There was a shout of applause from every one. The two lances flew up into a thousand splinters, the two horses fell back on their haunches, and the steel-clad figures, erect and firm, wheeling them round, rode back for fresh spears.
"'Twill be a marvel an one of them does not get an ugly knock," said Humphrey.
"Ay, marry will it; they're tough men-at-arms--but I wish one o' them splinters would hit that Paxhulle in the eye!" said Tom o' Kingston savagely; "it 'ud stop his leering for some time."
Once more the signal was given, and this time something was bound to go. The shock was tremendous.
"Holy Thomas! he's off! he's down! Mercy! but 'twas a fine stroke! Ah! my gay gentleman, but you're on your back now. Well done, Master Meaux! The Island for ever! A Meaux! A Meaux!"
The shouts of joy and the braying of the trumpets were long sustained and hearty. It was the first triumph of the popular side, and the enthusiasm was intense.
Sir Richard Cornwall had been overthrown without any disgrace to himself. In such a shock it was clear that every leather and strap of the horses' harness would be tried to the uttermost, and the girth of his saddle breaking, and the poitral also, he was borne backwards over the crupper to the ground, saddle and all going with him, and his horse nearly falling over backwards; for, like the good knight he was, he never let go of the reins.
"'Twas a pity Master Meaux was not matched against the Frenchman," said Humphrey.
"Ay; but he'll have to meet him before all's done. Who's coming now? Oh, I see, 'tis Master Bruyn. He won't be o' no account; he's been brought up too soft," commented Tom o' Kingston.
The first Breton knight now rode out again. It looked ominous for the Squire of Affeton.