the most gallant Knight Tilter in England and the stranger. Rage was in
his heart, and it blinded him to the certainty of his defeat, for he was
not expert in the lists. But by a sure instinct he had guessed the
identity of the White Horseman, and every nerve quivered with desire to
meet him in combat. Last night's good work seemed to have gone for
naught. Elizabeth's humour had changed; and to-day she seemed set on
humiliating him before the nobles who hated him, before the people who
had found in him the cause why the Queen had not married, so giving no
heir to the throne. Perturbed and charged with anger as he was, however,
the combat now forward soon chained his attention. Not in many a year
had there been seen in England such a display of skill and determination.
The veteran Knight Tilter, who knew that the result of this business
meant more than life to him, and that more than the honour of his
comrades was at stake--even the valour of England which had been
challenged--fought as he had never fought before, as no man had fought
in England for many a year. At first the people cried aloud their
encouragement; but as onset and attack after onset and attack showed that
two masters of their craft, two desperate men, had met, and that the
great sport had become a vital combat between their own champion and the
champion of another land--Spain, France, Denmark, Russia, Italy?--a hush
spread over the great space, and every eye was strained; men gazed with
bated breath.

The green turf was torn and mangled, the horses reeked with sweat and
foam, but overhead the soaring skylark sang, as it were, to express the
joyance of the day. During many minutes the only sound that broke the
stillness was the clash of armed men, the thud of hoofs, and the snorting
and the wild breathing of the chargers. The lark's notes, however,
ringing out over the lists freed the tongue of the Queen's fool, who
suddenly ran out into the lists, in his motley and cap and bells, and in