MEN OF IRON

by Ernie Howard Pyle

INTRODUCTION

The year 1400 opened with more than usual peacefulness in England. Onlya few months before, Richard II--weak, wicked, and treacherous--had beendethroned, and Henry IV declared King in his stead. But it was only aseeming peacefulness, lasting but for a little while; for though KingHenry proved himself a just and a merciful man--as justice and mercywent with the men of iron of those days--and though he did not careto shed blood needlessly, there were many noble families who had beenbenefited by King Richard during his reign, and who had lost somewhat oftheir power and prestige from the coming in of the new King. 

Among these were a number of great lords--the Dukes of Albemarle, Surrey, and Exeter, the Marquis of Dorset, the Earl of Gloucester, andothers--who had been degraded to their former titles and estates, fromwhich King Richard had lifted them. These and others brewed a secretplot to take King Henry's life, which plot might have succeeded had notone of their own number betrayed them. 

Their plan had been to fall upon the King and his adherents, and tomassacre them during a great tournament, to be held at Oxford. But Henrydid not appear at the lists; whereupon, knowing that he had been lodgingat Windsor with only a few attendants, the conspirators marched thitheragainst him. In the mean time the King had been warned of the plot, so that, instead of finding him in the royal castle, they discoveredthrough their scouts that he had hurried to London, whence he waseven then marching against them at the head of a considerable army. Sonothing was left them but flight. Some betook themselves one way, someanother; some sought sanctuary here, some there; but one and another, they were all of them caught and killed. 

The Earl of Kent--one time Duke of Surrey--and the Earl ofSalisbury were beheaded in the market-place at Cirencester; Lord LeDespencer--once the Earl of Gloucester--and Lord Lumley met the samefate at Bristol; the Earl of Huntingdon was taken in the Essex fens, carried to the castle of the Duke of Gloucester, whom he had betrayedto his death in King Richard's time, and was there killed by the castlepeople. Those few who found friends faithful and bold enough to affordthem shelter, dragged those friends down in their own ruin. 

Just such a case was that of the father of the boy hero of thisstory, the blind Lord Gilbert Reginald Falworth, Baron of Falworth andEasterbridge, who, though having no part in the plot, suffered throughit ruin, utter and complete. 

He had been a faithful counsellor and adviser to King Richard, andperhaps it was this, as much and more than his roundabout connectionwith the plot, that brought upon him the punishment he suffered. 

CHAPTER 1

Myles Falworth was but eight years of age at that time, and it was onlyafterwards, and when he grew old enough to know more of the ins and outsof the matter, that he could remember by bits and pieces the things thatafterwards happened; how one evening a knight came clattering into thecourt-yard upon a horse, red-nostrilled and smeared with the sweat andfoam of a desperate ride--Sir John Dale, a dear friend of the blindLord. 

Even though so young, Myles knew that something very serious hadhappened to make Sir John so pale and haggard, and he dimly rememberedleaning against the knight's iron-covered knees, looking up into hisgloomy face, and asking him if he was sick to look so strange. Thereuponthose who had been too troubled before to notice him, bethoughtthemselves of him, and sent him to bed, rebellious at having to go soearly. 

He remembered how the next morning, looking out of a window high upunder the eaves, he saw a great troop of horsemen come riding into thecourtyard beneath, where a powdering of snow had whitened everything, and of how the leader, a knight clad in black armor, dismounted andentered the great hall door-way below, followed by several of the band. 

He remembered how some of the castle women were standing in a frightenedgroup upon the landing of the stairs, talking together in low voicesabout a matter he did not understand, excepting that the armed men whohad ridden into the courtyard had come for Sir John Dale. None of thewomen paid any attention to him; so, shunning their notice, he ran offdown the winding stairs, expecting every moment to be called back againby some one of them. 

A crowd of castle people, all very serious and quiet, were gatheredin the hall, where a number of strange men-at-arms lounged upon thebenches, while two billmen in steel caps and leathern jacks stoodguarding the great door, the butts of their weapons resting upon theground, and the staves crossed, barring the door-way. 

In the anteroom was the knight in black armor whom Myles had seen fromthe window. He was sitting at the table, his great helmet lying uponthe bench beside him, and a quart beaker of spiced wine at his elbow. Aclerk sat at the other end of the same table, with inkhorn in one handand pen in the other, and a parchment spread in front of him. 

Master Robert, the castle steward, stood before the knight, who everynow and then put to him a question, which the other would answer, andthe clerk write the answer down upon the parchment. 

His father stood with his back to the fireplace, looking down upon thefloor with his blind eyes, his brows drawn moodily together, and thescar of the great wound that he had received at the tournament atYork--the wound that had made him blind--showing red across hisforehead, as it always did when he was angered or troubled. 

There was something about it all that frightened Myles, who crept to hisfather's side, and slid his little hand into the palm that hung limp andinert. In answer to the touch, his father grasped the hand tightly, but did not seem otherwise to notice that he was there. Neither didthe black knight pay any attention to him, but continued putting hisquestions to Master Robert. 

Then, suddenly, there was a commotion in the hall without, loud voices, and a hurrying here and there. The black knight half arose, grasping aheavy iron mace that lay upon the bench beside him, and the next momentSir John Dale himself, as pale as death, walked into the antechamber. Hestopped in the very middle of the room. "I yield me to my Lord's graceand mercy, " said he to the black knight, and they were the last words heever uttered in this world. 

The black knight shouted out some words of command, and swinging up theiron mace in his hand, strode forward clanking towards Sir John, whoraised his arm as though to shield himself from the blow. Two or threeof those who stood in the hall without came running into the room withdrawn swords and bills, and little Myles, crying out with terror, hidhis face in his father's long gown. 

The next instant came the sound of a heavy blow and of a groan, thenanother blow and the sound of one falling upon the ground. Then theclashing of steel, and in the midst Lord Falworth crying, in a dreadfulvoice, "Thou traitor! thou coward! thou murderer!"

Master Robert snatched Myles away from his father, and bore him out ofthe room in spite of his screams and struggles, and he remembered justone instant's sight of Sir John lying still and silent upon his face, and of the black knight standing above him, with the terrible mace inhis hand stained a dreadful red. 

It was the next day that Lord and Lady Falworth and little Myles, together with three of the more faithful of their people, left thecastle. 

His memory of past things held a picture for Myles of old Diccon Bowmanstanding over him in the silence of midnight with a lighted lamp in hishand, and with it a recollection of being bidden to hush when he wouldhave spoken, and of being dressed by Diccon and one of the women, bewildered with sleep, shuddering and chattering with cold. 

He remembered being wrapped in the sheepskin that lay at the foot ofhis bed, and of being carried in Diccon Bowman's arms down the silentdarkness of the winding stair-way, with the great black giant shadowsswaying and flickering upon the stone wall as the dull flame of the lampswayed and flickered in the cold breathing of the night air. 

Below were his father and mother and two or three others. A strangerstood warming his hands at a newly-made fire, and little Myles, as hepeeped from out the warm sheepskin, saw that he was in riding-boots andwas covered with mud. He did not know till long years afterwards thatthe stranger was a messenger sent by a friend at the King's court, bidding his father fly for safety. 

They who stood there by the red blaze of the fire were all very still, talking in whispers and walking on tiptoes, and Myles's mother huggedhim in her arms, sheepskin and all, kissing him, with the tearsstreaming down her cheeks, and whispering to him, as though he couldunderstand their trouble, that they were about to leave their homeforever. 

Then Diccon Bowman carried him out into the strangeness of the wintermidnight. 

Outside, beyond the frozen moat, where the osiers, stood stark and stiffin their winter nakedness, was a group of dark figures waiting for themwith horses. In the pallid moonlight Myles recognized the well-knownface of Father Edward, the Prior of St. Mary's. 

After that came a long ride through that silent night upon thesaddle-bow in front of Diccon Bowman; then a deep, heavy sleep, thatfell upon him in spite of the galloping of the horses. 

When next he woke the sun was shining, and his home and his whole lifewere changed. 

CHAPTER 2

From the time the family escaped from Falworth Castle that midwinternight to the time Myles was sixteen years old he knew nothing of thegreat world beyond Crosbey-Dale. A fair was held twice in a twelvemonthat the market-town of Wisebey, and three times in the seven years oldDiccon Bowman took the lad to see the sights at that place. Beyond thesethree glimpses of the outer world he lived almost as secluded a life asone of the neighboring monks of St. Mary's Priory. 

Crosbey-Holt, their new home, was different enough from Falworth orEasterbridge Castle, the former baronial seats of Lord Falworth. It wasa long, low, straw-thatched farm-house, once, when the church lands weredivided into two holdings, one of the bailiff's houses. All around werethe fruitful farms of the priory, tilled by well-to-do tenant holders, and rich with fields of waving grain, and meadow-lands where sheep andcattle grazed in flocks and herds; for in those days the church landswere under church rule, and were governed by church laws, and there, when war and famine and waste and sloth blighted the outside world, harvests flourished and were gathered, and sheep were sheared and cowswere milked in peace and quietness. 

The Prior of St. Mary's owed much if not all of the church's prosperityto the blind Lord Falworth, and now he was paying it back with a havenof refuge from the ruin that his former patron had brought upon himselfby giving shelter to Sir John Dale. 

I fancy that most boys do not love the grinding of school life--thelessons to be conned, the close application during study hours. It isnot often pleasant to brisk, lively lads to be so cooped up. I wonderwhat the boys of to-day would have thought of Myles's training. With himthat training was not only of the mind, but of the body as well, and forseven years it was almost unremitting. "Thou hast thine own way tomake in the world, sirrah, " his father said more than once when the boycomplained of the grinding hardness of his life, and to make one's wayin those days meant a thousand times more than it does now; it meant notonly a heart to feel and a brain to think, but a hand quick and strongto strike in battle, and a body tough to endure the wounds and blows inreturn. And so it was that Myles's body as well as his mind had to betrained to meet the needs of the dark age in which he lived. 

Every morning, winter or summer, rain or shine he tramped away six longmiles to the priory school, and in the evenings his mother taught himFrench. 

Myles, being prejudiced in the school of thought of his day, rebellednot a little at that last branch of his studies. "Why must I learn thatvile tongue?" said he. 

"Call it not vile, " said the blind old Lord, grimly; "belike, when thouart grown a man, thou'lt have to seek thy fortune in France land, forEngland is haply no place for such as be of Falworth blood. " And inafter-years, true to his father's prediction, the "vile tongue" servedhim well. 

As for his physical training, that pretty well filled up the hoursbetween his morning studies at the monastery and his evening studiesat home. Then it was that old Diccon Bowman took him in hand, than whomnone could be better fitted to shape his young body to strength and hishands to skill in arms. The old bowman had served with Lord Falworth'sfather under the Black Prince both in France and Spain, and in longyears of war had gained a practical knowledge of arms that few couldsurpass. Besides the use of the broadsword, the short sword, thequarter-staff, and the cudgel, he taught Myles to shoot so skilfullywith the long-bow and the cross-bow that not a lad in the country-sidewas his match at the village butts. Attack and defence with the lance, and throwing the knife and dagger were also part of his training. 

Then, in addition to this more regular part of his physical training, Myles was taught in another branch not so often included in the militaryeducation of the day--the art of wrestling. It happened that a fellowlived in Crosbey village, by name Ralph-the-Smith, who was the greatestwrestler in the country-side, and had worn the champion belt for threeyears. Every Sunday afternoon, in fair weather, he came to teach Mylesthe art, and being wonderfully adept in bodily feats, he soon grew soquick and active and firm-footed that he could cast any lad under twentyyears of age living within a range of five miles. 

"It is main ungentle armscraft that he learneth, " said Lord Falworth oneday to Prior Edward. "Saving only the broadsword, the dagger, and thelance, there is but little that a gentleman of his strain may use. Neth'less, he gaineth quickness and suppleness, and if he hath trueblood in his veins he will acquire knightly arts shrewdly quick when thetime cometh to learn them. "

But hard and grinding as Myles's life was, it was not entirely withoutpleasures. There were many boys living in Crosbey-Dale and the village;yeomen's and farmers' sons, to be sure, but, nevertheless, lads of hisown age, and that, after all, is the main requirement for friendship inboyhood's world. Then there was the river to bathe in; there were thehills and valleys to roam over, and the wold and woodland, with theirwealth of nuts and birds'-nests and what not of boyhood's treasures. 

Once he gained a triumph that for many a day was very sweet under thetongue of his memory. As was said before, he had been three times to themarket-town at fair-time, and upon the last of these occasions he hadfought a bout of quarterstaff with a young fellow of twenty, and hadbeen the conqueror. He was then only a little over fourteen years old. 

Old Diccon, who had gone with him to the fair, had met some cronies ofhis own, with whom he had sat gossiping in the ale-booth, leaving Mylesfor the nonce to shift for himself. By-and-by the old man had noticeda crowd gathered at one part of the fair-ground, and, snuffing a fight, had gone running, ale-pot in hand. Then, peering over the shoulders ofthe crowd, he had seen his young master, stripped to the waist, fightinglike a gladiator with a fellow a head taller than himself. Diccon wasabout to force his way through the crowd and drag them asunder, but asecond look had showed his practised eye that Myles was not only holdinghis own, but was in the way of winning the victory. So he had stood withthe others looking on, withholding himself from any interference andwhatever upbraiding might be necessary until the fight had been broughtto a triumphant close. Lord Falworth never heard directly of theredoubtable affair, but old Diccon was not so silent with the commonfolk of Crosbey-Dale, and so no doubt the father had some inkling ofwhat had happened. It was shortly after this notable event that Myleswas formally initiated into squirehood. His father and mother, as wasthe custom, stood sponsors for him. By them, each bearing a lightedtaper, he was escorted to the altar. It was at St. Mary's Priory, andPrior Edward blessed the sword and girded it to the lad's side. Noone was present but the four, and when the good Prior had given thebenediction and had signed the cross upon his forehead, Myles's motherstooped and kissed his brow just where the priest's finger had drawn theholy sign. Her eyes brimmed bright with tears as she did so. Poorlady! perhaps she only then and for the first time realized how big herfledgling was growing for his nest. Henceforth Myles had the right towear a sword. 

Myles had ended his fifteenth year. He was a bonny lad, with brown face, curling hair, a square, strong chin, and a pair of merry laughingblue eyes; his shoulders were broad; his chest was thick of girth; hismuscles and thews were as tough as oak. 

The day upon which he was sixteen years old, as he came whistling homefrom the monastery school he was met by Diccon Bowman. 

"Master Myles, " said the old man, with a snuffle in his voice--"MasterMyles, thy father would see thee in his chamber, and bade me send theeto him as soon as thou didst come home. Oh, Master Myles, I fear me thatbelike thou art going to leave home to-morrow day. "

Myles stopped short. "To leave home!" he cried. 

"Aye, " said old Diccon, "belike thou goest to some grand castle tolive there, and be a page there and what not, and then, haply, agentleman-at-arms in some great lord's pay. "

"What coil is this about castles and lords and gentlemen-at-arms?" saidMyles. "What talkest thou of, Diccon? Art thou jesting?"

"Nay, " said Diccon, "I am not jesting. But go to thy father, and thenthou wilt presently know all. Only this I do say, that it is like thouleavest us to-morrow day. "

And so it was as Diccon had said; Myles was to leave home the verynext morning. He found his father and mother and Prior Edward together, waiting for his coming. 

"We three have been talking it over this morning, " said his father, "andso think each one that the time hath come for thee to quit this poorhome of ours. An thou stay here ten years longer, thou'lt be no more fitto go then than now. To-morrow I will give thee a letter to my kinsman, the Earl of Mackworth. He has thriven in these days and I have fallenaway, but time was that he and I were true sworn companions, andplighted together in friendship never to be sundered. Methinks, as Iremember him, he will abide by his plighted troth, and will give theehis aid to rise in the world. So, as I said, to-morrow morning thoushalt set forth with Diccon Bowman, and shall go to Castle Devlen, andthere deliver this letter which prayeth him to give thee a place in hishousehold. Thou mayst have this afternoon to thyself to make read suchthings as thou shalt take with thee. And bid me Diccon to take the grayhorse to the village and have it shod. "

Prior Edward had been standing looking out of the window. As LordFalworth ended he turned. 

