After all the other competitors for the prize had essayed a career
within the arena, Sir Jocelyn's was held to be the best course run. The
ring was again carried off both by the Earl of Pembroke and Lord
Mordaunt; but in the opinion of the marshals of the field, neither of
those noblemen displayed so much grace and skill as Mounchensey: and the
decision was confirmed by the King.
The applauses which rang through the tilt-yard, on the announcement that
our handsome young knight had gained the first course, increased the
bitterness of Buckingham's feelings towards him; and he expressed his
regrets in a low tone to Sir Giles Mompesson that the combat about to
take place was not _à l'outrance_ instead of being _à plaisance_.
Sir Giles smiled grimly in reply.
Some little time elapsed, during which preparations were made for the
tilting-match, and great excitement pervaded the assemblage. The King
laughingly inquired of the Spanish ambassador if he still felt secure of
winning his wager, and was answered by De Gondomar that he had never had
the slightest misgiving on the subject, but he was now better satisfied
than ever that the result of the coming struggle would justify his
expectations. In the ladies' gallery an unusual degree of interest was
manifested in what was going forward; and many a wish was audibly
expressed by many a fair dame in Mounchensey's favour.
At length, the trumpets sounded, and the cries of the heralds were
heard, cheering on the combatants, as they prepared to dash furiously
against each other, bidding them do their devoir bravely, since bright
eyes looked down upon them. These stimulants to valorous display were
scarcely needed, for the champions were eager to prove their prowess.
Issuing one by one, from beneath their respective scaffolds, and curbing
the impatience of their steeds till they received from the marshals
permission to start, they rushed from their posts with lightning
swiftness to meet with a crashing shock midway. Various successes
attended the different combatants, but on the whole the advantage lay
clearly on the side of the Duke of Lennox, none of whose party had
sustained any material discomfiture; while on the side of Prince
Charles, the Earls of Montgomery and Rutland had been unhorsed. The
interest of the spectators was kept in breathless suspense to the last,
it being arranged that the tilting-match should close with the conflict
between Buckingham and Mounchensey.
Thus, when the trumpets sounded for the seventh and last time, and the
two knights stationed themselves opposite each other, every eye was
intently fixed upon them. Apparently, no two antagonists could be better
or more equally matched than they were; and throughout the whole field
it would have been in vain to search for another pair equally gifted by
nature, both being models of manly beauty of feature and symmetry of
frame. Indeed they might have been cast in the same mould, so nearly
alike were they in shape and size; and if their armour had been similar,
and their steeds corresponding in colour, they would have been
undistinguishable, when apart. Buckingham in some respects presented the
nobler figure of the two, owing to his flowing plumes, his embossed and
inlaid armour, and the magnificent housings of his charger--but he was
fully rivalled by the grace and chivalrous air of his antagonist.
As the Marquis, confident in his address, disdained the use of the
_passe-guarde_ and the _mentonnière_, Mounchensey abandoned those
defences, though they were used by all the other knights, and placed his
reliance in the strength of his breast-plate and gorget, and in the
force of his right arm.
When summoned forth by the trumpets, the two champions executed
demi-voltes with curvets, and then stood stock-still at either end of
the barriers. Each then selected a lance from the bundle offered them by
the esquires, and their choice of a weapon made, they carefully
fastened down their visors, which up to this moment had been raised.
Seeing them in readiness, the heralds gave the signal for the encounter.
Starting against each other like thunder-bolts, they met in mid-career.
The shock was tremendous, and many a cry sprang from female lips, while
bursts of applause arose from the hardier spectators.
Both lances were shivered, but the results of the strokes dealt on
either side were widely different. Mounchensey maintained his seat
firmly in the saddle, though his steed had been forced back upon its
haunches by his opponent's blow, who had touched his gorget; and riding
on with all the ease, vigour, and grace, our young knight had previously
exhibited, he threw down the truncheon of his lance, and opened his
gauntlet to show that his hand was wholly uninjured.
Very differently had it fared with Buckingham, whose defeat was
unquestionable. Unhorsed and unhelmeted, he was rolled in the dust; and
as he sprang to his feet, had the mortification of hearing the deafening
cheers that greeted his adversary's triumph. Eager to hide his
confusion, he vaulted upon the back of his steed, which was brought to
him by an esquire, the animal's flanks still quivering and reeking from
the terrible shock it had undergone, and dashed beneath the scaffold he
had so lately quitted--his pride severely humbled.
While the crest-fallen favourite thus retired to recover himself, Sir
Jocelyn rode slowly towards the royal gallery. Having now raised his
visor, his features were fully revealed to view, and perhaps were never
seen to such advantage as at this proud and happy moment. His emotions
were indeed enviable--but one thing was wanting to complete his
satisfaction--the presence of her, before whom, of all others, he was
most eager to distinguish himself. What mattered it that scarves and
kerchiefs were waved to him by some of the fairest dames in the land?
What mattered it that his name was called aloud, and that gloves and
knots of ribands fell at his feet, as he rode past the ladies' gallery?
His heart was untouched by smile or glance, and he paused not to pick up
one of the favours showered upon him.
But what means this sudden change in his demeanour? Why does he start
and stop, and look inquiringly towards the back of the gallery? Whom
does he discern amongst that bevy of beauties? Can it be Aveline? And if
so, how comes she there?
As he pauses, all eyes are fixed upon her towards whom his gaze is
directed. There is no difficulty in detecting the object of his regards,
for her attire is simpler than that of all the glittering dames around
her, and of a sadder hue. Her confusion also betrays her. She would not
be seen by him she came to see. She would muffle up her features, but it
is too late; and she is not only fully exposed to his view, but to that
of a hundred other curious eyes. Though many a high-born damsel marvels
at the young knight's insensibility to her own superior attractions,
none can deny that the unknown maiden is exquisitely beautiful, and
demands are eagerly made as to who she may be. No one can answer--and no
clue is given by her companion, for the elderly dame by whom she is
attended, and who resembles a duenna, is likewise unknown to all.
As soon as Sir Jocelyn recovers his surprise, he requests a favour from
the lady of his love, and she cannot refuse him--for immediately all the
dames in front of the gallery move aside, to let her advance.
With her pale cheeks crimsoned with blushes, and her dark eyes flashing
with mingled emotions of shame and pleasure, Aveline steps forward--and
having no other favour to bestow upon her knight, she gives him her
kerchief, which he presses to his lips, and then with a graceful
salutation moves forward on his course. This is no time for
explanation--and he must be content with his happiness, without
inquiring how it has been procured for him.
The incident, however, has been generally noticed, and causes a good
deal of speculation and talk amongst the female portion of the
assemblage. There is one individual, however, of the opposite sex, who
witnesses it with sentiments different from those by which most other
observers are affected. This is Sir Giles Mompesson. He, it appears, has
not been unaware of Aveline's presence at the jousts, though he did not
anticipate its revelation in this manner to Sir Jocelyn; and a bitter
smile crosses his lips, as he watches the brief interview between the
pair. He cares not what transports they indulge in now--nor what hopes
they form for the future. He promises himself that he will effectually
mar their bliss!