The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1855-04-12

OF infamy and mutilation.''
Then the Constable rose in his stirrups. and
cried aloud go
Let them goi'
And the trumpet sounded.
"Let them go!n
And again the trumpet sounded.
" Let them go! Do your duty!"
And the Earl Mareschal answered.
sand may God defend the ripbti'
ana, the third time, the trumpet sounded,
short and direful as the blast Of doom: and at
that deadly summons, with brandished blades,
both champions started forward but the first
bound OF Sir Aradas carried him across two
thirds of the space, and his sword fell like a
thunderbolt on the casque of his antagonist,
and bent him almost to his knee. But that
was no strife to be ended at blow; and they
closed, foot to foot, dealing at each other sweep
ing blows, which could not be parted, and
could scarce be avoided, but which were ward
ed off by their armor of proof
TWAS soon observed that Sir Foulke d'Oilly's
blows fell with far the weightier dint, and that,
when they took effect it was all his lighter ad-
versary could do to bear up against them.
But, on the other hand, it was seen that, by his
wnndertul agility, and the 1.-THE motions of his
supple and elastic frame, Sir Aradas avoided
more blows than he received and that each
stroke missed by his enemy told almost as
much against him as a wound.
AT the end of half an hour, no material ad-
vantage had been gained;' the mail of either
champion was broken in many places, and the
blood howed of both, from more wounds than
one; that of Aradas the more freely.
But as they paused, perforce, to snatch a
moments breath, it was clear that Sir Aradas
was the fresher and less fatigued of the two !;
while Sir Foulke was evidently short of wind
and hard pressed.
1t was not TIE young mans game to give his
enemy time-so, before half minute had pass
ed, he set on him again, with the same fiery
vigor and energy as before. His opponent,
however, saw that the long play was telling
against him, and it appeared that he was deter
mined to bring the conflict to close by sheer
force.
Whirliug his huge sword round his head, he
brought it down with transverse cut to the
right, which alighting, at the exact distance,
full on the casque of Sir Aradas, dashed the
whole crown and vizor of the treacherous head
piece to atoms, leaving only portion Of the
the beaver supporting the mail tippet, which
still protected his throat and neck.
The fight seemed ended by that single blow;
and, despite the injunction of the herald,
general groan burst from the assembly. Guen-
dolen covered her face with her hands for
second, but then looked up again, with wild
and frenzied eye, compelled to gaze, to the last,
on that terribly fascinating scene.
But then was 1t shown what might there is
in activity, what resistless power in quickness
For, leaping and bounding round the heavy
giant like a sword player, letting him waste his
every blow on the empty air or in the impas-
sive sawdust, Aradas piled his sword like
thresher's fail, dealing every blow at his neck
and the lacings of his casque, till fastening
after fastening broke, and it was clear that
dolly, too, would be unhelmed in a few more
The excitement of the people was ungovern-
able; they danced in their Seats they shouted,
they roared. No heralds, no pursuivants, no
could control them. The soul Of
the people had awakened, and what could fet-
ter it
Still, wonderful as they WERE the exertions
of Aradas, completely armed in heavy panoply,
were too mighty to last. The thing must be
finished. Down came the trenchant blade with
a circling sweep, full on the jointed plates of
d'Oilly's newfangled gorget. Rivet after rivet,
plate after plate, gave way with rending crash;
his helmet rolled on the ground. He stood
bare-throated, unarmed to the
shoulders.
But the same blow which unhelmed dolly
disarmed Aradas. His faithless sword was
shivered to the hilt and what should he do
now, with only that weak short estoe, that
cumbrous dagger, against the downright force
of the resistless double handed glaive?
Backward he sprang ten PAGES The glitter
ing estoe was in his right, the short massive
dagger in his left. He dropped on his right
knee crouching low, both arms hanging loose
ly by his sides, but with his eye glaring on his
foeman, like that of the hunted tiger.
So soon as Sir Foulke had rallied from the
stunning effects of the blow, and saw how it
was with him, his enemy disarmed, and, as it
seemed, at his power, then a hideous sardonic
smile glared over his lurid features, and he
strobe forward with his sword aloft, to triumph
and to kill. When he was within six PAGES of
his kneeling adversary, he paused, measured
his distance-it was the precise length for one
stride, one downright blow, on that bare head,
which no earthly power could now shield
against it.
There was no cry now among the people
only hush. Every heart stood still in that
vast concourse.
"Wilt die, or cry craven?'"
The eye of Aradas flashed lightning. Lower,
be crouched lower, to the ground. His left
hand rose slowly, till the guard of his dagger
was below his own left, and his enemy's right,
eye His right hand was drawn so far back
that the glittering point of the estoe only show
ed in front of his hip. Lower, vet lower, he
crouched almost in the attitude of the panther
couchant for his spring.
One stride made Sir Foulke dolly forward;
and down, like some tremendous engine, came
the sword-sweep-t gazers heard it whistle
through the air as it descended.
What followed, no eye could trace, no pen
could describe. There was a wild cry, like
hat of savage animal; a fiery leap through
cloud of whistling dust; straight flash through
he haze, like lightning.
One could see that somehow or other that
,lashing cut was glanced aside, but how, the
speed of thought could not trace.
1t was done in a second, in the twinkling of
In eye. And, as the dust subsidized, there stood
Aradas, unmoved and calm as the angel of
leath, with his arms folded, and nothing in his
,and save the dagger shivered to the guard.
And at his feet lay his enemy, as if stricken
~ thunderbolt, with his eyes wide open and
his face to heaven, and the deadly estoe buried,
o the grippe, in the throat that should lie no
more, forever.
Pass we the victor's triumph, and the dead
raitors doom; pass we the lovers meeting,
md the empty roar of popular applause. That
vas. indeed, the judgment of God; and when
Tod hath spoken, in the glory of his speeches.
workings, it is good that man should hold his
,eace before him.
CHAPTER XIII.
The End