I. To the rhythm of Mont Rabey which most delights me, I shall tell you how there began a brilliant tournament which took place in Provence. I shall tell you unhesitatingly who fared best in it, for no man conceals or embellishes less than I poor lady-service. In this tourney, whoever might be the victor, there was lost many a steed of worth; but I see no one who regrets the loss.
II. The lord of Baux began elegantly, and, to relate truly, his horse had a big jaw and a fat belly and it seemed ill-tempered, so that on that day the warrior was in danger; for Sir Raymond Raynouard cast him fearlessly into the rushes with his lance, stopping his horse. Sir William, it seemed, suffered no harm, but went off to seek compensation elsewhere.
III. I saw Dragonet in the forefront of the fray. He sat on a charger which, though small, had great and exceptional vigour; but his steed was somewhat angry, and took away from him courage and joy. So it was that on that day he fell in the lists. But those in his company did not bewail the rider’s fall.
IV. The Count who was lord of Beaucaire came to the combat mounted on a mottled charger, which is considered handsome. Sir Pons of Montlaur was his adversary, whoever may growl or bark at this, and he skilfully pulled from under him the colt, which was fresh and young. The Count was but little troubled by this, for he has won a swifter one, of good breed, on which, he thinks, he rides too well to engage in a joust.
V. I saw Barral of Marseille splendidly armed on a steed with a sleek coat and a dark eye-brow a thousand times more precious than (the horse) of Sir Lobat. The man of Vila caught him in a net, for I found him all entangled there beneath a trellis, so that he almost separated him from his dappled sorrel. Sir Barral made wild gestures, like a drowning man, then held it back by the ear.
VI. I also saw Sir Pons of Mondragon joust in the arena, but I hardly dare tell of it, for I saw him stumble to the ground, when with a powerful blow from his lance a squire laid him low, and then led off the scraggy, reddish-grey horse, on whose neck the vein could be seen swollen. Sir Pons made no attempt to recover it, but went off to try his fortune elsewhere.
VI. The lord of Mévouillon came to the battle, without a doubt handsomely armed, if truth be told, and his Arab steed was fatter than a quail. He pitted himself against Nicholas, who was prepared for him . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . , and he placed under his ventail . . . . . . . . . , so that not a link remained of it. At this the lord laughed, and then said that it was no matter.
VIII. In the conflict I saw my Avengut, nobly upright on a Spanish steed, which he held too close. Who won it from him he knew not, but it is certain that he lost it . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ; for yonder towards Germany the three associates have met with misfortune. But I hear neither rumour nor man pity them, because they are vanquished in yonder foreign land.
