:41:06
May he choke on his beard!
:41:08
He went at his foe like a stupid bull
to the slaughter.
:41:13
Now it's De Bracy.
:41:32
He's hurt.
:41:33
Oh, I pray to God he rides no more.
:41:36
To whose god shall a Jew pray
for a gentile?
:41:40
To the same God who made them both.
:41:51
Fitzurse, have this upstart
brought before me.
:41:53
I intend to mark him well.
:41:56
Marshal!
:41:58
Ride again.
:42:00
It takes more than a lisping Norman
to unhorse my son.
:42:03
You have no son.
:42:05
I've heard you say it.
:42:11
Your foe has bloodied you, sir knight.
Will you concede defeat?
:42:17
You fight too well to die so mean a death.
:42:21
Will you not throw in your lot
with me instead?
:42:24
That would be an even meaner death,
Your Grace.
:42:37
Lower your lance.
:42:41
By laws of chivalry,
you've earned the right to choose...
:42:44
...who shall be queen of love and beauty
at our sport.
:42:47
It is our pleasure you shall appoint her...
:42:49
...so that one, at least, shall mourn you
when you lie cold beneath your shield.