Near Louvain, at a place called Broad Oak, they held a tournament, a thing that might be better called a torment.
One knight arrived to take part whom no one could remember having seen before, although he was tall, mounted on a great horse and had the very best equipment. Surely this must be some great lord, so it was a mystery that he should be unknown to anyone. Many enquired his name but he remained silent, which people could only assume was some sort of vow, although some thought it arrogance. However, some bystanders swore later that, during an interval, they saw him leaning on his spear and sighing deeply, then exclaiming, “Good Lord, what work I shall have to beat all these who have gathered here today!”
He did indeed meet with many successes, unhorsing many experienced knights so that he did seem to be luck’s own child. At the very end of the tournament he came up against an obscure knight and it was taken for granted that he would gain the victory. However, on the first pass, the other knight’s spear struck him in the chest, piercing his armour and his heart so that he died in a moment. Even with his helmet removed no one knew who he was and the local clergy refused to bury him in consecrated ground for he had died so violently and it was feared he was from the fairy realm rather than the world of men.