"And, Myles, " said he, "thou wilt need some money, so I will give theeas a loan forty shillings, which some day thou mayst return to me anthou wilt. For this know, Myles, a man cannot do in the world withoutmoney. Thy father hath it ready for thee in the chest, and will give itthee to-morrow ere thou goest. "

Lord Falworth had the grim strength of manhood's hard sense to upbearhim in sending his son into the world, but the poor lady mother hadnothing of that to uphold her. No doubt it was as hard then as it isnow for the mother to see the nestling thrust from the nest to shift foritself. What tears were shed, what words of love were spoken to the onlyman-child, none but the mother and the son ever knew. 

The next morning Myles and the old bowman rode away, and no doubt tothe boy himself the dark shadows of leave-taking were lost in the goldenlight of hope as he rode out into the great world to seek his fortune. 

CHAPTER 3

WHAT MYLES remembered of Falworth loomed great and grand and big, asthings do in the memory of childhood, but even memory could not makeFalworth the equal of Devlen Castle, when, as he and Diccon Bowman rodeout of Devlentown across the great, rude stone bridge that spanned theriver, he first saw, rising above the crowns of the trees, thosehuge hoary walls, and the steep roofs and chimneys clustered thicklytogether, like the roofs and chimneys of a town. 

The castle was built upon a plateau-like rise of ground, which wasenclosed by the outer wall. It was surrounded on three sides by aloop-like bend of the river, and on the fourth was protected by a deep, broad, artificial moat, almost as wide as the stream from which it wasfed. The road from the town wound for a little distance along by theedge of this moat. As Myles and the old bowman galloped by, with theanswering echo of their horses' hoof-beats rattling back from the smoothstone face of the walls, the lad looked up, wondering at the height andstrength of the great ancient fortress. In his air-castle building Myleshad pictured the Earl receiving him as the son of his one-time comradein arms--receiving him, perhaps, with somewhat of the rustic warmth thathe knew at Crosbey-Dale; but now, as he stared at those massive wallsfrom below, and realized his own insignificance and the greatness ofthis great Earl, he felt the first keen, helpless ache of homesicknessshoot through his breast, and his heart yearned for Crosbey-Holt again. 

Then they thundered across the bridge that spanned the moat, and throughthe dark shadows of the great gaping gate-way, and Diccon, bidding himstay for a moment, rode forward to bespeak the gate-keeper. 

The gate-keeper gave the two in charge of one of the men-at-arms whowere lounging upon a bench in the archway, who in turn gave them intothe care of one of the house-servants in the outer court-yard. So, having been passed from one to another, and having answered manyquestions, Myles in due time found himself in the outer waiting-roomsitting beside Diccon Bowman upon a wooden bench that stood along thewall under the great arch of a glazed window. 

For a while the poor country lad sat stupidly bewildered. He was awareof people coming and going; he was aware of talk and laughter soundingaround him; but he thought of nothing but his aching homesickness andthe oppression of his utter littleness in the busy life of this greatcastle. 

Meantime old Diccon Bowman was staring about him with huge interest, every now and then nudging his young master, calling his attention nowto this and now to that, until at last the lad began to awaken somewhatfrom his despondency to the things around. Besides those servants andothers who came and went, and a knot of six or eight men-at-arms withbills and pole-axes, who stood at the farther door-way talking togetherin low tones, now and then broken by a stifled laugh, was a group offour young squires, who lounged upon a bench beside a door-way hidden byan arras, and upon them Myles's eyes lit with a sudden interest. Threeof the four were about his own age, one was a year or two older, andall four were dressed in the black-and-yellow uniform of the house ofBeaumont. 

Myles plucked the bowman by the sleeve. "Be they squires, Diccon?" saidhe, nodding towards the door. 

"Eh?" said Diccon. "Aye; they be squires. "

"And will my station be with them?" asked the boy. 

"Aye; an the Earl take thee to service, thou'lt haply be taken assquire. "

Myles stared at them, and then of a sudden was aware that the young menwere talking of him. He knew it by the way they eyed him askance, andspoke now and then in one another's ears. One of the four, a gay youngfellow, with long riding-boots laced with green laces, said a few words, the others gave a laugh, and poor Myles, knowing how ungainly he mustseem to them, felt the blood rush to his cheeks, and shyly turned hishead. 

Suddenly, as though stirred by an impulse, the same lad who had justcreated the laugh arose from the bench, and came directly across theroom to where Myles and the bowman sat. 

"Give thee good-den, " said he. "What be'st thy name and whence comestthou, an I may make bold so to ask?"

"My name is Myles Falworth, " said Myles; "and I come from Crosbey-Dalebearing a letter to my Lord. "

"Never did I hear of Crosbey-Dale, " said the squire. "But what seekesthere, if so be I may ask that much?"

"I come seeking service, " said Myles, "and would enter as an esquiresuch as ye be in my Lord's household. "

Myles's new acquaintance grinned. "Thou'lt make a droll squire to waitin a Lord's household, " said he. "Hast ever been in such service?"

"Nay, " said Myles, "I have only been at school, and learned Latin andFrench and what not. But Diccon Bowman here hath taught me use of arms. "

The young squire laughed outright. "By'r Lady, thy talk doth tickleme, friend Myles, " said he. "Think'st thou such matters will gain theefooting here? But stay! Thou didst say anon that thou hadst a letter tomy Lord. From whom is it?"

"It is from my father, " said Myles. "He is of noble blood, but fallen inestate. He is a kinsman of my Lord's, and one time his comrade in arms. "

"Sayst so?" said the other. "Then mayhap thy chances are not soill, after all. " Then, after a moment, he added: "My name is FrancisGascoyne, and I will stand thy friend in this matter. Get thy letterready, for my Lord and his Grace of York are within and come forth anon. The Archbishop is on his way to Dalworth, and my Lord escorts him so faras Uppingham. I and those others are to go along. Dost thou know my Lordby sight?"

"Nay, " said Myles, "I know him not. "

"Then I will tell thee when he cometh. Listen!" said he, as a confusedclattering sounded in the court-yard without. "Yonder are the horsesnow. They come presently. Busk thee with thy letter, friend Myles. "

The attendants who passed through the anteroom now came and went morehurriedly, and Myles knew that the Earl must be about to come forth. He had hardly time to untie his pouch, take out the letter, and tie thestrings again when the arras at the door-way was thrust suddenly aside, and a tall thin squire of about twenty came forth, said some words tothe young men upon the bench, and then withdrew again. Instantly thesquires arose and took their station beside the door-way. A sudden hushfell upon all in the room, and the men-at-arms stood in a line againstthe wall, stiff and erect as though all at once transformed to figuresof iron. Once more the arras was drawn back, and in the hush Myles heardvoices in the other room. 

"My Lord cometh, " whispered Gascoyne in his ear, and Myles felt hisheart leap in answer. 

The next moment two noblemen came into the anteroom followed by a crowdof gentlemen, squires, and pages. One of the two was a dignitary of theChurch; the other Myles instantly singled out as the Earl of Mackworth. 

CHAPTER 4

He was a tall man, taller even than Myles's father. He had a thinface, deep-set bushy eyebrows, and a hawk nose. His upper lip was cleanshaven, but from his chin a flowing beard of iron-gray hung nearly tohis waist. He was clad in a riding-gown of black velvet that hung alittle lower than the knee, trimmed with otter fur and embroidered withsilver goshawks--the crest of the family of Beaumont. 

A light shirt of link mail showed beneath the gown as he walked, and apair of soft undressed leather riding-boots were laced as high as theknee, protecting his scarlet hose from mud and dirt. Over his shouldershe wore a collar of enamelled gold, from which hung a magnificentjewelled pendant, and upon his fist he carried a beautiful Icelandfalcon. 

As Myles stood staring, he suddenly heard Gascoyne's voice whisper inhis ear, "Yon is my Lord; go forward and give him thy letter. "

Scarcely knowing what he did, he walked towards the Earl like a machine, his heart pounding within him and a great humming in his ears. As hedrew near, the nobleman stopped for a moment and stared at him, andMyles, as in a dream, kneeled, and presented the letter. The Earl tookit in his hand, turned it this way and that, looked first at the bearer, then at the packet, and then at the bearer again. 

"Who art thou?" said he; "and what is the matter thou wouldst have ofme?"

"I am Myles Falworth, " said the lad, in a low voice; "and I come seekingservice with you. "

The Earl drew his thick eyebrows quickly together, and shot a keenlook at the lad. "Falworth?" said he, sharply--"Falworth? I know noFalworth!"

"The letter will tell you, " said Myles. "It is from one once dear toyou. "

The Earl took the letter, and handing it to a gentleman who stood near, bade him break the seal. "Thou mayst stand, " said he to Myles; "needstnot kneel there forever. " Then, taking the opened parchment again, heglanced first at the face and then at the back, and, seeing its length, looked vexed. Then he read for an earnest moment or two, skipping fromline to line. Presently he folded the letter and thrust it into thepouch at his side. "So it is, your Grace, " said he to the lordlyprelate, "that we who have luck to rise in the world must ever suffer bybeing plagued at all times and seasons. Here is one I chanced to know adozen years ago, who thinks he hath a claim upon me, and saddles mewith his son. I must e'en take the lad, too, for the sake of peace andquietness. " He glanced around, and seeing Gascoyne, who had drawn near, beckoned to him. "Take me this fellow, " said he, "to the buttery, andsee him fed; and then to Sir James Lee, and have his name entered in thecastle books. And stay, sirrah, " he added; "bid me Sir James, if it maybe so done, to enter him as a squire-at-arms. Methinks he will be betterserving so than in the household, for he appeareth a soothly rough cubfor a page. "

Myles did look rustic enough, standing clad in frieze in the midst ofthat gay company, and a murmur of laughter sounded around, though hewas too bewildered to fully understand that he was the cause of themerriment. Then some hand drew him back--it was Gascoyne's--there was abustle of people passing, and the next minute they were gone, andMyles and old Diccon Bowman and the young squire were left alone in theanteroom. 

Gascoyne looked very sour and put out. "Murrain upon it!" said he; "hereis good sport spoiled for me to see thee fed. I wish no ill to thee, friend, but I would thou hadst come this afternoon or to-morrow. "

"Methinks I bring trouble and dole to every one, " said Myles, somewhatbitterly. "It would have been better had I never come to this place, methinks. "

His words and tone softened Gascoyne a little. "Ne'er mind, " said thesquire; "it was not thy fault, and is past mending now. So come and fillthy stomach, in Heaven's name. "

Perhaps not the least hard part of the whole trying day for Myleswas his parting with Diccon. Gascoyne and he had accompanied the oldretainer to the outer gate, in the archway of which they now stood; forwithout a permit they could go no farther. The old bowman led by thebridle-rein the horse upon which Myles had ridden that morning. His ownnag, a vicious brute, was restive to be gone, but Diccon held him inwith tight rein. He reached down, and took Myles's sturdy brown hand inhis crooked, knotted grasp. 

"Farewell, young master, " he croaked, tremulously, with a watery glimmerin his pale eyes. "Thou wilt not forget me when I am gone?"

"Nay, " said Myles; "I will not forget thee. "

"Aye, aye, " said the old man, looking down at him, and shaking his headslowly from side to side; "thou art a great tall sturdy fellow now, yethave I held thee on my knee many and many's the time, and dandled theewhen thou wert only a little weeny babe. Be still, thou devil's limb!"he suddenly broke off, reining back his restive raw-boned steed, which began again to caper and prance. Myles was not sorry for theinterruption; he felt awkward and abashed at the parting, and at the oldman's reminiscences, knowing that Gascoyne's eyes were resting amusedlyupon the scene, and that the men-at-arms were looking on. Certainlyold Diccon did look droll as he struggled vainly with his vicioushigh-necked nag. "Nay, a murrain on thee! an' thou wilt go, go!" criedhe at last, with a savage dig of his heels into the animal's ribs, and away they clattered, the led-horse kicking up its heels as a finalparting, setting Gascoyne fairly alaughing. At the bend of the road theold man turned and nodded his head; the next moment he had disappearedaround the angle of the wall, and it seemed to Myles, as he stoodlooking after him, as though the last thread that bound him to hisold life had snapped and broken. As he turned he saw that Gascoyne waslooking at him. 

"Dost feel downhearted?" said the young squire, curiously. 

"Nay, " said Myles, brusquely. Nevertheless his throat was tight and dry, and the word came huskily in spite of himself. 

CHAPTER 5

THE EARL of Mackworth, as was customary among the great lords in thosedays, maintained a small army of knights, gentlemen, men-at-arms, andretainers, who were expected to serve him upon all occasions of need, and from whom were supplied his quota of recruits to fill such levies asmight be made upon him by the King in time of war. 

The knights and gentlemen of this little army of horse and foot soldierswere largely recruited from the company of squires and bachelors, as theyoung novitiate soldiers of the castle were called. 

This company of esquires consisted of from eighty to ninety lads, ranging in age from eight to twenty years. Those under fourteen yearswere termed pages, and served chiefly the Countess and her waitinggentlewomen, in whose company they acquired the graces and polish of thetimes, such as they were. After reaching the age of fourteen the ladswere entitled to the name of esquire or squire. 

In most of the great houses of the time the esquires were the especialattendants upon the Lord and Lady of the house, holding such positionsas body-squires, cup-bearers, carvers, and sometimes the office ofchamberlain. But Devlen, like some other of the princely castles of thegreatest nobles, was more like a military post or a fortress than anordinary household. Only comparatively few of the esquires could beused in personal attendance upon the Earl; the others were trainedmore strictly in arms, and served rather in the capacity of a sort ofbody-guard than as ordinary squires. For, as the Earl rose in power andinfluence, and as it so became well worth while for the lower nobilityand gentry to enter their sons in his family, the body of squires becamealmost cumbersomely large. Accordingly, that part which comprised thesquires proper, as separate from the younger pages, was divided intothree classes--first, squires of the body, who were those just pastpagehood, and who waited upon the Earl in personal service; second, squires of the household, who, having regular hours assigned forexercise in the manual of arms, were relieved from personal serviceexcepting upon especial occasions; and thirdly and lastly, at the headof the whole body of lads, a class called bachelors--young men rangingfrom eighteen to twenty years of age. This class was supposed toexercise a sort of government over the other and younger squires--tokeep them in order as much as possible, to marshal them upon occasionsof importance, to see that their arms and equipments were kept in goodorder, to call the roll for chapel in the morning, and to see that thosenot upon duty in the house were present at the daily exercise at arms. Orders to the squires were generally transmitted through the bachelors, and the head of that body was expected to make weekly reports of affairsin their quarters to the chief captain of the body. 

From this overlordship of the bachelors there had gradually risen asystem of fagging, such as is or was practised in the great Englishpublic schools--enforced services exacted from the younger lads--whichat the time Myles came to Devlen had, in the five or six years it hadbeen in practice, grown to be an absolute though unwritten law of thebody--a law supported by all the prestige of long-continued usage. Atthat time the bachelors numbered but thirteen, yet they exercised overthe rest of the sixty-four squires and pages a rule of iron, and weretaskmasters, hard, exacting, and oftentimes cruel. 

The whole company of squires and pages was under the supreme command ofa certain one-eyed knight, by name Sir James Lee; a soldier seasoned bythe fire of a dozen battles, bearing a score of wounds won in fight andtourney, and withered by hardship and labor to a leather-like toughness. He had fought upon the King's side in all the late wars, and had atShrewsbury received a wound that unfitted him for active service, sothat now he was fallen to the post of Captain of Esquires at DevlenCastle--a man disappointed in life, and with a temper imbittered by thatfailure as well as by cankering pain. 

Yet Perhaps no one could have been better fitted for the place he heldthan Sir James Lee. The lads under his charge were a rude, rough, unrulyset, quick, like their elders, to quarrel, and to quarrel fiercely, evento the drawing of sword or dagger. But there was a cold, iron sternnessabout the grim old man that quelled them, as the trainer with a lash ofsteel might quell a den of young wolves. The apartments in which he waslodged, with his clerk, were next in the dormitory of the lads, andeven in the midst of the most excited brawlings the distant sound of hisharsh voice, "Silence, messieurs!" would bring an instant hush to theloudest uproar. 

