courteously tendered him by the marshals of the field. Upon his retiring to his tent, many who had lingered in the lists, to look upon and form conjectures concerning him, also dispersed. The signs and sounds of a tumultuous concourse of men lately crowded together in one place, and agitated by the same passing events, were now exchanged for the distant hum of voices of different groups retreating in all directions, and these speedily died away in silence. No other sounds were heard save the voices of the menials who stripped the galleries of their cushions and tapestry, in order to put them in safety for the night, and wrangled among themselves for the half-used bottles of wine and reliques of the refreshments which had been served round to the spectators. Beyond the precincts of the lists more than one forge was erected; and these now began to glimmer through the twilight, announcing the toil of the armourers, which was to continue through the whole night, in order to repair or alter the armour which were to be used to-morrow. A strong guard of men-at-arms, which was renewed at intervals, from two hours to two hours, surrounded the lists, and kept watch during the night. CHAPTER X. Thus, like the sad presaging raven, that tolls The Disinherited Knight had no sooner reached his pavilion, than squires and pages in abundance tended their services to disarm him, to bring fresh attire, and to offer him the refreshment of the bath. Their zeal on this occasion was perhaps sharpened by curiosity, since every one desired to know who the knight was that had gained so many laurels, yet had refused to lift his visor or to name his name. But their officious inquisitiveness was not gratified. The Disinhe rited Knight refused all other assistance save that of his own squire, or rather yeoman—a clownishlooking man, who, wrapt in a cloak of dark-coloured felt, and having his head and face halfburied in a Norman bonnet made of black fur, seemed to affect the incognito as much as his master. All others being excluded from the tent, this attendant relieved his master from the more burthensome parts of his armour, and placed food and wine before him, which the exertions of the day had rendered very acceptable. He had scarcely finished a hasty meal, ere his menial announced to him that five men, each leading a barbed steed, desired to speak with him. The Disinherited Knight had exchanged his armour for the long robe usually worn by those of his condition, which, being furnished with a hood, concealed the features, when such was the pleasure of the wearer, almost as completely as the visor of the helmet itself; but the twilight, which was now fast darkening, would of itself have rendered a disguise unnecessary, unless to persons to whom the face of an individual chanced to be particularly well known. The Disinherited Knight, therefore, stept bold ly forth to the front of his tent, and found the squires of the challengers, whom he easily knew by their russet and black dresses, each of whom led his master's charger, loaded with the armour in which he had that day fought. 66 According to the laws of chivalry," said the foremost of these men, " I, Baldwin de Oyley, squire to the redoubted Knight Brian de BoisGuilbert, make offer to you, styling yourself the Disinherited Knight, of the horse and armour used by the said Brian de Bois-Guilbert in this day's passage of arms, leaving it with your nobleness to retain or to ransom the same, according to your pleasure; for such is the law of arms." The other squires repeated nearly the same formula, and then stood to await the decision of the Disinherited Knight. "To you, four sirs," replied the Knight, addressing those who had last spoken, " and to your honourable and valiant masters, I have one common reply. Commend me to the noble Knights, your masters, and say, I should do ill to deprive them of steeds and arms which can never be used by braver cavaliers.—I would I |