g again her son. Since Milon was assured of his friend's
goodwill, he arrayed himself richly, and crossing the sea to Normandy,
came afterwards into the land of the Bretons. There he sought
the friendship of the lords of that realm, and fared to all the
tournaments of which he might hear. Milon bore himself proudly, and
gave graciously of his wealth, as though he were receiving a gift.
He sojourned till the winter was past in that land, he, and a brave
company of knights whom he held in his house with him. When Easter
had come, and the season that men give to tourneys and wars and the
righting of their private wrongs, Milon considered how he could meet
with the knight whom men called Peerless. At that time a tournament
was proclaimed to be held at Mont St. Michel. Many a Norman and Breton
rode to the game; knights of Flanders and of France were there in
plenty, but few fared from England. Milon drew to the lists amongst
the first. He inquired diligently of the young champion, and all men
were ready to tell from whence he came, and of his harness, and of the
blazon on his shield. At length the knight appeared in the lists and
Milon looked upon the adversary he so greatly desired to see. Now in
this tournament a knight could joust with that lord who was set over
against him, or he could seek to break a lance with his chosen foe. A
player must gain or lose, and he might find himself opposed either
by his comrade or his enemy. Milon did well and worshipfully in the
press, and was praised of many that day. But the Knight Peerless
carried the cry from all his fellows, for none might stand before him,
nor rival him in skill and address. Milon observed him curiously. The
lad struck so heavily, he thrust home so shrewdly, that Milon's hatred
changed to envy as he watched. Very comely showed the varlet, and
much to Milon's mind. The older knight set himself over against the
champion, and they met together in the centre of the field. Milon
struck his adversary so fiercely, that the lance splintered in his
gauntlet; but the young knight kept his seat without even losing a
stirrup. In return his spear was aimed with such cunning that he bore
his antagonist to the ground. Milon lay upon the earth bareheaded, for
his helmet was unlaced in the shock. His hair and beard showed
white to all, and the varlet was heavy to look on him whom he had
overthrown. He caught the destrier by the bridle, and led him before
the stricken man.

"Sir,"