he ladies, took their positions in two companies at either
extremity of the lists. For in this wise had it been ordered--that they
should tilt in single combat, their adversaries having been previously
determined by lot, one couple succeeding another until each knight had
fought once.

And after these four trial courses had been run, the four knights
adjudged to have won therein the greatest glory must be matched again in
two other duels, whereof the two victors might contest in the final
combat for the great prize of the tourney.

Hautboys and trumpets sounded shrilly the onset, and the first pair of
knights, laying their lances in rest, rushed to the encounter.

It may well be understood that in this series of preliminary single
combats, Sancie had eyes alone for that in which Richard figured. Easy
was his victory, for charging against young Raymond of Toulouse (seventh
of that name) so violent was the shock of his spear against his
opponent's shield that both Raymond and his steed rolled upon the
ground. Fortunate was that knight to have broken only his thigh, a
mischance which Richard strove to mitigate by most assiduous tendance
during Raymond's convalescence. But now for the glory of the feat he was
apportioned a weightier warrior, Barral des Baux, who had won like
renown in the trial contest, having thrust his antagonist out of his
saddle in such wise that he dinted the field with the back of his head,
and to such effect that thereafter he had no memory either for good or
ill, no, not so much as of this astounding adventure or of his
sweetheart's face. When Richard met the redoutable Des Baux their
lance-heads were planted squarely each upon the shield of the other, but
the polished curving surface offering no purchase both lances slipped,
and Barral's splintering and glancing downward was thrust into the
haunch of Richard's horse. The creature uttered a piteous, human-like
cry which was echoed by Sancie, and Richard hearing that wail and
feeling himself sinking so that his feet touched the ground, believed
that he had lost the day. But even then a roar echoed around the concave
of the amphitheatre: "The cup hath it, the cup! the cup!" and he saw the
Lord of Les Baux lying at a little distance with blood trickling upon
the sand from the bars of his helmet. For Richard's lance had slipped
upward and penetrating between gorget and helmet had pierced and
dislocated Barral's jaw. This alone was enough to give Richa