"Thou must know," said Arthur, "that I have agreed with the leader of the Gascon esquires that our men shall be placed facing opponents of the same relative powers. ’Twould be a poor spectacle if our best were pitted against their weakest and their strongest against our tail end; so we have, for the first onset only, arranged that best shall meet best, and so forth. Thou art matched against Gaston Dugarde." "I know nothing of him," replied Edgar. "Is he weak?" "Weak! Thou wilt see. We have not thrown thee away." Exactly how to take the reply Edgar hardly knew, but he was too full of his great trouble and too anxious to be through with the present encounter to care to enquire further. The intense eagerness with which he had looked forward to so thrilling a mêlée had gone, and he now only wished it over, that he might continue his enquiries respecting Sir John. As they cantered into the enclosure, however, he felt his enthusiasm revive. No one could view the glittering scene unmoved, and to Edgar, who had never been to a tournament before, the scene was full of meaning and interest. The wide sweep of the lists, the towering stands at the middle, the dense masses of spectators--a large proportion of whom were soldiers--the glitter of armour, and the tramp of spirited chargers, all struck the fullest note of chivalry and warriorhood. "Come, Arthur," cried one of the English esquires impatiently, "thou art behindhand. Guy de Parfrey hath marshalled his men, and awaits us." "No matter, Stephen, since we are now seven. Now, comrades all, wheel into line in the order agreed upon. Forget not the rules--I would not that we scored by transgressing them. Strike home, and remember ’tis St. George for England!" The English esquires wheeled into their places and, headed by their captain, Arthur Pomeroy, cantered gaily into the lists in single file simultaneously with their adversaries. Amidst a gay fanfare of trumpets, the two lines of steel-clad horsemen filed, saluting, before the Earl of Derby. Then, without a pause, they diverged to their own ends of the lists, each man halting his steed and turning as the line passed his own position. In a very few seconds the files of prancing horsemen became two lines of motionless figures with lances couched, facing one another watchfully. There was but a slight pause, and then the marshals gave the signal for the onset. And loud the trumpets blared! With a thunder of hoofs, the two walls of steel dashed swiftly inwards, as though drawn by a gigantic magnet, and met in the centre of the lists with a crash that could be heard for miles. Indeed, men passing to and fro in the city streets and alleys heard the noise, and stopped to question one another as to what it portended.