They met, as was the phrase of the time, "manful under shield." The
lance of the Swiss glanced from the helmet of the Englishman, against
which it was addressed, while the spear of Arthur, directed right
against the centre of his adversary's body, was so justly aimed, and
so truly seconded by the full fury of the career, as to pierce, not
only the shield which hung round the ill-fated warrior's neck, but a
breastplate, and a shirt of mail which he wore beneath it. Passing
clear through the body, the steel point of the weapon was only stopped
by the backpiece of the unfortunate cavalier, who fell headlong from
his horse, as if struck by lightning, rolled twice or thrice over on
the ground, tore the earth with his hands, and then lay prostrate a
dead corpse.

There was a cry of rage and grief among those men-at-arms whose ranks
Rudolf had that instant left, and many couched their lances to avenge
him; but Ferrand of Lorraine, who was present in person, ordered them
to make prisoner, but not to harm the successful champion. This was
accomplished, for Arthur had not time to turn his bridle for flight,
and resistance would have been madness.

When brought before Ferrand, he raised his visor, and said, "Is it
well, my lord, to make captive an adventurous Knight, for doing his
devoir against a personal challenger?"

"Do not complain, Sir Arthur of Oxford," said Ferrand, "before you
experience injury.--You are free, Sir Knight. Your father and you were
faithful to my royal aunt Margaret, and although she was my enemy, I
do justice to your fidelity in her behalf; and from respect to her
memory, disinherited as she was like myself, and to please my
grandfather, who I think had some regard for you, I give you your