A few more bounds of his steed brought Sir Jocelyn to the royal gallery,
where he dismounted, and leaving his steed in charge of an esquire,
ascended the stairs in company with the marshals of the field, and
presently found himself in the presence of the King. James received him
very graciously. On the right of the monarch stood the Conde de
Gondomar, who smiled on his _protégé_ as he approached, and glanced at a
silver coffer full of diamonds, pearls, emeralds, amethysts, and other
precious stones, borne by an attendant in the gorgeous livery of the
Marquis of Buckingham.
"We greet ye as victor, Sir Jocelyn," said James, as the young knight
made a profound obeisance to him; "and it rejoices us to say ye hae
demeaned yourself honourably and fairly in the field. How say ye, Sirs?"
he added to the marshals and others. "Shall not the prize of the day be
adjudged to Sir Jocelyn?"
"It must be so, of right, your Majesty," replied the foremost of them.
"A better course at the ring could not be run than Sir Jocelyn hath
performed, nor could greater 'vantage be gained in the jousts than he
hath obtained over the Marquis of Buckingham. All has been done by him
in accordance with the rules of honour, and without fraud or
supercherie.
"Enough, gentlemen," said James. "Count, ye hae won your wager; and as
to you, Sir Jocelyn, ye hae proved yourself a very mirror of
chivalry--_exemplar antiquoe fortitudinis et magnanimitatis_--on the
pattern of Bayard, the knight without fear and without reproach, and the
like of whom we scarce expected to see in these latter days. You are
right weel entitled to the prize ye hae gained, and which his Excellency
so honourably assigns to you."
"With your Majesty's permission, I will add the diamond clasp which I
staked against the Marquess's casket of gems," said De Gondomar, "and
will beseech Sir Jocelyn to wear it as a testimony on my part of his
merit as a cavalier. It is scarcely too much to say for him, after his
recent brilliant achievements, that he takes rank amongst the foremost
of the distinguished knights encircling your Majesty's throne."
"He takes rank as the first and best," cried James, emphatically; "since
he hath overcome Buckingham, who till this day hath held the chief place
among our chivalry."
"Your Majesty overwhelms me by your commendations," replied Sir Jocelyn;
"and I can only say, in reply, that my best energies shall be devoted to
your service, whenever and howsoever called upon. As to your
Excellency's gift," he added to De Gondomar, who had unfastened the
glittering clasp and presented it to him, "I shall ever guard it, as a
devotee in your own sunny land of Spain would the most precious relic."
The coffer containing the gems was then, upon a sign from the King,
delivered to Sir Jocelyn, who, as he received it from the attendant,
took a string of pearls from it and gave them to the marshal, requesting
they might be offered as _largesse_ to the heralds; and the officer
promised that the request should be complied with. Having bestowed a
similar boon upon each of the marshals, Mounchensey requested that the
coffer might be placed in charge of his esquire--and his directions were
complied with.
"Is all concluded?" demanded the King.
"The contest for the prize is necessarily decided," replied the marshal;
"but there yet remains the combat with the sword on horseback, if it
pleases Sir Jocelyn to engage in it."
"What saith our young knight?" demanded the King. "Is he willing to risk
the laurels he hath so fairly won on another, and it may be more
dangerous encounter? What he hath already done may fairly entitle him to
decline further hazard, if he be so minded."
"I should ill deserve your Majesty's high commendations if I hesitated
for a moment," replied Mounchensey; "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.
The impetuosity of Sir Giles's career carried him past his antagonist,
but he now wheeled round, and regarded Mounchensey fiercely from
beneath the bars of his helmet.
"Retire, said you?" he exclaimed; "not unless you acknowledge yourself
defeated. In my turn, I bid you go back to the point you started from,
and commence the combat in due form, or I shall hold you vanquished, and
compel you to abase your crest."
"Hear me," cried Sir Jocelyn, "and let it be heard by all. I challenged
any _true_ knight to the combat, but you answer not to the description.
I proclaim you publicly in this place as a false and felon knight, and
declare you utterly unworthy of my sword. Back to your starting-place,
and if the heralds do their duty, they will hack off your spurs, and
drive you with shame from the lists."
"And think you I will tamely brook this insult?" roared Sir Giles; "draw
your sword at once, and let it be a mortal combat between us."
"Never," replied Sir Jocelyn, disdainfully. "I will not stoop to the
level of your infamy."
"Then stoop to earth," cried Sir Giles, aiming a terrible blow at him
with his sword.
If the stroke had taken effect as intended, it would probably have made
good Mompesson's threat, but Sir Jocelyn was too wary and too agile even
for his powerful assailant. Before the sword could descend, he seized
his adversary's wrist, and in another instant possessed himself of the
blade. This he accomplished without injury, as the sword was blunted.
Still maintaining his grasp of the weapon, he raised himself in his
stirrups to give additional force to the blow, and with the pummel of
the sword, struck Sir Giles a blow upon the brainpan with such violence,
that he dropped from the saddle as if shot.
During this strange scene, not a word had been uttered by the
spectators, who looked on with the greatest curiosity, wondering how it
would end. As Sir Giles fell from his horse, and lay stretched in
perfect insensibility on the ground, a tremendous shout was raised, and
Sir Jocelyn was as much applauded as if he had performed an
extraordinary feat--so universally was the extortioner detested.
Nor was there any sympathy manifested, when a few moments afterwards Sir
Giles was raised from the ground by the pursuivants, and his helmet
being removed, exhibited a countenance livid as death, with a stream of
blood coursing slowly down the temples. Many would have been
well-pleased if he had been killed outright, but the chirurgeon in
attendance pronounced that he was only stunned by the blow.