On the right of the field stood an elevated platform, covered with a canopy, and approached by a flight of steps.  It was reserved for the marshals and judges, and facing it was the post affixed to the barriers, from which the ring, the grand prize of the day, was suspended, at a height exactly within reach of a lance.  Like the streets without, the whole arena was deeply sanded.

This was what Madame Bonaventure beheld from the roof of the cock-pit, and a very pretty sight she thought it.

All things, it will be seen, were in readiness, in the tilt yard,—­and the arrival of the King seemed to be impatiently expected—­not only by the knights who were eager to display their prowess, but by the court dames and the gallants with them, as well as by all the officials scattered about in different parts of the field, and enlivening it by their variegated costumes.

Suddenly loud acclamations resounding from all sides of the tilt-yard, accompanied by flourishes of trumpets, proclaimed the entrance of the royal laggard to the gallery.  James took his place in the raised seat assigned to him, and after conferring for a few moments with the Conde de Gondomar, who formed part of the brilliant throng of nobles and ambassadors in attendance, he signified to Sir John Finett that the jousting might commence, and the royal pleasure was instantly made known to the marshals of the field.

The first course was run by Prince Charles, who acquitted himself with infinite grace and skill, but failed in carrying off the ring; and similar ill luck befell the Duke of Lennox.  The Marquis of Hamilton was the next to run, and he met with no better success; and the fourth essay was made by Buckingham.  His career was executed with all the consummate address for which the favourite was remarkable, and it appeared certain that he would carry off the prize; but in lowering his lance he did not make sufficient allowance for the wind, and this caused it slightly to swerve, and though he touched the ring, he did not bear it away.  The course, however, was considered a good one by the judges, and much applauded; but the Marquis was greatly mortified by his failure.

It now came to Sir Jocelyn’s turn, and his breast beat high with ardour, as he prepared to start on his career.  Keeping his back to the ring till the moment of setting forward, he made a demi-volte to the right, and then gracefully raising his lance, as his steed started on its career, he continued to hold it aloft until he began to near the object of his aim, when he gently and firmly allowed the point to decline over the right ear of his horse, and adjusted it in a line with the ring.  His aim proved so unerring that he carried off the prize, amid universal applause.

CHAPTER XII.

The Tilting Match.

After all the other competitors for the prize had essayed a career within the arena, Sir Jocelyn’s was held to be the best course run.  The ring was again carried off both by the Earl of Pembroke and Lord Mordaunt; but in the opinion of the marshals of the field, neither of those noblemen displayed so much grace and skill as Mounchensey:  and the decision was confirmed by the King.