Long before the appointed hour the space had been filled up by eager sightseers.  Men and women, lads and lasses, old folk and young, all alike were there, tricked out in holiday attire.  Not a coign of vantage was lost sight of, and every tree which might reasonably have been expected to yield a glimpse of the scene was crowded by rustics, eager to gaze upon so rare an exhibition.  Behind all rose the grey old towers of the Hall, which presented a very picturesque appearance as the sun flashed upon its turrets, and its flags waved to and fro in the gentle breeze.  Haddon had witnessed many stirring scenes before, but surely never a more brilliant one than was about to be enacted.

Jousts were divided into two classes.  The “joust a plaisir” was a mere knightly display of skill, and was fought with weapons, the edges of which were dulled; but the other, the “joust a l’outrance,” was of a far more dangerous kind.  Lances, swords, and even, occasionally, mace-like weapons with sharp spikes were used, and it rarely happened that serious injuries did not result, while not unfrequently it was accompanied by a fatal termination.

Additional interest was attached to this tournament, inasmuch as it was of the latter class, and when the sound of the herald’s trumpets was heard, a shout of admiration went up from the assemblage, as the gates swung open and the party descended from the Hall; and round after round of praise was accorded by the crowd as the cavalcade wended its way through it, and took up its allotted position in the tents and on the balconies.

Without waiting any time Dorothy seated herself upon the throne, and giving the signal to commence by waving a dainty little flag, the trumpeters took it up and blew a loud blast upon their instruments.

This was the summons for the combatants to appear, and amid the tumultuous greetings of the whole assembly, Manners and De la Zouch came forward from either side of the balcony, and each, well protected with armour, stood leaning upon his charger while the herald read aloud the order of the King of the Peak, by whose command the tourney was held.

Having read it out, this functionary retired with all the grace and speed at his command; the trumpet sounded again, and the two assailants leapt simultaneously into the saddle.  A minute later the galloping rush, the sound of contending horsemen, and the noise of shivering lances told the outsiders that the conflict had begun.

So terrible was the shock as the two met together in the centre of the ring that it seemed utterly impossible that either of them could recover from it, but after the first thrust and parry they each passed on, apparently uninjured, and wheeling their horses around, with lances couched they paused to spy out a weak point in the other’s defence.

Every breath was hushed, and every eye was strained, to the uttermost as the anxious onlookers stood on tiptoe to follow every movement of the competitors.