OF THE COCKEREL'S SPURS.And now the morning of the Feast of St Michael had come. All the preparations were complete, and the lists were ready decked. The green sward between the stout palings, gaily painted and bedizened with flags, was divided in the middle by a barrier, which was covered with a gorgeous hanging, and parted the lists lengthways into two equal divisions.As Dicky Cheke and Ralph Lisle strolled round in the early morning--for there was no drill that day, and all ordinary exercises were suspended--they were delighted at the handsome appearance of the preparations. The covered gallery or grand-stands for the ladies; the numberless poles, gilded and painted, from which gay shields of arms were hung, and still gayer banners and banderoles fluttered; the lavish adornment and laborious preparations, struck them with astonishment, although they had seen the work going on for some days past."In sooth, Dicky, there's been great charges here. Who pays the cost?""Why the Captain, certes, though the Bretons pay some of it; but 'tis rarely done, i' faith. Thou'rt a lucky wight, Ralph, but thou wilt get a fall to-day, for 'tis not 'gainst 'Pig's Eyes' or Bowerman thou wilt ride, so make up thy mind to comfort thy broken bones.""Ay, marry will I," said Ralph, laughing. "But I trust to do my devoir without disgrace. But 'twas a sad mischance Black Tom went lame," added the boy, changing his merry tone to a sad one. "He wasthehorse of all others for a tilt. Such depth of chest, such limbs and wind! Beshrew me if I can think how he could have gone lame like that, and only yesterday too. 'Twas a rare mischance," and Ralph looked very downcast.With the money, or rather the order which the Abbot of Quarr had given to pay for all things needful to the merchant, Master Langstoke, Ralph had bought two very serviceable horses, one a great bargain. He had been guided in his choice by Humphrey, who was a likely man at buying cattle. This horse had belonged to an esquire who had been killed at the battle of Stoke, and was thoroughly broken to all the work of the tilt-yard and the battlefield. Ralph had been delighted at getting such an animal, and the congratulations he received upon it. Many old hands had told him that a good horse was more than half the battle, and all who saw Black Tom were loud in their praises of his good points."Ye see, Master Lisle, 'tis this way," remarked Lord Woodville's head varlet or groom. "A 'oss that's too quiet be't no good, nor a 'oss that's all fire. What you wants is a animal that's used to the work, and this 'un be, for I knows 'un."The horse was perfectly sound the night before last. Ralph had ridden him that afternoon at a little quiet practice at the quintain first, and then at a light tilt with Tom o' Kingston, and nothing could have been better. But the next morning Humphrey came early with a very long face to say that he didn't "like the looks o' Black Tom at all, he were so tender on his near fore leg, and the pastern were all swollen like and hot."This was bad news. All the authorities of the castle were consulted, and a careful examination of the tender hoof was made, with the result that it was found that a sharp nail had penetrated the hoof, causing severe inflammation. It was impossible that the poor animal could be ridden for some weeks, perhaps for some months.But how had it happened? There was the mystery; and several old hands shook their heads, and did not hesitate to say that there had been foul play. Ralph's disappointment was intense, and Maurice Woodville and Dicky Cheke were profuse in their expressions of sympathy. Every one in the castle felt for Ralph's mishap, for he was now a universal favourite, his modesty, good nature, and brave bearing having endeared him to every one; and he was also well known and liked in the town of Newport, so that the news of the strange accident had spread round the neighbourhood in very little time.The days before the tournament had been spent in perpetual practice at the quintain, and tilting against each other in half armour and with very light lances, made so slight as to break with but little force. In this way the boys had become excellent hands at aiming their spears to the best advantage, and in becoming used to the shock of the blow, so as to grow accustomed to the knack of holding on to the saddle with their knees at the exact moment without losing their nerve. In these encounters Dicky Cheke and Maurice Woodville were very fairly matched, and such falls as they had were pretty evenly balanced, although Dicky, if he got the worst of it, invariably had some excellent reason for his mishap, and was voluble in his explanations, while Maurice took it quietly, and was even a little disconcerted by his misfortune.Bowerman had nearly recovered, and was to be allowed to take part in the forthcoming tourney, but he was not allowed to practise at the tilting with the others, for fear of opening his wound again by any mischance. He had therefore practised at the quintain, and other exercises that taught him to aim and strike, without, however, receiving a blow in return.Willie Newenhall had thus been left to tilt always with Ralph Lisle, and although the latter, when he had knocked his antagonist off once or twice, refrained, out of pure good nature, from putting forth all his strength and dexterity, yet "Pig's Eyes" was very wrath and sore at being so manifestly inferior to one so much younger than himself.More than ever the five pages were divided into sides. Newenhall and Bowerman scarcely ever spoke to the other three, and never lost a chance of getting them into trouble if they could, or of making them do work which was unpleasant to themselves.Ralph was very good-natured, and would have done anything for Bowerman, in spite of his violent language and the manifest hatred the latter bore him. But Dicky Cheke resented their treatment, and took every opportunity of annoying or crossing the others. He and Woodville were frequently the victors in this sparring of rival wits; and if only they could get "Pig's Eyes" alone, he had a very uncomfortable time of it.Ralph had provided for the approaching pageant with considerable wisdom, in spite of Dicky Cheke's mistrust of his powers. He had been able to buy, besides the two horses, a very fine suit of tilting armour, and two splendid tunics, and close-fitting hose, with a fur mantle of the latest fashion. The tunics were slashed, and one was made of large stripes of orange tawny satin and delicate grey, with rich ruby velvet, and slashed at the shoulders, elbows, and across the chest, while the hose were also made in large stripes, but of white and pale lemon-coloured satin; rich Cordovan leathern slippers of crimson colour protecting and adorning his feet. This suit was for wearing after the tournament the first day. The other suit was equally magnificent; for those who took part in the tilt were dispensed from wearing the livery of the Captain of the Wight for that day.He had received by an unknown hand, a tiny silk glove, and a little scrap of paper, on which was written in a very scrawling hand,--"An ye ware thys, ye last course ynne,Ye shall eke lyfe and honour winne."This was brought him by Humphrey, wrapped up in a little packet. It had been left for Ralph by a man who was unknown at the castle, but was believed to live at the back of the island, and to be a fisherman. He had been loitering about for some days past, and had latterly been accompanied by another man, who was also believed to be a fisherman, and who used to live at Wodyton, some years back. Ralph had been surprised at the enclosure, and still more so at the legend, and had secretly determined he would put the glove in his helmet before the last course, and see what would come of it. He had not yet received any favour from his cousin, and felt very moody and disconsolate in consequence.As the boys were walking round admiring the arrangements, the light of the early sun falling on the eastern walls, towers, and battlements of the grand old castle, while the blue mist still hung over the valley, hiding the town of Carisbrooke, out of which the fine tower of the Priory church or chapel stood up like a tall rock in some grey lone sea, a varlet came out of the postern gate and called to Ralph Lisle to come into the castle-yard, where he was wanted immediately.Ralph and Dicky Cheke followed hastily, and as they turned the corner by the well-house they saw, standing in the full light of the sun, a splendid horse, held by a groom in the livery and wearing the badge of the Lord of Briddlesford, Sir William de Lisle.As Ralph drew near, the man held up a note, saying to Ralph, to whom he was well known,--"My young mistress, the Lady Yolande, sends you this, with my lord's leave. 