It was into his grim presence that Myles was introduced by Gascoyne. Sir James was in his office, a room bare of ornament or adornment orsuperfluous comfort of any sort--without even so much as a mat of rushesupon the cold stone pavement to make it less cheerless. The old one-eyedknight sat gnawing his bristling mustaches. To anyone who knew him itwould have been apparent that, as the castle phrase went, "the devil satastride of his neck, " which meant that some one of his blind wounds wasaching more sorely than usual. 

His clerk sat beside him, with account-books and parchment spread uponthe table, and the head squire, Walter Blunt, a lad some three or fouryears older than Myles, and half a head taller, black-browed, powerfullybuilt, and with cheek and chin darkened by the soft budding of hisadolescent beard, stood making his report. 

Sir James listened in grim silence while Gascoyne told his errand. 

"So, then, pardee, I am bid to take another one of ye, am I?" hesnarled. "As though ye caused me not trouble enow; and this one a cub, looking a very boor in carriage and breeding. Mayhap the Earl thinketh Iam to train boys to his dilly-dally household service as well as to useof arms. "

"Sir, " said Gascoyne, timidly, "my Lord sayeth he would have this oneentered direct as a squire of the body, so that he need not serve in thehousehold. "

"Sayest so?" cried Sir James, harshly. "Then take thou my message backagain to thy Lord. Not for Mackworth--no, nor a better man than he--willI make any changes in my government. An I be set to rule a pack of boys, I will rule them as I list, and not according to any man's bidding. Tell him, sirrah, that I will enter no lad as squire of the body withoutfirst testing an he be fit at arms to hold that place. " He sat for awhile glowering at Myles and gnawing his mustaches, and for the timeno one dared to break the grim silence. "What is thy name?" said he, suddenly. And then, almost before Myles could answer, he asked the headsquire whether he could find a place to lodge him. 

"There is Gillis Whitlock's cot empty, " said Blunt. "He is in theinfirmary, and belike goeth home again when he cometh thence. The feverhath gotten into his bones, and--"

"That will do, " said the knight, interrupting him impatiently. "Let himtake that place, or any other that thou hast. And thou, Jerome, " said heto his clerk, "thou mayst enter him upon the roll, though whether it beas page or squire or bachelor shall be as I please, and not as Mackworthbiddeth me. Now get ye gone. "

"Old Bruin's wound smarteth him sore, " Gascoyne observed, as the twolads walked across the armory court. He had good-naturedly offered toshow the new-comer the many sights of interest around the castle, and inthe hour or so of ramble that followed, the two grew from acquaintancesto friends with a quickness that boyhood alone can bring about. Theyvisited the armory, the chapel, the stables, the great hall, the PaintedChamber, the guard-house, the mess-room, and even the scullery and thekitchen, with its great range of boilers and furnaces and ovens. Last ofall Myles's new friend introduced him to the armor-smithy. 

"My Lord hath sent a piece of Milan armor thither to be repaired, " saidhe. "Belike thou would like to see it. "

"Aye, " said Myles, eagerly, "that would I. "

The smith was a gruff, good-natured fellow, and showed the piece ofarmor to Myles readily and willingly enough. It was a beautiful bascinetof inlaid workmanship, and was edged with a rim of gold. Myles scarcelydared touch it; he gazed at it with an unconcealed delight that warmedthe smith's honest heart. 

"I have another piece of Milan here, " said he. "Did I ever show thee mydagger, Master Gascoyne?"

"Nay, " said the squire. 

The smith unlocked a great oaken chest in the corner of the shop, liftedthe lid, and brought thence a beautiful dagger with the handle of ebonyand silver-gilt, and a sheath of Spanish leather, embossed and gilt. The keen, well-tempered blade was beautifully engraved and inlaidwith niello-work, representing a group of figures in a then popularsubject--the dance of Death. It was a weapon at once unique andbeautiful, and even Gascoyne showed an admiration scarcely less keenthan Myles's openly-expressed delight. 

"To whom doth it belong?" said he, trying the point upon his thumb nail. 

"There, " said the smith, "is the jest of the whole, for it belongethto me. Sir William Beauclerk bade me order the weapon through MasterGildersworthy, of London town, and by the time it came hither, lo! hehad died, and so it fell to my hands. No one here payeth the price forthe trinket, and so I must e'en keep it myself, though I be but a poorman. "

"How much dost thou hold it for?" said Gascoyne. 

"Seventeen shillings buyeth it, " said the armorer, carelessly. 

"Aye, aye, " said Gascoyne, with a sigh; "so it is to be poor, and not beable to have such things as one loveth and would fain possess. Seventeenshillings is nigh as much by half again as all my yearly wage. "

Then a sudden thought came to Myles, and as it came his cheeks glowedas hot as fire "Master Gascoyne, " said he, with gruff awkwardness, "thou hast been a very good, true friend to me since I have come to thisplace, and hast befriended me in all ways thou mightest do, and I, aswell I know, but a poor rustic clod. Now I have forty shillings by mewhich I may spend as I list, and so I do beseech thee that thou wilttake yon dagger of me as a love-gift, and have and hold it for thy veryown. "

Gascoyne stared open-mouthed at Myles. "Dost mean it?" said he, at last. 

"Aye, " said Myles, "I do mean it. Master Smith, give him the blade. "

At first the smith grinned, thinking it all a jest; but he soon saw thatMyles was serious enough, and when the seventeen shillings were producedand counted down upon the anvil, he took off his cap and made Myles alow bow as he swept them into his pouch. "Now, by my faith and troth, "quoth he, "that I do call a true lordly gift. Is it not so, MasterGascoyne?"

"Aye, " said Gascoyne, with a gulp, "it is, in soothly earnest. " Andthereupon, to Myles's great wonderment, he suddenly flung his arms abouthis neck, and, giving him a great hug, kissed him upon the cheek. "DearMyles, " said he, "I tell thee truly and of a verity I did feel warmtowards thee from the very first time I saw thee sitting like a poor oafupon the bench up yonder in the anteroom, and now of a sooth I give theeassurance that I do love thee as my own brother. Yea, I will take thedagger, and will stand by thee as a true friend from this time forth. Mayhap thou mayst need a true friend in this place ere thou livest longwith us, for some of us esquires be soothly rough, and knocks are moreplenty here than broad pennies, so that one new come is like to have ahard time gaining a footing. "

"I thank thee, " said Myles, "for thy offer of love and friendship, anddo tell thee, upon my part, that I also of all the world would like bestto have thee for my friend. "

Such was the manner In which Myles formed the first great friendship ofhis life, a friendship that was destined to last him through many yearsto come. As the two walked back across the great quadrangle, upon whichfronted the main buildings of the castle, their arms were wound acrossone another's shoulders, after the manner, as a certain great writersays, of boys and lovers. 

CHAPTER 6

A boy's life is of a very flexible sort. It takes but a little while forit to shape itself to any new surroundings in which it may be thrown, tomake itself new friends, to settle itself to new habits; and so it wasthat Myles fell directly into the ways of the lads of Devlen. On hisfirst morning, as he washed his face and hands with the other squiresand pages in a great tank of water in the armory court-yard, hepresently found himself splashing and dashing with the others, laughingand shouting as loud as any, and calling some by their Christian namesas though he had known them for years instead of overnight. Duringchapel he watched with sympathetic delight the covert pranks of theyoungsters during the half-hour that Father Emmanuel droned his Latin, and with his dagger point he carved his own name among the many cutdeep into the back of the bench before him. When, after breakfast, thesquires poured like school-boys into the great armory to answer to theroll-call for daily exercise, he came storming in with the rest, beatingthe lad in front of him with his cap. 

Boys are very keen to feel the influence of a forceful character. A ladwith a strong will is quick to reach his proper level as a greater orlesser leader among the others, and Myles was of just the masterfulnature to make his individuality felt among the Devlen squires. He wasquick enough to yield obedience upon all occasions to proper authority, but would never bend an inch to the usurpation of tyranny. In the schoolat St. Mary's Priory at Crosbey-Dale he would submit without a murmur oroffer of resistance to chastisement by old Father Ambrose, theregular teacher; but once, when the fat old monk was sick, and a greatlong-legged strapping young friar, who had temporarily taken his place, undertook to administer punishment, Myles, with a wrestling trip, flunghim sprawling backward over a bench into the midst of a shoal of smallboys amid a hubbub of riotous confusion. He had been flogged soundlyfor it under the supervision of Prior Edward himself; but so soon ashis punishment was over, he assured the prior very seriously that shouldlike occasion again happen he would act in the same manner, flogging orno flogging. 

It was this bold, outspoken spirit that gained him at once friends andenemies at Devlen, and though it first showed itself in what was but alittle matter, nevertheless it set a mark upon him that singled him outfrom the rest, and, although he did not suspect it at the time, calledto him the attention of Sir James Lee himself, who regarded him as a ladof free and frank spirit. 

The first morning after the roll-call in the armory, as Walter Blunt, the head bachelor, rolled up the slip of parchment, and the temporarysilence burst forth into redoubled noise and confusion, each lad arminghimself from a row of racks that stood along the wall, he beckoned Mylesto him. 

"My Lord himself hath spoken to Sir James Lee concerning thee, " said he. "Sir James maintaineth that he will not enter thee into the body tillthou hast first practised for a while at the pels, and shown what thoucanst do at broadsword. Hast ever fought at the pel?"

"Aye, " answered Myles, "and that every day of my life sin I becameesquire four years ago, saving only Sundays and holy days. "

"With shield and broadsword?"

"Sometimes, " said Myles, "and sometimes with the short sword. "

"Sir James would have thee come to the tilt-yard this morn; he himselfwill take thee in hand to try what thou canst do. Thou mayst take thearms upon yonder rack, and use them until otherwise bidden. Thou seestthat the number painted above it on the wall is seventeen; that will bethy number for the nonce. "

So Myles armed himself from his rack as the others were doing fromtheirs. The armor was rude and heavy, used to accustom the body to theweight of the iron plates rather than for any defence. It consisted ofa cuirass, or breastplate of iron, opening at the side with hinges, andcatching with hooks and eyes; epauliers, or shoulder-plates; arm-platesand leg-pieces; and a bascinet, or open-faced helmet. A great triangularshield covered with leather and studded with bosses of iron, and a heavybroadsword, pointed and dulled at the edges, completed the equipment. 

The practice at the pels which Myles was bidden to attend comprised thechief exercise of the day with the esquires of young cadet soldiers ofthat time, and in it they learned not only all the strokes, cuts, andthrusts of sword-play then in vogue, but also toughness, endurance, andelastic quickness. The pels themselves consisted of upright posts ofash or oak, about five feet six inches in height, and in girth somewhatthicker than a man's thigh. They were firmly planted in the ground, andupon them the strokes of the broadsword were directed. 

At Devlen the pels stood just back of the open and covered tiltingcourts and the archery ranges, and thither those lads not upon householdduty were marched every morning excepting Fridays and Sundays, and werethere exercised under the direction of Sir James Lee and two assistants. The whole company was divided into two, sometimes into three parties, each of which took its turn at the exercise, delivering at the wordof command the various strokes, feints, attacks, and retreats as theinstructors ordered. 

After five minutes of this mock battle the perspiration began to pourdown the faces, and the breath to come thick and short; but it was notuntil the lads could absolutely endure no more that the order was givento rest, and they were allowed to fling themselves panting upon theground, while another company took its place at the triple row of posts. 

As Myles struck and hacked at the pel assigned to him, Sir James Leestood beside him watching him in grim silence. The lad did his best toshow the knight all that he knew of upper cut, under cut, thrust, andback-hand stroke, but it did not seem to him that Sir James was verywell satisfied with his skill. 

"Thou fightest like a clodpole, " said the old man. "Ha, that strokewas but ill-recovered. Strike me it again, and get thou in guard morequickly. "

Myles repeated the stroke. 

"Pest!" cried Sir James. "Thou art too slow by a week. Here, strike thouthe blow at me. "

Myles hesitated. Sir James held a stout staff in his hand, but otherwisehe was unarmed. 

"Strike, I say!" said Sir James. "What stayest thou for? Art afeard?"

It was Myles's answer that set the seal of individuality upon him. "Nay, " said he, boldly, "I am not afeard. I fear not thee nor any man!"So saying, he delivered the stroke at Sir James with might and main. Itwas met with a jarring blow that made his wrist and arm tingle, and thenext instant he received a stroke upon the bascinet that caused his earsto ring and the sparks to dance and fly before his eyes. 

"Pardee!" said Sir James, grimly. "An I had had a mace in my hand, Iwould have knocked thy cockerel brains out that time. Thou mayst takethat blow for answering me so pertly. And now we are quits. Now strikeme the stroke again an thou art not afeard. "

Myles's eyes watered in spite of himself, and he shut the lids tight towink the dimness away. Nevertheless he spoke up undauntedly as before. "Aye, marry, will I strike it again, " said he; and this time he wasable to recover guard quickly enough to turn Sir James's blow with hisshield, instead of receiving it upon his head. 

"So!" said Sir James. "Now mind thee of this, that when thou strikestthat lower cut at the legs, recover thyself more quickly. Now, then, strike me it at the pel. "

Gascoyne and other of the lads who were just then lying stretched outupon the grass beneath, a tree at the edge of the open court where stoodthe pels, were interested spectators of the whole scene. Not one of themin their memory had heard Sir James so answered face to face as Myleshad answered him, and, after all, perhaps the lad himself would nothave done so had he been longer a resident in the squires' quarters atDevlen. 

"By 'r Lady! thou art a cool blade, Myles, " said Gascoyne, as theymarched back to the armory again. "Never heard I one bespeak Sir Jamesas thou hast done this day. "

"And, after all, " said another of the young squires, "old Bruin was notso ill-pleased, methinks. That was a shrewd blow he fetched thee on thecrown, Falworth. Marry, I would not have had it on my own skull for asilver penny. "

CHAPTER 7

So little does it take to make a body's reputation. 

That night all the squires' quarters buzzed with the story of how thenew boy, Falworth, had answered Sir James Lee to his face without fear, and had exchanged blows with him hand to hand. Walter Blunt himself wasmoved to some show of interest. 

"What said he to thee, Falworth?" asked he. 

"He said naught, " said Myles, brusquely. "He only sought to show me howto recover from the under cut. "

"It is passing strange that he should take so much notice of thee as toexchange blows with thee with his own hand. Haply thou art either veryquick or parlous slow at arms. "

"It is quick that he is, " said Gascoyne, speaking up in his friend'sbehalf. "For the second time that Falworth delivered the stroke, SirJames could not reach him to return; so I saw with mine own eyes. "

But that very sterling independence that had brought Myles so creditablythrough this adventure was certain to embroil him with the rude, half-savage lads about him, some of whom, especially among thebachelors, were his superiors as well in age as in skill and training. As said before, the bachelors had enforced from the younger boys afagging sort of attendance on their various personal needs, and it wasupon this point that Myles first came to grief. As it chanced, severaldays passed before any demand was made upon him for service to the headsof the squirehood, but when that demand was made, the bachelors werevery quick to see that the boy who was bold enough to speak up to SirJames Lee was not likely to be a willing fag for them. 

"I tell thee, Francis, " he said, as Gascoyne and he talked over thematter one day--"I tell thee I will never serve them. Prithee, whatshame can be fouler than to do such menial service, saving for one'srightful Lord?"

"Marry!" quoth Gascoyne; "I reason not of shame at this or that. All Iknow is that others serve them who are haply as good and maybe betterthan I be, and that if I do not serve them I get knocked i' th' headtherefore, which same goeth soothly against my stomach. "

"I judge not for thee, " said Myles. "Thou art used to these castleways, but only I know that I will not serve them, though they be thirtyagainst me instead of thirteen. "

"Then thou art a fool, " said Gascoyne, dryly. 

Now in this matter of service there was one thing above all others thatstirred Myles Falworth's ill-liking. The winter before he had come toDevlen, Walter Blunt, who was somewhat of a Sybarite in his way, and whohad a repugnance to bathing in the general tank in the open armory courtin frosty weather, had had Dick Carpenter build a trough in the cornerof the dormitory for the use of the bachelors, and every morning it wasthe duty of two of the younger squires to bring three pails of water tofill this private tank for the use of the head esquires. It was seeingtwo of his fellow-esquires fetching and carrying this water that Mylesdisliked so heartily, and every morning his bile was stirred anew at thesight. 

