Cloven through was the steel headpiece, and the man-at-arms let fall his sword.
"Neville, I yield me!" he cried out. "Smite not again."
"Who art thou?" demanded Richard.
"That ask thou not, if thou art wise," responded the stranger. "For thee to know my name were thy death-warrant. Thou hast perils enough. Ride on, and tell the king that an old man-at-arms who could grind thee to powder hath been beaten by a lad. I have fought in twenty pitched fields, and now I must even ride home to save my broken head."
"I will harm thee not," said Richard, "but I fear thee not. Thy head were worth but little——"
"Trust me, it is safe," said the stranger. "The king will leave it where it is. I shall see thee again some day. Thou wilt be a good lance, but carry thou not too many king's errands. Fare thee well!"
He had regained control of his horse, and now he suddenly spurred away in the very direction by which Richard had come. Down sprang the latter to pick up the fallen lance and to fasten upon it the pennon his own had carried before it was broken. Then, as he mounted once more, he exclaimed aloud:
"Ride I now for my life! I shall be followed fast and far. I know not friend from foe, save that the nearer I get to the king the safer I shall be."
His good horse neighed cheerily, as if he knew that his rider had conquered, and a proud youth was Richard Neville.
"I have won my first passage at arms," he said. "I shall have somewhat whereof to tell the prince."