'Tis a well-trained horse, if ever there was one, and hath borne one in tilt and tourney, whom I'd like well enough to see here again. But as that mayn't be, and you bear the name of Lisle, you are to ride him; he's yours for the day--and maybe for ever."Ralph was utterly surprised. He took the note mechanically, opened it, and read it. It was from Yolande, and said that as she could not give Ralph her favour, which he would see worn elsewhere, she had sent him the best thing she could for him to win it. She deeply deplored the accident to Black Tom, and hoped White Will would make up in some slight way for the disappointment he had suffered. The horse had belonged to her half-brother, and was well used to his work. "Therefore," she added, "ride boldly, as I know you will, and fear not to press the horse, for 'tis your own Good luck--your loving cousin--YOLANDE."Ralph's joy was boundless. He instantly vaulted on to the noble animal, and rode him round the yard, to the admiration of every one, excepting Bowerman and Newenhall, the former of whom looked on with scowling brow and sneering mouth; the latter in blank stolidity."I sha'n't be able to do for him to-day," muttered Bowerman; "but to-morrow, in the fight with axes and hand-strokes, I can do somewhat.""But you are not allowed to take part in it, Bowerman," said Willie."Gammon! I'll do it somehow, trust me," answered Bowerman fiercely.While the pages were having their breakfast, they talked of nothing but the tournament, and who were coming.Bowerman and Newenhall, from their superior age and knowledge of the island, as well as from having seen a tournament before at London, when Lord Woodville had been one of the challengers, were able to lay down the law upon all points connected with the tilt; and Dicky Cheke, who prided himself on his great acquirements, was rather quenched."And the two Bretons will have two other knights to join them," Bowerman was saying. "There's Sir Richard Cornwall, a very valiant knight, and much skilled in tilts and jousts; but who the other is no one knows, but I have a good guess--leastways, he is sure to be brave, and well skilled in warlike feats.""Well, then," said Dicky Cheke, "let's see who there is for us. There's my brother, he'll be a good one; then there's Sir John Keineys, he who married old Hackett's daughter, of Knighton Gorges.""What do you know of Knighton Gorges?" broke in Bowerman. "You hold your tongue, and listen to your betters. There's Keineys, and John Meaux, and John Leigh of Landgard, Tichborne from Lemerston, young Trenchard from Shalfleet, old Jack-in-Harness's nephew, Will Bruyn from Affeton, and Dick Oglander. They are all fair enough, but I wish they were better trained. They've all got rusty since these peaceful times have come.""You've forgotten Dineley of Woolverton; and I hear old Bremshot of Gatecombe has sent over to young Dudley, who married his daughter; and there's--""Oh, you have done!" broke in Bowerman angrily. "You're always talking, and get hold of the wrong end of the story, and--""He doesn't," said Maurice; "and he knows as much of the island as you do, and more, too--""Ay, marry, do I! And what's more, before ever your beggarly family came here, the Chekes of Mottestone were lords of Mottestone for more than a hundred years--"A blow from Bowerman was the rejoinder to this remark, which Dicky foresaw, and avoided by ducking under the table, while Maurice and Ralph interposed to prevent any further quarrelling."And when do we ride our courses, Bowerman?" said Ralph, always ready to receive information, and totally devoid of all personal vanity."Oh, you'll know soon enough; leastways, yours'll come after mine, and then you'll find out."It was now but an hour and a half before the tilt would begin. The two boys who were to act as pages to Lord Woodville hastened to dress, and attend upon him. It appeared he was not going to tilt, but would act as judge and umpire with Sir John Trenchard and Sir Nicholas Wadham.[*][*] Afterwards Captain of the Isle of Wight under Henry VII. and Henry VIII.The three pages who were going to take part in the tilt went to get ready also, and were carefully instructed in their duties by Tom o' Kingston.The space around the lists was becoming crowded. There was no more popular amusement than a tourney, and as the arrangements were very costly, they did not very often occur in the provinces. But in a garrison like that of Carisbroke Castle, there was always to be found some one who would share in the expense, and earn popularity and experience at the same time.There was a greater amount of interest than usual on this occasion, because there was something international in the contest, and it was known that several of the island gentry were going to take part in it.Punctually at a quarter to eleven the sergeant-at-arms and a body of men-at-arms drew up in front of the apartments of the Captain of the Wight. Another company of mounted archers followed, and drew up on their left. Then came four trumpeters, splendidly attired in tabards, blazoned with Lord Woodville's coat-of-arms, and another body of mounted archers followed, succeeded by a squadron of men-at-arms, who all formed to the left of the first detachment. The three knights-challengers now came out of the dining-hall, armedcap-à-pié, and looking splendid in their gleaming tilting armour. Each knight was distinguished by his shield-of-arms, slung round his neck, and hanging over his left shoulder, and his crest proudly surmounting his tilting helm. Their esquires were waiting outside, and their varlets were leading their horses, armed with complete body armour, and gorgeously caparisoned, up and down. The fourth knight had not yet appeared.As each knight mounted, there was a flourish of trumpets from the four trumpeters; and as he settled himself in the saddle, and took the heavy tilting-lance, richly painted and gilded, into his mailed hand, the war-horse reared and pranced, and shook its crested head, as if proud of the noble sport awaiting it.When the three knights were on horseback, they drew up in front of the trumpeters, attended by their esquires and varlets on foot, all splendidly attired.The Captain of the Wight had invited the chief families of the island, and the most important of the official world, represented by the Bailiffs of the three boroughs of Newport, Newtown or Frencheville, and Yarmouth, and the Bailiffs of the various ecclesiastical bodies who held land in the island--such as the Priory of Christchurch, the Monastery of Whoreley, and of Winchester College--but the Abbot of Quarr took precedence over all the other ecclesiastics who had been invited, although scarcely any came. In fact, the Abbot ranked next to the Captain of the Wight in insular precedence.Among the ladies who looked down from the oriel window of the Captain's apartments, the lovely face of Yolande de Lisle could be seen, and the faces of several other well-known Isle of Wight ladies.But as soon as the knights-challengers were mounted, there was a general scramble of the guests to get good places in the stand erected for their benefit. Yolande, however, had been asked by the knights-challengers to give away the prizes, and act as queen of the tourney, she therefore stayed to be escorted in state with the Captain of the Wight, who was to conduct her to her throne.And now it was the turn of the Lord Woodville and the judges of the jousts to take up their position in the pageant. Preceded by two gorgeously-dressed yeomen of his household, carrying silver-gilt halberds, the Captain of the Wight took the hand of Yolande, and led her to the hall, followed by her two maids-of-honour, who also belonged to leading island families, and were chosen by Mistress Lisle--one was a niece of Sir John Trenchard, the other a daughter of Master Keineys, of Yaverland. Sir John Trenchard and Sir Nicholas Wadham followed, with Dicky Cheke and Maurice Woodville in immediate attendance on the Lord Woodville.The appearance of the Captain of the Wight and the Queen of the Tournament was greeted by a prolonged flourish. Their horses were in waiting. Lord Woodville placed Yolande on her palfrey, and then mounted himself, his nephew holding his stirrup for him.When all were mounted, the trumpets gave another flourish. The squadron wheeled to the right. The two leading detachments marched towards the great west gateway, the trumpeters followed, then the three knights-challengers fell in, with their varlets and esquires, succeeded by the Captain of the Wight, riding beside Yolande, attended by the other Judges and their escort, and then the remaining two squadrons of archers and men-at-arms closed in the procession.The cavalcade