Furious at finding himself incapable of either defending
himself, or of striking a blow, the squire threw away his lance, and
drew his sword.
Hotspur shouted, at the top of his voice:
"A breach of the rules! A breach of the rules! The combat is at an
end."
But his words were unheard, in the helmet. Making his horse wheel round
on his hind legs, Sinclair rode at Oswald with uplifted sword. The
latter again couched his spear under his arm and, touching his horse
with his spur, the animal sprung forward; and before the sword could
fall, the point of the spear caught the squire under the armpit, and
hurled him sideways from his saddle.
Hotspur and those round him ran forward. Sinclair lay without moving,
stunned by the force with which he had fallen. Oswald had already leapt
from his horse, and raised Sinclair's head, and began to unlace the
fastenings of his helmet. Hotspur's face was flushed with anger.
"Do not upbraid him, my lord, I pray you," Oswald said. "He could
scarce have avoided breaking the conditions, helpless as he felt
himself; and he could not have heard your voice, which would be lost in
his helmet. I pray you, be not angered with him."
Hotspur's face cleared.
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