The Bordeaux lists were, as has already been explained, situated2 upon the plain near the river upon those great occasions when the tilting-ground in front of the Abbey of St. Andrew's was deemed to be too small to contain the crowd. On the eastern side of this plain the country-side sloped upwards3, thick with vines in summer, but now ridged with the brown bare enclosures. Over the gently rising plain curved the white road which leads inland, usually flecked with travellers, but now with scarce a living form upon it, so completely had the lists drained all the district of its inhabitants. Strange it was to see such a vast concourse of people, and then to look upon that broad, white, empty highway which wound away, bleak4 and deserted5, until it narrowed itself to a bare streak6 against the distant uplands.
Shortly after the contest had begun, any one looking from the lists along this road might have remarked, far away in the extreme distance, two brilliant and sparkling points which glittered and twinkled in the bright shimmer7 of the winter sun. Within an hour these had become clearer and nearer, until they might be seen to come from the reflection from the head-pieces of two horsemen who were riding at the top of their speed in the direction of Bordeaux. Another half-hour had brought them so close that every point of their bearing and equipment could be discerned. The first was a knight8 in full armor, mounted upon a brown horse with a white blaze upon breast and forehead. He was a short man of great breadth of shoulder, with vizor closed, and no blazonry upon his simple white surcoat or plain black shield. The other, who was evidently his squire9 and attendant, was unarmed save for the helmet upon his head, but bore in his right hand a very long and heavy oaken spear which belonged to his master. In his left hand the squire held not only the reins10 of his own horse but those of a great black war-horse, fully11 harnessed, which trotted12 along at his side. Thus the three horses and their two riders rode swiftly to the lists, and it was the blare of the trumpet13 sounded by the squire as his lord rode into the arena14 which had broken in upon the prize-giving and drawn15 away the attention and interest of the spectators.
“Ha, John!” cried the prince, craning his neck, “who is this cavalier, and what is it that he desires?”
“On my word, sire,” replied Chandos, with the utmost surprise upon his face, “it is my opinion that he is a Frenchman.”
“A Frenchman!” repeated Don Pedro. “And how can you tell that, my Lord Chandos, when he has neither coat-armor, crest16, or blazonry?”
“By his armor, sire, which is rounder at elbow and at shoulder than any of Bordeaux or of England. Italian he might be were his bassinet more sloped, but I will swear that those plates were welded betwixt this and Rhine. Here comes his squire, however, and we shall hear what strange fortune hath brought him over the marches.”
As he spoke17 the attendant cantered up the grassy18 enclosure, and pulling up his steed in front of the royal stand, blew a second fanfare19 upon his bugle20. He was a raw-boned, swarthy-cheeked man, with black bristling21 beard and a swaggering bearing.
Having sounded his call, he thrust the bugle into his belt, and, pushing his way betwixt the groups of English and of Gascon knights22, he reined23 up within a spear's length of the royal party.
“I come,” he shouted in a hoarse24, thick voice, with a strong Breton accent, “as squire and herald25 from my master, who is a very valiant26 pursuivant-of-arms, and a liegeman to the great and powerful monarch27, Charles, king of the French. My master has heard that there is jousting28 here, and prospect29 of honorable advancement30, so he has come to ask that some English cavalier will vouchsafe31 for the love of his lady to run a course with sharpened lances with him, or to meet him with sword, mace32, battle-axe, or dagger33. He bade me say, however, that he would fight only with a true Englishman, and not with any mongrel who is neither English nor French, but speaks with the tongue of the one, and fights under the banner of the other.”
“Sir!” cried De Clisson, with a voice of thunder, while his countrymen clapped their hands to their swords. The squire, however, took no notice of their angry faces, but continued with his master's message.
“He is now ready, sire,” he said, “albeit his destrier has travelled many miles this day, and fast, for we were in fear lest we come too late for the jousting.”
