Then one--it was Suleyman--clapped spurs into his horse's flanks and fled, keeping within a certain space which might be called the lists; the other flying after him, with fearful yells, intent to fling the missile so that it should strike the victim in a certain manner.

This lasted till the throw was made, and then the order was reversed, and the pursuer in his turn became the hunted.
The knight applauded his opponent's skill reluctantly, and with regret that he himself had not been in his usual form.
He journeyed with us after that for many days.

It seemed that he was out in search of exploits, so did not care a jot which way he rode.

In former days, he told me, there used to be a tournament in every town each Friday, where any stranger knight might show his prowess, winning honour and renown.

But in these degenerate times it was necessary for the would-be champion to cry his challenge in some public place, or else arrange the fight beforehand meanly in some tavern.