At this the challenger with fierce defy
His trumpet sounds; the challenged makes reply:
With clangour rings the field, resounds the vaulted sky.
Their visors closed, their lances in the rest,
Or at the helmet pointed or the crest,
They vanish from the barrier, speed the race,
And spurring see decrease the middle space.
Palamon and Arcite
In the midst of Prince John's cavalcade, he suddenly stopt, and
appealing to the Prior of Jorvaulx, declared the principal
business of the day had been forgotten.
"By my halidom," said he, "we have forgotten, Sir Prior, to name
the fair Sovereign of Love and of Beauty, by whose white hand the
palm is to be distributed. For my part, I am liberal in my
ideas, and I care not if I give my vote for the black-eyed
Rebecca."
"Holy Virgin," answered the Prior, turning up his eyes in horror,
"a Jewess!---We should deserve to be stoned out of the lists; and
I am not yet old enough to be a martyr. Besides, I swear by my
patron saint, that she is far inferior to the lovely Saxon,
Rowena."
"Saxon or Jew," answered the Prince, "Saxon or Jew, dog or hog,
what matters it? I say, name Rebecca, were it only to mortify the
Saxon churls."
A murmur arose even among his own immediate attendants.
"This passes a jest, my lord," said De Bracy; "no knight here
will lay lance in rest if such an insult is attempted."
"It is the mere wantonness of insult," said one of the oldest and
most important of Prince John's followers, Waldemar Fitzurse,
"and if your Grace attempt it, cannot but prove ruinous to your
projects."
"I entertained you, sir," said John, reining up his palfrey
haughtily, "for my follower, but not for my counsellor."
"Those who follow your Grace in the paths which you tread," said
Waldemar, but speaking in a low voice, "acquire the right of
counsellors; for your interest and safety are not more deeply
gaged than their own."
From the tone in which this was spoken, John saw the necessity of
acquiescence "I did but jest," he said; "and you turn upon me
like so many adders! Name whom you will, in the fiend's name,
and please yourselves."
"Nay, nay," said De Bracy, "let the fair sovereign's throne
remain unoccupied, until the conqueror shall be named, and then
let him choose the lady by whom it shall be filled. It will add
another grace to his triumph, and teach fair ladies to prize the
love of valiant knights, who can exalt them to such distinction."
"If Brian de Bois-Guilbert gain the prize," said the Prior, "I
will gage my rosary that I name the Sovereign of Love and
Beauty."
"Bois-Guilbert," answered De Bracy, "is a good lance; but there
are others around these lists, Sir Prior, who will not fear to
encounter him."
"Silence, sirs," said Waldemar, "and let the Prince assume his
seat. The knights and spectators are alike impatient, the time
advances, and highly fit it is that the sports should commence."
Prince John, though not yet a monarch, had in Waldemar Fitzurse
all the inconveniences of a favourite minister, who, in serving
his sovereign, must always do so in his own way. The Prince
acquiesced, however, although his disposition was precisely of
that kind which is apt to be obstinate upon trifles, and,
assuming his throne, and being surrounded by his followers, gave
signal to the heralds to proclaim the laws of the tournament,
which were briefly as follows:
First, the five challengers were to undertake all comers.
Secondly, any knight proposing to combat, might, if he pleased,
select a special antagonist from among the challengers, by
touching his shield. If he did so with the reverse of his lance,
the trial of skill was made with what were called the arms of
courtesy, that is, with lances at whose extremity a piece of
round flat board was fixed, so that no danger was encountered,
save from the shock of the horses and riders. But if the shield
was touched with the sharp end of the lance, the combat was
understood to be at "outrance", that is, the knights were to
fight with sharp weapons, as in actual battle.
Thirdly, when the knights present had accomplished their vow, by
each of them breaking five lances, the Prince was to declare the
victor in the first day's tourney, who should receive as prize a
warhorse of exquisite beauty and matchless strength; and in
addition to this reward of valour, it was now declared, he should
have the peculiar honour of naming the Queen of Love and Beauty,
by whom the prize should be given on the ensuing day.
Fourthly, it was announced, that, on the second day, there should
be a general tournament, in which all the knights present, who
were desirous to win praise, might take part; and being divided
into two bands of equal numbers, might fight it out manfully,
until the signal was given by Prince John to cease the combat.
