"Oh, my brave brothers in arms! these stones have been wetted with your noble blood, and here beneath my feet you sleep the long sleep of death! But happy you who have left this troublous life in your country's cause, and without having seen our beloved Flanders in bondage. The blood of him to whom you gave the proud name of the Lion bedewed this ground along with yours; but, less for tunate than you, he still survives—an outcast, left to sigh over your silent graves, like a helpless woman, impotent for aught but tears."
Suddenly the knight rose from his seat, and hastily closing his visor, turned toward the road, as if anxiously giving his ear to some distant sound. A noise as of a tramp of horses was now audible in the distance. As soon as he had convinced himself that his first impression had not deceived him, the knight seized his spear, and hastily mounting his charger, took up his station behind a portion of the wall, so as effectually to conceal himself from view. He had not long occupied this post, however, when other sounds fell upon his ear along with those which it had already caught; through the clank of armor and the rapid tramp of the horses, he could now distinctly hear the lamentations of a female voice. At this his cheeks grew pale under his helmet, not with fear—for that was a thing his heart knew not—but his honor as a knight, his feeling as a man, urged him to succor the helpless, and above all to protect a woman, while at the same time a high mission and a solemn vow forbade him to expose himself to recognition. The mental struggle which he had thus to undergo showed itself plainly in his countenance.
But soon the party drew nearer, and he could distinctly hear the maiden's words, as with an agonizing voice she cried: "Father! oh, my father!" a voice, too, which, though he recognized it not, had yet something in its sound that spoke irresistibly to his heart. In an instant all hesitation was at an end; giving the spur to his horse, he hastily made his way over the heaps of rubbish, and came forth upon the open road a little in advance of a body of six horsemen, who were proceeding along it at a rapid pace, and who, by their accoutrements, appeared to be French. They were without lances, though otherwise armed at all points, and one carried before him upon the saddle a female, whose wild and terrified air, irrespective of the exclamations of distress which occasionally burst from her lips, sufficiently indicated that she was an unwilling captive in their hands. With leveled spear the black knight awaited them. The Frenchmen no sooner beheld this unlooked-for opponent than they reined in their horses, and regarded the stranger with looks of wonder not unmixed with fear; while he that seemed to have the command of the escort advanced to the front, and called out in a loud voice:
"Out of our way, sir knight, or we ride over you!"
"Stand, false and dishonorable knight!" was the answer, "stand and let go this lady, or you will have me to deal with!"
"Forward! down with him!" cried the leader to his men.
But the black knight gave them no time to make their onset; stooping upon his charger's neck, he dashed in full career upon the astonished Frenchmen, and in an instant one of them fell mortally wounded from his saddle. The rest meanwhile had fallen upon him from all sides with their drawn swords, and St. Pol, the leader of the band, had already with a tremendous blow cut away one of the sable champion's shoulder-plates. Seeing himself thus beset, the knight dropped his spear and drew his giant sword, and, wielding it with both hands, speedily cleared a space around him; for, after a short experience of his prowess, no one of his opponents dared to venture within its sweep. St. Pol, whose horse, irritated by a wound, was no longer fully at his command, perceiving now that the issue of the conflict was less certain, at all events less immediate, than he had anticipated, made a sign to the soldier on whose horse the prisoner rode to make his escape with his charge. But the black knight was as vigilant as he was valiant. By a sudden movement he barred the way, and, dexterously parrying the blows which rained upon him, "For your life, set her down!" he cried in a voice of thunder; and, as the soldier turned off on the road, and sought to slip by him on one side, the mighty sword descended quickly upon his head, and cleft him to the teeth. In two red streams the blood gushed from the unhappy man, encrimsoning the white drapery of the young girl, and bedabbling her fair locks. For a moment the arms of the dying man convulsively retained their hold, and then both sank together to the ground. The consciousness of the young maiden had failed her under the alternate agitations of
