followed he carried himself well. For this the most of the wooers had
fresh horses, and I drew a long breath when, at the close of the third
course, my master, with two others, remained in the lists. For it had
been announced to us that the last courses should be ridden on the
morrow. But now Sir Borre behaved very treacherously, for perceiving
(as I am sure) that the horse Holgar was overwearied and panting, he
gave word that the sport should not be stayed. More by grace of Heaven
it was than by force of riding that Ebbe unhorsed his next man, a
knight's son from Smalling; but in the last course, which he rode
against Olaf of Trolle, who had stood a bye, his good honest beast came
to the tilt-cloth with knees trembling, and at a touch rolled over,
though between the two lances (I will swear) there was nothing to
choose. I was quick to pick up my dear lad; but he would have none of
my comfort, and limped away from the lists as one who had borne himself
shamefully. Yea, and my own heart was hot as I led Holgar back to
stable, without waiting to see the prize claimed by one who, though a
fair fighter, had not won it without foul aid.

Having stalled Holgar I had much ado to find his master again, and
endless work to persuade him to quit his sulks and join the other
suitors in the hall that night, when each presented his bride-gift.
Even when I had won him over, he refused to take the coffer I placed in
his hands, though it held his mother's jewels, few but precious.
But entering with the last, as became his humble rank of esquire, he
laid nothing at the lady's feet save his sword and the chain that she
herself had given him.

"You bring little, Squire Ebbe," said the Knight Borre, from his seat
beside his daughter.