“Ye have indeed come too late,” said the prince, “seeing that the prize is about to be awarded; yet I doubt not that one of these gentlemen will run a course for the sake of honor with this cavalier of France.”
“And as to the prize, sire,” quoth Sir Nigel, “I am sure that I speak for all when I say this French knight hath our leave to bear it away with him if he can fairly win it.”
“Bear word of this to your master,” said the prince, “and ask him which of these five Englishmen he would desire to meet. But stay; your master bears no coat-armor, and we have not yet heard his name.”
“My master, sire, is under vow34 to the Virgin35 neither to reveal his name nor to open his vizor until he is back upon French ground once more.”
“Yet what assurance have we,” said the prince, “that this is not some varlet masquerading in his master's harness, or some caitiff knight, the very touch of whose lance might bring infamy36 upon an honorable gentleman?”
“It is not so, sire,” cried the squire earnestly. “There is no man upon earth who would demean himself by breaking a lance with my master.”
“You speak out boldly, squire,” the prince answered; “but unless I have some further assurance of your master's noble birth and gentle name I cannot match the choicest lances of my court against him.”
“You refuse, sire?”
“I do refuse.”
“Then, sire, I was bidden to ask you from my master whether you would consent if Sir John Chandos, upon hearing my master's name, should assure you that he was indeed a man with whom you might yourself cross swords without indignity37.”
“I ask no better,” said the prince.
“Then I must ask, Lord Chandos, that you will step forth. I have your pledge that the name shall remain ever a secret, and that you will neither say nor write one word which might betray it. The name is——” He stooped down from his horse and whispered something into the old knight's ear which made him start with surprise, and stare with much curiosity at the distant Knight, who was sitting his charger at the further end of the arena.
“Is this indeed sooth?” he exclaimed.
“It is, my lord, and I swear it by St. Ives of Brittany.”
“I might have known it,” said Chandos, twisting his moustache, and still looking thoughtfully at the cavalier.
“What then, Sir John?” asked the prince.
“Sire, this is a knight whom it is indeed great honor to meet, and I would that your grace would grant me leave to send my squire for my harness, for I would dearly love to run a course with him.”
“Nay38, nay, Sir John, you have gained as much honor as one man can bear, and it were hard if you could not rest now. But I pray you, squire, to tell your master that he is very welcome to our court, and that wines and spices will be served him, if he would refresh himself before jousting.”
“My master will not drink,” said the squire.
“Let him then name the gentleman with whom he would break a spear.”
“He would contend with these five knights, each to choose such weapons as suit him best.”
“I perceive,” said the prince, “that your master is a man of great heart and high of enterprise. But the sun already is low in the west, and there will scarce be light for these courses. I pray you, gentlemen, to take your places, that we may see whether this stranger's deeds are as bold as his words.”
The unknown knight had sat like a statue of steel, looking neither to the right nor to the left during these preliminaries. He had changed from the horse upon which he had ridden, and bestrode the black charger which his squire had led beside him. His immense breadth, his stern composed appearance, and the mode in which he handled his shield and his lance, were enough in themselves to convince the thousands of critical spectators that he was a dangerous opponent. Aylward, who stood in the front row of the archers40 with Simon, big John, and others of the Company, had been criticising the proceedings41 from the commencement with the ease and freedom of a man who had spent his life under arms and had learned in a hard school to know at a glance the points of a horse and his rider. He stared now at the stranger with a wrinkled brow and the air of a man who is striving to stir his memory.
“By my hilt! I have seen the thick body of him before to-day. Yet I cannot call to mind where it could have been. At Nogent belike, or was it at Auray? Mark me, lads, this man will prove to be one of the best lances of France, and there are no better in the world.”
“It is but child's play, this poking42 game,” said John. “I would fain try my hand at it, for, by the black rood! I think that it might be amended43.”
“What then would you do, John?” asked several.
“There are many things which might be done,” said the forester thoughtfully. “Methinks that I would begin by breaking my spear.”