"Sooner would I die than yield to such vile service, " said he. 

He did not know how soon his protestations would be put to the test. 

One night--it was a week or two after Myles had come to Devlen--Bluntwas called to attend the Earl at livery. The livery was the last meal ofthe day, and was served with great pomp and ceremony about nine o'clockat night to the head of the house as he lay in bed. Curfew had not yetrung, and the lads in the squires' quarters were still wrestling andsparring and romping boisterously in and out around the long row of rudecots in the great dormitory as they made ready for the night. Six oreight flaring links in wrought-iron brackets that stood out from thewall threw a great ruddy glare through the barrack-like room--a light ofall others to romp by. Myles and Gascoyne were engaged in defending thepassage-way between their two cots against the attack of three otherlads, and Myles held his sheepskin coverlet rolled up into a ball andbalanced in his hand, ready for launching at the head of one of theothers so soon as it should rise from behind the shelter of a cot. Justthen Walter Blunt, dressed with more than usual care, passed by on hisway to the Earl's house. He stopped for a moment and said, "Mayhaps Iwill not be in until late to-night. Thou and Falworth, Gascoyne, mayfetch water to-morrow. "

Then he was gone. Myles stood staring after his retreating figure witheyes open and mouth agape, still holding the ball of sheepskin balancedin his hand. Gascoyne burst into a helpless laugh at his blank, stupefied face, but the next moment he laid his hand on his friend'sshoulder. 

"Myles, " he said, "thou wilt not make trouble, wilt thou?"

Myles made no answer. He flung down his sheepskin and sat him gloomilydown upon the side of the cot. 

"I said that I would sooner die than fetch water for them, " said he. 

"Aye, aye, " said Gascoyne; "but that was spoken in haste. "

Myles said nothing, but shook his head. 

But, after all, circumstances shape themselves. The next morning when herose up through the dark waters of sleep it was to feel some one shakinghim violently by the shoulder. 

"Come!" cried Gascoyne, as Myles opened his eyes--"come, time passeth, and we are late. "

Myles, bewildered with his sudden awakening, and still fuddled with thefumes of sleep, huddled into his doublet and hose, hardly knowing whathe was doing; tying a point here and a point there, and slippinghis feet into his shoes. Then he hurried after Gascoyne, frowzy, half-dressed, and even yet only half-awake. It was not until he wasfairly out into the fresh air and saw Gascoyne filling the threeleathern buckets at the tank, that he fully awakened to the fact that hewas actually doing that hateful service for the bachelors which he hadprotested he would sooner die than render. 

The sun was just rising, gilding the crown of the donjon-keep with aflame of ruddy light. Below, among the lesser buildings, the day wasstill gray and misty. Only an occasional noise broke the silence of theearly morning: a cough from one of the rooms; the rattle of a pot ora pan, stirred by some sleepy scullion; the clapping of a door or ashutter, and now and then the crowing of a cock back of the long row ofstables--all sounding loud and startling in the fresh dewy stillness. 

"Thou hast betrayed me, " said Myles, harshly, breaking the silence atlast. "I knew not what I was doing, or else I would never have comehither. Ne'theless, even though I be come, I will not carry the waterfor them. "

"So be it, " said Gascoyne, tartly. "An thou canst not stomach it, let be, and I will e'en carry all three myself. It will make me twojourneys, but, thank Heaven, I am not so proud as to wish to get mehard knocks for naught. " So saying, he picked up two of the buckets andstarted away across the court for the dormitory. 

Then Myles, with a lowering face, snatched up the third, and, hurryingafter, gave him his hand with the extra pail. So it was that he came todo service, after all. 

"Why tarried ye so long?" said one of the older bachelors, roughly, asthe two lads emptied the water into the wooden trough. He sat on theedge of the cot, blowzed and untrussed, with his long hair tumbled anddisordered. 

His dictatorial tone stung Myles to fury. "We tarried no longer thanneed be, " answered he, savagely. "Have we wings to fly withal at yourbidding?"

He spoke so loudly that all in the room heard him; the younger squireswho were dressing stared in blank amazement, and Blunt sat up suddenlyin his cot. 

"Why, how now?" he cried. "Answerest thou back thy betters so pertly, sirrah? By my soul, I have a mind to crack thy head with this clog forthy unruly talk. "

He glared at Myles as he spoke, and Myles glared back again with rightgood-will. Matters might have come to a crisis, only that Gascoyne andWilkes dragged their friend away before he had opportunity to answer. 

"An ill-conditioned knave as ever I did see, " growled Blunt, glaringafter him. 

"Myles, Myles, " said Gascoyne, almost despairingly, "why wilt thoubreed such mischief for thyself? Seest thou not thou hast got theethe ill-will of every one of the bachelors, from Wat Blunt to Robin deRamsey?"

"I care not, " said Myles, fiercely, recurring to his grievance. "Heardye not how the dogs upbraided me before the whole room? That Bluntcalled me an ill-conditioned knave. "

"Marry!" said Gascoyne, laughing, "and so thou art. "

Thus it is that boldness may breed one enemies as well as gain onefriends. My own notion is that one's enemies are more quick to act thanone's friends. 

CHAPTER 8

Every one knows the disagreeable, lurking discomfort that follows aquarrel--a discomfort that imbitters the very taste of life for the timebeing. Such was the dull distaste that Myles felt that morning afterwhat had passed in the dormitory. Every one in the proximity of suchan open quarrel feels a reflected constraint, and in Myles's mind was adisagreeable doubt whether that constraint meant disapproval of him orof his late enemies. 

It seemed to him that Gascoyne added the last bitter twang to hisunpleasant feelings when, half an hour later, they marched with theothers to chapel. 

"Why dost thou breed such trouble for thyself, Myles?" said he, recurring to what he had already said. "Is it not foolish for thee tocome hither to this place, and then not submit to the ways thereof, asthe rest of us do?"

"Thou talkest not like a true friend to chide me thus, " said Myles, sullenly; and he withdrew his arm from his friend's. 

"Marry, come up!" said Gascoyne; "an I were not thy friend, I would letthee jog thine own way. It aches not my bones to have thine drubbed. "

Just then they entered the chapel, and words that might have led to aquarrel were brought to a close. 

Myles was not slow to see that he had the ill will of the head of theircompany. That morning in the armory he had occasion to ask some questionof Blunt; the head squire stared coldly at him for a moment, gave him ashort, gruff answer, and then, turning his back abruptly, began talkingwith one of the other bachelors. Myles flushed hot at the other'sinsulting manner, and looked quickly around to see if any of the othershad observed what had passed. It was a comfort to him to see that allwere too busy arming themselves to think of anything else; nevertheless, his face was very lowering as he turned away. 

"Some day I will show him that I am as good a man as he, " he muttered tohimself. "An evil-hearted dog to put shame upon me!"

The storm was brewing and ready to break. 

That day was exceptionally hot and close, and permission had been askedby and granted to those squires not on duty to go down to the river fora bath after exercise at the pels. But as Myles replaced his arms inthe rack, a little page came with a bidding to come to Sir James in hisoffice. 

"Look now, " said Myles, "here is just my ill-fortune. Why might he nothave waited an hour longer rather than cause me to miss going with ye?"

"Nay, " said Gascoyne, "let not that grieve thee, Myles. Wilkes and Iwill wait for thee in the dormitory--will we not, Edmund? Make thouhaste and go to Sir James. "

Sir James was sitting at the table studying over a scroll of parchment, when Myles entered his office and stood before him at the table. 

"Well, boy, " said he, laying aside the parchment and looking up at thelad, "I have tried thee fairly for these few days, and may say that Ihave found thee worthy to be entered upon the rolls as esquire of thebody. "

"I give thee thanks, sir, " said Myles. 

The knight nodded his head in acknowledgement, but did not at once givethe word of dismissal that Myles had expected. "Dost mean to write theea letter home soon?" said he, suddenly. 

"Aye, " said Myles, gaping in great wonderment at the strangeness of thequestion. 

"Then when thou dost so write, " said Sir James, "give thou my deepregards to thy father. " Then he continued, after a brief pause. "Him didI know well in times gone by, and we were right true friends in heartylove, and for his sake I would befriend thee--that is, in so much as isfitting. "

"Sir, " said Myles; but Sir James held up his hand, and he stopped shortin his thanks. 

"But, boy, " said he, "that which I sent for thee for to tell thee was ofmore import than these. Dost thou know that thy father is an attaintedoutlaw?"

"Nay, " cried Myles, his cheeks blazing up as red as fire; "who sayeththat of him lieth in his teeth. "

"Thou dost mistake me, " said Sir James, quietly. "It is sometimes noshame to be outlawed and banned. Had it been so, I would not have toldthee thereof, nor have bidden thee send my true love to thy father, asI did but now. But, boy, certes he standest continually in greatdanger--greater than thou wottest of. Were it known where he lieth hid, it might be to his undoing and utter ruin. Methought that belike thoumightest not know that; and so I sent for thee for to tell thee that itbehoovest thee to say not one single word concerning him to any of thesenew friends of thine, nor who he is, nor what he is. "

"But how came my father to be so banned?" said Myles, in a constrainedand husky voice, and after a long time of silence. 

"That I may not tell thee just now, " said the old knight, "onlythis--that I have been bidden to make it known to thee that thy fatherhath an enemy full as powerful as my Lord the Earl himself, andthat through that enemy all his ill-fortune--his blindness andeverything--hath come. Moreover, did this enemy know where thy fatherlieth, he would slay him right speedily. "

"Sir, " cried Myles, violently smiting his open palm upon the table, "tell me who this man is, and I will kill him!"

Sir James smiled grimly. "Thou talkest like a boy, " said he. "Wait untilthou art grown to be a man. Mayhap then thou mayst repent thee of thesebold words, for one time this enemy of thy father's was reckoned theforemost knight in England, and he is now the King's dear friend and agreat lord. "

"But, " said Myles, after another long time of heavy silence, "will notmy Lord then befriend me for the sake of my father, who was one time hisdear comrade?"

Sir James shook his head. "It may not be, " said he. "Neither thou northy father must look for open favor from the Earl. An he befriendedFalworth, and it came to be known that he had given him aid or succor, it might belike be to his own undoing. No, boy; thou must not even lookto be taken into the household to serve with gentlemen as the othersquires do serve, but must even live thine own life here and fight thineown way. "

Myles's eyes blazed. "Then, " cried he, fiercely, "it is shame andattaint upon my Lord the Earl, and cowardice as well, and never will Iask favor of him who is so untrue a friend as to turn his back upon acomrade in trouble as he turneth his back upon my father. "

"Thou art a foolish boy, " said Sir James with a bitter smile, "andknowest naught of the world. An thou wouldst look for man to befriendman to his own danger, thou must look elsewhere than on this earth. WasI not one time Mackworth's dear friend as well as thy father? It couldcost him naught to honor me, and here am I fallen to be a teacher ofboys. Go to! thou art a fool. "

Then, after a little pause of brooding silence, he went on to say thatthe Earl was no better or worse than the rest of the world. That men ofhis position had many jealous enemies, ever seeking their ruin, andthat such must look first of all each to himself, or else be certainlyruined, and drag down others in that ruin. Myles was silenced, but thebitterness had entered his heart, and abided with him for many a dayafterwards. 

Perhaps Sir James read his feelings in his frank face, for he satlooking curiously at him, twirling his grizzled mustache the while. "Thou art like to have hard knocks of it, lad, ere thou hast gotten theesafe through the world, " said he, with more kindness in his harsh voicethan was usual. "But get thee not into fights before thy time. " Then hecharged the boy very seriously to live at peace with his fellow-squires, and for his father's sake as well as his own to enter into none of thebroils that were so frequent in their quarters. 

It was with this special admonition against brawling that Myles wasdismissed, to enter, before five minutes had passed, into the firstreally great fight of his life. 

Besides Gascoyne and Wilkes, he found gathered in the dormitory sixor eight of the company of squires who were to serve that day uponhousehold duty; among others, Walter Blunt and three other bachelors, who were changing their coarse service clothes for others more fit forthe household. 

"Why didst thou tarry so long, Myles?" said Gascoyne, as he entered. "Methought thou wert never coming. "

"Where goest thou, Falworth?" called Blunt from the other end of theroom, where he was lacing his doublet. 

Just now Myles had no heart in the swimming or sport of any sort, but heanswered, shortly, "I go to the river to swim. "

"Nay, " said Blunt, "thou goest not forth from the castle to-day. Hastthou forgot how thou didst answer me back about fetching the waterthis morning? This day thou must do penance, so go thou straight to thearmory and scour thou up my breastplate. "

From the time he had arisen that morning everything had gone wrong withMyles. He had felt himself already outrated in rendering service tothe bachelors, he had quarrelled with the head of the esquires, he hadnearly quarrelled with Gascoyne, and then had come the bitterest andworst of all, the knowledge that his father was an outlaw, and thatthe Earl would not stretch out a hand to aid him or to give him anycountenance. Blunt's words brought the last bitter cut to his heart, and they stung him to fury. For a while he could not answer, but stoodglaring with a face fairly convulsed with passion at the young man, whocontinued his toilet, unconscious of the wrath of the new recruit. 

Gascoyne and Wilkes, accepting Myles's punishment as a thing of course, were about to leave the dormitory when Myles checked them. 

"Stop, Francis!" he cried, hoarsely. "Thinkest thou that I will staybehind to do yon dog's dirty work? No; I go with ye. "

A moment or two of dumb, silent amazement followed his bold words; thenBlunt cried, "Art thou mad?"

"Nay, " answered Myles in the same hoarse voice, "I am not mad. I tellthee a better man than thou shouldst not stay me from going an I list togo. 

"I will break thy cockerel head for that speech, " said Blunt, furiously. He stooped as he spoke, and picked up a heavy clog that lay at his feet. 

It was no insignificant weapon either. The shoes of those days weresometimes made of cloth, and had long pointed toes stuffed with tow orwool. In muddy weather thick heavy clogs or wooden soles were strapped, like a skate, to the bottom of the foot. That clog which Blunt hadseized was perhaps eighteen or twenty inches long, two or two and a halfinches thick at the heel, tapering to a point at the toe. As the olderlad advanced, Gascoyne stepped between him and his victim. 

"Do not harm him, Blunt, " he pleaded. "Bear thou in mind how new-come heis among us. He knoweth not our ways as yet. "

"Stand thou back, Gascoyne, " said Blunt, harshly, as he thrust himaside. "I will teach him our ways so that he will not soon forget them. "

Close to Myles's feet was another clog like that one which Blunt held. He snatched it up, and set his back against the wall, with a white faceand a heart beating heavily and tumultuously, but with courage steeledto meet the coming encounter. There was a hard, grim look in his blueeyes that, for a moment perhaps, quelled the elder lad. He hesitated. "Tom! Wat! Ned!" he called to the other bachelors, "come hither, andlend me a hand with this knave. "

"An ye come nigh me, " panted Myles, "I will brain the first withinreach. "

Then Gascoyne dodged behind the others, and, without being seen, slippedout of the room for help. 

The battle that followed was quick, sharp, and short. As Blunt strodeforward, Myles struck, and struck with might and main, but he was tooexcited to deliver his blow with calculation. Blunt parried it with theclog he held, and the next instant, dropping his weapon, gripped Mylestight about the body, pinning his arms to his sides. 

Myles also dropped the clog he held, and, wrenching out his rightarm with a sudden heave, struck Blunt full in the face, and then withanother blow sent him staggering back. It all passed in an instant; thenext the three other bachelors were upon him, catching him by the body, the arms, the legs. For a moment or two they swayed and stumbled hitherand thither, and then down they fell in a struggling heap. 

Myles fought like a wild-cat, kicking, struggling, scratching; strikingwith elbows and fists. He caught one of the three by his collar, andtore his jacket open from the neck to the waist; he drove his foot intothe pit of the stomach of another, and knocked him breathless. The otherlads not in the fight stood upon the benches and the beds around, butsuch was the awe inspired by the prestige of the bachelors that not oneof them dared to lend hand to help him, and so Myles fought his fiercebattle alone. 

But four to one were odds too great, and though Myles struggled asfiercely as ever, by-and-by it was with less and less resistance. 

