Bohun reined in his charger and stared straight into the face of Guinalda. Gobred flushed angrily, for Bohun’s act was a breach of courtesy, and half rose from his seat, but at that moment Bohun, bowing low across his mount’s withers, moved on, followed by his knights.
That day the honors went to the Knights of the Sepulcher, for they scored two hundred and twenty-seven points against one hundred and six that the Knights of Nimmr were able to procure.
Upon the second day the tourney opened with the riding past of the entrants who, ordinarily, were conducted by a herald, but to the surprise of all, Bohun again led his knights past the stands and again he paused and looked full at the Princess Guinalda.
This day the Knights of Nimmr fared a little better, being for the day but seven points behind their opponents, though the score for the two days stood two hundred and sixty-nine to three hundred and ninety-seven in favor of the Knights of the Sepulcher.
So the third day opened with the knights from the north boasting what seemed an insuperable lead of one hundred and twenty-eight points and the Knights of Nimmr spurred to greater action by the knowledge that to win the tourney they must score two hundred and thirty-two of the remaining three hundred and thirty-four points.
Once again, contrary to age old custom, Bohun led his entrants about the lists as they paraded before the opening encounter, and once again he drew rein before the loge of Gobred and his eyes rested upon the beautiful face of Guinalda for an instant before he addressed her sire.
“Prince Gobred of Nimmr,” he said in his haughty and arrogant voice, “as ye well know my valiant sir knights have bested thine by more than six score points and the Great Tourney be as good as ours already. Yet we would make thee a proposition.”
“Speak Bohun! The Great Tourney is yet far from won, but an’ ye have any proposition that an honorable prince may consider thou hast my assurance that ’twill be given consideration.”
“Thy five maidens are as good as ours,” said Bohun, “but give me thy daughter to be queen of the Valley of the Sepulcher and I will grant thee the tourney.”
Gobred went white with anger, but when he replied his voice was low and even for he was master of his own emotions, as befitted a princely man.
“Sir Bohun,” he said, refusing to accord to his enemy the title of king, “thy words are an offense in the ears of honorable men, implying as they do that the daughter of a Gobred be for sale and that the honor of the knighthood of Nimmr may be bartered for.
“Get thee hence to thine own side of the lists before I set serfs upon ye to drive ye there with staves.”
“So that be thine answer, eh?” shouted Bohun. “Then know ye that I shall take the five maidens by the rules of the Great Tourney and thy daughter by force of arms!” With this threat delivered he wheeled his steed and spurred away.
Word of Bohun’s proposition and his rebuff spread like wild fire throughout the ranks of the Knights of Nimmr so that those who were to contend this last day of the tourney were keyed to the highest pitch of derring do in the defence of the honor of Nimmr and the protection of the Princess Guinalda.
The great lead attained by the Knights of the Sepulcher during the first two days was but an added incentive to greater effort, provoking them, as a spur, to the utmost limits of daring and exertion. There was no need that their marshals should exhort them. The youth and chivalry of Nimmr had heard the challenge and would answer it in the lists!
Blake’s sword and buckler encounter with a Knight of the Sepulcher was scheduled for the first event of the day. When the lists were cleared he rode in to a fanfare of trumpets, moving parallel with the south stands while his adversary rode along the front of the north stands, the latter halting before the loge of Bohun as Blake drew rein in front of that of Gobred, where he raised the hilt of his sword to his lips to the Prince, though his eyes were upon Guinalda.
“Conduct thyself as a true knight this day to the glory and honor of Nimmr,” charged Gobred, “and may the blessings of Our Lord Jesus be upon thee and thy sword, our well beloved Sir James!”
“To the glory and honor of Nimmr I pledge my sword and my life!” should have been Blake’s reply according to the usages of the Great Tourney.
“To the glory and honor of Nimmr and to the protection of my Princess I pledge my sword and my life!” is what he said, and it was evident from the expression on Gobred’s face that he was not displeased, while the look of haughty disdain which had been upon Guinalda’s face softened.
Slowly she arose and tearing a ribbon from her gown stepped to the front of the loge. “Receive this favor from thy lady, sir knight,” she said, “bearing it with honor and to victory in thy encounter.”
Blake reined closed to the rail of the loge and bent low while Guinalda pinned the ribbon upon his shoulder. His face was close to hers; he sensed the intoxicating perfume of her hair; he felt her warm breath upon his cheek.
“I love you,” he whispered, so low that no other ears than hers could hear.
“Thou art a boor,” she replied in a voice as low as his. “It be for the sake of the five maidens that I encourage ye with this favor.”
Blake looked straight into her eyes. “I love you, Guinalda,” he said, “and—you love me!”
Before she could reply he had wheeled away, the trumpets had sounded, and he was cantering