rode round over the drawbridge and under the north walls of the castle to the rising ground which led up to the place of arms, not yet closed in, or forming part of the castle, as it subsequently did in Elizabeth's reign.As they approached the lists, they were greeted with loud shouts from the people, who had now assembled in crowds.Mounted archers kept the ground, and yeomen in liveries, and armed with partisans, surrounded the lists.All those who were seated in the pavilion rose as Lord Woodville approached. Lifting Yolande off her horse, he handed her to her throne, which was proclaimed by three prolonged blasts of the trumpets. The Captain of the Wight then took his own seat, after bowing to the assembled gentry and people.The knights-challengers had meanwhile ridden slowly into the lists, and after pacing round them, had halted at the further end, having previously saluted the Captain of the Wight, the Queen of the day, and the Judges.All was now ready. But another ceremony--for it was an age which dearly loved ceremonies--had to be gone through.First of all the herald belonging to the household of Lord Woodville entered the lists and read out in a loud voice the licence for holding the tournament; then he read over the names of three of the knights-challengers, simply describing the fourth knight "as a right hardie and worshipful knight." After which he proclaimed the rules of the jousts. The most important of which were, that whoever was unhorsed or disarmed was to be considered vanquished, and that no one, by deed, word, or sign, was to interfere with the jousts.Meanwhile the knights and esquires who were to encounter the knights-challengers had collected at the other end of the lists, and after riding round and saluting their antagonists, and the Judges, had taken up their position outside the lists, at the opposite end to that of their opponents.CHAPTER XIV.HOW THE COCKEREL USED HIS SPURS.As the tilt which was now about to take place was merely a friendly display of knightly prowess, and "for the honour of ladies and their delectation," the knights were to encounter with blunted lances and swords. The Marshal of the Lists having examined the arms, all who were in the enclosure were ordered out, and the knights only awaited the signal to begin.Each knight was to ride three courses separately with his antagonist, and then three courses again afterwards.There was now a lull in the busy hum of conversation that had been going on in the large crowd. Every one was on tip-toe of expectation to see the two knights who were first to encounter.There they sat erect, a little in front of their comrades, their lances upright, the steel-clad figures stiff and immovable on their gorgeously-trapped horses. Not a movement could be seen in one or the other, only their pennons flickered in the light air, and the lambrequin or slashed cloth mantling of their helmets blew out from time to time.As the names of the knights and esquires who were going to take part in the tilting had been affixed in the market-place of Newport, as well as on the gate of Carisbrooke Castle, for some days past, together with their coats-of-arms, the people all knew who was who."That's the sturdy Breton knight at that end, him in the white tabard, with the gold dragon on his breast," said a stout yeoman, who was one of a group of several men round a fair and buxom dame, whom Tom o' Kingston, being on duty, could only ogle from under his visor, and who was no other than the irresistible Polly Bremskete."And who's that at the other end; he looks a tough wight?""What, him in the gold coat and a green lion with a forked tail? That's young Sir John Dudley, him as married Mistress Bremshott up to Gatcombe.""Marry! now who'd have thought such a small man would have looked so big. 'Tis the armour surely--how it do swell them out.""Hush! they're going to begin."The trumpets gave a flourish. The Marshal, after a pause, called out in a loud voice,--"Laissez aller!"At the first sound of the trumpet the two knights had brought their lances to the rest with a simultaneous and graceful sweep, causing the gay pennons to flash in the sun, they then remained motionless as before.At the last word, they clapped spurs to their horses and rode straight for each other, bending their heads low down, leaning well forward, and covering themselves with their shields."Lord! what a crack!" cried Mistress Bremskete, in admiration."He's off! he's off!""No, that he bean't.""He was parlous nigh anyway! I lay a yard o' broadcloth he'll be off next bout. But 'twas well done, leastways: that's what I will say."The two knights had met with a violent splintering of spears in the midst of the lists. The Breton seemed never to feel the shock at all, for he rode on, tossing away the broken handle of his lance, after waving it aloft in the air. But the English knight reeled in his saddle; only he recovered himself directly, and rode up to the other end of the lists, where he turned, reined in his horse, and waited for his esquire to bring him another lance.The trumpet sounded. The herald shouted,--"Well done, noble knights; remember the brave deeds of your ancestors. The ladies' eyes are upon you."When the knights had received new lances, they once more awaited the signal. It soon came, and again the gleaming figures met in the rude shock. This time Sir John Dudley's lance struck the helmet of his opponent, and carried away the crest and part of the lambrequin, while the Breton knight's lance glanced off the ridged breast-plate, and, passing under the arm, the guard struck full against the cuirass of Sir John Dudley, and the two knights were both nearly unseated. Had they not been practised riders, and reined in their horses at the same moment, they must have fallen. As it was, they remained locked together for a moment, and so stood until the herald called out,--"Enough! 'tis well done; unloose."They then disengaged, and rode back to their own end of the lists, amid the shouts of applause of the populace, and the music of the trumpeters."They are right skilful knights! I don't know as I ever saw better," said Tom o' Kingston to Humphrey, who stood near him holding a spare lance for his young master. "But there they go again. Holy Thomas! but he's off; good lack, I am parlous grieved. I would it had been the other."A groan and shout of applause mingled together, while a dull thud and clang of metal falling, announced that one of the knights had been thrown."Marry, I am sorry 'tis poor young Sir John; and there's his wife looking on now! Well, 'tis a pity, to be sure," said Mistress Bremskete."Ay, but she takes it mighty comfortable anyway. See how she's laughing with the Lord Abbot of Quarr there.""Well then she hadn't ought, that's what I say, Look! they're picking of him up. Alack, poor man, how he do bleed! 'Tis from the mouth, seemingly. Well-a-day! well-a-day! but 'twas a rude knock."And so amid the plaudits of the crowd and the clarion blasts of the trumpets, the Breton knight returned to his end of the list, and took his station next the last of the challengers, receiving their congratulations as he rode up, while his luckless antagonist was helped out of the lists, to be attended to in the tent set aside for the reception of those wounded in the tilt.The next knight who rode out from the challengers' end was Sir Amand de la Roche Guemené. As he took up his place, he turned towards Yolande and bowed low to his saddle-bow."Why, he's wearing the same colours she's got on! Well, to be sure, that's a merry jest! Can't she find among all our island gentry one to her taste, but she must go giving away her favours to them jackanapes Frenchmen? But 'tis ever the way with your high-born wenches; they always goes after what's strange, never mind how ugly it be, if only it be something new. It all comes of so many running after them.""Then, Mistress Bremskete, you ought to like those Breton gents, seeing the many suitors you have," said the ready yeoman by her side, with a knowing leer, giving his buxom companion a nudge with his elbow."Go along with ye, Master Paxhulle! you're always fooling us poor wenches with your soft tongue.""I'll have to trounce that Paxhulle, I see," said Tom o' Kingston savagely, to Humphrey, upon whom the merry glance of Mistress Bremskete, and the leer of her companion, were in no way lost."I say, that's Sir John's nephew there. I do hope he'll do well! 'Tis a nice youth; but they're all too young, to my mind. These Breton knights have been well tried in many tilts, and are tough and skilled. But there they go! Good luck go with him--ah!