"My dear boy," said he, gripping the hand he held, "never could Ihope to be so overjoyed in mine old age as I am this day. Thoudost bring honor to me, for I tell thee truly thou dost ride likea knight seasoned in twenty tourneys.""It doth give me tenfold courage to hear thee so say, dearmaster," answered Myles. "And truly," he added, "I shall need allmy courage this bout, for the Sieur de la Montaigne telleth methat he will ride to unhorse me this time.""Did he indeed so say?" said Sir James. "Then belike he meanethto strike at thy helm. Thy best chance is to strike also at his.
Doth thy hand tremble?"
"Not now," answered Myles.
"Then keep thy head cool and thine eye true. Set thy trust inGod, and haply thou wilt come out of this bout honorably in spiteof the rawness of thy youth."Just then Edmund Wilkes presented the cup of wine to Myles, whodrank it off at a draught, and thereupon Gascoyne replaced thehelm and tied the thongs.
The charge that Sir James Lee had given to Myles to strike at hisadversary's helm was a piece of advice he probably would not havegiven to so young a knight, excepting as a last resort. A blowperfectly delivered upon the helm was of all others the mostdifficult for the recipient to recover from, but then a blow uponthe helm was not one time in fifty perfectly given. The hugecylindrical tilting helm was so constructed in front as to slopeat an angle in all directions to one point. That point was thecentre of a cross formed by two iron bands welded to thesteel-face plates of the helm where it was weakened by theopening slit of the occularium, or peephole. In the very centreof this cross was a little flattened surface where the bands wereriveted together, and it was upon that minute point that the blowmust be given to be perfect, and that stroke Myles determined toattempt.
As he took his station Edmund Wilkes came running across from thepavilion with a lance that Sir James had chosen, and Myles,returning the one that Gascoyne had just given him, took it inhis hand. It was of seasoned oak, somewhat thicker than theother, a tough weapon, not easily to be broken even in such anencounter as he was like to have. He balanced the weapon, andfound that it fitted perfectly to his grasp. As he raised thepoint to rest, his opponent took his station at the fartherextremity of the lists, and again there was a little space ofbreathless pause. Myles was surprised at his own coolness; everynervous tremor was gone. Before, he had been conscious of thecritical multitude looking down upon him; now it was a conflictof man to man, and such a conflict had no terrors for his youngheart of iron.
The spectators had somehow come to the knowledge that this was tobe a more serious encounter than the two which had preceded it,and a breathless silence fell for the moment or two that theknights stood in place.
Once more he breathed a short prayer, "Holy Mary, guard me!"Then again, for the third time, the Marshal raised his baton, andthe horn sounded, and for the third time Myles drove his spursinto his horse's flanks. Again he saw the iron figure of hisopponent rushing nearer, nearer, nearer. He centred, with astraining intensity, every faculty of soul, mind, and body uponone point--the cross of the occularium, the mark he was tostrike. He braced himself for the tremendous shock which he knewmust meet him, and then in a flash dropped lance point straightand true. The next instant there was a deafening stunningcrash--a crash like the stroke of a thunder-bolt. There was adazzling blaze of blinding light, and a myriad sparks danced andflickered and sparkled before his eyes. He felt his horse staggerunder him with the recoil, and hardly knowing what he did, hedrove his spurs deep into its sides with a shout. At the samemoment there resounded in his ears a crashing rattle and clatter,he knew not of what, and then, as his horse recovered and sprangforward, and as the stunning bewilderment passed, he found thathis helmet had been struck off. He heard a great shout arise fromall, and thought, with a sickening, bitter disappointment, thatit was because he had lost. At the farther end of the course heturned his horse, and then his heart gave a leap and a bound asthough it would burst, the blood leaped to his cheeks tingling,and his bosom thrilled with an almost agonizing pang of triumph,of wonder, of amazement.
