The Norman's spear, striking the centre of his antagonist's shield, went to shivers, and the Disinherited Knight reeled in his saddle. On the other hand, the unknown champion had aimed his spear's point at the helmet of his opponent. Fair and true he hit the Norman on the visor, and saddle, horse, and man rolled on the ground under a cloud of dust.
"We shall meet again, I trust," said the defeated champion, as he extricated himself from the stirrups and fallen steed.
"If we do not," said the Disinherited Knight, "the fault will not be mine. On foot or horseback, with spear, with axe, or with sword, I am alike ready to encounter thee."
Without alighting from his horse, the conqueror called for a bowl of wine, and, opening the beaver of his helmet, announced that he quaffed it "To all true English hearts, and to the confusion of foreign tyrants."
He then desired a herald to proclaim that he was willing to encounter the rest of the challengers in the order in which they pleased to advance against him.
The gigantic Front-de-Boeuf, armed in sable armour, was the first who took the field. But he was soon defeated.
Sir Philip Malvoisin next advanced; and against him the stranger was equally successful. De Grantmesnil soon after avowed himself vanquished; and Ralph de Vipont summed up the list of the stranger's triumphs, being hurled to the ground with such force that he was borne senseless from the lists.
The acclamations of thousands applauded the award of the prince, announcing that day's honours to the Disinherited Knight.
The marshal of the field now approached the victor, praying him to suffer his helmet to be unlaced, ere they conducted him to receive the prize of the day's tourney from the hands of Prince John. But the Disinherited Knight, with all courtesy, declined their request. The prince himself made many inquiries of those in his company about the unknown stranger; but none could guess who he might be. Someone suggested that it might, perhaps, be King Richard himself; and John turned deadly pale as he heard the words, for he had been plotting to seize the throne during his brother's absence.
The victorious knight received his prize, speaking not a word in reply to the complimentary expressions of the prince, which he only acknowledged with a low bow. Leaping into the saddle of the richly-accoutred steed which had been presented to him, he rode up to where the Lady Rowena was seated, and, heedless of the many Norman beauties who graced the contest with their presence, gracefully sinking the point of his lance he deposited the coronet which it supported at the feet of the fair Saxon. The trumpets instantly sounded, while the heralds proclaimed the Lady Rowena the Queen of Beauty and of Love for the ensuing day.