It is needless to say that the New Tournament occupied both public and private attention, to the exclusion of all other topics; until, if only for the sake of relieving the strain, which every day became more intolerable, everybody hoped that the matter would be decided speedily. And, indeed, there was little reason for delay, excepting in the circumstance that the two young men had asked for a week in which to become better acquainted with each other.
What passed between them was never known; only a written document, signed by both of them, and containing reasons why the two nations should trust each other, gave some indication of the themes on which they conversed.
It was a lovely spot among the hills that had been chosen for the fight; and thither on a bright morning a great multitude repaired. Medical men were on the spot, and several of the most eminent Judges of the two countries. Many people went with the hope still in their hearts that the contest would not really be to the death; but no such hope or wish was in the mind of either of the brave knights who had come to fight for his country.
“Let the arrangements be as simple as possible,” the Englishman had said. But no pomp or show could have added to the awful solemnity of the occasion. As the two men faced each other, looking so resolute and brave, and yet so gentle, a thousand eyes grew dim. They shook hands cordially with each other, and spent a few moments in private conversation. It was hoped that they would address the assembly, which, indeed, consisted of the greatest men of all nations, and the hope was not disappointed.
“It is no time for words,” said the English Prince, “but the occasion is a marked one, and perhaps words, however poor, may prove to be seeds which shall hereafter grow into a harvest. The brave knight of France has become my dear friend, and therefore there is no enmity, but only love to each other in our hearts this morning; and our friendship is none the less strong because one of us will certainly kill the other. We are both more willing to-day than ever to sacrifice our lives in the cause of peace and in the interests of our country. I am for England with all my heart, and to the very backbone—brave, heroic, Christian England. She has been spoilt by some faults, but the morning of her regeneration has arrived, and I call upon you Englishmen, in God’s name, to be worthy of her traditions, and arise to the demands of the new era which is upon us.” Then, in a voice that pierced to the outer edge of the crowd, he cried, “Never more shall war mean the slaying of thousands! And God bless England!”
The Frenchman’s speech was longer, and it called upon his countrymen to live and die for fair France.
Then the trumpeters gave the signal for the contest to begin, and men held their breath—watching with their souls in their eyes. There was a little play and parrying at first; but presently the men fought in deadly earnest, and their flashing swords became stained with blood. Suddenly there was a halt—the Prince’s sword had snapped, and a new one was required. Then there was a cry for intervention. “Let the contest cease! Enough! Enough!” But the young men would not yield to that cry, and again there was a clashing of swords. The moments seemed ages to those who looked on, and several fainted and could gaze no longer; indeed, the excitement proved too great to be endured. But the contest was not to be prolonged. Presently one fell from his horse, wounded fatally.
It was the English Prince.
The doctors were at his side in a moment. He could still speak a few words.
“The wound is fatal, I know,” he said. “Bayard, where are you?” The Frenchman took the Prince in his arms and put his head on his shoulder.