The elected Queen of Love and Beauty was then to crown the knight
whom the Prince should adjudge to have borne himself best in this
second day, with a coronet composed of thin gold plate, cut into
the shape of a laurel crown. On this second day the knightly
games ceased. But on that which was to follow, feats of archery,
of bull-baiting, and other popular amusements, were to be
practised, for the more immediate amusement of the populace. In
this manner did Prince John endeavour to lay the foundation of a
popularity, which he was perpetually throwing down by some
inconsiderate act of wanton aggression upon the feelings and
prejudices of the people.
The lists now presented a most splendid spectacle. The sloping
galleries were crowded with all that was noble, great, wealthy,
and beautiful in the northern and midland parts of England; and
the contrast of the various dresses of these dignified
spectators, rendered the view as gay as it was rich, while the
interior and lower space, filled with the substantial burgesses
and yeomen of merry England, formed, in their more plain attire,
a dark fringe, or border, around this circle of brilliant
embroidery, relieving, and, at the same time, setting off its
splendour.
The heralds finished their proclamation with their usual cry of
"Largesse, largesse, gallant knights!" and gold and silver pieces
were showered on them from the galleries, it being a high point
of chivalry to exhibit liberality towards those whom the age
accounted at once the secretaries and the historians of honour.
The bounty of the spectators was acknowledged by the customary
shouts of "Love of Ladies---Death of Champions---Honour to the
Generous---Glory to the Brave!" To which the more humble
spectators added their acclamations, and a numerous band of
trumpeters the flourish of their martial instruments. When these
sounds had ceased, the heralds withdrew from the lists in gay and
glittering procession, and none remained within them save the
marshals of the field, who, armed cap-a-pie, sat on horseback,
motionless as statues, at the opposite ends of the lists.
Meantime, the enclosed space at the northern extremity of the
lists, large as it was, was now completely crowded with knights
desirous to prove their skill against the challengers, and, when
viewed from the galleries, presented the appearance of a sea of
waving plumage, intermixed with glistening helmets, and tall
lances, to the extremities of which were, in many cases, attached
small pennons of about a span's breadth, which, fluttering in the
air as the breeze caught them, joined with the restless motion of
the feathers to add liveliness to the scene.
At length the barriers were opened, and five knights, chosen by
lot, advanced slowly into the area; a single champion riding in
front, and the other four following in pairs. All were
splendidly armed, and my Saxon authority (in the Wardour
Manuscript) records at great length their devices, their colours,
and the embroidery of their horse trappings. It is unnecessary
to be particular on these subjects. To borrow lines from a
contemporary poet, who has written but too little:
"The knights are dust,
And their good swords are rust,
Their souls are with the saints, we trust."*
* These lines are part of an unpublished poem, by Coleridge,
whose Muse so often tantalizes with fragments which
indicate her powers, while the manner in which she flings
them from her betrays her caprice, yet whose unfinished
sketches display more talent than the laboured
masterpieces of others.
Their escutcheons have long mouldered from the walls of their
castles. Their castles themselves are but green mounds and
shattered ruins---the place that once knew them, knows them no
more---nay, many a race since theirs has died out and been
forgotten in the very land which they occupied, with all the
authority of feudal proprietors and feudal lords. What, then,
would it avail the reader to know their names, or the evanescent
symbols of their martial rank!
Now, however, no whit anticipating the oblivion which awaited
their names and feats, the champions advanced through the lists,
restraining their fiery steeds, and compelling them to move
slowly, while, at the same time, they exhibited their paces,
together with the grace and dexterity of the riders. As the
procession entered the lists, the sound of a wild Barbaric music
was heard from behind the tents of the challengers, where the
performers were concealed. It was of Eastern origin, having been
brought from the Holy Land; and the mixture of the cymbals and
bells seemed to bid welcome at once, and defiance, to the knights
as they advanced. With the eyes of an immense concourse of
spectators fixed upon them, the five knights advanced up the
platform upon which the tents of the challengers stood, and there
separating themselves, each touched slightly, and with the
reverse of his lance, the shield of the antagonist to whom he
wished to oppose himself. The lower orders of spectators in
general---nay, many of the higher class, and it is even said
several of the ladies, were rather disappointed at the champions
choosing the arms of courtesy. For the same sort of persons,
who, in the present day, applaud most highly the deepest
tragedies, were then interested in a tournament exactly in
proportion to the danger incurred by the champions engaged.
