From her window the countess watched with a sorrowing and dreading heart; for Elined had not yet returned, and therefore the countess must be the prize of one of these suitors who had pestered her, and none of whom she cared for. Then, when the dust of the jousting had a little cleared, and the knights had withdrawn to the sides of the lists, to breathe and rest awhile, it was seen that twelve remained of the ninety-nine. The countess, looking from her window, knew them all from the devices on their shields, and none of them were men she favoured. Some she knew were evil men, yet, as knights, were powerful in jousting. And she dreaded which of them should be the victor, to be her lord and master. Then the knights hurtled together again, and as one after the other was unhorsed by stronger opponents and went from the field, she went pale with fear and anxiety. At last there were but two, and these were Sir Dewin, whom she knew as the Earl of Drood, and the other was a knight in blue armour, with a shield on which was painted a hillock or mound. And she knew him to be a man named Sir Daunt, or the Knight of the Mount, a man of fierce temper, quarrelsome and cruel. The countess could have swooned with terror, for she knew that now she was doomed to an unhappy life, whichever of these knights prevailed. For though the Earl of Drood was soft and gentle in speech and manner, she feared that this but covered a wicked heart. She could hardly bear to look as she heard these two, the last of all the ninety-nine, crash together in the midst of the jousting-ground. And she heard the cries of the onlookers. 'The blue knight's the better man! How he heaves with his sword! Ah, the golden knight is down!' And looking from her window the countess saw the earl was lying wounded, and the Knight of the Mount stood over him. Then the earl surrendered and was carried off the field. The great shouts that saluted the victor made the countess turn faint and sick with dread, so that she fell back among her handmaidens in a swoon. But, quickly recovering, she stood up, resolved to meet her fate with proud dignity. In a few moments the door opened and the arras was pushed aside, and the groom of the chambers announced with a shout: 'The Knight of the Mound, victorious in the joust, craves leave to greet our lady the countess.' The lady bowed assent, trembling in every limb. Then the groom stepped aside, and into the chamber came a comely gentleman, clad in purple tunic, rich with chains and jewelled belt. But it was not the knight whom the countess had expected, but a stranger, with a courtly and gentle manner and a winning smile. Then from behind him came Elined, full of smiles, with a look of triumph in her eyes. 'My lady,' she said, bowing low, 'this is the knight, Sir Owen of Wales, from the court of King Arthur, whom I have brought to protect you and wed you. He hath just proved himself the doughtiest among a hundred.'