The Champion, now but the shadow of a name, was a nobler offshoot of the system. Originally a witness, he was finally indispensable in civil cases wherein--for a legal reason not here to be discussed--the parties themselves must not engage. He was the proper advocate for churchmen, for women, and for the Crown; and his last appearance for royalty was in 1820, at the coronation of George IV. The Dymocks have held the manor of Scrivelsby in Lincolnshire for centuries by this tenure, and possibly their representative claimed a part in the pageant on the two subsequent occasions, but to have him ride up Westminster Hall in full armour and clang his gauntlet on the floor (as he did of old) would have savoured too much of Drury Lane pantomime for the taste of a cynical age. The Champion's dress and bearing were minutely ordered. His head (_e.g._) was shaven, but whether this was to give no hold to his foe, or to fulfil some old superstition, is still in debate among the learned. In the end he was usually a hireling, which fact may very well have accentuated the absurdity of the system. At any rate, towards the close of the thirteenth century it was only kept alive by the approvers. Then Chivalry came with its Treason Duel, and by the time of Richard II. the Chivalry Court was in full swing. Its forms, mainly imported, were after this wise. Upon the accusation and the exchange of gloves, time and place were assigned for the duel, and here the lists were set and staked. There were two gates, and hard by each a pavilion--one eastward for the appellant, and the other westward for the defendant. To the south was the judge's seat; and right and left were benches for the high-born, while the commons were made free of the unenclosed field. Near the judge an altar was decked with relics; and not far off there stood a gibbet and a scaffold. Men-at-arms were stationed between the palisades. There were heralds in gay tabards, a priest in full canonicals stood at the altar--but it were wearisome to enumerate all the officials.