--'Twas well done! He's a brave youth."After splintering their lances without any further damage, the two cavaliers cantered on to the end of the lists, wheeled round and faced each other, taking the fresh lances handed them by their esquires.Whether it were that young Trenchard really bore himself with greater skill and address, or that his antagonist, out of knightly courtesy to the trusty friend of his host, the Captain of the Wight, forebore to use all his skill and strength, it happened that the three courses were ridden without any mishap beyond a plentiful splintering of lancewood, and a rending of knightly finery.Sir John Trenchard was evidently pleased, and accepted the congratulations of Lord Woodville and Mistress Lisle with but half-dissembled satisfaction."'Tis a good lad, and will do well," he said, "an the ladies spoil him not; for he is comely, and of fair manners."The next knight to ride out from the challengers' end was Sir Richard Cornwall, a very powerful, strong knight in magnificent armour. His appearance was greeted with a hum of applause."Now, that's what I call a hardy knight, and something like a man. None of your little jackanapes of Frenchmen and raw youth. Look at his bone--look at his breadth of chest. 'Tis a pity he's an overrun.""But 'tis a strong man he's got against him. 'Tis Master Meaux o' Kingston.""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.[image]HOW THEY TILTED AT CARISBROOKE.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.""Well then I shall have to ask Master Tom o' Kingston. How fine he do look, to be sure, in his armour.""Oh, I'll go, Mistress Bremeskete, with right good will, too, if it's to pleasure you; but what shall I say?""Tell him a little maid in the crowd is wishful to speak with him.""Well, but I don't know as how that'll do much good. There's a good many wenches i' the crowd as 'ud like to speak with so fine a gallant as Master Lisle; but I'll try, if it's to please you, Mistress Bremeskete."So saying, with much difficulty Master Paxhulle forced his way down to the other end of the lists, and requested one of the yeoman on guard to tell Master Lisle's varlet that a young wench in the crowd was making earnest signs to him."Tell him," added Master Paxhulle, "she's holding up a little glove, and waving it at him."Humphrey was soon after seen speaking to Ralph, who instantly remembered the note and the enclosure he had received."Give me that glove I gave you to mind for me, Humphrey," said Ralph.When he had taken it from his varlet, he looked in the direction where the little girl was, and waved the tiny glove in answer; then he bent down his head so that his esquire could place it in his helmet. This done, he sat erect, awaiting the order to charge. It was not long in coming."Are you ready?" Down came the spears. "Are you ready?Laissez aller." And away the two steel-clad figures sped to meet in the rude shock of the tilt."That knight don't mean to get unhorsed yet awhile," said Tom o' Kingston, who had been watching him narrowly."No, nor he don't mean to do Master Lisle any harm. Look how wide he rode, and how lightly he smote him," said Humphrey.Bowerman was in a furious passion."What do they all mean by letting that upstart have it all his own way? Why, that 'Rusty one' could knock him all to bits an he liked. What is it that lets him from doing it? It is a vile plot to win favour."But he had no one to listen to him now, for Newenhall, disgusted at his treatment, had moved away.Ralph rode his three courses manfully with the unknown knight. However hard he strove to unseat his antagonist, it was quite clear that "the Rusty one," as the mob called him, did not mean to tilt in earnest with Ralph. This evident partiality for the young favourite of the crowd evoked a feeling of sympathy for the unknown knight."If he's rusty, I can see he's trusty," said Master Paxhulle, attempting a feeble joke."An they didn't make your outside very bright, you've got a good heart inside, I can see," said Mistress Bremeskete approvingly.Fortune seemed now to smile on the assailants, for in the next course Sir Alain de Kervignac was unhorsed by the superior weight and freshness of Master Meaux. His fall was greeted by loud shouts of applause, mingled with consoling remarks, such as "There's no shame to you, Master Breton, you've done right manfully; a horse and man can't go on for ever. Never did knight do better than you've done." To all which, Sir Alain, who had mounted his horse again, bowed his acknowledgments.Master Meaux and Ralph Lisle were now left to tilt against the new comer."Let Master Meaux tackle him," shouted the crowd. "You've done enough, Master Lisle."After a little consultation, it was agreed that the unknown knight should encounter Master Meaux. The interest again became very intense."'Twill be a tough bout this time, but I'd lay odds on Master Meaux.""I dunno, Master Tom, 'tis a big 'oss the other rides, and he's a good lance. Ah! he's off. Body o' me, what a crash!"There was a universal shout from the spectators, of amazement and disappointment."The Rusty Knight," as he was ignominiously called, had entirely changed his tactics, riding closely along the barrier, and urging his large horse to its utmost speed. With helm well down behind his shield, and his body bent forward, he struck Master Meaux a fierce blow with his powerful lance; there was no resisting the vigour of that thrust, and the weight of horse and man propelling it. The blow was aimed at the right shoulder, and blunt as the spear-point was, it broke through the steel pauldron, or shoulder-piece, and, driving in the gusset of chain mail, inflicted a severe wound, carrying the unfortunate Master Meaux over the saddle backwards.The success was as complete as it was unexpected. No one, not even the most experienced knight there, had any idea that the new comer would have displayed such skill and enormous strength. For to unhorse a man-at-arms of the weight and address of Master Meaux, required a very great exercise of both qualities. There now only remained one survivor on each side. There could be no doubt of the issue, after such an exhibition of power."'Tis the best lance I have seen," said Sir John Trenchard."Ay, he's a stout lance, but I have seen a better," said the Captain of the Wight, smiling; "but let us see what he will do now."To the astonishment of everyone, the unknown knight rode the next three courses exactly as he had previously done in his last encounter with Ralph, only in the last round he carried off the little glove on the point of his lance, which fluttered in Ralph's helmet.As this closed the day's proceedings, the knights who had taken part in the tilting had now to ride round the lists, with their faces uncovered, that all might see who had done bravely. There was great curiosity to see the face of the unknown knight, but he, after having spoken a few words to the Marshal of the Lists, who communicated with Lord Woodville, did not open his visor, to the great disappointment of the crowd."Certes, 'tis like Sir Launcelot, or Sir Tristram, when they came among press of knights disguised," said Yolande; "I marvel who he is! Do you know, Lord Captain?""'Tis a custom the laws of the tourney allow," said the Lord Woodville, "so long as the Herald and the Judges know; but they are bound to secrecy."This was a very evasive answer, but it was the only one Yolande was likely to get.As the competitors rode round the lists--such of them, that is, as could appear--there were loud shouts of applause for the two Breton knights, Master Meaux, and, above all, for Ralph Lisle.The strange knight would have received applause, had not his refusal to comply with the usual custom created a feeling of resentment in the crowd."I don't know but that he bean't as crusty as he is rusty," said Master Paxhulle."Maybe his face isn't that pleasant that we'd be any the better for seeing it," said Mistress Bremeskete, with a toss of the head.As Ralph Lisle passed the place where the little girl was standing smiling at him with a happy smile, he looked at her, curious to discover who she could be, and was startled at seeing in her the same poor beggar maid whose old father he had befriended at Thruxton, when he met them as he was flying his gerfalcon for the first time.She was holding up the other tiny glove, the fellow to the one he had worn in his helmet, and which he did not know he had lost."I am so glad," said the little girl, as he rode past.
CHAPTER XIII.
OF THE SHARPENING OF THE COCKEREL'S SPURS.
And now the morning of the Feast of St Michael had come. All the preparations were complete, and the lists were ready decked. The green sward between the stout palings, gaily painted and bedizened with flags, was divided in the middle by a barrier, which was covered with a gorgeous hanging, and parted the lists lengthways into two equal divisions.
