the black shield, who is making havoc wherever he
goes," was the answer. "I may curse the time I ever faced him, for he is
more devil than mortal man."

Lancelot at these words drew his sword and advanced to meet Tristram,
and as he rode forward saw the Cornish champion hurtling through a press
of foes, bringing down one with nearly every stroke of his sword.

"A fellow of marvellous prowess he, whoever he be," said Lancelot. "If I
set upon this knight after all his heavy labor, I will shame myself more
than him." And he put up his sword.

Then the king with the hundred knights, with his following, and a
hundred more of the Welsh party, set upon the twenty of Lancelot's kin,
and a fearful fray began, for the twenty held together like wild boars,
none failing the others, and faced the odds against them without
yielding a step.

When Tristram, who had for the moment withdrawn, beheld their noble
bearing, he marvelled at their valor, for he saw by their steadfastness
that they would die together rather than leave the field.

"Valiant and noble must be he who has such knights for his kin," he
said, meaning Lancelot; "and likely to be a worthy man is he who leads
such knights as these."

Then he rode to the king with the hundred knights and said,--

"Sir, leave off fighting with these twenty knights. You can win no honor
from them, you being so many and they so few. I can see by their bearing
that they will die rather than leave the field, and that will bring you
no glory. If this one sided fray goes on I will join them and give them
what help I can."

"You shall not do so," said the king. "You speak in knightly courtesy,
and I will withdraw my men at your request. I know how courage favors
courage, and like draws to like."

Then the king called off his knights, and withdrew from the combat with
Lancelot's kindred.

Meanwhile Lancelot was watching for an opportunity to meet Tristram and
hail him as a fellow in heart and hand, but before he could do so
Tristram, Dinadan, and Gouvernail suddenly left the lists and rode into
the forest, no man perceiving whither they had gone.

Then Arthur blew to lodging, and gave the prize of the day to the king
of Northgalis, as the true champion of the tournament was on his side
and had vanished. Lancelot rode hither and thither, vainly seeking him,
while a cry that might have been heard two miles off went up: "The
knight with the black shield has won the day!"

"Alas, where