whatever was most fair and costly, most varied and full of
meaning, had these noble knights collected in honour of this
day. Many an eye was turned on Froda, who, without scarf,
plume, or mantle, with his shining silver breastplate, on
which appeared the golden image of Aslauga, and with his well-
wrought helmet of golden locks, shone, in the midst of the
crowd, like polished brass. Others, again, there were, who
took pleasure in looking at the young Edwald; his whole armour
was covered by a mantle of white silk, embroidered in azure
and silver, as his whole helmet was concealed by a waving
plume of white feathers. He was arrayed with almost feminine
elegance, and yet the conscious power with which he controlled
his fiery, snow-white steed made known the victorious strength
and manliness of the warlike stripling.

In strange contrast appeared the tall and almost gigantic
figure of a knight clothed in a mantle of black glossy
bearskin, bordered with costly fur, but without any ornament
of shining metal. His very helmet was covered with dark
bearskin, and, instead of plumes, a mass of blood-red
horsehair hung like a flowing mane profusely on every side.
Well did Froda and Edwald remember that dark knight, for he
was the uncourteous guest of the hostelry. He also seemed to
remark the two knights, for he turned his unruly steed
suddenly round, forced his way through the crowd of warriors,
and, after he had spoken over the enclosure to a hideous
bronze-coloured woman, sprang with a wild leap across the
lists, and, with the speed of an arrow, vanished out of sight.
The old woman looked after him with a friendly nod. The
assembled people laughed as at a strange masquing device; but