hill in Warwickshire, is scoured out. This is suggested to be done in
commemoration of the horse which the Earl of Warwick slew on that day,
determined to vanquish or die."--Roberts: York and Lancaster, vol. i.
p. 429.]

"It was so; and the shout of my merry men, when they saw me amongst
their ranks on foot--all flight forbid--was Malech's death-dirge. It
is a wondrous race,--that of Malech and his son Saladin," continued
the earl, smiling. "When my ancestor, Aymer de Nevile, led his troops
to the Holy Land, under Coeur de Lion, it was his fate to capture a
lady beloved by the mighty Saladin. Need I say that Aymer, under a
flag of truce, escorted her ransomless, her veil never raised from her
face, to the tent of the Saracen king? Saladin, too gracious for an
infidel, made him tarry a while, an honoured guest; and Aymer's
chivalry became sorely tried, for the lady he had delivered loved and
tempted him; but the good knight prayed and fasted, and defied Satan
and all his works. The lady (so runs the legend) grew wroth at the
pious crusader's disdainful coldness; and when Aymer returned to his
comrades, she sent, amidst the gifts of the soldan, two coal-black
steeds, male and mare, over which some foul and weird spells had been
duly muttered. Their beauty, speed, art, and fierceness were a
marvel. And Aymer, unsuspecting, prized the boon, and selected the
male destrier for his war-horse. Great were the feats, in many a
field, which my forefather wrought, bestriding his black charger. But
one fatal day, on which the sudden war-trump made him forget his
morning ave, the beast had power over the Christian, and bore him,
against bit and spur, into the thickest of the foe. He did all a
knight can do against many (pardon his descendant's vaunting,--so runs
the tale), and the Christians for a while beheld him solitary in the
melee, mowing down moon and turban. Then the crowd closed, and the