“So they all strive to do.”
“Nay, but not upon another man's shield. I would break it over my own knee.”
“And what the better for that, old beef and bones?” asked Black Simon.
“So I would turn what is but a lady's bodkin of a weapon into a very handsome club.”
“And then, John?”
“Then I would take the other's spear into my arm or my leg, or where it pleased him best to put it, and I would dash out his brains with my club.”
“By my ten finger-bones! old John,” said Aylward, “I would give my feather-bed to see you at a spear-running. This is a most courtly and gentle sport which you have devised.”
“So it seems to me,” said John seriously. “Or, again, one might seize the other round the middle, pluck him off his horse and bear him to the pavilion, there to hold him to ransom44.”
“Good!” cried Simon, amid a roar of laughter from all the archers round. “By Thomas of Kent! we shall make a camp-marshal of thee, and thou shalt draw up rules for our jousting. But, John, who is it that you would uphold in this knightly45 and pleasing fashion?”
“What mean you?”
“Why, John, so strong and strange a tilter46 must fight for the brightness of his lady's eyes or the curve of her eyelash, even as Sir Nigel does for the Lady Loring.”
“I know not about that,” said the big archer39, scratching his head in perplexity. “Since Mary hath played me false, I can scarce fight for her.”
“Yet any woman will serve.”
“There is my mother then,” said John. “She was at much pains at my upbringing, and, by my soul! I will uphold the curve of her eyelashes, for it tickleth my very heart-root to think of her. But who is here?”
“It is Sir William Beauchamp. He is a valiant man, but I fear that he is scarce firm enough upon the saddle to bear the thrust of such a tilter as this stranger promises to be.”
Aylward's words were speedily justified47, for even as he spoke the two knights met in the centre of the lists. Beauchamp struck his opponent a shrewd blow upon the helmet, but was met with so frightful48 a thrust that he whirled out of his saddle and rolled over and over upon the ground. Sir Thomas Percy met with little better success, for his shield was split, his vambrace torn and he himself wounded slightly in the side. Lord Audley and the unknown knight struck each other fairly upon the helmet; but, while the stranger sat as firm and rigid49 as ever upon his charger, the Englishman was bent50 back to his horse's cropper by the weight of the blow, and had galloped52 half-way down the lists ere he could recover himself. Sir Thomas Wake was beaten to the ground with a battle-axe—that being the weapon which he had selected—and had to be carried to his pavilion. These rapid successes, gained one after the other over four celebrated53 warriors54, worked the crowd up to a pitch of wonder and admiration55. Thunders of applause from the English soldiers, as well as from the citizens and peasants, showed how far the love of brave and knightly deeds could rise above the rivalries56 of race.
“By my soul! John,” cried the prince, with his cheek flushed and his eyes shining, “this is a man of good courage and great hardiness57. I could not have thought that there was any single arm upon earth which could have overthrown58 these four champions.”
“He is indeed, as I have said, sire, a knight from whom much honor is to be gained. But the lower edge of the sun is wet, and it will be beneath the sea ere long.”
“Here is Sir Nigel Loring, on foot and with his sword,” said the prince. “I have heard that he is a fine swordsman.”
“The finest in your army, sire,” Chandos answered. “Yet I doubt not that he will need all his skill this day.”
