But scarcely had the knights, with their raised shields and gleaming swords, come up against each other; scarcely had their first blows sounded on their armour, when, behold! Sir Otto’s light-brown steed, which, in spite of their utmost efforts, had broken from the squires, sprung over the rails, and would have immediately attacked his master’s opponent. Sir Otto, however, seized him by the bridle, and led him back to the gateway of the lists, giving him again in charge to the squires, while, with threatening gestures and a stern voice, he commanded him to stand quiet; so that the noble steed remained motionless, nor did the by-standers even require the reins to hold him. On Sir Otto’s return, the Chevalier de Montfaucon made him a kind and courteous salutation with his sword; then raised it for a vehement attack, and the frightful combat began anew. Ere long, the blows on both sides fell thick as hail, till oftentimes the combatants stood with their shields pressed together, watching their opportunity to strike, and then again flew suddenly asunder. At length Sir Folko’s sword descended, with the rapidity of lightning, on his opponent’s left arm, in such manner, that his shield was cleft in twain, and one half fell rattling on the ground. “Hold, hold!” cried the chevalier; and Sir Otto lowered his weapon, which he had just then upraised, asking, at the same time,--“Are you wounded, brother? otherwise there is no need of a pause.” “Not so; your shield is wanting,” said Sir Folko, “while mine is yet uninjured; on which account I shall lay it aside; for the conditions of an honourable combat require that our means of defence and attack should, on both sides, be the same.” Thereupon he made a sign that his squire should draw near, and gave him his blue and gold shield; but Sir Otto interfered, and would by no means allow that it should be carried away. Sir Folko then said, in a grave determined tone,--“Sir Knight, young as you now are in years and experience, methinks you must, for this once, bear with a lesson from me. I have worn armour some twelve years longer than you have done, and I know perchance as well as another what is or is not fitting. Since I have respectfully and thankfully accepted from you the favour, that when my horse was wounded, yours should be led out of the lists, methinks it is not too much to expect that you should receive some like grace at the hands of Sir Folko de Montfaucon.” “You are in the right, my noble brother,” answered Sir Otto; “I bow to the judgment of one who is indeed a mirror and pattern of knighthood.” With these words, he made a humble obeisance, and an attendant squire bore away the bright-gleaming shield. Thereafter the battle was renewed with fresh spirit and vigour; but had not continued long, ere one of Sir Otto’s blows came with such force on the left arm of the chevalier, that the weapon made its way between the corslet and cuirass; whereupon a stream of blood followed the wound.