 our proffered hospitality, has already
gained one prize, and may now afford to let others have their turn.« As he spoke
thus, an unexpected incident changed the fortune of the day.
    There was among the ranks of the Disinherited Knight a champion in black
armour, mounted on a black horse, large of size, tall, and to all appearance
powerful and strong, like the rider by whom he was mounted. This knight, who
bore on his shield no device of any kind, had hitherto evinced very little
interest in the event of the fight, beating off with seeming ease those
combatants who attacked him, but neither pursuing his advantages, nor himself
assailing any one. In short, he had hitherto acted the part rather of a
spectator than of a party in the tournament, a circumstance which procured him
among the spectators the name of Le Noir Faineant, or the Black Sluggard.
    At once this knight seemed to throw aside his apathy when he discovered the
leader of his party so hard bestead; for, setting spurs to his horse, which was
quite fresh, he came to his assistance like a thunderbolt, exclaiming in a voice
like a trumpet-call, »Desdichado, to the rescue!« It was high time; for, while
the Disinherited Knight was pressing upon the Templar, Front-de-Boeuf had got
nigh to him with his uplifted sword; but ere the blow could descend, the Sable
Knight dealt a stroke on the head, which, glancing from the polished helmet,
lighted with violence scarcely abated on the chamfron of the steed, and
Front-de-Boeuf, rolled on the ground, both horse and man equally stunned by the
fury of the blow. Le Noir Faineant then turned his horse upon Athelstane of
Coningsburgh; and his own sword having been broken in his encounter with
Front-de-Boeuf, he wrenched from the hand of the bulky Saxon the battle-axe
which he wielded, and, like one familiar with the use of the weapon, bestowed
him such a blow upon the crest, that Athelstane also lay senseless on the field.
Having achieved this double feat, for which he was the more highly applauded
that it was totally unexpected from him, the knight seemed to resume the
sluggishness of his character, returning calmly to the northern extremity of the
lists, leaving his leader to cope as he best could with Brian de Bois-Guilbert.
This was no longer matter of so much difficulty as formerly. The Templar's horse
had bled much, and gave way under the shock of the Disinherited Knight's charge.
Brian de
