So Tristram departed, and rode far over hill and dale, everywhere seeking for Lancelot, with whom he in his heart wished to make fellowship. As he went on he came by a forest, on the edge of which stood a tall tower, and in front of it a fair level meadow. And here he saw one knight fighting against ten, and bearing himself so well that it seemed marvellous that a single man could hold his own so bravely against such odds. He had slain half their horses, and unhorsed the remaining knights, so that their chargers ran free in the field. The ten had then assailed him on foot, and he was bearing up bravely against them.
"Cease that battle!" cried Tristram, loudly, as he came up. "Ten to one are cowards' odds." And as he came nearer he saw by his shield that the one knight was Sir Palamides.
"You would be wise not to meddle," said the leader of the ten, who was the villanous knight called Breuse San Pité. "Go your way while your skin is whole. As for this knight, he is our prey."
"Say you so!" cried Tristram. "There may be two words to that."
As he spoke he sprang from his horse, lest they should kill it, and attacked them on foot with such fury that with every stroke a knight fell before him.
This was more than they had bargained for, and Breuse fled hastily to the tower, followed by all that were able, while Tristram hotly pursued. But they quickly closed and barred the door, shutting him out. When he saw this he returned to Palamides, whom he found sitting under a tree, sorely wounded.
"Thanks for your timely aid," said the Saracen. "You have saved my life."
"What is your name?" asked Tristram.
"It is Sir Palamides."
"Then have I saved my greatest enemy; and I here challenge you to battle."