hundred-yard stretch
of greensward lay in front of him. At the same moment the Squire of
Sir Walter Manny, who had been hastily armed by his comrades, spurred
forward and took up his position.

The King raised his hand; there was a clang from the falconer's horn,
and the two riders, with a thrust of their heels and a shake of their
bridles, dashed furiously at each other. In the center the green strip
of marshy meadowland, with the water squirting from the galloping hoofs,
and the two crouching men, gleaming bright in the evening sun, on one
side the half circle of motionless horsemen, some in steel, some in
velvet, silent and attentive, dogs, hawks, and horses all turned to
stone; on the other the old peaked bridge, the blue lazy river, the
group of openmouthed rustics, and the dark old manor-house with one grim
face which peered from the upper window.

A good man was John Widdicombe, but he had met a better that day. Before
that yellow whirlwind of a horse and that rider who was welded and
riveted to his saddle his knees could not hold their grip. Nigel and
Pommers were one flying missile, with all their weight and strength
and energy centered on the steady end of the lance. Had Widdicombe been
struck by a thunderbolt he could not have flown faster or farther from
his saddle. Two full somersaults did he make, his plates clanging like
cymbals, ere he lay prone upon his back.

For a moment the King looked grave at that prodigious fall. Then smiling
once more as Widdicombe staggered to his feet, he clapped his hands
loudly in applause. "A fair course and fairly run!" he cried. "The five
scarlet roses bear themselves in peace even as I have seen them in war.
How now, my good Walter? Have you another Squire or will you clear a
path for us yourself?"

Manny's choleric face had turned darker as he observed the mischance of
his representative. He beckoned now to a tall knight, whose gaunt and
savage face looked out from his open bassinet as an eagle might from a
cage of steel.

"Sir Hubert," said he, "I bear in mind the day when you overbore the
Frenchman at Caen. Will you not be our champion now?"

"When I fought the Frenchman, Walter, it was with naked weapons," said
the knight sternly. "I am a soldier and I love a soldier's work, but I
care not for these tiltyard tricks which were invented for nothing but
to tickle the fancies of foolish women."

"Oh, most ungallant speech!" cried the King. "Had my good-consort he