As Dicky Cheke and Ralph Lisle strolled round in the early morning--for there was no drill that day, and all ordinary exercises were suspended--they were delighted at the handsome appearance of the preparations. The covered gallery or grand-stands for the ladies; the numberless poles, gilded and painted, from which gay shields of arms were hung, and still gayer banners and banderoles fluttered; the lavish adornment and laborious preparations, struck them with astonishment, although they had seen the work going on for some days past.
"In sooth, Dicky, there's been great charges here. Who pays the cost?"
"Why the Captain, certes, though the Bretons pay some of it; but 'tis rarely done, i' faith. Thou'rt a lucky wight, Ralph, but thou wilt get a fall to-day, for 'tis not 'gainst 'Pig's Eyes' or Bowerman thou wilt ride, so make up thy mind to comfort thy broken bones."
"Ay, marry will I," said Ralph, laughing. "But I trust to do my devoir without disgrace. But 'twas a sad mischance Black Tom went lame," added the boy, changing his merry tone to a sad one. "He wasthehorse of all others for a tilt. Such depth of chest, such limbs and wind! Beshrew me if I can think how he could have gone lame like that, and only yesterday too. 'Twas a rare mischance," and Ralph looked very downcast.
With the money, or rather the order which the Abbot of Quarr had given to pay for all things needful to the merchant, Master Langstoke, Ralph had bought two very serviceable horses, one a great bargain. He had been guided in his choice by Humphrey, who was a likely man at buying cattle. This horse had belonged to an esquire who had been killed at the battle of Stoke, and was thoroughly broken to all the work of the tilt-yard and the battlefield. Ralph had been delighted at getting such an animal, and the congratulations he received upon it. Many old hands had told him that a good horse was more than half the battle, and all who saw Black Tom were loud in their praises of his good points.
"Ye see, Master Lisle, 'tis this way," remarked Lord Woodville's head varlet or groom. "A 'oss that's too quiet be't no good, nor a 'oss that's all fire. What you wants is a animal that's used to the work, and this 'un be, for I knows 'un."
The horse was perfectly sound the night before last. Ralph had ridden him that afternoon at a little quiet practice at the quintain first, and then at a light tilt with Tom o' Kingston, and nothing could have been better. But the next morning Humphrey came early with a very long face to say that he didn't "like the looks o' Black Tom at all, he were so tender on his near fore leg, and the pastern were all swollen like and hot."
This was bad news. All the authorities of the castle were consulted, and a careful examination of the tender hoof was made, with the result that it was found that a sharp nail had penetrated the hoof, causing severe inflammation. It was impossible that the poor animal could be ridden for some weeks, perhaps for some months.
But how had it happened? There was the mystery; and several old hands shook their heads, and did not hesitate to say that there had been foul play. Ralph's disappointment was intense, and Maurice Woodville and Dicky Cheke were profuse in their expressions of sympathy. Every one in the castle felt for Ralph's mishap, for he was now a universal favourite, his modesty, good nature, and brave bearing having endeared him to every one; and he was also well known and liked in the town of Newport, so that the news of the strange accident had spread round the neighbourhood in very little time.
The days before the tournament had been spent in perpetual practice at the quintain, and tilting against each other in half armour and with very light lances, made so slight as to break with but little force. In this way the boys had become excellent hands at aiming their spears to the best advantage, and in becoming used to the shock of the blow, so as to grow accustomed to the knack of holding on to the saddle with their knees at the exact moment without losing their nerve. In these encounters Dicky Cheke and Maurice Woodville were very fairly matched, and such falls as they had were pretty evenly balanced, although Dicky, if he got the worst of it, invariably had some excellent reason for his mishap, and was voluble in his explanations, while Maurice took it quietly, and was even a little disconcerted by his misfortune.
Bowerman had nearly recovered, and was to be allowed to take part in the forthcoming tourney, but he was not allowed to practise at the tilting with the others, for fear of opening his wound again by any mischance. He had therefore practised at the quintain, and other exercises that taught him to aim and strike, without, however, receiving a blow in return.
Willie Newenhall had thus been left to tilt always with Ralph Lisle, and although the latter, when he had knocked his antagonist off once or twice, refrained, out of pure good nature, from putting forth all his strength and dexterity, yet "Pig's Eyes" was very wrath and sore at being so manifestly inferior to one so much younger than himself.
More than ever the five pages were divided into sides. Newenhall and Bowerman scarcely ever spoke to the other three, and never lost a chance of getting them into trouble if they could, or of making them do work which was unpleasant to themselves.
Ralph was very good-natured, and would have done anything for Bowerman, in spite of his violent language and the manifest hatred the latter bore him. But Dicky Cheke resented their treatment, and took every opportunity of annoying or crossing the others. He and Woodville were frequently the victors in this sparring of rival wits; and if only they could get "Pig's Eyes" alone, he had a very uncomfortable time of it.
Ralph had provided for the approaching pageant with considerable wisdom, in spite of Dicky Cheke's mistrust of his powers. He had been able to buy, besides the two horses, a very fine suit of tilting armour, and two splendid tunics, and close-fitting hose, with a fur mantle of the latest fashion. The tunics were slashed, and one was made of large stripes of orange tawny satin and delicate grey, with rich ruby velvet, and slashed at the shoulders, elbows, and across the chest, while the hose were also made in large stripes, but of white and pale lemon-coloured satin; rich Cordovan leathern slippers of crimson colour protecting and adorning his feet. This suit was for wearing after the tournament the first day. The other suit was equally magnificent; for those who took part in the tilt were dispensed from wearing the livery of the Captain of the Wight for that day.
He had received by an unknown hand, a tiny silk glove, and a little scrap of paper, on which was written in a very scrawling hand,--
"An ye ware thys, ye last course ynne,Ye shall eke lyfe and honour winne."
"An ye ware thys, ye last course ynne,Ye shall eke lyfe and honour winne."
"An ye ware thys, ye last course ynne,
Ye shall eke lyfe and honour winne."
This was brought him by Humphrey, wrapped up in a little packet. It had been left for Ralph by a man who was unknown at the castle, but was believed to live at the back of the island, and to be a fisherman. He had been loitering about for some days past, and had latterly been accompanied by another man, who was also believed to be a fisherman, and who used to live at Wodyton, some years back. Ralph had been surprised at the enclosure, and still more so at the legend, and had secretly determined he would put the glove in his helmet before the last course, and see what would come of it. He had not yet received any favour from his cousin, and felt very moody and disconsolate in consequence.
As the boys were walking round admiring the arrangements, the light of the early sun falling on the eastern walls, towers, and battlements of the grand old castle, while the blue mist still hung over the valley, hiding the town of Carisbrooke, out of which the fine tower of the Priory church or chapel stood up like a tall rock in some grey lone sea, a varlet came out of the postern gate and called to Ralph Lisle to come into the castle-yard, where he was wanted immediately.
Ralph and Dicky Cheke followed hastily, and as they turned the corner by the well-house they saw, standing in the full light of the sun, a splendid horse, held by a groom in the livery and wearing the badge of the Lord of Briddlesford, Sir William de Lisle.
As Ralph drew near, the man held up a note, saying to Ralph, to whom he was well known,--
"My young mistress, the Lady Yolande, sends you this, with my lord's leave. 'Tis a well-trained horse, if ever there was one, and hath borne one in tilt and tourney, whom I'd like well enough to see here again. But as that mayn't be, and you bear the name of Lisle, you are to ride him; he's yours for the day--and maybe for ever."