Having intimated their more pacific purpose, the champions
retreated to the extremity of the lists, where they remained
drawn up in a line; while the challengers, sallying each from
his pavilion, mounted their horses, and, headed by Brian de
Bois-Guilbert, descended from the platform, and opposed
themselves individually to the knights who had touched their
respective shields.
At the flourish of clarions and trumpets, they started out
against each other at full gallop; and such was the superior
dexterity or good fortune of the challengers, that those opposed
to Bois-Guilbert, Malvoisin, and Front-de-Boeuf, rolled on the
ground. The antagonist of Grantmesnil, instead of bearing his
lance-point fair against the crest or the shield of his enemy,
swerved so much from the direct line as to break the weapon
athwart the person of his opponent---a circumstance which was
accounted more disgraceful than that of being actually unhorsed;
because the latter might happen from accident, whereas the former
evinced awkwardness and want of management of the weapon and of
the horse. The fifth knight alone maintained the honour of his
party, and parted fairly with the Knight of St John, both
splintering their lances without advantage on either side.
The shouts of the multitude, together with the acclamations of
the heralds, and the clangour of the trumpets, announced the
triumph of the victors and the defeat of the vanquished. The
former retreated to their pavilions, and the latter, gathering
themselves up as they could, withdrew from the lists in disgrace
and dejection, to agree with their victors concerning the
redemption of their arms and their horses, which, according to
the laws of the tournament, they had forfeited. The fifth of
their number alone tarried in the lists long enough to be greeted
by the applauses of the spectators, amongst whom he retreated, to
the aggravation, doubtless, of his companions' mortification.
A second and a third party of knights took the field; and
although they had various success, yet, upon the whole, the
advantage decidedly remained with the challengers, not one of
whom lost his seat or swerved from his charge---misfortunes which
befell one or two of their antagonists in each encounter. The
spirits, therefore, of those opposed to them, seemed to be
considerably damped by their continued success. Three knights
only appeared on the fourth entry, who, avoiding the shields of
Bois-Guilbert and Front-de-Boeuf, contented themselves with
touching those of the three other knights, who had not altogether
manifested the same strength and dexterity. This politic
selection did not alter the fortune of the field, the challengers
were still successful: one of their antagonists was overthrown,
and both the others failed in the "attaint",*
* This term of chivalry, transferred to the law, gives the
phrase of being attainted of treason.
that is, in striking the helmet and shield of their antagonist
firmly and strongly, with the lance held in a direct line, so
that the weapon might break unless the champion was overthrown.
After this fourth encounter, there was a considerable pause; nor
did it appear that any one was very desirous of renewing the
contest. The spectators murmured among themselves; for, among
the challengers, Malvoisin and Front-de-Boeuf were unpopular from
their characters, and the others, except Grantmesnil, were
disliked as strangers and foreigners.
But none shared the general feeling of dissatisfaction so keenly
as Cedric the Saxon, who saw, in each advantage gained by the
Norman challengers, a repeated triumph over the honour of
England. His own education had taught him no skill in the games
of chivalry, although, with the arms of his Saxon ancestors, he
had manifested himself, on many occasions, a brave and determined
soldier. He looked anxiously to Athelstane, who had learned the
accomplishments of the age, as if desiring that he should make
some personal effort to recover the victory which was passing
into the hands of the Templar and his associates. But, though
both stout of heart, and strong of person, Athelstane had a
disposition too inert and unambitious to make the exertions which
Cedric seemed to expect from him.
"The day is against England, my lord," said Cedric, in a marked
tone; "are you not tempted to take the lance?"
"I shall tilt to-morrow" answered Athelstane, "in the 'melee'; it
is not worth while for me to arm myself to-day."
Two things displeased Cedric in this speech. It contained the
Norman word "melee", (to express the general conflict,) and it
evinced some indifference to the honour of the country; but it
was spoken by Athelstane, whom he held in such profound respect,
that he would not trust himself to canvass his motives or his
foibles. Moreover, he had no time to make any remark, for Wamba
thrust in his word, observing, "It was better, though scarce
easier, to be the best man among a hundred, than the best man of
two."
Athelstane took the observation as a serious compliment; but
Cedric, who better understood the Jester's meaning, darted at him
a severe and menacing look; and lucky it was for Wamba, perhaps,
that the time and place prevented his receiving, notwithstanding
his place and service, more sensible marks of his master's
resentment.
The pause in the tournament was still uninterrupted, excepting by
the voices of the heralds exclaiming---"Love of ladies,
splintering of lances! stand forth gallant knights, fair eyes
look upon your deeds!"