Blunt had picked up the clog he had dropped when he first attacked thelad, and now stood over the struggling heap, white with rage, the bloodrunning from his lip, cut and puffed where Myles had struck him, andmurder looking out from his face, if ever it looked out of the face ofany mortal being. 

"Hold him a little, " said he, fiercely, "and I will still him for you. "

Even yet it was no easy matter for the others to do his bidding, butpresently he got his chance and struck a heavy, cruel blow at Myles'shead. Myles only partly warded it with his arm. Hitherto he had foughtin silence, now he gave a harsh cry. 

"Holy Saints!" cried Edmund Wilkes. "They will kill him. "

Blunt struck two more blows, both of them upon the body, and then atlast they had the poor boy down, with his face upon the ground and hisarms pinned to his sides, and Blunt, bracing himself for the stroke, with a grin of rage raised a heavy clog for one terrible blow thatshould finish the fight. 

CHAPTER 9

"How now, messieurs?" said a harsh voice, that fell upon the turmoillike a thunder-clap, and there stood Sir James Lee. Instantly thestruggle ceased, and the combatants scrambled to their feet. 

The older lads stood silent before their chief, but Myles was deaf andblind and mad with passion, he knew not where he stood or what he saidor did. White as death, he stood for a while glaring about him, catchinghis breath convulsively. Then he screamed hoarsely. 

"Who struck me? Who struck me when I was down? I will have his bloodthat struck me!" He caught sight of Blunt. "It was he that struck me!"he cried. "Thou foul traitor! thou coward!" and thereupon leaped at hisenemy like a wild-cat. 

"Stop!" cried Sir James Lee, clutching him by the arm. 

Myles was too blinded by his fury to see who it was that held him. "Iwill not stop!" he cried, struggling and striking at the knight. "Let mego! I will have his life that struck me when I was down!"

The next moment he found himself pinned close against the wall, andthen, as though his sight came back, he saw the grim face of the oldone-eyed knight looking into his. 

"Dost thou know who I am?" said a stern, harsh voice. 

Instantly Myles ceased struggling, and his arms fell at his side. "Aye, "he said, in a gasping voice, "I know thee. " He swallowed spasmodicallyfor a moment or two, and then, in the sudden revulsion of feeling, burstout sobbing convulsively. 

Sir James marched the two off to his office, he himself walkingbetween them, holding an arm of each, the other lads following behind, awe-struck and silent. Entering the office, Sir James shut the doorbehind him, leaving the group of squires clustered outside about thestone steps, speculating in whispers as to what would be the outcome ofthe matter. 

After Sir James had seated himself, the two standing facing him, heregarded them for a while in silence. "How now, Walter Blunt, " said heat last, "what is to do?"

"Why, this, " said Blunt, wiping his bleeding lip. "That fellow, MylesFalworth, hath been breeding mutiny and revolt ever sin he came hitheramong us, and because he was thus mutinous I would punish him therefor. "

"In that thou liest!" burst out Myles. "Never have I been mutinous in mylife. "

"Be silent, sir, " said Sir James, sternly. "I will hear thee anon. "

"Nay, " said Myles, with his lips twitching and writhing, "I will not besilent. I am friendless here, and ye are all against me, but I will notbe silent, and brook to have lies spoken of me. "

Even Blunt stood aghast at Myles's boldness. Never had he heard any oneso speak to Sir James before. He did not dare for the moment even tolook up. Second after second of dead stillness passed, while Sir Jamessat looking at Myles with a stern, terrifying calmness that chilled himin spite of the heat of his passion. 

"Sir, " said the old man at last, in a hard, quiet voice, "thou dost knownaught of rules and laws of such a place as this. Nevertheless, itis time for thee to learn them. So I will tell thee now that if thouopenest thy lips to say only one single word more except at my bidding, I will send thee to the black vault of the donjon to cool thy hotspirits on bread and water for a week. " There was something in themeasured quietness of the old knight's tone that quelled Myles utterlyand entirely. A little space of silence followed. "Now, then, Blunt, "said Sir James, turning to the bachelor, "tell me all the ins and outsof this business without any more underdealing. "

This time Blunt's story, though naturally prejudiced in his own favor, was fairly true. Then Myles told his side of the case, the old knightlistening attentively. 

"Why, how now, Blunt, " said Sir James, when Myles had ended, "I myselfgave the lads leave to go to the river to bathe. Wherefore shouldst thouforbid one of them?"

"I did it but to punish this fellow for his mutiny, " said the bachelor. "Methought we at their head were to have oversight concerning them. "

"So ye are, " said the knight; "but only to a degree. Ere ye take it uponye to gainsay any of my orders or permits, come ye first to me. Dostthou understand?"

"Aye, " answered Blunt, sullenly. 

"So be it, and now get thee gone, " said the knight; "and let me hear nomore of beating out brains with wooden clogs. An ye fight your battles, let there not be murder in them. This is twice that the like hathhapped; gin I hear more of such doings--" He did utter his threat, butstopped short, and fixed his one eye sternly upon the head squire. "Nowshake hands, and be ye friends, " said he, abruptly. 

Blunt made a motion to obey, but Myles put his hand behind him. 

"Nay, I shake not hands with any one who struck me while I was down. "

"So be it, " said the knight, grimly. "Now thou mayst go, Blunt. Thou, Falworth, stay; I would bespeak thee further. "

"Tell me, " said he, when the elder lad had left them, "why wilt thou notserve these bachelors as the other squires do? Such is the custom here. Why wilt thou not obey it?"

"Because, " said Myles, "I cannot stomach it, and they shall not make meserve them. An thou bid me do it, sir, I will do it; but not at theircommand. "

"Nay, " said the knight, "I do not bid thee do them service. That liethwith thee, to render or not, as thou seest fit. But how canst thou hopeto fight single-handed against the commands of a dozen lads all olderand mightier than thou?"

"I know not, " said Myles; "but were they an hundred, instead ofthirteen, they should not make me serve them. "

"Thou art a fool!" said the old knight, smiling faintly, "for that be'stnot courage, but folly. When one setteth about righting a wrong, onedriveth not full head against it, for in so doing one getteth naught buthard knocks. Nay, go deftly about it, and then, when the time is ripe, strike the blow. Now our beloved King Henry, when he was the Earl ofDerby, what could he have gained had he stood so against the old KingRichard, brooking the King face to face? I tell thee he would have beenknocked on the head as thou wert like to have been this day. Now wereI thee, and had to fight a fight against odds, I would first get mefriends behind me, and then--" He stopped short, but Myles understoodhim well enough. 

"Sir, " said he, with a gulp, "I do thank thee for thy friendship, andask thy pardon for doing as I did anon. "

"I grant thee pardon, " said the knight, "but tell thee plainly, an thoudost face me so again, I will truly send thee to the black cell for aweek. Now get thee away. "

All the other lads were gone when Myles came forth, save only thefaithful Gascoyne, who sacrificed his bath that day to stay with hisfriend; and perhaps that little act of self-denial moved Myles more thanmany a great thing might have done. 

"It was right kind of thee, Francis, " said he, laying his handaffectionately on his friend's shoulder. "I know not why thou lovest meso. "

"Why, for one thing, this matter, " answered his friend; "becausemethinks thou art the best fighter and the bravest one of all of ussquires. "

Myles laughed. Nevertheless Gascoyne's words were a soothing balm formuch that had happened that day. "I will fight me no more just now, "said he; and then he told his friend all that Sir James had advisedabout biding his time. 

Gascoyne blew a long whistle. "Beshrew me!" quoth he, "but methinks oldBruin is on thy side of the quarrel, Myles. An that be so, I am withthee also, and others that I can name as well. "

"So be it, " said Myles. "Then am I content to abide the time when we maybecome strong enough to stand against them. "

CHAPTER 10

Perhaps there is nothing more delightful in the romance of boyhood thanthe finding of some secret hiding-place whither a body may creep awayfrom the bustle of the world's life, to nestle in quietness for an houror two. More especially is such delightful if it happen that, bypeeping from out it, one may look down upon the bustling matters ofbusy every-day life, while one lies snugly hidden away unseen by any, asthough one were in some strange invisible world of one's own. 

Such a hiding-place as would have filled the heart of almost any boywith sweet delight Myles and Gascoyne found one summer afternoon. Theycalled it their Eyry, and the name suited well for the roosting-placeof the young hawks that rested in its windy stillness, looking down uponthe shifting castle life in the courts below. 

Behind the north stable, a great, long, rambling building, thick-walled, and black with age, lay an older part of the castle than that peopledby the better class of life--a cluster of great thick walls, rudely butstrongly built, now the dwelling-place of stable-lads and hinds, swineand poultry. From one part of these ancient walls, and fronting an innercourt of the castle, arose a tall, circular, heavy-buttressed tower, considerably higher than the other buildings, and so mantled with adense growth of aged ivy as to stand a shaft of solid green. Above itscrumbling crown circled hundreds of pigeons, white and pied, clappingand clattering in noisy flight through the sunny air. Several windows, some closed with shutters, peeped here and there from out the leaves, and near the top of the pile was a row of arched openings, as though ofa balcony or an airy gallery. 

Myles had more than once felt an idle curiosity about this tower, andone day, as he and Gascoyne sat together, he pointed his finger andsaid, "What is yon place?"

"That, " answered Gascoyne, looking over his shoulder--"that they callBrutus Tower, for why they do say that Brutus he built it when he camehither to Britain. I believe not the tale mine own self; ne'theless, itis marvellous ancient, and old Robin-the-Fletcher telleth me that therebe stairways built in the wall and passage-ways, and a maze whereina body may get lost, an he know not the way aright, and never see theblessed light of day again. "

"Marry, " said Myles, "those same be strange sayings. Who liveth therenow?"

"No one liveth there, " said Gascoyne, "saving only some of the stablevillains, and that half-witted goose-herd who flung stones at usyesterday when we mocked him down in the paddock. He and his wife andthose others dwell in the vaults beneath, like rabbits in any warren. Noone else hath lived there since Earl Robert's day, which belike wasan hundred years agone. The story goeth that Earl Robert's brother--orstep-brother--was murdered there, and some men say by the Earl himself. Sin that day it hath been tight shut. "

Myles stared at the tower for a while in silence. "It is astrange-seeming place from without, " said he, at last, "and mayhap itmay be even more strange inside. Hast ever been within, Francis?"

"Nay, " said Gascoyne; "said I not it hath been fast locked since EarlRobert's day?"

"By'r Lady, " said Myles, "an I had lived here in this place so long asthou, I wot I would have been within it ere this. "

"Beshrew me, " said Gascoyne, "but I have never thought of such amatter. " He turned and looked at the tall crown rising into the warmsunlight with a new interest, for the thought of entering it smackedpleasantly of adventure. "How wouldst thou set about getting within?"said he, presently. 

"Why, look, " said Myles; "seest thou not yon hole in the ivy branches?Methinks there is a window at that place. An I mistake not, it is inreach of the stable eaves. A body might come up by the fagot pile to theroof of the hen-house, and then by the long stable to the north stable, and so to that hole. "

Gascoyne looked thoughtfully at the Brutus Tower, and then suddenlyinquired, "Wouldst go there?"

"Aye, " said Myles, briefly. 

"So be it. Lead thou the way in the venture, I will follow after thee, "said Gascoyne. 

As Myles had said, the climbing from roof to roof was a matter easyenough to an active pair of lads like themselves; but when, by-and-by, they reached the wall of the tower itself, they found the hidden windowmuch higher from the roof than they had judged from below--perhaps tenor twelve feet--and it was, besides, beyond the eaves and out of theirreach. 

Myles looked up and looked down. Above was the bushy thickness of theivy, the branches as thick as a woman's wrist, knotted and intertwined;below was the stone pavement of a narrow inner court between two of thestable buildings. 

"Methinks I can climb to yon place, " said he. 

"Thou'lt break thy neck an thou tryest, " said Gascoyne, hastily. 

"Nay, " quoth Myles, "I trust not; but break or make, we get not therewithout trying. So here goeth for the venture. "

"Thou art a hare-brained knave as ever drew breath of life, " quothGascoyne, "and will cause me to come to grief some of these fine days. Ne'theless, an thou be Jack Fool and lead the way, go, and I will be TomFool and follow anon. If thy neck is worth so little, mine is worth nomore. "

It was indeed a perilous climb, but that special providence which guardsreckless lads befriended them, as it has thousands of their kind beforeand since. So, by climbing from one knotted, clinging stem to another, they were presently seated snugly in the ivied niche in the window. Itwas barred from within by a crumbling shutter, the rusty fastening ofwhich, after some little effort upon the part of the two, gave way, andentering the narrow opening, they found themselves in a small triangularpassage-way, from which a steep flight of stone steps led down through ahollow in the massive wall to the room below. 

At the bottom of the steps was a heavy oaken door, which stood ajar, hanging upon a single rusty hinge, and from the room within a dull, graylight glimmered faintly. Myles pushed the door farther open; it creakedand grated horribly on its rusty hinge, and, as in instant answer tothe discordant shriek, came a faint piping squeaking, a rustling and apattering of soft footsteps. 

"The ghosts!" cried Gascoyne, in a quavering whisper, and for a momentMyles felt the chill of goose-flesh creep up and down his spine. But thenext moment he laughed. 

"Nay, " said he, "they be rats. Look at yon fellow, Francis! Be'st as bigas Mother Joan's kitten. Give me that stone. " He flung it at the rat, and it flew clattering across the floor. There was another patteringrustle of hundreds of feet, and then a breathless silence. 

The boys stood looking around them, and a strange enough sight it was. The room was a perfect circle of about twenty feet across, and waspiled high with an indistinguishable mass of lumber--rude tables, ruderchairs, ancient chests, bits and remnants of cloth and sacking andleather, old helmets and pieces of armor of a by-gone time, brokenspears and pole-axes, pots and pans and kitchen furniture of all sortsand kinds. 

A straight beam of sunlight fell through a broken shutter like a bar ofgold, and fell upon the floor in a long streak of dazzling light thatilluminated the whole room with a yellow glow. 

"By 'r Lady!" said Gascoyne at last, in a hushed voice, "here is FatherTime's garret for sure. Didst ever see the like, Myles? Look at yonarbalist; sure Brutus himself used such an one!"

"Nay, " said Myles; "but look at this saddle. Marry, here be'st a rat'snest in it. "

Clouds of dust rose as they rummaged among the mouldering mass, settingthem coughing and sneezing. Now and then a great gray rat would shootout beneath their very feet, and disappear, like a sudden shadow, intosome hole or cranny in the wall. 

"Come, " said Myles at last, brushing the dust from his jacket, "an wetarry here longer we will have chance to see no other sights; the sun isfalling low. "

An arched stair-way upon the opposite side of the room from which theyhad entered wound upward through the wall, the stone steps being lightedby narrow slits of windows cut through the massive masonry. Above theroom they had just left was another of the same shape and size, but withan oak floor, sagging and rising into hollows and hills, where the joisthad rotted away beneath. It was bare and empty, and not even a ratwas to be seen. Above was another room; above that, another; all thepassages and stairways which connected the one story with the otherbeing built in the wall, which was, where solid, perhaps fifteen feetthick. 

From the third floor a straight flight of steps led upward to a closeddoor, from the other side of which shone the dazzling brightness ofsunlight, and whence came a strange noise--a soft rustling, a melodiousmurmur. The boys put their shoulders against the door, which wasfastened, and pushed with might and main--once, twice; suddenly thelock gave way, and out they pitched headlong into a blaze of sunlight. A deafening clapping and uproar sounded in their ears, and scores ofpigeons, suddenly disturbed, rose in stormy flight. 

They sat up and looked around them in silent wonder. They were in abower of leafy green. It was the top story of the tower, the roof ofwhich had crumbled and toppled in, leaving it open to the sky, with onlyhere and there a slanting beam or two supporting a portion of the tiledroof, affording shelter for the nests of the pigeons crowded closelytogether. Over everything the ivy had grown in a mantling sheet--anet-work of shimmering green, through which the sunlight fellflickering. 

"This passeth wonder, " said Gascoyne, at last breaking the silence. 

