Beyond this, it was only noted that in the casque of Sir Aradas was a lady's glove, and on his left arm an azure scarf, fringed with gold, such as the pale girl on the seneschal's arm wore, over her snow-white cymar, crossing her left shoulder and the region of her heart.
And now the godfathers left the lists, and none remained within them save the two champions facing each other, like two pillars of steel, as solid and as motionless, until the word should be given to set on, and the two barefooted friars, crouching on their knees in the angles of the lists, muttering their orisons before the crucifixes, which they held close before their eyes, as if to shut out every untoward sight which might mar their meditations.
Then a single trumpet was blown. A sharp, stern, warning blast. And a herald made proclamation;
"Oyez! oyez! oyez! This is champ clos, for the judgment of God. Therefore, beware all men, to give no aid or comfort to either combatant, by word, deed, sign, or token, on pain of infamy and mutilation."
Then the constable rose in his stirrups, and cried aloud—
"Let them go!"
And the trumpet sounded.
"Let them go!"
And, again, the trumpet sounded.
"Let them go! Do your duty!"