Ordered by a whisper from the duke, the groom beckoned Longpole from the ground, and the armourer, taking the shield and lance, presented them to the young knight at the end of the course. A note or two was now sounded by the trumpet, and Lord Abergany offered himself on horseback opposite to Sir Osborne, who paused a moment to observe if he charged his lance at the head-piece or the shield, that, out of compliment to the duke's relation, he might follow his example.
"Spur, spur, Sir Osborne!" cried the duke, who stood near; "Abergany comes."
The knight struck his spurs into the charger's sides; the horse darted forward, and the spear, aimed low, struck the fess point of Lord Abergany's shield, and splintered up to the vantplate in Sir Osborne's hand; at the same moment Lord Abergany's broke upon the young knight's breast; and suddenly wheeling their chargers, they regained the opposite ends of the lawn.
The second lance was broken nearly in the same manner; with only this difference, that Sir Osborne, having now evinced his respect for his opponent, aimed at the head-piece, which counted a point more.
Lord Montague now succeeded, laughing good-humouredly as he rode towards his place, and bidding Sir Osborne aim at his head, for it was, he said, the hardest part about him. The knight did as he was desired, and broke his spear twice on the very charnel of his helmet. It being now Sir William Cecil's turn, each knight charged his spear directly towards the other's head, and galloping on, both lances were shivered to atoms.
"Gallantly done! gallantly done!" cried the Duke of Buckingham, though he began to feel some little anxiety lest the knight banneret might carry off the prize, which he had fully intended for Sir Osborne. "Gallantly done! to it again, gentle knights."
The spears were now once more delivered, and setting out as before, each struck the other's head-piece; but Sir William Cecil's, touching obliquely, glanced off, while that of Sir Osborne was again splintered.
"Give me your voices, gentlemen all!" cried the duke, turning to the spectators. "Who has the day? Sir Osborne Maurice, I say."
"Sir Osborne! Sir Osborne!" cried a dozen voices; but one person, no other than he who had thought fit to quarrel with the knight about touching the very armour he now wore, could not forbear vociferating the name of Sir William Cecil, although, fearful of the duke's eye, he took care to keep back behind the rest while he did so.
"Some one says Sir William Cecil!" cried the duke, both surprised and angry. "What say you yourself, Sir William?"