"Aye, " said Myles, "I did never see the like in all my life. " Then, "Look, yonder is a room beyond; let us see what it is, Francis. "

Entering an arched door-way, the two found themselves in a beautifullittle vaulted chapel, about eighteen feet long and twelve or fifteenwide. It comprised the crown of one of the large massive buttresses, andfrom it opened the row of arched windows which could be seen from belowthrough the green shimmering of the ivy leaves. The boys pushed asidethe trailing tendrils and looked out and down. The whole castle layspread below them, with the busy people unconsciously intent upon thematters of their daily work. They could see the gardener, with bowedback, patiently working among the flowers in the garden, the stable-boysbelow grooming the horses, a bevy of ladies in the privy garden playingat shuttlecock with battledoors of wood, a group of gentlemen walkingup and down in front of the Earl's house. They could see the householdservants hurrying hither and thither, two little scullions atfisticuffs, and a kitchen girl standing in the door-way scratching herfrowzy head. 

It was all like a puppetshow of real life, each acting unconsciously apart in the play. The cool wind came in through the rustling leaves andfanned their cheeks, hot with the climb up the winding stair-way. 

"We will call it our Eyry, " said Gascoyne "and we will be the hawks thatlive here. " And that was how it got its name. 

The next day Myles had the armorer make him a score of large spikes, which he and Gascoyne drove between the ivy branches and into the cementof the wall, and so made a safe passageway by which to reach the windowniche in the wall. 

CHAPTER 11

THE TWO friends kept the secret of the Eyry to themselves for a littlewhile, now and then visiting the old tower to rummage among the lumberstored in the lower room, or to loiter away the afternoon in the windysolitudes of the upper heights. And in that little time, when theancient keep was to them a small world unknown to any but themselves--aworld far away above all the dull matters of every-day life--they talkedof many things that might else never have been known to one another. Mostly they spoke the crude romantic thoughts and desires of boyhood'stime--chaff thrown to the wind, in which, however, lay a few strayseeds, fated to fall to good earth, and to ripen to fruition inmanhood's day. 

In the intimate talks of that time Myles imparted something of hishonest solidity to Gascoyne's somewhat weathercock nature, and toMyles's ruder and more uncouth character Gascoyne lent a tone of hisgentler manners, learned in his pagehood service as attendant upon theCountess and her ladies. 

In other things, also, the character and experience of the one ladhelped to supply what was lacking in the other. Myles was replete withold Latin gestes, fables, and sermons picked up during his school life, in those intervals of his more serious studies when Prior Edward hadpermitted him to browse in the greener pastures of the Gesta Romanorumand the Disciplina Clericalis of the monastery library, and Gascoyne wasnever weary of hearing him tell those marvellous stories culled from thecrabbed Latin of the old manuscript volumes. 

Upon his part Gascoyne was full of the lore of the waiting-room andthe antechamber, and Myles, who in all his life had never known a lady, young or old, excepting his mother, was never tired of lying silentlylistening to Gascoyne's chatter of the gay doings of the castlegentle-life, in which he had taken part so often in the merry days ofhis pagehood. 

"I do wonder, " said Myles, quaintly, "that thou couldst ever find thecourage to bespeak a young maid, Francis. Never did I do so, nor evercould. Rather would I face three strong men than one young damsel. "

Whereupon Gascoyne burst out laughing. "Marry!" quoth he, "they beno such terrible things, but gentle and pleasant spoken, and soft andsmooth as any cat. "

"No matter for that, " said Myles; "I would not face one such forworlds. "

It was during the short time when, so to speak, the two owned thesolitude of the Brutus Tower, that Myles told his friend of his father'soutlawry and of the peril in which the family stood. And thus it was. 

"I do marvel, " said Gascoyne one day, as the two lay stretched in theEyry, looking down into the castle court-yard below--"I do marvel, nowthat thou art 'stablished here this month and more, that my Lord dothnever have thee called to service upon household duty. Canst thou riddleme why it is so, Myles?"

The subject was a very sore one with Myles. Until Sir James had told himof the matter in his office that day he had never known that his fatherwas attainted and outlawed. He had accepted the change from theirearlier state and the bald poverty of their life at Crosbey-Holt withthe easy carelessness of boyhood, and Sir James's words were the firstto awaken him to a realization of the misfortunes of the house ofFalworth. His was a brooding nature, and in the three or four weeksthat passed he had meditated so much over what had been told him, thatby-and-by it almost seemed as if a shadow of shame rested upon hisfather's fair fame, even though the attaint set upon him was unrighteousand unjust, as Myles knew it must be. He had felt angry and resentfulat the Earl's neglect, and as days passed and he was not noticed in anyway, his heart was at times very bitter. 

So now Gascoyne's innocent question touched a sore spot, and Myles spokewith a sharp, angry pain in his voice that made the other look quicklyup. "Sooner would my Lord have yonder swineherd serve him in thehousehold than me, " said he. 

"Why may that be, Myles?" said Gascoyne. 

"Because, " answered Myles, with the same angry bitterness in his voice, "either the Earl is a coward that feareth to befriend me, or else he isa caitiff, ashamed of his own flesh and blood, and of me, the son of hisone-time comrade. "

Gascoyne raised himself upon his elbow, and opened his eyes wide inwonder. "Afeard of thee, Myles!" quoth he. "Why should he be afeared tobefriend thee? Who art thou that the Earl should fear thee?"

Myles hesitated for a moment or two; wisdom bade him remain silentupon the dangerous topic, but his heart yearned for sympathy andcompanionship in his trouble. "I will tell thee, " said he, suddenly, and therewith poured out all of the story, so far as he knew it, to hislistening, wondering friend, and his heart felt lighter to be thus easedof its burden. "And now, " said he, as he concluded, "is not this Earla mean-hearted caitiff to leave me, the son of his one-time friend andkinsman, thus to stand or to fall alone among strangers and in astrange place without once stretching me a helping hand?" He waited, andGascoyne knew that he expected an answer. 

"I know not that he is a mean-hearted caitiff, Myles, " said he at last, hesitatingly. "The Earl hath many enemies, and I have heard that he hathstood more than once in peril, having been accused of dealings withthe King's foes. He was cousin to the Earl of Kent, and I do rememberhearing that he had a narrow escape at that time from ruin. There bemore reasons than thou wottest of why he should not have dealings withthy father. "

"I had not thought, " said Myles, bitterly, after a little pause, "thatthou wouldst stand up for him and against me in this quarrel, Gascoyne. Him will I never forgive so long as I may live, and I had thought thatthou wouldst have stood by me. "

"So I do, " said Gascoyne, hastily, "and do love thee more than any onein all the world, Myles; but I had thought that it would make thee feelmore easy, to think that the Earl was not against thee. And, indeed, from all thou has told me, I do soothly think that he and Sir James meanto befriend thee and hold thee privily in kind regard. "

"Then why doth he not stand forth like a man and befriend me and myfather openly, even if it be to his own peril?" said Myles, revertingstubbornly to what he had first spoken. 

Gascoyne did not answer, but lay for a long while in silence. "Knowestthou, " he suddenly asked, after a while, "who is this great enemy ofwhom Sir James speaketh, and who seeketh so to drive thy father toruin?"

"Nay, " said Myles, "I know not, for my father hath never spoken of thesethings, and Sir James would not tell me. But this I know, " said he, suddenly, grinding his teeth together, "an I do not hunt him out someday and slay him like a dog--" He stopped abruptly, and Gascoyne, looking askance at him, saw that his eyes were full of tears, whereuponhe turned his looks away again quickly, and fell to shooting pebbles outthrough the open window with his finger and thumb. 

"Thou wilt tell no one of these things that I have said?" said Myles, after a while. 

"Not I, " said Gascoyne. "Thinkest thou I could do such a thing?"

"Nay, " said Myles, briefly. 

Perhaps this talk more than anything else that had ever passed betweenthem knit the two friends the closer together, for, as I have said, Myles felt easier now that he had poured out his bitter thoughts andwords; and as for Gascoyne, I think that there is nothing so flatteringto one's soul as to be made the confidant of a stronger nature. 

But the old tower served another purpose than that of a spot in whichto pass away a few idle hours, or in which to indulge the confidences offriendship, for it was there that Myles gathered a backing of strengthfor resistance against the tyranny of the bachelors, and it is for thatmore than for any other reason that it has been told how they found theplace and of what they did there, feeling secure against interruption. 

Myles Falworth was not of a kind that forgets or neglects a thing uponwhich the mind has once been set. Perhaps his chief objective sincethe talk with Sir James following his fight in the dormitory had beensuccessful resistance to the exactions of the head of the body ofsquires. He was now (more than a month had passed) looked upon by nearlyif not all of the younger lads as an acknowledged leader in his ownclass. So one day he broached a matter to Gascoyne that had for sometime been digesting in his mind. It was the formation of a secret order, calling themselves the "Knights of the Rose, " their meeting-place to bethe chapel of the Brutus Tower, and their object to be the rightingof wrongs, "as they, " said Myles, "of Arthur his Round-table did rightwrongs. "

"But, prithee, what wrongs are there to right in this place?" quothGascoyne, after listening intently to the plan which Myles set forth. 

"Why, first of all, this, " said Myles, clinching his fists, as he had ahabit of doing when anything stirred him deeply, "that we set those vilebachelors to their right place; and that is, that they be no longer ourmasters, but our fellows. "

Gascoyne shook his head. He hated clashing and conflict above allthings, and was for peace. Why should they thus rush to thrustthemselves into trouble? Let matters abide as they were a little longer;surely life was pleasant enough without turning it all topsy-turvy. Then, with a sort of indignation, why should Myles, who had only comeamong them a month, take such service more to heart than they who hadendured it for years? And, finally, with the hopefulness of so many ofthe rest of us, he advised Myles to let matters alone, and they wouldright themselves in time. 

But Myles's mind was determined; his active spirit could not brookresting passively under a wrong; he would endure no longer, and now ornever they must make their stand. 

"But look thee, Myles Falworth, " said Gascoyne, "all this is not tobe done withouten fighting shrewdly. Wilt thou take that fighting uponthine own self? As for me, I tell thee I love it not. "

"Why, aye, " said Myles; "I ask no man to do what I will not do myself. "

Gascoyne shrugged his shoulders. "So be it, " said he. "An thou hastappetite to run thy head against hard knocks, do it i' mercy's name! Ifor one will stand thee back while thou art taking thy raps. "

There was a spirit of drollery in Gascoyne's speech that rubbed againstMyles's earnestness. 

"Out upon it!" cried he, his patience giving way. "Seest not that Iam in serious earnest? Why then dost thou still jest like Mad Noll, myLord's fool? An thou wilt not lend me thine aid in this matter, say soand ha' done with it, and I will bethink me of somewhere else to turn. "

Then Gascoyne yielded at once, as he always did when his friend lost histemper, and having once assented to it, entered into the scheme heartand soul. Three other lads--one of them that tall thin squire EdmundWilkes, before spoken of--were sounded upon the subject. They alsoentered into the plan of the secret organization with an enthusiasmwhich might perhaps not have been quite so glowing had they realized howvery soon Myles designed embarking upon active practical operations. One day Myles and Gascoyne showed them the strange things that theyhad discovered in the old tower--the inner staircases, the windingpassage-ways, the queer niches and cupboard, and the black shaft of awell that pierced down into the solid wall, and whence, perhaps, the oldcastle folk had one time drawn their supply of water in time of siege, and with every new wonder of the marvellous place the enthusiasm of thethree recruits rose higher and higher. They rummaged through the lumberpile in the great circular room as Myles and Gascoyne had done, and atlast, tired out, they ascended to the airy chapel, and there sat coolingthemselves in the rustling freshness of the breeze that came blowingbriskly in through the arched windows. 

It was then and there that the five discussed and finally determinedupon the detailed plans of their organization, canvassing the names ofthe squirehood, and selecting from it a sufficient number of bold anddaring spirits to make up a roll of twenty names in all. 

Gascoyne had, as I said, entered into the matter with spirit, andperhaps it was owing more to him than to any other that the projectcaught its delightful flavor of romance. 

"Perchance, " said he, as the five lads lay in the rustling stillnessthrough which sounded the monotonous and ceaseless cooing of thepigeons--"perchance there may be dwarfs and giants and dragons andenchanters and evil knights and what not even nowadays. And who knowsbut that if we Knights of the Rose hold together we may go forth intothe world, and do battle with them, and save beautiful ladies, andhave tales and gestes written about us as they are writ about the SevenChampions and Arthur his Round-table. "

Perhaps Myles, who lay silently listening to all that was said, was theonly one who looked upon the scheme at all in the light of real utility, but I think that even with him the fun of the matter outweighed theserious part of the business. 

So it was that the Sacred Order of the Twenty Knights of the Rosecame to be initiated. They appointed a code of secret passwords andcountersigns which were very difficult to remember, and which were onlyused when they might excite the curiosity of the other and uninitiatedboys by their mysterious sound. They elected Myles as their Grand HighCommander, and held secret meetings in the ancient tower, where manymysteries were soberly enacted. 

Of course in a day or two all the body of squires knew nearly everythingconcerning the Knights of the Rose, and of their secret meetings inthe old tower. The lucky twenty were the objects of envy of all not sofortunate as to be included in this number, and there was a marked airof secrecy about everything they did that appealed to every romanticnotion of the youngsters looking on. What was the stormy outcome of itall is now presently to be told. 

CHAPTER 12

Thus it was that Myles, with an eye to open war with the bachelors, gathered a following to his support. It was some little while beforematters were brought to a crisis--a week or ten days. Perhaps even Myleshad no great desire to hasten matters. He knew that whenever war wasdeclared, he himself would have to bear the brunt of the battle, andeven the bravest man hesitates before deliberately thrusting himselfinto a fight. 

One morning Myles and Gascoyne and Wilkes sat under the shade of twotrees, between which was a board nailed to the trunks, making a rudebench--always a favorite lounging-place for the lads in idle moments. Myles was polishing his bascinet with lard and wood-ashes, rubbing themetal with a piece of leather, and wiping it clean with a fustian rag. The other two, who had just been relieved from household duty, lay atlength idly looking on. 

Just then one of the smaller pages, a boy of twelve or thirteen, by nameRobin Ingoldsby, crossed the court. He had been crying; his face was redand blubbered, and his body was still shaken with convulsive sniffs. 

Myles looked up. "Come hither, Robin, " he called from where he sat. "What is to do?"

The little fellow came slowly up to where the three rested in the shade. "Mowbray beat me with a strap, " said he, rubbing his sleeve across hiseyes, and catching his breath at the recollection. 

"Beat thee, didst say?" said Myles, drawing his brows together. "Why didhe beat thee?"

"Because, " said Robin, "I tarried overlong in fetching a pot of beerfrom the buttery for him and Wyatt. " Then, with a boy's sudden and easyquickness in forgetting past troubles, "Tell me, Falworth, " said he, "when wilt thou give me that knife thou promised me--the one thou breakthe blade of yesterday?"

"I know not, " said Myles, bluntly, vexed that the boy did not takethe disgrace of his beating more to heart. "Some time soon, mayhap. Methinks thou shouldst think more of thy beating than of a broken knife. Now get thee gone to thy business. "

The youngster lingered for a moment or two watching Myles at his work. "What is that on the leather scrap, Falworth?" said he, curiously. 

"Lard and ashes, " said Myles, testily. "Get thee gone, I say, or Iwill crack thy head for thee;" and he picked up a block of wood, with athreatening gesture. 

The youngster made a hideous grimace, and then scurried away, duckinghis head, lest in spite of Myles's well-known good-nature the blockshould come whizzing after him. 

"Hear ye that now!" cried Myles, flinging down the block again andturning to his two friends. "Beaten with straps because, forsooth, hewould not fetch and carry quickly enough to please the haste of thesebachelors. Oh, this passeth patience, and I for one will bear it nolonger. "

"Nay, Myles, " said Gascoyne, soothingly, "the little imp is as lazy as adormouse and as mischievous as a monkey. I'll warrant the hiding was hisdue, and that more of the like would do him good. "

"Why, how dost thou talk, Francis!" said Myles, turning upon himindignantly. "Thou knowest that thou likest to see the boy beaten nomore than I. " Then, after a meditative pause, "How many, think ye, wemuster of our company of the Rose today?"

