“That is but brief space,” answered Rebecca, “for a stranger, who is also of another faith, to find one who will do battle, wagering life and honour for her cause, against a knight who is called an approved soldier.”

“We may not extend it,” answered the Grand Master; “the field must be foughten in our own presence, and divers weighty causes call us on the fourth day from hence.”

“God’s will be done!” said Rebecca; “I put my trust in Him, to whom an instant is as effectual to save as a whole age.”

“Thou hast spoken well, damsel,” said the Grand Master; “but well know we who can array himself like an angel of light. It remains but to name a fitting place of combat, and, if it so hap, also of execution.⁠—Where is the Preceptor of this house?”

Albert Malvoisin, still holding Rebecca’s glove in his hand, was speaking to Bois-Guilbert very earnestly, but in a low voice.

“How!” said the Grand Master, “will he not receive the gage?”

“He will⁠—he doth, most Reverend Father,” said Malvoisin, slipping the glove under his own mantle. “And for the place of combat, I hold the fittest to be the lists of Saint George belonging to this Preceptory, and used by us for military exercise.”

“It is well,” said the Grand Master.⁠—“Rebecca, in those lists shalt thou produce thy champion; and if thou failest to do so, or if thy champion shall be discomfited by the judgment of God, thou shalt then die the death of a sorceress, according to doom.⁠—Let this our judgment be recorded, and the record read aloud, that no one may pretend ignorance.”