The victory was not
in doubt--no, not one moment. Conrade, indeed, showed himself a
practised warrior; for he struck his antagonist knightly in the
midst of his shield, bearing his lance so straight and true that
it shivered into splinters from the steel spear-head up to the
very gauntlet. The horse of Sir Kenneth recoiled two or three
yards and fell on his haunches; but the rider easily raised him
with hand and rein. But for Conrade there was no recovery. Sir
Kenneth's lance had pierced through the shield, through a plated
corselet of Milan steel, through a SECRET, or coat of linked
mail, worn beneath the corselet, had wounded him deep in the
bosom, and borne him from his saddle, leaving the truncheon of
the lance fixed in his wound. The sponsors, heralds, and Saladin
himself, descending from his throne, crowded around the wounded
man; while Sir Kenneth, who had drawn his sword ere yet he
discovered his antagonist was totally helpless, now commanded him
to avow his guilt. The helmet was hastily unclosed, and the
wounded man, gazing wildly on the skies, replied, "What would you
more? God hath decided justly--I am guilty; but there are worse
traitors in the camp than I.
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