Wilkes looked doubtfully at Gascoyne. "There be only seventeen of ushere now, " said he at last. "Brinton and Lambourne are away to RobyCastle in Lord George's train, and will not be back till Saturday next. And Watt Newton is in the infirmary. 

"Seventeen be'st enou, " said Myles, grimly. "Let us get together thisafternoon, such as may, in the Brutus Tower, for I, as I did say, willno longer suffer these vile bachelors. "

Gascoyne and Wilkes exchanged looks, and then the former blew a longwhistle. 

So that afternoon a gloomy set of young faces were gathered together inthe Eyry--fifteen of the Knights of the Rose--and all knew why they wereassembled. The talk which followed was conducted mostly by Myles. Headdressed the others with a straightforward vim and earnestness, but theresponse was only half-hearted, and when at last, having heated himselfup with his own fire, he sat down, puffing out his red cheeks andglaring round, a space of silence followed, the lads looked doubtfullyat one another. Myles felt the chill of their silence strike coldly onhis enthusiasm, and it vexed him. 

"What wouldst thou do, Falworth?" said one of the knights, at last. "Wouldst have us open a quarrel with the bachelors?"

"Nay, " said Myles, gruffly. "I had thought that ye would all lend me ahand in a pitched battle but now I see that ye ha' no stomach for that. Ne'theless, I tell ye plainly I will not submit longer to the bachelors. So now I will ask ye not to take any venture upon yourselves, but onlythis: that ye will stand by me when I do my fighting, and not let fiveor seven of them fall upon me at once. 

"There is Walter Blunt; he is parlous strong, " said one of the others, after a time of silence. "Methinks he could conquer any two of us. "

"Nay, " said Myles; "ye do fear him too greatly. I tell ye I fear not tostand up to try battle with him and will do so, too, if the need arise. Only say ye that ye will stand by my back. "

"Marry, " said Gascoyne, quaintly, "an thou wilt dare take the heavy endupon thee, I for one am willing to stand by and see that thou have thyfill of fighting. "

"I too will stand thee by, Myles, " said Edmund Wilkes. 

"And I, and I, and I, " said others, chiming in. 

Those who would still have held back were carried along by the stream, and so it was settled that if the need should arise for Myles to doa bit of fighting, the others should stand by to see that he had fairplay. 

"When thinkest thou that thou wilt take thy stand against them, Myles?"asked Wilkes. 

Myles hesitated a moment. "To-morrow, " said he, grimly. 

Several of the lads whistled softly. 

Gascoyne was prepared for an early opening of the war, but perhaps notfor such an early opening as this. "By 'r Lady, Myles, thou art hungryfor brawling, " said he. 

CHAPTER 13

After the first excitement of meeting, discussing, and deciding hadpassed, Myles began to feel the weight of the load he had so boldlytaken upon himself. He began to reckon what a serious thing it was forhim to stand as a single champion against the tyranny that had grownso strong through years of custom. Had he let himself do so, he mightalmost have repented, but it was too late now for repentance. He hadlaid his hand to the plough, and he must drive the furrow. 

Somehow the news of impending battle had leaked out among the rest ofthe body of squires, and a buzz of suppressed excitement hummed throughthe dormitory that evening. The bachelors, to whom, no doubt, vaguerumors had been blown, looked lowering, and talked together in lowvoices, standing apart in a group. Some of them made a rather markedshow of secreting knives in the straw of their beds, and no doubt it hadits effect upon more than one young heart that secretly thrilled at thesight of the shining blades. However, all was undisturbed that evening. The lights were put out, and the lads retired with more than usualquietness, only for the murmur of whispering. 

All night Myles's sleep was more or less disturbed by dreams in which hewas now conquering, now being conquered, and before the day had fairlybroken he was awake. He lay upon his cot, keying himself up for theencounter which he had set upon himself to face, and it would not bethe truth to say that the sight of those knives hidden in the strawthe night before had made no impression upon him. By-and-by he knew theothers were beginning to awake, for he heard them softly stirring, andas the light grew broad and strong, saw them arise, one by one, andbegin dressing in the gray morning. Then he himself arose and put on hisdoublet and hose, strapping his belt tightly about his waist; then hesat down on the side of his cot. 

Presently that happened for which he was waiting; two of the youngersquires started to bring the bachelors' morning supply of water. As theycrossed the room Myles called to them in a loud voice--a little uneven, perhaps: "Stop! We draw no more water for any one in this house, savingonly for ourselves. Set ye down those buckets, and go back to yourplaces!"

The two lads stopped, half turned, and then stood still, holding thethree buckets undecidedly. 

In a moment all was uproar and confusion, for by this time every oneof the lads had arisen, some sitting on the edge of their beds, somenearly, others quite dressed. A half-dozen of the Knights of the Rosecame over to where Myles stood, gathering in a body behind him and theothers followed, one after another. 

The bachelors were hardly prepared for such prompt and vigorous action. 

"What is to do?" cried one of them, who stood near the two lads with thebuckets. "Why fetch ye not the water?"

"Falworth says we shall not fetch it, " answered one of the lads, a boyby the name of Gosse. 

"What mean ye by that, Falworth?" the young man called to Myles. 

Myles's heart was beating thickly and heavily within him, butnevertheless he spoke up boldly enough. "I mean, " said he, "that fromhenceforth ye shall fetch and carry for yourselves. "

"Look'ee, Blunt, " called the bachelor; "here is Falworth says theysquires will fetch no more water for us. "

The head bachelor had heard all that had passed, and was even thenhastily slipping on his doublet and hose. "Now, then, Falworth, " said heat last, striding forward, "what is to do? Ye will fetch no more water, eh? By 'r Lady, I will know the reason why. "

He was still advancing towards Myles, with two or three of the olderbachelors at his heels, when Gascoyne spoke. 

"Thou hadst best stand back, Blunt, " said he, "else thou mayst be hurt. We will not have ye bang Falworth again as ye once did, so stand thouback!"

Blunt stopped short and looked upon the lads standing behind Myles, someof them with faces a trifle pale perhaps, but all grim and determinedlooking enough. Then he turned upon his heel suddenly, and walked backto the far end of the dormitory, where the bachelors were presentlyclustered together. A few words passed between them, and then thethirteen began at once arming themselves, some with wooden clogs, and some with the knives which they had so openly concealed thenight before. At the sign of imminent battle, all those not activelyinterested scuttled away to right and left, climbing up on the benchesand cots, and leaving a free field to the combatants. The next momentwould have brought bloodshed. 

Now Myles, thanks to the training of the Crosbey-Dale smith, felttolerably sure that in a wrestling bout he was a match--perhaps morethan a match--for any one of the body of squires, and he had determined, if possible, to bring the battle to a single-handed encounter upon thatfooting. Accordingly he suddenly stepped forward before the others. 

"Look'ee, fellow, " he called to Blunt, "thou art he who struck me whilstI was down some while since. Wilt thou let this quarrel stand betweenthee and me, and meet me man to man without weapon? See, I throw medown mine own, and will meet thee with bare hands. " And as he spoke, hetossed the clog he held in his hand back upon the cot. 

"So be it, " said Blunt, with great readiness, tossing down a similarweapon which he himself held. 

"Do not go, Myles, " cried Gascoyne, "he is a villain and a traitor, andwould betray thee to thy death. I saw him when he first gat from bedhide a knife in his doublet. "

"Thou liest!" said Blunt. "I swear, by my faith, I be barehanded as yesee me! Thy friend accuses me, Myles Falworth, because he knoweth thouart afraid of me. "

"There thou liest most vilely!" exclaimed Myles. "Swear that thou hastno knife, and I will meet thee. "

"Hast thou not heard me say that I have no knife?" said Blunt. "Whatmore wouldst thou have?"

"Then I will meet thee halfway, " said Myles. 

Gascoyne caught him by the sleeve, and would have withheld him, assuringhim that he had seen the bachelor conceal a knife. But Myles, hot forthe fight, broke away from his friend without listening to him. 

As the two advanced steadily towards one another a breathless silencefell upon the dormitory in sharp contrast to the uproar and confusionthat had filled it a moment before. The lads, standing some uponbenches, some upon beds, all watched with breathless interest themeeting of the two champions. 

As they approached one another they stopped and stood for a moment alittle apart, glaring the one upon the other. They seemed ill enoughmatched; Blunt was fully half a head taller than Myles, and wasthick-set and close-knit in young manhood. Nothing but Myles's undauntedpluck could have led him to dare to face an enemy so much older andstouter than himself. 

The pause was only for a moment. They who looked saw Blunt slide hishand furtively towards his bosom. Myles saw too, and in the flash of aninstant knew what the gesture meant, and sprang upon the other beforethe hand could grasp what it sought. As he clutched his enemy he feltwhat he had in that instant expected to feel--the handle of a dagger. The next moment he cried, in a loud voice: "Oh, thou villain! Help, Gascoyne! He hath a knife under his doublet!"

In answer to his cry for help, Myles's friends started to his aid. Butthe bachelors shouted, "Stand back and let them fight it out alone, elsewe will knife ye too. " And as they spoke, some of them leaped from thebenches whereon they stood, drawing their knives and flourishing them. 

For just a few seconds Myles's friends stood cowed, and in those fewseconds the fight came to an end with a suddenness unexpected to all. 

A struggle fierce and silent followed between the two; Blunt strivingto draw his knife, and Myles, with the energy of despair, holding himtightly by the wrist. It was in vain the elder lad writhed and twisted;he was strong enough to overbear Myles, but still was not able to clutchthe haft of his knife. 

"Thou shalt not draw it!" gasped Myles at last. "Thou shalt not stabme!"

Then again some of his friends started forward to his aid, but they werenot needed, for before they came, the fight was over. 

Blunt, finding that he was not able to draw the weapon, suddenly ceasedhis endeavors, and flung his arms around Myles, trying to bear him downupon the ground, and in that moment his battle was lost. 

In an instant--so quick, so sudden, so unexpected that no one could seehow it happened--his feet were whirled away from under him, he spun withflying arms across Myles's loins, and pitched with a thud upon the stonepavement, where he lay still, motionless, while Myles, his face whitewith passion and his eyes gleaming, stood glaring around like a youngwild-boar beset by the dogs. 

The next moment the silence was broken, and the uproar broke forthwith redoubled violence. The bachelors, leaping from the benches, camehurrying forward on one side, and Myles's friends from the other. 

"Thou shalt smart for this, Falworth, " said one of the older lads. "Belike thou hast slain him!"

Myles turned upon the speaker like a flash, and with such a passion offury in his face that the other, a fellow nearly a head taller than he, shrank back, cowed in spite of himself. Then Gascoyne came and laid hishand on his friend's shoulder. 

"Who touches me?" cried Myles, hoarsely, turning sharply upon him; andthen, seeing who it was, "Oh, Francis, they would ha' killed me!"

"Come away, Myles, " said Gascoyne; "thou knowest not what thou doest;thou art mad; come away. What if thou hadst killed him?"

The words called Myles somewhat to himself. "I care not!" said he, butsullenly and not passionately, and then he suffered Gascoyne and Wilkesto lead him away. 

Meantime Blunt's friends had turned him over, and, after feeling histemples, his wrist, and his heart, bore him away to a bench at the farend of the room. There they fell to chafing his hands and sprinklingwater in his face, a crowd of the others gathering about. Blunt washidden from Myles by those who stood around, and the lad listened to thebroken talk that filled the room with its confusion, his anxiety growingkeener as he became cooler. But at last, with a heartfelt joy, hegathered from the confused buzz of words that the other lad had openedhis eyes and, after a while, he saw him sit up, leaning his head uponthe shoulder of one of his fellow-bachelors, white and faint and sick asdeath. 

"Thank Heaven that thou didst not kill him!" said Edmund Wilkes, whohad been standing with the crowd looking on at the efforts of Blunt'sfriends to revive him, and who had now come and sat down upon the bednot far from Myles. 

"Aye, " said Myles, gruffly, "I do thank Heaven for that. "

CHAPTER 14

If Myles fancied that one single victory over his enemy would cure theevil against which he fought, he was grievously mistaken; wrongs are notrighted so easily as that. It was only the beginning. Other and far morebitter battles lay before him ere he could look around him and say, "Ihave won the victory. "

For a day--for two days--the bachelors were demoralized at the fall oftheir leader, and the Knights of the Rose were proportionately uplifted. 

The day that Blunt met his fall, the wooden tank in which the waterhad been poured every morning was found to have been taken away. Thebachelors made a great show of indignation and inquiry. Who was it stoletheir tank? If they did but know, he should smart for it. 

"Ho! ho!" roared Edmund Wilkes, so that the whole dormitory heard him, "smoke ye not their tricks, lads? See ye not that they have stolen theirown water-tank, so that they might have no need for another fight overthe carrying of the water?"

The bachelors made an obvious show of not having heard what he said, anda general laugh went around. No one doubted that Wilkes had spoken thetruth in his taunt, and that the bachelors had indeed stolen their owntank. So no more water was ever carried for the head squires, but it wasplain to see that the war for the upperhand was not yet over. 

Even if Myles had entertained comforting thoughts to the contrary, hewas speedily undeceived. One morning, about a week after the fight, ashe and Gascoyne were crossing the armory court, they were hailed bya group of the bachelors standing at the stone steps of the greatbuilding. 

"Holloa, Falworth!" they cried. "Knowest thou that Blunt is nigh wellagain?"

"Nay, " said Myles, "I knew it not. But I am right glad to hear it. "

"Thou wilt sing a different song anon, " said one of the bachelors. "Itell thee he is hot against thee, and swears when he cometh again hewill carve thee soothly. "

"Aye, marry!" said another. "I would not be in thy skin a week hence fora ducat! Only this morning he told Philip Mowbray that he would have thyblood for the fall thou gavest him. Look to thyself, Falworth; he comethagain Wednesday or Thursday next; thou standest in a parlous state. "

"Myles, " said Gascoyne, as they entered the great quadrangle, "I doindeed fear me that he meaneth to do thee evil. "

"I know not, " said Myles, boldly; "but I fear him not. " Nevertheless hisheart was heavy with the weight of impending ill. 

One evening the bachelors were more than usually noisy in their end ofthe dormitory, laughing and talking and shouting to one another. 

"Holloa, you sirrah, Falworth!" called one of them along the length ofthe room. "Blunt cometh again to-morrow day. "

Myles saw Gascoyne direct a sharp glance at him; but he answered nothingeither to his enemy's words or his friend's look. 

As the bachelor had said, Blunt came the next morning. It was just afterchapel, and the whole body of squires was gathered in the armory waitingfor the orders of the day and the calling of the roll of those chosenfor household duty. Myles was sitting on a bench along the wall, talkingand jesting with some who stood by, when of a sudden his heart gave agreat leap within him. 

It was Walter Blunt. He came walking in at the door as if nothing hadpassed, and at his unexpected coming the hubbub of talk and laughterwas suddenly checked. Even Myles stopped in his speech for a moment, andthen continued with a beating heart and a carelessness of manner thatwas altogether assumed. In his hand Blunt carried the house orders forthe day, and without seeming to notice Myles, he opened it and read thelist of those called upon for household service. 

Myles had risen, and was now standing listening with the others. WhenBlunt had ended reading the list of names, he rolled up the parchment, and thrust it into his belt; then swinging suddenly on his heel, hestrode straight up to Myles, facing him front to front. A moment or twoof deep silence followed; not a sound broke the stillness. When Bluntspoke every one in the armory heard his words. 

"Sirrah!" said he, "thou didst put foul shame upon me some time sin. Never will I forget or forgive that offence, and will have a reckoningwith thee right soon that thou wilt not forget to the last day of thylife. "

When Myles had seen his enemy turn upon him, he did not know at firstwhat to expect; he would not have been surprised had they come to blowsthere and then, and he held himself prepared for any event. He facedthe other pluckily enough and without flinching, and spoke up boldly inanswer. "So be it, Walter Blunt; I fear thee not in whatever way thoumayst encounter me. "

"Dost thou not?" said Blunt. "By'r Lady, thou'lt have cause to fear meere I am through with thee. " He smiled a baleful, lingering smile, andthen turned slowly and walked away. 

"What thinkest thou, Myles?" said Gascoyne, as the two left the armorytogether. 

