At the same instant a powerful voice cried out: "An infamous knight fights here!"
All looked in astonishment towards the spot whence the voice proceeded, where stood a tall and elegant knight, in steel-blue mail, with closed visor, and displaying a magnificent dagger in his outstretched hand.
"Knowest thou this witness, traitor?" he continued, in the same mighty voice, while in his hand he turned the dagger, on the hilt of which the golden lions gleamed in the bright sunshine.
"That dagger was drawn from the corse of King Erik Christopherson, on St. Cecilia's night," cried a loud voice among the people.
"That dagger armourer Troels of Melfert sold to Duke Waldemar," shouted another: "I can swear to it."
"It is the marsk's dagger--Marsk Stig's dagger!" cried a third.
The battle had ceased; for the knight in the gilded mail sat as if petrified, staring through the grating of his helmet at the blue knight and the dagger. The sword fell from his hand, and he was becoming faint and giddy, when, at a signal from the young Erik, the king-at-arms advanced and cried aloud--"No one shall interrupt the combatants by word or gesture, under the penalty of death!"
At this announcement the blue knight bowed respectfully, and placed the dagger in his bosom, but remained calmly gazing at Count Gerhard's antagonist.
"Hand him his weapon again!" cried the count to a pursuivant: "I know that I fight with a false and dishonoured knight; but one of us must here lose his life."
Whilst the pursuivant stooped to take up the sword, the golden knight suddenly gave the spur to his steed, and cleared the barrier at a bound. Every eye followed him with amazement, and a deathlike stillness prevailed until he was no longer visible; and when they then turned to look for the blue knight, he too had disappeared.