and joust against him. There is none who does not stay where he
is; and yet there are some who ask: "Why do these knights wait?
Why does none ride forth from the ranks? Surely someone will
straightway begin." And on the other side they say: "See ye not
what a champion our adversaries have sent us from their side? Let
him who has not yet known it know that, of the four bravest
known, this is a pillar equal to the rest." "Who is he, then?"
"See ye him not? It is Sagremors the Lawless." "Is it he?"
"Truly, without doubt." Cliges, who hears and hearkens to this,
sat on Morel, and had armour blacker than a ripe mulberry: his
whole armour was black. He separates himself from the others in
the rank and spurs Morel who comes out of the row; not one is
there who sees him but says to his neighbour: "This man rides
well with feutred lance; here have we a very skilful knight; he
bears his arms in the right fashion; well does the shield at his
neck become him. But one cannot but hold him mad as regards the
joust he has undertaken of his own accord against one of the
bravest known in all this land. But who is he? Of what land is he
a native? Who knows him?" "Not I!" "Nor I!" "But no snow has
fallen on him! Rather is his armour blacker than monk's or
priest's cape." Thus they engage in gossip; and the two champions
let their horses go; for no longer do they delay because right
eager and aflame are they for the encounter and the shock. Cliges
strikes so that he presses Sagremors' shield to his arm, and his
arm to his body. Sagremors falls at full length; Cliges acts
irreproachably, and makes him declare himself prisoner: Sagremors
gives his parole. Now the fight begins, and they charge in
rivalry. Cliges has rushed to the combat, and goes seeking joust
and encounter. He encounters no knight whom he does not take or
lay low. On both sides he wins the highest distinction; for where