Once upon a time, heroes of the joust were as famous as Premiership footballers. Then along came gunpowder and the glamour, girls and gauntlets went up in smoke. But now it's back; in the US, it's the state sport of Maryland. Jonathan Thompson goes freelance

As the black knight comes thundering towards me, visor down and mud flying from the hooves of his speeding steed, I kick my own horse into action, lowering my lance as we gather momentum. Bringing the 12ft weapon to bear on my adversary, I hear a satisfying thwack as it connects with his shield before I slow my horse and turn for another run.

This is the stuff that little boys' dreams are made of, and for one day - clad from helm to boots in flamboyant replica armour - I'm living it to the full. Believe it or not, jousting is back.

Here, in the heart of the Warwickshire countryside, one man is masterminding the return to the mainstream of what was, in its day, the most popular spectator sport in Britain. Karl Ude-Martinez, a professional riding instructor, polo player and actor, looks every inch the medieval knight with his shoulder-length brown hair, long leather gauntlets and ostentatious coat of arms displayed proudly over his armour. Along with 10 other "knights" on his payroll, he has begun teaching members of the public - many of whom, like me, had never ridden a horse before - how to compete in the original sport of kings.

"Jousting was the Premiership football of its day; thousands of people used to turn up to watch tournaments," says Ude-Martinez, 25, who despite being the son of a German father and an Anglo-Spanish mother was brought up in this
country, riding from an early age at the family-owned Warwick International School of Riding. "It's part of our tradition, and we're trying to keep it alive."

Based at the 60-acre riding school, with access to its 40 horses, Ude-Martinez and his team have painstakingly recreated a complete jousting arena, or catadrome. On either side of the field is a heavy quintaine - a target that spins around on impact -
and bisecting the arena is a shoulder-height "tilt": the traditional fence designed to separate the two onrushing riders.

Elaborate handwoven banners flutter in the wind, and a rack of formidable weapons stands near the gate, containing lances of varying sizes and colours, and a few broadswords for good measure.

Despite the fact that I have no previous riding experience whatsoever, Ude-Martinez reassures me that I will be jousting in no time. Helping me up on to an enormous white horse called Drummer, he explains that around 50 per cent of his customers have never so much as sat in a saddle before they arrive.

"All guys want to be a knight, and everybody has it in them," he says. "The horses know what they're doing; this one is pretty much bomb-proof."

In the morning I am taught the basics of riding with one hand on the reins, as the other will later be carrying the all important lance. By midday I am trotting around the tilt on my own, heels down and back straight, in a passable impression of someone who knows what they're doing. Handed a lightweight lance, I even manage to hit the quintaines a few times before we move on to ring jousting: riding along the tilt while attempting to hook plastic rings with our lances. It's all great fun, and by the time we decamp to the local pub for lunch I haven't fallen off once.

Jousting was imported to England from France around the time of the Norman invasion in the llth century. Starting as little more than an excuse for petty fighting between local nobles, it gradually became more spurt-oriented, adopting a set of rules based around the themes of honour and chivalry - a term itself derived from the French word for knight: chevalier.
Large tournaments were held all over the country, in which points were scored by hitting an opponent's shield, knocking
him from his horse or splintering a lance. By the 16th century, however, the deaths of several nobles and serious injuries to a number of monarchs, including Henry VIII in 1536, led to the demise of jousting. The subsequent introduction of gunpowder, which made horse-mounted lancers obsolete, sealed the sport's fate.

Five centuries on, jousting survives in England largely in the form of choreographed demonstrations at country fairs or castle festivals. But Ude-Martinez is convinced it can become a competitive sport again. His model, he says, is the US: "In America, jousting is huge. They have leagues like our football leagues, especially in Maryland and Virginia, where teams compete every weekend. They take it very seriously." In fact, incredible as it may sound, jousting is the official state sport of Maryland. The season - based around ring jousting rather than one-on-one duels - runs from April to October, culminating in state and national championships.

"What they do over there could easily take off over here," says Ude-Martinez, "and I'd love to be the one who helps push that along."

Ude-Martinez himself discovered jousting at the age of 14. "There was a company jousting at Warwick Castle and they were using our place as a night stop for their horses," he recalls. "One morning they arrived in a panic; one of their riders hadn't turned up. They asked my mother if she knew of any spare riders and, lovely as she is, she volunteered me straight away. I lied about my age, and was literally thrown in at the deep end. Off I went to Warwick Castle, and got completely hooked."

After performing in various companies,Ude-Martinez decided to set up his own business -- The Knights of Middle England - two years ago. He and his colleagues, many of them local polo players, put on shows and appear at festivals, but, uniquely, they also offer jousting lessons.

"It's fun, another aspect of riding,because riding itself can get quite boring," says Ude-Martinez, whose clients have ranged from curious polo players and professional stuntmen to stag and hen parties.

In full armour, but with his mobile phone dangling incongruously from his swordbelt, Ude-Martinez leads me back to the school for my afternoon lesson. First, I am fitted out with my own knightly kit. The attention to detail is impressive: greaves for the shins, gauntlets for the arms and pouldrons for the shoulders - the protective padding of choice for the discerning 14th-century jouster.

However, all is not as it seems. The "chain mail" looks real but is actually thickly woven wool and string, coloured metallic silver. The "armour" is a combination of fibre glass and reinforced plastic. Ude-Martinez, who buys the majority of his clothing and accessories from film studios, points out that it would be highly impractical to joust in real armour, not to mention incredibly expensive at £10,000 a suit. And if Ude-Martinez is serious about jousting's sporting potential, then practicality and case of movement are crucial.

The day comes to an end like any good knightly tale: facing down the villain of the piece. At the other end of the tilt is Ude-Martinez's friend and colleague Paul Ellis-Smith, 28, looking every inch the dastardly black knight. It's down to me to put everything I've learnt during the day into practice, and attempt to clout him on the shield with the lance under my right arm. As I spur Drummer on, it almost feels like the real thing for a moment; I race towards Ellis-Smith and - to my elation - strike the target sweetly in the top-right corner.

I begin to understand why Ude-Martinez and his knights are so enthusiastic about a sport which officially died half a millennium ago. Perhaps this is the stuff of little boys' dreams, but it's also immensely good fun. And if competitive jousting can become a reality in America, then why not here?
A day's jousting with the Knights of Middle England starts from £130.