His violet and well-cut robe rested in graceful folds on hose of the same hue. A garland of fresh flowers crowned his brows, to which the sun had given a deeper tint, heightening the colour of his ruddy cheeks.
Entering the hall, he alighted from his horse, and came with quick and joyous step to kneel at the good monarch's feet. He then his purpose opened with these words:
“May He who made this world and all it holds; He who no suzerain hath,—now save the king, and all that 's his!”
“Friend,” replied Arthur, “thank thee for those words; if thou dost seek a boon, it shall be thine.”
“My liege, I am a squire, come from far unto your court, because I knew so doing I should meet the best of kings; and I conjure you for St. Mary's sake, if you so please, to arm me now a knight.”
“Friend,” said the king, “arise, and take thy seat; it shall be done thee even as thou wilt.”
“Never, my liege, if you permit, will I uprise from hence till you have granted me the boon I ask.”
“It is conceded,” then exclaimed the king.
The squire arose as these fair words were said, and went to take his place at that rich board. But scarcely was this done, than lo! the guests beheld a knight, well armed, and on a charger fleet, come riding in. Crossing the hall, he with his lance did strike a lord upon the breast, and stretched him dying just before the queen. He then rode out, exclaiming as he went:
“This have I done to shame thee, wicked king. If it do grieve thee, and thy boasted knights should care to follow, I am Taulat Lord of Rugimon; and each passing year, on this same day, will I return to do thee the like scorn.”