Ralph was utterly surprised. He took the note mechanically, opened it, and read it. It was from Yolande, and said that as she could not give Ralph her favour, which he would see worn elsewhere, she had sent him the best thing she could for him to win it. She deeply deplored the accident to Black Tom, and hoped White Will would make up in some slight way for the disappointment he had suffered. The horse had belonged to her half-brother, and was well used to his work. "Therefore," she added, "ride boldly, as I know you will, and fear not to press the horse, for 'tis your own Good luck--your loving cousin--YOLANDE."
Ralph's joy was boundless. He instantly vaulted on to the noble animal, and rode him round the yard, to the admiration of every one, excepting Bowerman and Newenhall, the former of whom looked on with scowling brow and sneering mouth; the latter in blank stolidity.
"I sha'n't be able to do for him to-day," muttered Bowerman; "but to-morrow, in the fight with axes and hand-strokes, I can do somewhat."
"But you are not allowed to take part in it, Bowerman," said Willie.
"Gammon! I'll do it somehow, trust me," answered Bowerman fiercely.
While the pages were having their breakfast, they talked of nothing but the tournament, and who were coming.
Bowerman and Newenhall, from their superior age and knowledge of the island, as well as from having seen a tournament before at London, when Lord Woodville had been one of the challengers, were able to lay down the law upon all points connected with the tilt; and Dicky Cheke, who prided himself on his great acquirements, was rather quenched.
"And the two Bretons will have two other knights to join them," Bowerman was saying. "There's Sir Richard Cornwall, a very valiant knight, and much skilled in tilts and jousts; but who the other is no one knows, but I have a good guess--leastways, he is sure to be brave, and well skilled in warlike feats."
"Well, then," said Dicky Cheke, "let's see who there is for us. There's my brother, he'll be a good one; then there's Sir John Keineys, he who married old Hackett's daughter, of Knighton Gorges."
"What do you know of Knighton Gorges?" broke in Bowerman. "You hold your tongue, and listen to your betters. There's Keineys, and John Meaux, and John Leigh of Landgard, Tichborne from Lemerston, young Trenchard from Shalfleet, old Jack-in-Harness's nephew, Will Bruyn from Affeton, and Dick Oglander. They are all fair enough, but I wish they were better trained. They've all got rusty since these peaceful times have come."
"You've forgotten Dineley of Woolverton; and I hear old Bremshot of Gatecombe has sent over to young Dudley, who married his daughter; and there's--"
"Oh, you have done!" broke in Bowerman angrily. "You're always talking, and get hold of the wrong end of the story, and--"
"He doesn't," said Maurice; "and he knows as much of the island as you do, and more, too--"
"Ay, marry, do I! And what's more, before ever your beggarly family came here, the Chekes of Mottestone were lords of Mottestone for more than a hundred years--"
A blow from Bowerman was the rejoinder to this remark, which Dicky foresaw, and avoided by ducking under the table, while Maurice and Ralph interposed to prevent any further quarrelling.
"And when do we ride our courses, Bowerman?" said Ralph, always ready to receive information, and totally devoid of all personal vanity.
"Oh, you'll know soon enough; leastways, yours'll come after mine, and then you'll find out."
It was now but an hour and a half before the tilt would begin. The two boys who were to act as pages to Lord Woodville hastened to dress, and attend upon him. It appeared he was not going to tilt, but would act as judge and umpire with Sir John Trenchard and Sir Nicholas Wadham.[*]
[*] Afterwards Captain of the Isle of Wight under Henry VII. and Henry VIII.
The three pages who were going to take part in the tilt went to get ready also, and were carefully instructed in their duties by Tom o' Kingston.
The space around the lists was becoming crowded. There was no more popular amusement than a tourney, and as the arrangements were very costly, they did not very often occur in the provinces. But in a garrison like that of Carisbroke Castle, there was always to be found some one who would share in the expense, and earn popularity and experience at the same time.
There was a greater amount of interest than usual on this occasion, because there was something international in the contest, and it was known that several of the island gentry were going to take part in it.
Punctually at a quarter to eleven the sergeant-at-arms and a body of men-at-arms drew up in front of the apartments of the Captain of the Wight. Another company of mounted archers followed, and drew up on their left. Then came four trumpeters, splendidly attired in tabards, blazoned with Lord Woodville's coat-of-arms, and another body of mounted archers followed, succeeded by a squadron of men-at-arms, who all formed to the left of the first detachment. The three knights-challengers now came out of the dining-hall, armedcap-à-pié, and looking splendid in their gleaming tilting armour. Each knight was distinguished by his shield-of-arms, slung round his neck, and hanging over his left shoulder, and his crest proudly surmounting his tilting helm. Their esquires were waiting outside, and their varlets were leading their horses, armed with complete body armour, and gorgeously caparisoned, up and down. The fourth knight had not yet appeared.
As each knight mounted, there was a flourish of trumpets from the four trumpeters; and as he settled himself in the saddle, and took the heavy tilting-lance, richly painted and gilded, into his mailed hand, the war-horse reared and pranced, and shook its crested head, as if proud of the noble sport awaiting it.
When the three knights were on horseback, they drew up in front of the trumpeters, attended by their esquires and varlets on foot, all splendidly attired.
The Captain of the Wight had invited the chief families of the island, and the most important of the official world, represented by the Bailiffs of the three boroughs of Newport, Newtown or Frencheville, and Yarmouth, and the Bailiffs of the various ecclesiastical bodies who held land in the island--such as the Priory of Christchurch, the Monastery of Whoreley, and of Winchester College--but the Abbot of Quarr took precedence over all the other ecclesiastics who had been invited, although scarcely any came. In fact, the Abbot ranked next to the Captain of the Wight in insular precedence.
Among the ladies who looked down from the oriel window of the Captain's apartments, the lovely face of Yolande de Lisle could be seen, and the faces of several other well-known Isle of Wight ladies.
But as soon as the knights-challengers were mounted, there was a general scramble of the guests to get good places in the stand erected for their benefit. Yolande, however, had been asked by the knights-challengers to give away the prizes, and act as queen of the tourney, she therefore stayed to be escorted in state with the Captain of the Wight, who was to conduct her to her throne.
And now it was the turn of the Lord Woodville and the judges of the jousts to take up their position in the pageant. Preceded by two gorgeously-dressed yeomen of his household, carrying silver-gilt halberds, the Captain of the Wight took the hand of Yolande, and led her to the hall, followed by her two maids-of-honour, who also belonged to leading island families, and were chosen by Mistress Lisle--one was a niece of Sir John Trenchard, the other a daughter of Master Keineys, of Yaverland. Sir John Trenchard and Sir Nicholas Wadham followed, with Dicky Cheke and Maurice Woodville in immediate attendance on the Lord Woodville.
The appearance of the Captain of the Wight and the Queen of the Tournament was greeted by a prolonged flourish. Their horses were in waiting. Lord Woodville placed Yolande on her palfrey, and then mounted himself, his nephew holding his stirrup for him.
When all were mounted, the trumpets gave another flourish. The squadron wheeled to the right. The two leading detachments marched towards the great west gateway, the trumpeters followed, then the three knights-challengers fell in, with their varlets and esquires, succeeded by the Captain of the Wight, riding beside Yolande, attended by the other Judges and their escort, and then the remaining two squadrons of archers and men-at-arms closed in the procession.
