bits of plumage shorn from the helmets of the knights. The deafening sound of metal upon metal was falling off somewhat as arms grew tired and the number of antagonists grew smaller. Many knights had now been pronounced "dead" by the marshals and they had withdrawn. The field was liberally littered with dead, dying and wounded men and even a horse or two and there were but a few combatants left. Now the squires began to risk running out upon the field to drag away their fallen masters.
Bois-Guilbert, de la Croix and Malvoisin were the last remaining knights on their side, while on the other there were the white knight, Athelstane of Coningsburgh and an unknown knight dressed all in black upon a jet black stallion. His shield was black as well, bearing no device. He was not well liked by the spectators, who had observed him to hang back from the fray, fighting only when pressed by another knight and, even so, doing nothing more than making a defense. He was booed by the spectators as he simply sat astride his horse and watched while Malvoisin and de la Croix pounded Athelstane into the ground and then turned to join Bois-Guilbert in doing battle with the "nameless oak." Many of those watching called to John, shouting at him to throw down his truncheon and end the contest, since it was obvious that the white knight would be overwhelmed and the crowd was sympathetic toward him. They did not want to see their favorite beaten to a bloody pulp by superior odds, but John held off, watching and smiling.
"Mark Bois-Guilbert," he said to Fitzurse. "The Templar has a score to settle and I'll wager our white knight will not live out the day."
Indeed, the Templar was pressing his attack with a fury, hammering away at the white knight for all he was worth with his battle axe while both de la Croix, on horseback, and Malvoisin, on foot, stood by to finish him off.
Lucas was doing his best to parry as many of the blows with his sword as possible. They could smash away at the nysteel until doomsday and make only the most superficial dents in it, but he was anxious to keep up appearances. He had seen de la Croix and Malvoisin team up on Athelstane, with the red knight attacking him on horseback and Malvoisin standing by to complete the job the moment Athelstane was unhorsed. The Saxon now lay senseless, possibly dead, some few yards way. Now Malvoisin stood ready, waiting until Bois-Guilbert and de la Croix managed to unhorse him so that he could take his shot. John showed no intention of stopping the contest until he was stretched out full length upon the field.
It was at that point that the black knight chose to make his move. He spurred his horse and rode up alongside de la Croix, smashing the red knight in the side with his mace. The red knight tumbled to the ground, stunned by both the fall and the blow. The black knight then dismounted and advanced on Malvoisin. They met mace to mace and it took but a moment for the black knight to bludgeon Malvoisin into oblivion, using his advantage of size and strength to slam away at his adversary until Malvoisin dropped like a stone. That done, the black knight turned to de la Croix, but seeing Marcel dragging the red knight away, he took his own horse by the reins and led it from the field of battle to the cheers of the Saxons, who seemed to have forgotten his failure to help Athelstane.
Lucas was left to battle Bois-Guilbert. "Die, Saxon pig!" screamed the Templar, hacking away at Lucas with all his might. He was becoming increasingly frustrated. The white knight had parried most of his blows, but some had gotten through and Bois-Guilbert simply couldn't understand why he had failed to draw blood. Whereas all around them lay knights who had been smashed and dented, leaving the impression that they had been dropped from some great height, the white knight's armor showed not a single mark of serious damage. It was infuriating.
Lucas, meanwhile, was beginning to grow tired. As the previous
Bois-Guilbert, de la Croix and Malvoisin were the last remaining knights on their side, while on the other there were the white knight, Athelstane of Coningsburgh and an unknown knight dressed all in black upon a jet black stallion. His shield was black as well, bearing no device. He was not well liked by the spectators, who had observed him to hang back from the fray, fighting only when pressed by another knight and, even so, doing nothing more than making a defense. He was booed by the spectators as he simply sat astride his horse and watched while Malvoisin and de la Croix pounded Athelstane into the ground and then turned to join Bois-Guilbert in doing battle with the "nameless oak." Many of those watching called to John, shouting at him to throw down his truncheon and end the contest, since it was obvious that the white knight would be overwhelmed and the crowd was sympathetic toward him. They did not want to see their favorite beaten to a bloody pulp by superior odds, but John held off, watching and smiling.
"Mark Bois-Guilbert," he said to Fitzurse. "The Templar has a score to settle and I'll wager our white knight will not live out the day."
Indeed, the Templar was pressing his attack with a fury, hammering away at the white knight for all he was worth with his battle axe while both de la Croix, on horseback, and Malvoisin, on foot, stood by to finish him off.
Lucas was doing his best to parry as many of the blows with his sword as possible. They could smash away at the nysteel until doomsday and make only the most superficial dents in it, but he was anxious to keep up appearances. He had seen de la Croix and Malvoisin team up on Athelstane, with the red knight attacking him on horseback and Malvoisin standing by to complete the job the moment Athelstane was unhorsed. The Saxon now lay senseless, possibly dead, some few yards way. Now Malvoisin stood ready, waiting until Bois-Guilbert and de la Croix managed to unhorse him so that he could take his shot. John showed no intention of stopping the contest until he was stretched out full length upon the field.
It was at that point that the black knight chose to make his move. He spurred his horse and rode up alongside de la Croix, smashing the red knight in the side with his mace. The red knight tumbled to the ground, stunned by both the fall and the blow. The black knight then dismounted and advanced on Malvoisin. They met mace to mace and it took but a moment for the black knight to bludgeon Malvoisin into oblivion, using his advantage of size and strength to slam away at his adversary until Malvoisin dropped like a stone. That done, the black knight turned to de la Croix, but seeing Marcel dragging the red knight away, he took his own horse by the reins and led it from the field of battle to the cheers of the Saxons, who seemed to have forgotten his failure to help Athelstane.
Lucas was left to battle Bois-Guilbert. "Die, Saxon pig!" screamed the Templar, hacking away at Lucas with all his might. He was becoming increasingly frustrated. The white knight had parried most of his blows, but some had gotten through and Bois-Guilbert simply couldn't understand why he had failed to draw blood. Whereas all around them lay knights who had been smashed and dented, leaving the impression that they had been dropped from some great height, the white knight's armor showed not a single mark of serious damage. It was infuriating.
Lucas, meanwhile, was beginning to grow tired. As the previous
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