As he spoke, the two combatants advanced from either end in full armor with their two-handed swords sloping over their shoulders. The stranger walked heavily and with a measured stride, while the English knight advanced as briskly as though there was no iron shell to weigh down the freedom of his limbs. At four paces distance they stopped, eyed each other for a moment, and then in an instant fell to work with a clatter59 and clang as though two sturdy smiths were busy upon their anvils60. Up and down went the long, shining blades, round and round they circled in curves of glimmering61 light, crossing, meeting, disengaging, with flash of sparks at every parry. Here and there bounded Sir Nigel, his head erect62, his jaunty63 plume64 fluttering in the air, while his dark opponent sent in crashing blow upon blow, following fiercely up with cut and with thrust, but never once getting past the practised blade of the skilled swordsman. The crowd roared with delight as Sir Nigel would stoop his head to avoid a blow, or by some slight movement of his body allow some terrible thrust to glance harmlessly past him. Suddenly, however, his time came. The Frenchman, whirling up his sword, showed for an instant a chink betwixt his shoulder piece and the rerebrace which guarded his upper arm. In dashed Sir Nigel, and out again so swiftly that the eye could not follow the quick play of his blade, but a trickle65 of blood from the stranger's shoulder, and a rapidly widening red smudge upon his white surcoat, showed where the thrust had taken effect. The wound was, however, but a slight one, and the Frenchman was about to renew his onset66, when, at a sign from the prince, Chandos threw down his baton67, and the marshals of the lists struck up the weapons and brought the contest to an end.
“It were time to check it,” said the prince, smiling, “for Sir Nigel is too good a man for me to lose, and, by the five holy wounds! if one of those cuts came home I should have fears for our champion. What think you, Pedro?”
“I think, Edward, that the little man was very well able to take care of himself. For my part, I should wish to see so well matched a pair fight on while a drop of blood remained in their veins68.”
“We must have speech with him. Such a man must not go from my court without rest or sup. Bring him hither, Chandos, and, certes, if the Lord Loring hath resigned his claim upon this goblet69, it is right and proper that this cavalier should carry it to France with him as a sign of the prowess that he has shown this day.”
As he spoke, the knight-errant, who had remounted his warhorse, galloped forward to the royal stand, with a silken kerchief bound round his wounded arm. The setting sun cast a ruddy glare upon his burnished70 arms, and sent his long black shadow streaming behind him up the level clearing. Pulling up his steed, he slightly inclined his head, and sat in the stern and composed fashion with which he had borne himself throughout, heedless of the applauding shouts and the flutter of kerchiefs from the long lines of brave men and of fair women who were looking down upon him.
“Sir knight,” said the prince, “we have all marvelled71 this day at this great skill and valor72 with which God has been pleased to endow you. I would fain that you should tarry at our court, for a time at least, until your hurt is healed and your horses rested.”
“My hurt is nothing, sire, nor are my horses weary,” returned the stranger in a deep, stern voice.
“Will you not at least hie back to Bordeaux with us, that you may drain a cup of muscadine and sup at our table?”
“I will neither drink your wine nor sit at your table,” returned the other. “I bear no love for you or for your race, and there is nought73 that I wish at your hands until the day when I see the last sail which bears you back to your island vanishing away against the western sky.”
“These are bitter words, sir knight,” said Prince Edward, with an angry frown.
“And they come from a bitter heart,” answered the unknown knight. “How long is it since there has been peace in my hapless country? Where are the steadings, and orchards74, and vineyards, which made France fair? Where are the cities which made her great? From Providence75 to Burgundy we are beset76 by every prowling hireling in Christendom, who rend77 and tear the country which you have left too weak to guard her own marches. Is it not a by-word that a man may ride all day in that unhappy land without seeing thatch78 upon roof or hearing the crow of cock? Does not one fair kingdom content you, that you should strive so for this other one which has no love for you? Pardieu! a true Frenchman's words may well be bitter, for bitter is his lot and bitter his thoughts as he rides through his thrice unhappy country.”
“Sir knight,” said the prince, “you speak like a brave man, and our cousin of France is happy in having a cavalier who is so fit to uphold his cause either with tongue or with sword. But if you think such evil of us, how comes it that you have trusted yourselves to us without warranty79 or safe-conduct?”
“Because I knew that you would be here, sire. Had the man who sits upon your right been ruler of this land, I had indeed thought twice before I looked to him for aught that was knightly or generous.” With a soldierly salute80, he wheeled round his horse, and, galloping81 down the lists, disappeared amid the dense82 crowd of footmen and of horsemen who were streaming away from the scene of the tournament.
