Even as he gave the challenge, the lightning blazed behind him, the roof was shaken with a crash of thunder, men sprang to their feet, and women screamed aloud, while with roar of wind, hissing rain, shaft upon shaft of lightning, and peal after peal of thunder, the dreadful elements took up the challenge. Amazed and appalled, the Queen and her nobles sat for the most part silent, but some few fled aimlessly from the tables, rushing here and there in panic.
Nobody noticed in that confusion that a trooper, in the armour of the Guard, picked up the Champion's gauntlet from the floor. By that act he challenged Margaret's accession, and accepted the gage of battle with the Queen's Champion.
Dymoke bent forward in the saddle, trying to see through the gloom.
"Who are you?" he cried. "Damn you! Let see me your face."
A blaze of lightning revealed to him the face of Prince Ali.
"You fool," he cried; "do you challenge our Lady's right?"
"Don't talk nonsense," said Ali, laughing. "Here," he presented the gauntlet with a gesture of mock humility, "you can't leave this lying about."
The Champion seized the gauntlet, and with it struck Prince Ali across the face.
The Indian drew back, his eyes gleaming out of the darkness.
"Afterwards," he said. "Afterwards. You have challenged Heaven, and your God has answered you."