Beneath his varnish of chivalry, it cannot be gainsayed that the
knight was often a bloody and ferocious barbarian. There was little
quarter in his wars, save when a ransom might be claimed. But with
all his savagery, he was a light-hearted creature, like a formidable
boy playing a dreadful game. He was true also to his own curious
code, and, so far as his own class went, his feelings were genial
and sympathetic, even in warfare. There was no personal feeling or
bitterness as there might be now in a war between Frenchmen and
Germans. On the contrary, the opponents were very softspoken and
polite to each other. "Is there any small vow of which I may relieve
you?" "Would you desire to attempt some small deed of arms upon me?"
And in the midst of a fight they would stop for a breather, and
converse amicably the while, with many compliments upon each other's
prowess. When Seaton the Scotsman had exchanged as many blows as
he wished with a company of French knights, he said, "Thank you,
gentlemen, thank you!" and galloped away. An English knight made a
vow, "for his own advancement and the exaltation of his lady," that
he would ride into the hostile city of Paris, and touch with his
lance the inner barrier. The whole story is most characteristic of
the times. As he galloped up, the French knights around the barrier,
seeing that he was under vow, made no attack upon him, and called
out to him that he had carried himself well. As he returned,
however, there stood an unmannerly butcher with a pole-axe upon the
side-walk, who struck him as he passed, and killed him.
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