ey; "but so far from feeling
disinclination to the combat, I should regret if this opportunity for
further distinction were denied me. With your Majesty's gracious
permission, I will pray the marshals of the field to let it be
proclaimed by the heralds and pursuivants-at-arms that I challenge any
true knight to do battle with me with the sword, and on horseback."

"Ye will fight with a blunted blade, Sir Jocelyn," cried the King. "We
maun hae nae risk of life. Our dear dog, Steenie, hath had his bonnie
craig well-nigh broken, and we will hae nae mair mischief done."

"The laws of the tilt-yard, with which Sir Jocelyn is doubtless well
acquainted," observed the marshal, "require that the edge of the sword
shall be dull, as your Majesty hath stated, and that no blow shall be
dealt with the point of the weapon. These conditions must be strictly
observed."

"They shall be," replied Sir Jocelyn; "and I pray you now to do your
devoir, and make the proclamation."

On this the marshal and his followers departed; and Sir Jocelyn, bowing
reverently to the King, took his way after them, and descending the
stairs, leaped on the back of his charger.

Soon after this, and while a sword, blunted in the manner prescribed,
was girded round his waist by his esquire, the trumpets were sounded,
and the challenge proclaimed by the marshal. It was immediately
responded to by a blast from the opposite end of the arena, and a
herald, stationed at this point, called out in a loud voice that the
challenge was accepted. Again the excitement rose high among the
spectators; again all eyes were directed towards Sir Jocelyn; and again
many ardent aspirations were uttered by his numerous fair admirers for
his success,--though none so fervent as that breathed by Aveline. Sir
Jocelyn cast one glance towards that part of the ladies' gallery where
he knew her to be placed, and then prepared for his last essay.

As yet, he knew not who was to be his antagonist; but when a knight in
sable armour, and with a sable plume upon his helm, rode from beneath
the scaffold, he discovered, to his great indignation, that it was Sir
Giles Mompesson. After a moment's reflection, he resolved upon a course
of action. When the signal for the combat was given by the marshal, and
Sir Giles, sword in hand, dashed into the arena, Mounchensey rode
towards him, but, without drawing his sword, and raising himself in the
saddle, commanded him in a thundering voice to retire.