On arriving at the scene of the tournament, the little company divided,
Blandamour and those of his party going to one side and the rest to the
other side; but boastful Braggadochio, from vain-glory, chose rather to
leave his companions, so that men might gaze more on him alone. The rest
disposed themselves in groups, as seemed best to each one, every knight
with his own lady.
Then, first of all, came forth Sir Satyrane, bearing the precious relic
in a golden casket, so that no evil eyes should profane it. Then softly
drawing it out of the dark, he showed it openly, so that all men might
mark it—a gorgeous girdle of marvellous workmanship, curiously embossed
with pearls and precious stones of great value. It was the same girdle
which Florimell had lately lost. Sir Satyrane hung it aloft in open
view, to be the prize of might and beauty. The moment it was uncovered,
the glorious sight attracted every one’s gaze and stole the hearts of
all who looked on it, so that they uttered vain vows and wishes. Thrice
happy, it seemed to them, would be the lady and knight who gained such a
splendid reward for their peril and labour.
Then the bold Sir Satyrane took in his hand a great spear, such as he
was accustomed to wield, and, advancing forward from all the other
knights, set his shield in place, showing that he was ready for the
fray. The warriors who fought on his side were called the “Knights of
Maidenhood.” They were the challengers, and their aim was to keep the
golden girdle in their own possession.
Against him, from the other side, stepped out a Pagan knight, well
skilled in arms, and often tried in battle. He was called “Bruncheval
the Bold.” These two met together so furiously that neither could
sustain the other’s force, and both champions were felled to the ground,
where they lay senseless.
Seeing this, other knights rode quickly to their aid, some fighting on
one side and some on the other. Only Braggadochio, when his turn came,
showed no desire to hasten to the help of his party, but stood still as
one who seemed doubtful or dismayed. Then Triamond, angry to see him
delay, sternly stepped forward and caught away his spear, with which he
so sorely assailed one of the knights that he bore both horse and rider
to the ground. To avenge his fall one knight after another pressed
forward, but Triamond vanquished them all, for no one seemed able to
withstand his power.
[Illustration: Knights on horseback jousting or fighting with spears and
swords near a camp with tents.]
By this time Sir Satyrane had awakened from his swoon. When he looked
around and saw the merciless havoc that Sir Triamond had wrought to the
knights of his party, his heart was almost broken with bitterness, and
he wished himself dead rather than in so bad a plight. He began at once
to gather up his scattered weapons, and, as it happened, he found his
steed ready. Like a flash of fire from the anvil, he rode fiercely to
where Triamond was driving his foes before him, and, aiming his spear at
him, he pierced his side badly. Triamond could scarcely keep from
falling, but he withdrew softly from the field as well as he could, so
that no one saw plainly what had happened.
Then the challengers—the Knights of Maidenhood—began to range the field
anew, and pride themselves on victory, since no one dared to maintain
battle against them. By that time it was evening, which forced them to
refrain from fighting, and the trumpets sounded to compel them to cease.
So Sir Satyrane was judged to be the best knight on that first day.
The next morning the tournament began anew. Satyrane, with his gallant
band, was the first to appear, but Sir Triamond was unable to prepare
for battle, because of his wound. This grieved him much, and Cambell,
seeing this, and eager to win honour on his friend’s behalf, took the
shield and armour which were well known to belong to Triamond, and
without saying a word to any one, put them on and went forth to fight.
There he found Satyrane lord of the field, triumphing in great joy, for
no one was able to stand against him. Envious of his glory, and eager to
avenge his friend’s indignity, Cambell at once bent his spear against
him. After a furious battle, he overthrew Sir Satyrane; but, before he
could seize his shield and weapons, which were always the reward of the
victor, a hundred knights had pressed round him to rescue Satyrane, and
in the hope of taking Cambell prisoner. Undismayed, the latter fought
valiantly, but what could one do against so many? At last he was taken
captive.
When news of this was brought to Triamond, he forgot his wound, and,
instantly starting up, looked for his armour. But he sought in vain, for
it was not there—Cambell had taken it. Triamond therefore threw on
himself Cambell’s armour, and nimbly rushed forward to take his chance.
There he found the warrior band leading away his friend—a sorry sight
for him to see.
He thrust into the thickest of that knightly crowd, and smote down all
between till he came to where he had seen Cambell, like a captive
thrall, between two other knights. Triamond attacked them so fiercely
that they were obliged to let their prisoner go, and then the two
friends, fighting together, scattered their foes in alarm, as two greedy
wolves might a flock of sheep. They followed in pursuit till the sound
of the trumpet warned every one to rest.
Then all with one consent yielded the prize of this second day to
Triamond and Cambell as the two best knights. But Triamond resigned it
to Cambell, and Cambell gave it back to Triamond, each trying to advance
the other’s deed of arms, and make his praise preferred before his own.
So the judgment was deferred to another day.