Then both knights thrust in their spurs and sent their brave, swift horses into an unstoppable charge, a charge so thunderous that they made the hillside shake and sparks fly from the stones. This was no sporting joust in lists below a castle; these two knights, the lesser of them a worthy warrior indeed, charged at each other from a mighty distance, lances levelled. All the force of the charge they put into their blows, their piercing lance-heads smashing through their shields, the shafts bending on the mail of their bright hauberks and shattering, shards flying skyward. The horses didn’t stop, and the knights collided, bodies and shields together, with such force that they sent each other crashing over their horse’s rumps. So violent was the clash that they skinned their right knees and their faces, and lay stunned and battered on the ground, showing no sign that they’d ever stand again. But they’d no desire to stay so, and hauled themselves to their feet as soon as they could, pulled the broken lances from their shields and drew their whetted swords.

The Second Continuation of Perceval