After a little consultation with his comrades and the Marshal of the Lists, and a notification from Master Meaux that he and his companions demanded a completion of the courses, it was proclaimed that the right valiant, very hardy, and most illustrious knight, Alain de Kervignac, would tilt in succession with each of his opponents. This was delightful news to the crowd, and they cheered him vociferously, while the Captain of the Wight and Yolande sent him their greetings by the Marshal of the Lists. It was now a little after four o’clock. The sun would not set for another two hours. The other challenger might arrive at any moment, and the chances would then be a little more equal. Of the assailants of Sir Alain de Kervignac only two could really be reckoned formidable. Master Meaux and Ralph Lisle, from their having already tilted successfully, as well as from their greater bulk and weight, were dangerous antagonists; and although Sir Richard Cornwall had been unhorsed by an unfortunate accident, yet it was quite sufficiently evident that Master Meaux was a very formidable man-at-arms; and as for Ralph, it was abundantly manifest what he could do, in spite of his youth and inexperience. While these preliminaries were going on, refreshments were handed round, and the competitors were regaling themselves with copious draughts of wine and hippocras. But Ralph had only taken a very moderate draught, having been warned by Sir John Trenchard not to take much refreshment of any kind while there was an immediate prospect of more work before him, as it was likely to unsteady the eye and hand. Bowerman’s mortification at his defeat was rendered tenfold more bitter by the success of Ralph. If he hated him before, his hatred had now become ruthless and implacable, and being naturally of an ungovernable disposition, he became utterly reckless of how he expressed or concealed his rage. The all-engrossing thought was how could he injure this swaggering upstart, this minion of fortune, this stripling successful only because of the favouritism of his antagonist? "Don’t tell me," said Bowerman fiercely to the stolid Newenhall, for the twentieth time, "don’t tell me that it was not all thought on beforehand. That giddy Yolande had got the Breton jackanapes, when she gave him her favour, to promise he would be gentle to her cousin, out of kindness to her family, and then, of course, he got a fall before that blundering lout. But he shall have a fall before I’ve done," he added savagely. To all these fierce threats Newenhall only stolidly grunted, until at last Bowerman’s fury, eager for an object immediately to vent itself upon, turned upon the luckless Willie, and hitting him a furious blow with the haft of his broken spear, which he still held in his hand, "Pig’s Eyes" was knocked off his horse, to the great delight of the bystanders. "You egg, you, why don’t you answer sensibly instead of grunting?" said Bowerman, as he struck Newenhall.