"What means this sorrowful sight?" asked Beaumains, with a look of deep concern.
"Do not be depressed by what you see," said Linet. "You must keep in spirit, or it will be the worse for you and us all. These knights came here to the rescue of my sister, and the red knight, when he had overcome them, put them to this shameful death, without mercy or pity. He will serve you in the same way if he should vanquish you."
"Jesu defend me from such a shameful death and disgrace!" cried Beaumains. "If I must die, I hope to be slain in open battle."
"It would be better, indeed. But trust not to his courtesy, for thus he treats all."
"It is a marvel that so vile a murderer has been left to live so long. I shall do my best to end his career of crime."
Then they rode to the castle, and found it surrounded with high and strong walls, with double ditches, and lofty towers within. Near the walls were lodged many lords of the besieging army, and there was great sound of minstrelsy and merry-making. On the opposite side of the castle was the sea, and here vessels rode the waves and the cries of mariners were heard.
Near where they stood was a lofty sycamore-tree, and on its trunk hung a mighty horn made from an elephant's tusk. This the Knight of the Red Lawns had hung there, in order that any errant knight, who wished to battle for the castle, might summons him to the fray.
"But let me warn you," said Linet, "not to blow it till noon. For it is now nearly day, and men say that his strength increases till the noontide hour. To blow it now would double your peril."
"Do not advise me thus, fair damsel," said Beaumains. "I shall meet him at his highest might, and win worshipfully or die knightly in the field. It must be man to man and might to might."
Therewith he spurred his horse to the sycamore, and, taking the horn in hand, blew with it such a blast that castle and camp rang with the sound.