Bishop Hugh of Durham sat next him, and marvelled to see the sweat glisten on his forehead on a day when all the world else felt the north wind to their bones.

'Are you suffering, dear lord ?' 'Eh, Bishop Hugh, Bishop Hugh, this is a mad day for me!' 'By God,' thought Hugh of Durham, 'and so it might prove, my man!' They blew trumpets; and at the second sounding Saint-Pol, the challenger, rode out on a big grey horse, himself in a hauberk of chain mail with a coif of the same, and a casque wherein three grey heron's feathers.

This was the badge of the house: Jehane wore heron's feathers.
He had a blue surcoat and blue housings for his horse.

Behind him, esquire of honour, rode the young Amadeus of Savoy, carrying his banner, a white basilisk on a blue field.

Saint-Pol was a burly man, bearing his honours squarely on breast and back.
They sounded for the Count of Poictou, who came presently out of his tent and lightly swung himself into the saddle--a feat open to very few men armed in mail.