I had not only trained him; I had introduced him to the lists at eighteen--he being well grown, strong of limb, and active as a wildcat.

I waged him against a famous tilt-yard knight, and Max held his own manfully, to his great credit and to my great joy.

The battle was a draw.

My first great joy in life came a few months afterward, when Max unhorsed this same knight, and received the crown of victory from the queen of the lists.
But this combat would be a battle of death.

Two men would enter the lists; one would die in the course.
Max could, with propriety, announce his title and refuse to fight one so far beneath him as Calli; but even my love for the boy and my fear of the outcome, could not induce me to advise this.