“The infidels tumbled from their horses, as the blows of the knight’s good sword fell among them, and several sought safety in flight.  Those who remained continued the combat desperately around the sinking maiden, as if determined to sell their captive’s deliverance only with their lives.  But four were left, and against these, who had drawn up in line, the knight was about to hurl himself, when a Templar, in armor glittering with jewels and gold, came scouring across a the plain, and mingled in the fight.  But instead of of helping the hotly pressed knight, he cleft his morion by a dastard stroke from behind, and but for the thickly plated steel, would have thus ended his life upon the spot.  The good knight was hurled dizzy from his steed upon the trodden field, and the Templar spurred against the Moors.  His charger was fresh, and his blood was up, so he had but little difficulty in slaying the Infidels, and reaching the beautiful captive.  Seizing her in his powerful arms, he was about to leave the spot, when ‘Conrad,’ burst from the maiden’s lips, and the knight who had been prostrated by the felon blow, rose from the dust upon his knees, and hurled his gauntlet into the Templar’s very face.

“‘Stop!’ he thundered.  ’Release the lady, or fear the vengeance of Heaven!’

“The Templar’s visor was up, and as the glove struck him, his face grew black with rage.

“‘Conrad D’Amboise!’ he shouted, ’your attempts to thwart my purposes are vain.  Thus do I take vengeance upon you!’ And plunging his spurs into his horse’s sides, he would have rode him down.  Yes,” continued the palmer; his eyes sparkling with fire, and his whole frame quivering with the most intense excitement, “he would have trampled his bones in the dust beneath his horse’s hoofs, had not the sable knight burst upon him like a thunderbolt, and checked him in mid career.  The dastardly Templar turned to fly, but the sword of the black warrior flashed from its sheath, and with a single vault that dark charger stood directly before him.

“‘Stand, and disgrace no longer chivalry!’

“The Templar closed his visor, and drew his blade.  Sparks of fire were struck from the clashing metal, and tufts of crests were borne by the wind towards the walls of Jerusalem, as plumes were mutilated by the ringing weapons.  I saw that Knight Templar thrice borne to the ground, by the powerful arm in the sable mail, and thrice arise again, like a phenix from its ashes, to renew the deadly struggle.  As he recovered his seat the third time, almost spent by his exertions, he threatened to plunge his sword into the heart of his senseless burden, unless the black knight desisted from the combat, and declared his motive for assailing him.

“’To wipe out the foul stain with which thou hast this day sullied the fair escutcheon of chivalry, in riding down a helpless Christian knight, and ravishing a defenceless maiden from the hands that alone have a right to protect her!  I will give thee thy life on one condition, craven!  Surrender up to me the maiden, and thou art free to depart!  But enter not a foot again into the Christian camp.  An army renowned as being the mirror of French chivalry cannot honorably harbor a miscreant like thee!’