Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle · Chapter 16 (2/2)

“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 slowly toward the end of the field where the tilts of the Knights of Nimmr stood.

Edward, very much excited, was there and Sir Richard and Michel, with a marshal, heralds, trumpeters, men-at-arms⁠—a martial company to urge him on with encouragement and advice.

Blake cast aside his buckler, nor was there any to reprove him now. Instead they smiled proudly and knowingly, for had they not seen him best Sir Malud without other defense than his horsemanship and his sword?

The trumpets blared again. Blake turned and put spurs to his charger. Straight down the center of the lists he rode. From the opposite end came a Knight of the Sepulcher to meet him!

“Sir James! Sir James!” cried the spectators in the stands upon the south side, while the north stands answered with the name of their champion.

“Who is the black knight?” asked many a man in the north stands of his neighbor.

“He hath no buckler!” cried some. “He be mad!” “Sir Guy wilt cleave him open at the first pass!” “Sir Guy! Sir Guy!”