With ceremony Montmaure was marshalled to the gallery, and, mounting the steps, came between the wreathed posts to the seats of state. The prince with Alazais rose to greet him. In Gaucelm of the Star’s time there had been trouble between Montmaure and Roche-de-Frêne. Some harrying had taken place, the blood of a number of knights and men-at-arms been shed, a few hundred peasants slain. But this present Gaucelm was a man of peace, and had effected peace with Montmaure. But Roche-de-Frêne was sceptical of its lasting forever. Who knew Montmaure, knew an ambitious, grasping, warring lord—and a cruel and unscrupulous. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered, long-armed, with red-gold hair and beard. When all courtesies of speech had been exchanged, when he had saluted in courtly fashion the most beautiful Alazais and the Princess Audiart, he took the chair of worth that was placed for him, and made enquiry for the duke. He had heard last night that he was a visitor at Roche-de-Frêne. Told that he would joust, and his pavilion pointed out. Montmaure gazed at it for half a minute, then, just turning his head, transferred his glance to the Princess Audiart. It was but an instant that he looked, then came square again to the regard of the lists. He turned a great emerald ring that he wore. “Fair lord,” said Alazais, “your son, Count Jaufre, is not with you?” Montmaure bent his red-gold head toward her. “Peerless lady, my son, in hunting, came upon a young wolf who tore his side. He cannot ride yet with ease. I have left him at Montmaure. There he studies chivalry, and makes, I doubt not, chansons for princesses.” “Travellers from Italy,” said Alazais, “have told us that he is an accomplished knight.” “It becomes not his father to boast of him,” said Montmaure. “I will say though that Italy is the poorer since his return home and his own land is the richer. I would that he were tilting to-day in the light, princesses, of your four fair eyes!” Again he looked at the Princess Audiart, and at the duke’s pavilion, and turned his emerald ring. The jousting began. Trumpets blew—two knights advanced against each other with levelled spears—round and round the green arena the eager folk craned necks. They had shows not a few in their lives, but this was a show that never palled. Cockfights were good—baiting of bears was good—a bull-fight passed the first two—but the tourney was the prime spectacle by just as much as knights in armour outvalued beasts of wood and field. The knights met with an iron clamour, each breaking his lance against the other’s shield. Another two were encountering—one of these was unhorsed. Others rode forth, coming from either end of the lists....