The cavalcade rode round over the drawbridge and under the north walls of the castle to the rising ground which led up to the place of arms, not yet closed in, or forming part of the castle, as it subsequently did in Elizabeth's reign.
As they approached the lists, they were greeted with loud shouts from the people, who had now assembled in crowds.
Mounted archers kept the ground, and yeomen in liveries, and armed with partisans, surrounded the lists.
All those who were seated in the pavilion rose as Lord Woodville approached. Lifting Yolande off her horse, he handed her to her throne, which was proclaimed by three prolonged blasts of the trumpets. The Captain of the Wight then took his own seat, after bowing to the assembled gentry and people.
The knights-challengers had meanwhile ridden slowly into the lists, and after pacing round them, had halted at the further end, having previously saluted the Captain of the Wight, the Queen of the day, and the Judges.
All was now ready. But another ceremony--for it was an age which dearly loved ceremonies--had to be gone through.
First of all the herald belonging to the household of Lord Woodville entered the lists and read out in a loud voice the licence for holding the tournament; then he read over the names of three of the knights-challengers, simply describing the fourth knight "as a right hardie and worshipful knight." After which he proclaimed the rules of the jousts. The most important of which were, that whoever was unhorsed or disarmed was to be considered vanquished, and that no one, by deed, word, or sign, was to interfere with the jousts.
Meanwhile the knights and esquires who were to encounter the knights-challengers had collected at the other end of the lists, and after riding round and saluting their antagonists, and the Judges, had taken up their position outside the lists, at the opposite end to that of their opponents.
CHAPTER XIV.
HOW THE COCKEREL USED HIS SPURS.
As the tilt which was now about to take place was merely a friendly display of knightly prowess, and "for the honour of ladies and their delectation," the knights were to encounter with blunted lances and swords. The Marshal of the Lists having examined the arms, all who were in the enclosure were ordered out, and the knights only awaited the signal to begin.
Each knight was to ride three courses separately with his antagonist, and then three courses again afterwards.
There was now a lull in the busy hum of conversation that had been going on in the large crowd. Every one was on tip-toe of expectation to see the two knights who were first to encounter.
There they sat erect, a little in front of their comrades, their lances upright, the steel-clad figures stiff and immovable on their gorgeously-trapped horses. Not a movement could be seen in one or the other, only their pennons flickered in the light air, and the lambrequin or slashed cloth mantling of their helmets blew out from time to time.
As the names of the knights and esquires who were going to take part in the tilting had been affixed in the market-place of Newport, as well as on the gate of Carisbrooke Castle, for some days past, together with their coats-of-arms, the people all knew who was who.
"That's the sturdy Breton knight at that end, him in the white tabard, with the gold dragon on his breast," said a stout yeoman, who was one of a group of several men round a fair and buxom dame, whom Tom o' Kingston, being on duty, could only ogle from under his visor, and who was no other than the irresistible Polly Bremskete.
"And who's that at the other end; he looks a tough wight?"
"What, him in the gold coat and a green lion with a forked tail? That's young Sir John Dudley, him as married Mistress Bremshott up to Gatcombe."
"Marry! now who'd have thought such a small man would have looked so big. 'Tis the armour surely--how it do swell them out."
"Hush! they're going to begin."
The trumpets gave a flourish. The Marshal, after a pause, called out in a loud voice,--
"Laissez aller!"
At the first sound of the trumpet the two knights had brought their lances to the rest with a simultaneous and graceful sweep, causing the gay pennons to flash in the sun, they then remained motionless as before.
At the last word, they clapped spurs to their horses and rode straight for each other, bending their heads low down, leaning well forward, and covering themselves with their shields.
"Lord! what a crack!" cried Mistress Bremskete, in admiration.
"He's off! he's off!"
"No, that he bean't."
"He was parlous nigh anyway! I lay a yard o' broadcloth he'll be off next bout. But 'twas well done, leastways: that's what I will say."
The two knights had met with a violent splintering of spears in the midst of the lists. The Breton seemed never to feel the shock at all, for he rode on, tossing away the broken handle of his lance, after waving it aloft in the air. But the English knight reeled in his saddle; only he recovered himself directly, and rode up to the other end of the lists, where he turned, reined in his horse, and waited for his esquire to bring him another lance.
The trumpet sounded. The herald shouted,--"Well done, noble knights; remember the brave deeds of your ancestors. The ladies' eyes are upon you."
When the knights had received new lances, they once more awaited the signal. It soon came, and again the gleaming figures met in the rude shock. This time Sir John Dudley's lance struck the helmet of his opponent, and carried away the crest and part of the lambrequin, while the Breton knight's lance glanced off the ridged breast-plate, and, passing under the arm, the guard struck full against the cuirass of Sir John Dudley, and the two knights were both nearly unseated. Had they not been practised riders, and reined in their horses at the same moment, they must have fallen. As it was, they remained locked together for a moment, and so stood until the herald called out,--"Enough! 'tis well done; unloose."
They then disengaged, and rode back to their own end of the lists, amid the shouts of applause of the populace, and the music of the trumpeters.
"They are right skilful knights! I don't know as I ever saw better," said Tom o' Kingston to Humphrey, who stood near him holding a spare lance for his young master. "But there they go again. Holy Thomas! but he's off; good lack, I am parlous grieved. I would it had been the other."
A groan and shout of applause mingled together, while a dull thud and clang of metal falling, announced that one of the knights had been thrown.
"Marry, I am sorry 'tis poor young Sir John; and there's his wife looking on now! Well, 'tis a pity, to be sure," said Mistress Bremskete.
"Ay, but she takes it mighty comfortable anyway. See how she's laughing with the Lord Abbot of Quarr there."
"Well then she hadn't ought, that's what I say, Look! they're picking of him up. Alack, poor man, how he do bleed! 'Tis from the mouth, seemingly. Well-a-day! well-a-day! but 'twas a rude knock."
And so amid the plaudits of the crowd and the clarion blasts of the trumpets, the Breton knight returned to his end of the list, and took his station next the last of the challengers, receiving their congratulations as he rode up, while his luckless antagonist was helped out of the lists, to be attended to in the tent set aside for the reception of those wounded in the tilt.
The next knight who rode out from the challengers' end was Sir Amand de la Roche Guemené. As he took up his place, he turned towards Yolande and bowed low to his saddle-bow.
"Why, he's wearing the same colours she's got on! Well, to be sure, that's a merry jest! Can't she find among all our island gentry one to her taste, but she must go giving away her favours to them jackanapes Frenchmen? But 'tis ever the way with your high-born wenches; they always goes after what's strange, never mind how ugly it be, if only it be something new. It all comes of so many running after them."
"Then, Mistress Bremskete, you ought to like those Breton gents, seeing the many suitors you have," said the ready yeoman by her side, with a knowing leer, giving his buxom companion a nudge with his elbow.
"Go along with ye, Master Paxhulle! you're always fooling us poor wenches with your soft tongue."
"I'll have to trounce that Paxhulle, I see," said Tom o' Kingston savagely, to Humphrey, upon whom the merry glance of Mistress Bremskete, and the leer of her companion, were in no way lost.
"I say, that's Sir John's nephew there. I do hope he'll do well! 'Tis a nice youth; but they're all too young, to my mind. These Breton knights have been well tried in many tilts, and are tough and skilled. But there they go! Good luck go with him--ah!--'Twas well done! He's a brave youth."