“The insolent83 villain84!” cried Pedro, glaring furiously after him. “I have seen a man's tongue torn from his jaws85 for less. Would it not be well even now, Edward, to send horsemen to hale him back? Bethink you that it may be one of the royal house of France, or at least some knight whose loss would be a heavy blow to his master. Sir William Felton, you are well mounted, gallop51 after the caitiff, I pray you.”
“Do so, Sir William,” said the prince, “and give him this purse of a hundred nobles as a sign of the respect which I bear for him; for, by St. George! he has served his master this day even as I would wish liegeman of mine to serve me.” So saying, the prince turned his back upon the King of Spain, and springing upon his horse, rode slowly homewards to the Abbey of Saint Andrew's.
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1
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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6
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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shimmer
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| v./n.发微光，发闪光；微光 | |
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knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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arena
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| n.竞技场，运动场所；竞争场所，舞台 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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fanfare
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| n.喇叭；号角之声；v.热闹地宣布 | |
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bugle
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| n.军号，号角，喇叭；v.吹号，吹号召集 | |
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bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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reined
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| 勒缰绳使（马）停步( rein的过去式和过去分词 )； 驾驭； 严格控制； 加强管理 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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herald
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| vt.预示...的来临，预告，宣布，欢迎 | |
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valiant
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| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
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monarch
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| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
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jousting
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| （骑士）骑马用长矛比武( joust的现在分词 ) | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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advancement
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| n.前进，促进，提升 | |
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vouchsafe
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| v.惠予，准许 | |
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mace
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| n.狼牙棒，豆蔻干皮 | |
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dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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infamy
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| n.声名狼藉，出丑，恶行 | |
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indignity
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| n.侮辱，伤害尊严，轻蔑 | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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archer
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| n.射手，弓箭手 | |
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archers
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| n.弓箭手，射箭运动员( archer的名词复数 ) | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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poking
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| n. 刺，戳，袋 vt. 拨开，刺，戳 vi. 戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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Amended
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| adj. 修正的 动词amend的过去式和过去分词 | |
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ransom
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| n.赎金，赎身；v.赎回，解救 | |
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knightly
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| adj. 骑士般的 adv. 骑士般地 | |
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tilter
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| 倾斜体； 翻钢机 | |
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47
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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51
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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52
galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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rivalries
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| n.敌对，竞争，对抗( rivalry的名词复数 ) | |
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hardiness
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| n.耐劳性，强壮；勇气，胆子 | |
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overthrown
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| adj. 打翻的，推倒的，倾覆的 动词overthrow的过去分词 | |
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clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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anvils
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| n.（铁）砧( anvil的名词复数 )；砧骨 | |
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glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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jaunty
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| adj．愉快的，满足的；adv.心满意足地，洋洋得意地；n.心满意足；洋洋得意 | |
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plume
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| n.羽毛；v.整理羽毛，骚首弄姿，用羽毛装饰 | |
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trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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onset
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| n.进攻，袭击，开始，突然开始 | |
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baton
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| n.乐队用指挥杖 | |
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68
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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goblet
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| n.高脚酒杯 | |
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70
burnished
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| adj.抛光的，光亮的v.擦亮（金属等），磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 )；被擦亮，磨光 | |
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71
marvelled
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| v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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valor
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| n.勇气，英勇 | |
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nought
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| n.／adj.无，零 | |
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orchards
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| （通常指围起来的）果园( orchard的名词复数 ) | |
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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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beset
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| v.镶嵌；困扰，包围 | |
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rend
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| vt.把…撕开，割裂；把…揪下来，强行夺取 | |
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thatch
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| vt.用茅草覆盖…的顶部；n.茅草(屋) | |
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warranty
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| n.担保书，证书，保单 | |
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80
salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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82
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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83
insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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84
villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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85
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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