What Marpasse saw was a knight on a black horse riding up furiously through the wood. He was bending low in the saddle behind his shield, with spear feutered, and the steel mass of his great helmet flashing in the sunlight that sifted through the trees. His horse seemed to gallop almost silently over the soft turf. Yet he came on like the wind, and with no doubtful intent.
Marpasse whipped round, and ran back to Denise.
“Not death yet,” she said, “nor the devil either, pray God.”
There was the thud of hoofs on the soft turf of the woodland rides, and the two women saw the man on the black horse go by at the gallop, bending low behind his shield. Marpasse stood out to watch him, her mouth wide open as though howling a blessing. She saw one of Gaillard’s men kicking his heels into his horse’s flanks as though to gather speed against the shock of that feutered spear. The knight on the black horse was on him before the fellow could gain much ground. Marpasse saw a spear break in the middle, and a body go twisting over the grass like a bird with an arrow through it, while the dead man’s horse went off at a canter.
Marpasse caught Denise by the hand, and drew her from behind the tree.
“Glory of God, my dear,” and her eyes glistened, but not with tears, “Lord, how I love a lusty fighter. Here is a man who can strike a blow. And here are we like damoiselles in a French romance, my dear. Save us, Sir Launcelot, or Sir Tristan of Lyonnesse, whatever your name may be! La, I could kiss you for being so lusty!”
The second of Gaillard’s men had ridden in to help his comrade. Swords were out, and sweeping in gyres of light under the boughs of the oak trees. But he of the black horse set about Gaillard’s man as though he were thrashing corn. There was only one sword at work so far as the issue was concerned.
Denise looked on with dull eyes, and feverish face. It was like a violent dream to her, those struggling figures, and the body lying there thrust through with the broken spear. Marpasse was dancing from foot to foot, her brown face flushed, her eyes flashing.
She threw up her arms, and shouted in triumph.
“He has it, he has it, in the throat. Oh, brave blow! Would I were a man, and that I had an arm like that!”