my guilt and to wipe out the humiliation of
your Majesty's gracious consort. You must make a knight of me, sire,
and I will challenge to mortal combat any who dares to speak ill of my
King!"

The King was astounded by this bold proposition, but the very audacity
of it caught his fancy. He struck the executioner gently with his sword.

"Rise, Sir Knight," he said, adding, as the Black Knight rose to his
feet: "You have acted like a knave this night. Henceforth you shall be
called the Knave of Bergen."

Darmstadt: The Proxy

In the days of chivalry there dwelt in Birbach a knight named Walther,
no less renowned for his piety than for his skill in arms, and the
Virgin, according to the following legend, was not unmindful of her
humble worshipper. A great tournament--so runs the tale--was to take
place in Darmstadt, and Sir Walther, who was about to enter the lists
for the first time, was not feeling confident as to the issue. He knew
that there were to be present many knights whose strength and skill far
exceeded his own, and, brave though he was, he could not but recognize
that his chances of victory were small. Yet he felt that he dared
not suffer defeat; he must not be disgraced before the spectators. In
particular, there was a certain fair lady whose colours he wore; he must
not be shamed before her. His mind, as he rode on his way to Darmstadt,
was filled with conflicting emotions, love, hope, fear, shame, in turn
dominating his thoughts. Suddenly he came to a wayside altar, upon which
was set an image of the Virgin, and he decided to carry his troubles
to her as he was wont to do. So he descended from his horse, which he
secured to a tree, and made his way to the altar.

So deep were his emotions and so ardent his prayer that he passed into a
sort of trance and fell at the foot of the altar like one dead. While
he lay thus unconscious the Virgin descended from the altar, unlaced his
armour, and donned it herself. Then taking sword and shield and lance,
she mounted his steed and rode into Darmstadt. She was absent for some
time, but when she returned the knight still lay in the death-like state
in which she had left him. She tied his horse once more to the tree,
replaced his armour, and then took her accustomed place on the altar.

Shortly after Walther recovered consciousness and rose hastily, then,
after another prayer to the Virgin, he rode as quickly as he might into
the town. Here, to his intense surprise,