HOW THE COCKEREL CROWED.
It was yet early in the afternoon, for the last courses had been finished much more speedily than was anticipated.
By the laws of the tilt, it was incumbent on the remaining knights-challengers to meet each one of the other knights who had not been unhorsed, if they desired to go on with the joust. Each of the knights who was unhorsed was disqualified from taking further part in that day's tilting.
Sir Alain de Kervignac, therefore, was left to encounter alone each of the other esquires who survived from the previous jousting. The fourth knight-challenger had not yet appeared. If he arrived before his companion was defeated, or before sundown, he might take part in the tilt.
After a little consultation with his comrades and the Marshal of the Lists, and a notification from Master Meaux that he and his companions demanded a completion of the courses, it was proclaimed that the right valiant, very hardy, and most illustrious knight, Alain de Kervignac, would tilt in succession with each of his opponents. This was delightful news to the crowd, and they cheered him vociferously, while the Captain of the Wight and Yolande sent him their greetings by the Marshal of the Lists.
It was now a little after four o'clock. The sun would not set for another two hours. The other challenger might arrive at any moment, and the chances would then be a little more equal.
Of the assailants of Sir Alain de Kervignac only two could really be reckoned formidable. Master Meaux and Ralph Lisle, from their having already tilted successfully, as well as from their greater bulk and weight, were dangerous antagonists; and although Sir Richard Cornwall had been unhorsed by an unfortunate accident, yet it was quite sufficiently evident that Master Meaux was a very formidable man-at-arms; and as for Ralph, it was abundantly manifest what he could do, in spite of his youth and inexperience.
While these preliminaries were going on, refreshments were handed round, and the competitors were regaling themselves with copious draughts of wine and hippocras. But Ralph had only taken a very moderate draught, having been warned by Sir John Trenchard not to take much refreshment of any kind while there was an immediate prospect of more work before him, as it was likely to unsteady the eye and hand.
Bowerman's mortification at his defeat was rendered tenfold more bitter by the success of Ralph. If he hated him before, his hatred had now become ruthless and implacable, and being naturally of an ungovernable disposition, he became utterly reckless of how he expressed or concealed his rage.
The all-engrossing thought was how could he injure this swaggering upstart, this minion of fortune, this stripling successful only because of the favouritism of his antagonist?