The trial was held not less than forty days after the challenge; and the time being come, the heralds demanded silence; and the appellant was summoned three times by voice and by sound of trumpet. As he marched forward he was addressed by the Constable, "Who art thou, and wherefore comest thou armed to the door of these lists?" His answer given, he was taken to his pavilion, and afterwards was made to swear on the altar that his cause was just. The other did in like fashion. Then the pavilions were replaced by chairs whereon the combatants might take an occasional rest. Napkins holding a loaf and a bottle of water were hung on opposite ends of the lists. The marshal cried three times "_Laissez les aller_," and the pair went at it. Far better death than defeat. If either yielded, the marshal cried "Hoo," to declare the combat at an end. Then the wretch was taken to the scaffold on which his shield was hung reversed, his sword was broken, and his spurs hacked from his heels. He was now taken to the church where a mass for the dead was sung over him, and at last he was haled to the gibbet where the hangman claimed his prey. This is the form of judicial combat that caught the fancy of our great writers. In Chaucer's _Knight's Tale_ there is the elaborate set to between Palamon and Arcite. In Shakespeare's _Richard II._ there is the fiasco of Norfolk and Hereford. In _Lear_ we have the fight to the death between Edmund and Edgar, and "every schoolboy knows" The Templar's duel in _Ivanhoe_.