The music also of the challengers breathed from time to time wild
bursts expressive of triumph or defiance, while the clowns
grudged a holiday which seemed to pass away in inactivity; and
old knights and nobles lamented in whispers the decay of martial
spirit, spoke of the triumphs of their younger days, but agreed
that the land did not now supply dames of such transcendent
beauty as had animated the jousts of former times. Prince John
began to talk to his attendants about making ready the banquet,
and the necessity of adjudging the prize to Brian de
Bois-Guilbert, who had, with a single spear, overthrown two
knights, and foiled a third.
At length, as the Saracenic music of the challengers concluded
one of those long and high flourishes with which they had broken
the silence of the lists, it was answered by a solitary trumpet,
which breathed a note of defiance from the northern extremity.
All eyes were turned to see the new champion which these sounds
announced, and no sooner were the barriers opened than he paced
into the lists. As far as could be judged of a man sheathed in
armour, the new adventurer did not greatly exceed the middle
size, and seemed to be rather slender than strongly made. His
suit of armour was formed of steel, richly inlaid with gold, and
the device on his shield was a young oak-tree pulled up by the
roots, with the Spanish word Desdichado, signifying Disinherited.
He was mounted on a gallant black horse, and as he passed
through the lists he gracefully saluted the Prince and the ladies
by lowering his lance. The dexterity with which he managed his
steed, and something of youthful grace which he displayed in his
manner, won him the favour of the multitude, which some of the
lower classes expressed by calling out, "Touch Ralph de Vipont's
shield---touch the Hospitallers shield; he has the least sure
seat, he is your cheapest bargain."
The champion, moving onward amid these well-meant hints, ascended
the platform by the sloping alley which led to it from the lists,
and, to the astonishment of all present, riding straight up to
the central pavilion, struck with the sharp end of his spear the
shield of Brian de Bois-Guilbert until it rung again. All stood
astonished at his presumption, but none more than the redoubted
Knight whom he had thus defied to mortal combat, and who, little
expecting so rude a challenge, was standing carelessly at the
door of the pavilion.
"Have you confessed yourself, brother," said the Templar, "and
have you heard mass this morning, that you peril your life so
frankly?"
"I am fitter to meet death than thou art" answered the
Disinherited Knight; for by this name the stranger had recorded
himself in the books of the tourney.
"Then take your place in the lists," said Bois-Guilbert, "and
look your last upon the sun; for this night thou shalt sleep in
paradise."
"Gramercy for thy courtesy," replied the Disinherited Knight,
"and to requite it, I advise thee to take a fresh horse and a new
lance, for by my honour you will need both."
Having expressed himself thus confidently, he reined his horse
backward down the slope which he had ascended, and compelled him
in the same manner to move backward through the lists, till he
reached the northern extremity, where he remained stationary, in
expectation of his antagonist. This feat of horsemanship again
attracted the applause of the multitude.
However incensed at his adversary for the precautions which he
recommended, Brian de Bois-Guilbert did not neglect his advice;
for his honour was too nearly concerned, to permit his neglecting
any means which might ensure victory over his presumptuous
opponent. He changed his horse for a proved and fresh one of
great strength and spirit. He chose a new and a tough spear,
lest the wood of the former might have been strained in the
previous encounters he had sustained. Lastly, he laid aside his
shield, which had received some little damage, and received
another from his squires. His first had only borne the general
device of his rider, representing two knights riding upon one
horse, an emblem expressive of the original humility and poverty
of the Templars, qualities which they had since exchanged for the
arrogance and wealth that finally occasioned their suppression.
Bois-Guilbert's new shield bore a raven in full flight, holding
in its claws a skull, and bearing the motto, "Gare le Corbeau".
When the two champions stood opposed to each other at the two
extremities of the lists, the public expectation was strained to
the highest pitch. Few augured the possibility that the
encounter could terminate well for the Disinherited Knight, yet
his courage and gallantry secured the general good wishes of the
spectators.
The trumpets had no sooner given the signal, than the champions
vanished from their posts with the speed of lightning, and closed
in the centre of the lists with the shock of a thunderbolt. The
lances burst into shivers up to the very grasp, and it seemed at
the moment that both knights had fallen, for the shock had made
each horse recoil backwards upon its haunches. The address of
the riders recovered their steeds by use of the bridle and spur;
and having glared on each other for an instant with eyes which
seemed to flash fire through the bars of their visors, each made
a demi-volte, and, retiring to the extremity of the lists,
received a fresh lance from the attendants.
