till and silent, what time a
single trumpet spake, whereat--behold! the two long lances sank feutred
to the charge, the broad shields flashed, glittered and were still
again; and from that great concourse a sound went up--a hum, that
swelled, and so was gone.

The maid Mellent had sunk upon her knees and was praying desperate
prayers with face upturned to heaven; but none was there to mark her
now amid that silent gathering--all eyes were strained to watch those
grim and silent horsemen that fronted each other, the length of the
lists between; even Duke Ivo, leaning on lazy elbow, looked with
glowing eye and slow-flushing cheek, ere he let fall his truncheon.

And, on the instant, shrill and fierce the trumpets brayed, and on the
instant each knight struck spurs, the powerful horses reared, plunged,
and sprang away at speed. Fast and faster they galloped, their riders
low-stooped above the high-peaked saddles, shields addressed and lances
steady, with pounding hooves that sent the turves a-flying, with
gleaming helms and deadly lance-points a-twinkle; fast and ever faster
they thundered down upon each other, till, with a sudden direful crash,
they met in full career with a splintering of well-aimed lances, a
lashing of wild hooves, a rearing of powerful horses, staggering and
reeling beneath the shock. And now a thunderous cry went up, for the
tall black horse, plunging and snorting, went down rolling upon the
sward. But his rider had leapt clear and, stumbling to his feet, stood
swaying unsteadily, faint and dazed with the blow of Sir Gilles' lance
that had borne down the great black horse and torn the heavy casque
from his head. So stood Beltane, unhelmed, staring dazedly from heaving
earth to reeling heaven; yet, of a sudden, shook aloft the fragment of
his splintered lance and laughed fierce and loud, to behold, 'twixt
reeling earth and sky, a great roan stallion that foamed upon his bit
'neath sharp-drawn rein, as, swaying sideways from the lofty saddle,
Sir Gilles of Brandonmere crashed to earth, transfixed through shield
and hauberk, through breast and back, upon the shaft of a broken lance.
High over him leapt Beltane, to catch the roan's loose bridle, to swing
himself up, and so, with stirrups flying and amid a sudden clamour of
roaring voices, to thunder down the lists where Roger's heavy sword
flashed, as smiting right and left, he stooped and swung the maid
Mellent before him.

"Ride, Roger--ride! Spur--s