They contended a long time with equal skill and courage; at length Sir Philip unhorsed his antagonist. The judges ordered, that either he should alight, or suffer his enemy to remount; he chose the former, and a short combat on foot ensued. The sweat ran off their bodies with the violence of the exercise. Sir Philip watched every motion of his enemy, and strove to weary him out, intending to wound, but not to kill him, unless obliged for his own safety.
He thrust his sword through his left arm, and demanded, whether he would confess the fact? Lord Lovel enraged, answered, he would die sooner. Sir Philip then passed the sword through his body twice, and Lord Lovel fell, crying out that he was slain.
“I hope not,” said Sir Philip, “for I have a great deal of business for you to do before you die: confess your sins, and endeavour to atone for them, as the only ground to hope for pardon.”
Lord Lovel replied, “You are the victor, use your good fortune generously!”
Sir Philip took away his sword, and then waved it over his head, and beckoned for assistance. The judges sent to beg Sir Philip to spare the life of his enemy.
“I will,” said he, “upon condition that he will make an honest confession.”
Lord Lovel desired a surgeon and a confessor.
“You shall have both,” said Sir Philip; “but you must first answer me a question or two. Did you kill your kinsman or not?”
“It was not my hand that killed him,” answered the wounded man.
“It was done by your own order, however? You shall have no assistance till you answer this point.”