After splintering their lances without any further damage, the two cavaliers cantered on to the end of the lists, wheeled round and faced each other, taking the fresh lances handed them by their esquires.
Whether it were that young Trenchard really bore himself with greater skill and address, or that his antagonist, out of knightly courtesy to the trusty friend of his host, the Captain of the Wight, forebore to use all his skill and strength, it happened that the three courses were ridden without any mishap beyond a plentiful splintering of lancewood, and a rending of knightly finery.
Sir John Trenchard was evidently pleased, and accepted the congratulations of Lord Woodville and Mistress Lisle with but half-dissembled satisfaction.
"'Tis a good lad, and will do well," he said, "an the ladies spoil him not; for he is comely, and of fair manners."
The next knight to ride out from the challengers' end was Sir Richard Cornwall, a very powerful, strong knight in magnificent armour. His appearance was greeted with a hum of applause.
"Now, that's what I call a hardy knight, and something like a man. None of your little jackanapes of Frenchmen and raw youth. Look at his bone--look at his breadth of chest. 'Tis a pity he's an overrun."
"But 'tis a strong man he's got against him. 'Tis Master Meaux o' Kingston."
"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.
[image]HOW THEY TILTED AT CARISBROOKE.
[image]
[image]
HOW THEY TILTED AT CARISBROOKE.
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."
"Well then I shall have to ask Master Tom o' Kingston. How fine he do look, to be sure, in his armour."
"Oh, I'll go, Mistress Bremeskete, with right good will, too, if it's to pleasure you; but what shall I say?"
"Tell him a little maid in the crowd is wishful to speak with him."
"Well, but I don't know as how that'll do much good. There's a good many wenches i' the crowd as 'ud like to speak with so fine a gallant as Master Lisle; but I'll try, if it's to please you, Mistress Bremeskete."
So saying, with much difficulty Master Paxhulle forced his way down to the other end of the lists, and requested one of the yeoman on guard to tell Master Lisle's varlet that a young wench in the crowd was making earnest signs to him.
"Tell him," added Master Paxhulle, "she's holding up a little glove, and waving it at him."
Humphrey was soon after seen speaking to Ralph, who instantly remembered the note and the enclosure he had received.
"Give me that glove I gave you to mind for me, Humphrey," said Ralph.
When he had taken it from his varlet, he looked in the direction where the little girl was, and waved the tiny glove in answer; then he bent down his head so that his esquire could place it in his helmet. This done, he sat erect, awaiting the order to charge. It was not long in coming.
"Are you ready?" Down came the spears. "Are you ready?Laissez aller." And away the two steel-clad figures sped to meet in the rude shock of the tilt.
"That knight don't mean to get unhorsed yet awhile," said Tom o' Kingston, who had been watching him narrowly.
"No, nor he don't mean to do Master Lisle any harm. Look how wide he rode, and how lightly he smote him," said Humphrey.
Bowerman was in a furious passion.
"What do they all mean by letting that upstart have it all his own way? Why, that 'Rusty one' could knock him all to bits an he liked. What is it that lets him from doing it? It is a vile plot to win favour."
But he had no one to listen to him now, for Newenhall, disgusted at his treatment, had moved away.
Ralph rode his three courses manfully with the unknown knight. However hard he strove to unseat his antagonist, it was quite clear that "the Rusty one," as the mob called him, did not mean to tilt in earnest with Ralph. This evident partiality for the young favourite of the crowd evoked a feeling of sympathy for the unknown knight.
"If he's rusty, I can see he's trusty," said Master Paxhulle, attempting a feeble joke.
"An they didn't make your outside very bright, you've got a good heart inside, I can see," said Mistress Bremeskete approvingly.
Fortune seemed now to smile on the assailants, for in the next course Sir Alain de Kervignac was unhorsed by the superior weight and freshness of Master Meaux. His fall was greeted by loud shouts of applause, mingled with consoling remarks, such as "There's no shame to you, Master Breton, you've done right manfully; a horse and man can't go on for ever. Never did knight do better than you've done." To all which, Sir Alain, who had mounted his horse again, bowed his acknowledgments.
Master Meaux and Ralph Lisle were now left to tilt against the new comer.
"Let Master Meaux tackle him," shouted the crowd. "You've done enough, Master Lisle."
After a little consultation, it was agreed that the unknown knight should encounter Master Meaux. The interest again became very intense.
"'Twill be a tough bout this time, but I'd lay odds on Master Meaux."
"I dunno, Master Tom, 'tis a big 'oss the other rides, and he's a good lance. Ah! he's off. Body o' me, what a crash!"
There was a universal shout from the spectators, of amazement and disappointment.
"The Rusty Knight," as he was ignominiously called, had entirely changed his tactics, riding closely along the barrier, and urging his large horse to its utmost speed. With helm well down behind his shield, and his body bent forward, he struck Master Meaux a fierce blow with his powerful lance; there was no resisting the vigour of that thrust, and the weight of horse and man propelling it. The blow was aimed at the right shoulder, and blunt as the spear-point was, it broke through the steel pauldron, or shoulder-piece, and, driving in the gusset of chain mail, inflicted a severe wound, carrying the unfortunate Master Meaux over the saddle backwards.
The success was as complete as it was unexpected. No one, not even the most experienced knight there, had any idea that the new comer would have displayed such skill and enormous strength. For to unhorse a man-at-arms of the weight and address of Master Meaux, required a very great exercise of both qualities. There now only remained one survivor on each side. There could be no doubt of the issue, after such an exhibition of power.
"'Tis the best lance I have seen," said Sir John Trenchard.
"Ay, he's a stout lance, but I have seen a better," said the Captain of the Wight, smiling; "but let us see what he will do now."
To the astonishment of everyone, the unknown knight rode the next three courses exactly as he had previously done in his last encounter with Ralph, only in the last round he carried off the little glove on the point of his lance, which fluttered in Ralph's helmet.
As this closed the day's proceedings, the knights who had taken part in the tilting had now to ride round the lists, with their faces uncovered, that all might see who had done bravely. There was great curiosity to see the face of the unknown knight, but he, after having spoken a few words to the Marshal of the Lists, who communicated with Lord Woodville, did not open his visor, to the great disappointment of the crowd.
"Certes, 'tis like Sir Launcelot, or Sir Tristram, when they came among press of knights disguised," said Yolande; "I marvel who he is! Do you know, Lord Captain?"
"'Tis a custom the laws of the tourney allow," said the Lord Woodville, "so long as the Herald and the Judges know; but they are bound to secrecy."
This was a very evasive answer, but it was the only one Yolande was likely to get.
As the competitors rode round the lists--such of them, that is, as could appear--there were loud shouts of applause for the two Breton knights, Master Meaux, and, above all, for Ralph Lisle.
The strange knight would have received applause, had not his refusal to comply with the usual custom created a feeling of resentment in the crowd.
"I don't know but that he bean't as crusty as he is rusty," said Master Paxhulle.
"Maybe his face isn't that pleasant that we'd be any the better for seeing it," said Mistress Bremeskete, with a toss of the head.
As Ralph Lisle passed the place where the little girl was standing smiling at him with a happy smile, he looked at her, curious to discover who she could be, and was startled at seeing in her the same poor beggar maid whose old father he had befriended at Thruxton, when he met them as he was flying his gerfalcon for the first time.
She was holding up the other tiny glove, the fellow to the one he had worn in his helmet, and which he did not know he had lost.
"I am so glad," said the little girl, as he rode past.