A loud shout from the spectators, waving of scarfs and
handkerchiefs, and general acclamations, attested the interest
taken by the spectators in this encounter; the most equal, as
well as the best performed, which had graced the day. But no
sooner had the knights resumed their station, than the clamour
of applause was hushed into a silence, so deep and so dead, that
it seemed the multitude were afraid even to breathe.
A few minutes pause having been allowed, that the combatants and
their horses might recover breath, Prince John with his truncheon
signed to the trumpets to sound the onset. The champions a
second time sprung from their stations, and closed in the centre
of the lists, with the same speed, the same dexterity, the same
violence, but not the same equal fortune as before.
In this second encounter, the Templar aimed at the centre of his
antagonist's shield, and struck it so fair and forcibly, that his
spear went to shivers, and the Disinherited Knight reeled in his
saddle. On the other hand, that champion had, in the beginning
of his career, directed the point of his lance towards
Bois-Guilbert's shield, but, changing his aim almost in the
moment of encounter, he addressed it to the helmet, a mark more
difficult to hit, but which, if attained, rendered the shock more
irresistible. Fair and true he hit the Norman on the visor,
where his lance's point kept hold of the bars. Yet, even at this
disadvantage, the Templar sustained his high reputation; and had
not the girths of his saddle burst, he might not have been
unhorsed. As it chanced, however, saddle, horse, and man, rolled
on the ground under a cloud of dust.
To extricate himself from the stirrups and fallen steed, was to
the Templar scarce the work of a moment; and, stung with madness,
both at his disgrace and at the acclamations with which it was
hailed by the spectators, he drew his sword and waved it in
defiance of his conqueror. The Disinherited Knight sprung from
his steed, and also unsheathed his sword. The marshals of the
field, however, spurred their horses between them, and reminded
them, that the laws of the tournament did not, on the present
occasion, permit this species of encounter.
"We shall meet again, I trust," said the Templar, casting a
resentful glance at his antagonist; "and where there are none to
separate us."
"If we do not," said the Disinherited Knight, "the fault shall
not be mine. On foot or horseback, with spear, with axe, or with
sword, I am alike ready to encounter thee."
More and angrier words would have been exchanged, but the
marshals, crossing their lances betwixt them, compelled them to
separate. The Disinherited Knight returned to his first station,
and Bois-Guilbert to his tent, where he remained for the rest of
the day in an agony of despair.
Without alighting from his horse, the conqueror called for a bowl
of wine, and opening the beaver, or lower part of his helmet,
announced that he quaffed it, "To all true English hearts, and to
the confusion of foreign tyrants." He then commanded his trumpet
to sound a defiance to the challengers, and desired a herald to
announce to them, that he should make no election, but was
willing to encounter them in the order in which they pleased to
advance against him.
The gigantic Front-de-Boeuf, armed in sable armour, was the first
who took the field. He bore on a white shield a black bull's
head, half defaced by the numerous encounters which he had
undergone, and bearing the arrogant motto, "Cave, Adsum". Over
this champion the Disinherited Knight obtained a slight but
decisive advantage. Both Knights broke their lances fairly, but
Front-de-Boeuf, who lost a stirrup in the encounter, was adjudged
to have the disadvantage.
In the stranger's third encounter with Sir Philip Malvoisin, he
was equally successful; striking that baron so forcibly on the
casque, that the laces of the helmet broke, and Malvoisin, only
saved from falling by being unhelmeted, was declared vanquished
like his companions.
In his fourth combat with De Grantmesnil, the Disinherited Knight
showed as much courtesy as he had hitherto evinced courage and
dexterity. De Grantmesnil's horse, which was young and violent,
reared and plunged in the course of the career so as to disturb
the rider's aim, and the stranger, declining to take the
advantage which this accident afforded him, raised his lance, and
passing his antagonist without touching him, wheeled his horse
and rode back again to his own end of the lists, offering his
antagonist, by a herald, the chance of a second encounter. This
De Grantmesnil declined, avowing himself vanquished as much by
the courtesy as by the address of his opponent.
Ralph de Vipont summed up the list of the stranger's triumphs,
being hurled to the ground with such force, that the blood gushed
from his nose and his mouth, and he was borne senseless from the
lists.
The acclamations of thousands applauded the unanimous award of
the Prince and marshals, announcing that day's honours to the
Disinherited Knight. |
