The Knight of the Dragon was making ready, wondering who the man could be with the courage and strength to ring the bell so loudly and with such force. ‘It’ll be one of King Arthur’s knights,’ he said, ‘come here to prove his mettle. But he’s going to die a foul death!’

He had a cloth spread inside his tent and was armed without delay. They came running to lace his shoes – of fine and costly mail they were – and his strong chausses, triple-plied, tied with superb iron belts; and a young man fastened his golden spurs. Over his haqueton he donned a hauberk, edged with gold and damask; it was light and strong and tightly meshed, forged from iron purified five times over. Then he girded his sword at once: it was sharper than a sickle – and had harvested many heads! He kept swearing that the man was mad to want to come and challenge him, and that he’d soon show him the power that lay in his shield! Ablaze with rage, his heart filled with wrath, he mounted his horse and started hurling threats at Perceval. He had a strong, tough, costly helm fitted without more ado – four boys laced it over his mail hood and skullcap; but they felt more fear than love for him, and were whispering prayers for the downfall of that faithless, evil tyrant who’d abjured God.

Gerbert's Continuation of Perceval