But although the lists rang with the applauses of his dexterity, it
was evident that he must at last be overpowered; and the nobles around
Prince John implored him with one voice to throw down his warder, and to
save so brave a knight from the disgrace of being overcome by odds.
"Not I, by the light of Heaven!" answered Prince John; "this
same springald, who conceals his name, and despises our proffered
hospitality, hath already gained one prize, and may now afford to
let others have their turn." As he spoke thus, an unexpected incident
changed the fortune of the day.
There was among the ranks of the Disinherited Knight a champion in
black armour, mounted on a black horse, large of size, tall, and to all
appearance powerful and strong, like the rider by whom he was mounted,
This knight, who bore on his shield no device of any kind, had hitherto
evinced very little interest in the event of the fight, beating off with
seeming ease those combatants who attacked him, but neither pursuing
his advantages, nor himself assailing any one. In short, he had hitherto
acted the part rather of a spectator than of a party in the tournament,
a circumstance which procured him among the spectators the name of "Le
Noir Faineant", or the Black Sluggard.
At once this knight seemed to throw aside his apathy, when he discovered
the leader of his party so hard bestead; for, setting spurs to
his horse, which was quite fresh, he came to his assistance like a
thunderbolt, exclaiming, in a voice like a trumpet-call, "Desdichado,
to the rescue!" It was high time; for, while the Disinherited Knight was
pressing upon the Templar, Front-de-Boeuf had got nigh to him with his
uplifted sword; but ere the blow could descend, the Sable Knight dealt
a stroke on his head, which, glancing from the polished helmet, lighted
with violence scarcely abated on the "chamfron" of the steed, and
Front-de-Boeuf rolled on the ground, both horse and man equally stunned
by the fury of the blow. "Le Noir Faineant" then turned his horse upon
Athelstane of Coningsburgh; and his own sword having been broken in his
encounter with Front-de-Boeuf, he wrenched from the hand of the bulky
Saxon the battle-axe which he wielded, and, like one familiar with
the use of the weapon, bestowed him such a blow upon the crest, that
Athelstane also lay senseless on the field. Having achieved this double
feat, for which he was the more highly applauded that it was totally
unexpected from him, the knight seemed to resume the sluggishness of
his character, returning calmly to the northern extremity of the lists,
leaving his leader to cope as he best could with Brian de Bois-Guilbert.
This was no longer matter of so much difficulty as formerly. The
Templars horse had bled much, and gave way under the shock of the
Disinherited Knight's charge. Brian de Bois-Guilbert rolled on the
field, encumbered with the stirrup, from which he was unable to draw his
foot. His antagonist sprung from horseback, waved his fatal sword over
the head of his adversary, and commanded him to yield himself; when
Prince John, more moved by the Templars dangerous situation than he had
been by that of his rival, saved him the mortification of confessing
himself vanquished, by casting down his warder, and putting an end to
the conflict.