“And he’s right.  Well, dear comrades, the health of Green Knight, or the Knight with a Green Shield, for that’s his name, or the designation he chooses to go by.”—­“A health to the Knight with the Green Shield!” shouted the men-at-arms, as they lifted their cups on high.

“Who is he?” inquired one of the men-at-arms, of him who had spoken favourably of the stranger.—­“I don’t know.”

“And yet you spoke favourably of him a few seconds back, and said what a brave knight he was!”—­“And so I uphold him to be; but, I tell you what, friend, I would do as much for the greatest stranger I ever met.  I have seen him fight where men and horses have bit the dust in hundreds; and that, in my opinion, speaks out for the man and warrior; he who cannot, then, fight like a soldier, had better tilt at home in the castle-yard, and there win ladies’ smiles, but not the commendation of the leader of the battle.”

“That’s true:  I myself recollect very well Sir Hugh de Colbert, a very accomplished knight in the castle-yard; but his men were as fine a set of fellows as ever crossed a horse, to look at, but they proved deficient at the moment of trial; they were broken, and fled in a moment, and scarce one of them received a scratch.”

“Then they hadn’t stood the shock of the foeman?”—­“No; that’s certain.”

“But still I should like to know the knight,—­to know his name very well.”—­“I know it not; he has some reason for keeping it secret, I suppose; but his deeds will not shame it, be it what it may.  I can bear witness to more than one foeman falling beneath his battle-axe.”

“Indeed!”—­“Yes; and he took a banner from the enemy in the last battle that was fought.”

“Ah, well! he deserves a better fortune to-morrow.  Who is to be the bridegroom of the beautiful Bertha, daughter of Lord de Cauci?”—­“That will have to be decided:  but it is presumed that Sir Guthrie de Beaumont is the intended.”

“Ah! but should he not prove the victor?”—­“It’s understood; because it’s known he is intended by the parents of the lady, and none would be ungallant enough to prevail against him,—­save on such conditions as would not endanger the fruits of victory.”

“No?”—­“Certainly not; they would lay the trophies at the foot of the beauty worshipped by the knights at the tournament.”

“So, triumphant or not, he’s to be the bridegroom; bearing off the prize of valour whether or no,—­in fact, deserve her or not,—­that’s the fact.”—­“So it is, so it is.”

“And a shame, too, friends; but so it is now; but yet, if the knight’s horse recovers from the strain, and is fit for work to-morrow, it strikes me that the Green Shield will give some work to the holiday knight.”

* * * * *

There had been a grand tournament held near Shrewsbury Castle, in honour of the intended nuptials of the beautiful Lady Bertha de Cauci.  She was the only daughter of the Earl de Cauci, a nobleman of some note; he was one of an ancient and unblemished name, and of great riches.