"I think naught, " said Myles gruffly. "He will not dare to touch meto harm me. I fear him not. " Nevertheless, he did not speak the fullfeelings of his heart. 

"I know not, Myles, " said Gascoyne, shaking his head doubtfully. "WalterBlunt is a parlous evil-minded knave, and methinks will do whatever evilhe promiseth. "

"I fear him not, " said Myles again; but his heart foreboded trouble. 

The coming of the head squire made a very great change in the conditionof affairs. Even before that coming the bachelors had somewhat recoveredfrom their demoralization, and now again they began to pluck up theirconfidence and to order the younger squires and pages upon this personalservice or upon that. 

"See ye not, " said Myles one day, when the Knights of the Rose weregathered in the Brutus Tower--"see ye not that they grow as bad as ever?An we put not a stop to this overmastery now, it will never stop. "

"Best let it be, Myles, " said Wilkes. "They will kill thee an thou ceasenot troubling them. Thou hast bred mischief enow for thyself already. "

"No matter for that, " said Myles; "it is not to be borne that they orderothers of us about as they do. I mean to speak to them to-night, andtell them it shall not be. "

He was as good as his word. That night, as the youngsters were shoutingand romping and skylarking, as they always did before turning in, hestood upon his cot and shouted: "Silence! List to me a little!" Andthen, in the hush that followed--"I want those bachelors to hear this:that we squires serve them no longer, and if they would ha' some to waitupon them, they must get them otherwheres than here. There be twenty ofus to stand against them and haply more, and we mean that they shall ha'service of us no more. "

Then he jumped down again from his elevated stand, and an uproar ofconfusion instantly filled the place. What was the effect of his wordsupon the bachelors he could not see. What was the result he was not slowin discovering. 

The next day Myles and Gascoyne were throwing their daggers for awager at a wooden target against the wall back of the armorer's smithy. Wilkes, Gosse, and one or two others of the squires were sitting ona bench looking on, and now and then applauding a more than usuallywell-aimed cast of the knife. Suddenly that impish little page spoken ofbefore, Robin Ingoldsby, thrust his shock head around the corner ofthe smithy, and said: "Ho, Falworth! Blunt is going to serve thee outto-day, and I myself heard him say so. He says he is going to slit thineears. " And then he was gone as suddenly as he had appeared. 

Myles darted after him, caught him midway in the quadrangle, and broughthim back by the scuff of the neck, squalling and struggling. 

"There!" said he, still panting from the chase and seating the boy by nomeans gently upon the bench beside Wilkes. "Sit thou there, thou imp ofevil! And now tell me what thou didst mean by thy words anon--an thoustop not thine outcry, I will cut thy throat for thee, " and he made aferocious gesture with his dagger. 

It was by no means easy to worm the story from the mischievous littlemonkey; he knew Myles too well to be in the least afraid of his threats. But at last, by dint of bribing and coaxing, Myles and his friendsmanaged to get at the facts. The youngster had been sent to clean theriding-boots of one of the bachelors, instead of which he had lolledidly on a cot in the dormitory, until he had at last fallen asleep. Hehad been awakened by the opening of the dormitory door and by the soundof voices--among them was that of his taskmaster. Fearing punishment forhis neglected duty, he had slipped out of the cot, and hidden himselfbeneath it. 

Those who had entered were Walter Blunt and three of the olderbachelors. Blunt's companions were trying to persuade him againstsomething, but without avail. It was--Myles's heart thrilled and hisblood boiled--to lie in wait for him, to overpower him by numbers, and to mutilate him by slitting his ears--a disgraceful punishmentadministered, as a rule, only for thieving and poaching. 

"He would not dare to do such a thing!" cried Myles, with heaving breastand flashing eyes. 

"Aye, but he would, " said Gascoyne. "His father, Lord Reginald Blunt, is a great man over Nottingham way, and my Lord would not dare to punishhim even for such a matter as that. But tell me, Robin Ingoldsby, dostknow aught more of this matter? Prithee tell it me, Robin. Where do theypropose to lie in wait for Falworth?"

"In the gate-way of the Buttery Court, so as to catch him when he passesby to the armory, " answered the boy. 

"Are they there now?" said Wilkes. 

"Aye, nine of them, " said Robin. "I heard Blunt tell Mowbray to go andgather the others. He heard thee tell Gosse, Falworth, that thou wertgoing thither for thy arbalist this morn to shoot at the rooks withal. "

"That will do, Robin, " said Myles. "Thou mayst go. "

And therewith the little imp scurried off, pulling the lobes of his earssuggestively as he darted around the corner. 

The others looked at one another for a while in silence. 

"So, comrades, " said Myles at last, "what shall we do now?"

"Go, and tell Sir James, " said Gascoyne, promptly. 

"Nay, " said Myles, "I take no such coward's part as that. I say an theyhunger to fight, give them their stomachful. "

The others were very reluctant for such extreme measures, but Myles, asusual, carried his way, and so a pitched battle was decided upon. It wasGascoyne who suggested the plan which they afterwards followed. 

Then Wilkes started away to gather together those of the Knights of theRose not upon household duty, and Myles, with the others, went to thearmor smith to have him make for them a set of knives with which to meettheir enemies--knives with blades a foot long, pointed and double-edged. 

The smith, leaning with his hammer upon the anvil, listened to them asthey described the weapons. 

"Nay, nay, Master Myles, " said he, when Myles had ended by telling theuse to which he intended putting them. "Thou art going all wrong in thismatter. With such blades, ere this battle is ended, some one would beslain, and so murder done. Then the family of him who was killed wouldhaply have ye cited, and mayhap it might e'en come to the hanging, forsome of they boys ha' great folkeys behind them. Go ye to Tom Fletcher, Master Myles, and buy of him good yew staves, such as one might break ahead withal, and with them, gin ye keep your wits, ye may hold your ownagainst knives or short swords. I tell thee, e'en though my trade bemaking of blades, rather would I ha' a good stout cudgel in my hand thanthe best dagger that ever was forged. "

Myles stood thoughtfully for a moment or two; then, looking up, "Methinks thou speaketh truly, Robin, " said he; "and it were ill done tohave blood upon our hands. "

CHAPTER 15

From the long, narrow stone-paved Armory Court, and connecting it withthe inner Buttery Court, ran a narrow arched passage-way, in which wasa picket-gate, closed at night and locked from within. It was in thisarched passage-way that, according to little Robert Ingoldsby's report, the bachelors were lying in wait for Myles. Gascoyne's plan was thatMyles should enter the court alone, the Knights of the Rose lyingambushed behind the angle of the armory building until the bachelorsshould show themselves. 

It was not without trepidation that Myles walked alone into the court, which happened then to be silent and empty. His heart beat more quicklythan it was wont, and he gripped his cudgel behind his back, lookingsharply this way and that, so as not to be taken unawares by a flankmovement of his enemies. Midway in the court he stopped and hesitatedfor a moment; then he turned as though to enter the armory. The nextmoment he saw the bachelors come pouring out from the archway. 

Instantly he turned and rushed back towards where his friends layhidden, shouting: "To the rescue! To the rescue!"

"Stone him!" roared Blunt. "The villain escapes!"

He stopped and picked up a cobble-stone as he spoke, flinging it afterhis escaping prey. It narrowly missed Myles's head; had it struck him, there might have been no more of this story to tell. 

"To the rescue! To the rescue!" shouted Myles's friends in answer, andthe next moment he was surrounded by them. Then he turned, and swinginghis cudgel, rushed back upon his foes. 

The bachelors stopped short at the unexpected sight of the lads withtheir cudgels. For a moment they rallied and drew their knives; thenthey turned and fled towards their former place of hiding. 

One of them turned for a moment, and flung his knife at Myles with adeadly aim; but Myles, quick as a cat, ducked his body, and the weaponflew clattering across the stony court. Then he who had flung it turnedagain to fly, but in his attempt he had delayed one instant too long. Myles reached him with a long-arm stroke of his cudgel just as heentered the passage-way, knocking him over like a bottle, stunned andsenseless. 

The next moment the picket-gate was banged in their faces and the boltshot in the staples, and the Knights of the Rose were left shouting andbattering with their cudgels against the palings. 

By this time the uproar of fight had aroused those in the rooms andoffices fronting upon the Armory Court; heads were thrust from many ofthe windows with the eager interest that a fight always evokes. 

"Beware!" shouted Myles. "Here they come again!" He bore back towardsthe entrance of the alley-way as he spoke, those behind him scatteringto right and left, for the bachelors had rallied, and were coming againto the attack, shouting. 

They were not a moment too soon in this retreat, either, for the nextinstant the pickets flew open, and a volley of stones flew after theretreating Knights of the Rose. One smote Wilkes upon the head, knocking him down headlong. Another struck Myles upon his left shoulder, benumbing his arm from the finger-tips to the armpit, so that he thoughtat first the limb was broken. 

"Get ye behind the buttresses!" shouted those who looked down upon thefight from the windows--"get ye behind the buttresses!" And in answerthe lads, scattering like a newly-flushed covey of partridges, fledto and crouched in the sheltering angles of masonry to escape from theflying stones. 

And now followed a lull in the battle, the bachelors fearing to leavethe protection of the arched passage-way lest their retreat should becut off, and the Knights of the Rose not daring to quit the shelter ofthe buttresses and angles of the wall lest they should be knocked downby the stones. 

The bachelor whom Myles had struck down with his cudgel was sitting uprubbing the back of his head, and Wilkes had gathered his wits enough tocrawl to the shelter of the nearest buttress. Myles, peeping around thecorner behind which he stood, could see that the bachelors were gatheredinto a little group consulting together. Suddenly it broke asunder, andBlunt turned around. 

"Ho, Falworth!" he cried. "Wilt thou hold truce whiles we parley withye?"

"Aye, " answered Myles. 

"Wilt thou give me thine honor that ye will hold your hands from harmingus whiles we talk together?"

"Yea, " said Myles, "I will pledge thee mine honor. "

"I accept thy pledge. See! here we throw aside our stones and laydown our knives. Lay ye by your clubs, and meet us in parley at thehorse-block yonder. "

"So be it, " said Myles, and thereupon, standing his cudgel in the angleof the wall, he stepped boldly out into the open court-yard. Those ofhis party came scatteringly from right and left, gathering about him;and the bachelors advanced in a body, led by the head squire. 

"Now what is it thou wouldst have, Walter Blunt?" said Myles, when bothparties had met at the horse-block. 

"It is to say this to thee, Myles Falworth, " said the other. "One time, not long sin, thou didst challenge me to meet thee hand to hand in thedormitory. Then thou didst put a vile affront upon me, for the which Iha' brought on this battle to-day, for I knew not then that thou wertgoing to try thy peasant tricks of wrestling, and so, without guardingmyself, I met thee as thou didst desire. "

"But thou hadst thy knife, and would have stabbed him couldst thou ha'done so, " said Gascoyne. 

"Thou liest!" said Blunt. "I had no knife. " And then, without givingtime to answer, "Thou canst not deny that I met thee then at thybidding, canst thou, Falworth?"

"Nay, " said Myles, "nor haply canst thou deny it either. " And at thiscovert reminder of his defeat Myles's followers laughed scoffingly andBlunt bit his lip. 

"Thou hast said it, " said he. "Then sin. I met thee at thy bidding, I dare to thee to meet me now at mine, and to fight this battle outbetween our two selves, with sword and buckler and bascinet as gentlesshould, and not in a wrestling match like two country hodges. "

"Thou art a coward caitiff, Walter Blunt!" burst out Wilkes, who stoodby with a swelling lump upon his head, already as big as a walnut. "Wellthou knowest that Falworth is no match for thee at broadsword play. Ishe not four years younger than thou, and hast thou not had three timesthe practice in arms that he hath had? I say thou art a coward to seekto fight with cutting weapons. "

Blunt made no answer to Wilkes's speech, but gazed steadfastly at Myles, with a scornful smile curling the corners of his lips. Myles stoodlooking upon the ground without once lifting his eyes, not knowing whatto answer, for he was well aware that he was no match for Blunt with thebroadsword. 

"Thou art afraid to fight me, Myles Falworth, " said Blunt, tauntingly, and the bachelors gave a jeering laugh in echo. 

Then Myles looked up, and I cannot say that his face was not a triflewhiter than usual. "Nay, " said he, "I am not afraid, and I will fightthee, Blunt. "

"So be it, " said Blunt. "Then let us go at it straightway in the armoryyonder, for they be at dinner in the Great Hall, and just now therebe'st no one by to stay us. "

"Thou shalt not fight him, Myles!" burst out Gascoyne. "He will murtherthee! Thou shalt not fight him, I say!"

Myles turned away without answering him. 

"What is to do?" called one of those who were still looking out of thewindows as the crowd of boys passed beneath. 

"Blunt and Falworth are going to fight it out hand to hand in thearmory, " answered one of the bachelors, looking up. 

The brawling of the squires was a jest to all the adjoining part of thehouse. So the heads were withdrawn again, some laughing at the "sparringof the cockerels. "

But it was no jesting matter to poor Myles. 

CHAPTER 16

I have no intention to describe the fight between Myles Falworth andWalter Blunt. Fisticuffs of nowadays are brutal and debasing enough, buta fight with a sharp-edged broadsword was not only brutal and debasing, but cruel and bloody as well. 

From the very first of the fight Myles Falworth was palpably andobviously overmatched. After fifteen minutes had passed, Blunt stoodhale and sound as at first; but poor Myles had more than one red stainof warm blood upon doublet and hose, and more than one bandage had beenwrapped by Gascoyne and Wilkes about sore wounds. 

He had received no serious injury as yet, for not only was his bodyprotected by a buckler, or small oblong shield, which he carried uponhis left arm, and his head by a bascinet, or light helmet of steel, butperhaps, after all, Blunt was not over-anxious to do him any dangerousharm. Nevertheless, there could be but one opinion as to how the fighttended, and Myles's friends were gloomy and downcast; the bachelorsproportionately exultant, shouting with laughter, and taunting Myles atevery unsuccessful stroke. 

Once, as he drew back panting, leaning upon Gascoyne's shoulder, thefaithful friend whispered, with trembling lips: "Oh, dear Myles, carryit no further. Thou hurtest him not, and he will slay thee ere he havedone with thee. "

Thereupon Blunt, who caught the drift of the speech, put in a word. "Thou art sore hurt, Myles Falworth, " said he, "and I would do thee nogrievous harm. Yield thee and own thyself beaten, and I will forgivethee. Thou hast fought a good fight, and there is no shame in yieldingnow. "

"Never!" cried Myles, hoarsely--"never will I yield me! Thou mayst slayme, Walter Blunt, and I reck not if thou dost do so, but never else wiltthou conquer me. "

There was a tone of desperation in his voice that made all look serious. 

"Nay, " said Blunt; "I will fight thee no more, Myles Falworth; thou hasthad enough. "

"By heavens!" cried Myles, grinding his teeth, "thou shalt fight me, thou coward! Thou hast brought this fight upon us, and either thou or Iget our quittance here. Let go, Gascoyne!" he cried, shaking loose hisfriend's hold; "I tell thee he shall fight me!"

From that moment Blunt began to lose his head. No doubt he had notthought of such a serious fight as this when he had given his challenge, and there was a savage bull-dog tenacity about Myles that could not buthave had a somewhat demoralizing effect upon him. 

A few blows were given and taken, and then Myles's friends gave a shout. Blunt drew back, and placed his hand to his shoulder. When he drewit away again it was stained with red, and another red stain grew andspread rapidly down the sleeve of his jacket. He stared at his hand fora moment with a half-dazed look, and then glanced quickly to right andleft. 

"I will fight no more, " said he, sullenly. 

"Then yield thee!" cried Myles, exultantly. 

The triumphant shouts of the Knights of the Rose stung Blunt like alash, and the battle began again. Perhaps some of the older lads were ofa mind to interfere at this point, certainly some looked very serious, but before they interposed, the fight was ended. 

Blunt, grinding his teeth, struck one undercut at his opponent--thesame undercut that Myles had that time struck at Sir James Lee at theknight's bidding when he first practised at the Devlen pels. Mylesmet the blow as Sir James had met the blow that he had given, and thenstruck in return as Sir James had struck--full and true. The bascinetthat Blunt wore glanced the blow partly, but not entirely. Myles felthis sword bite through the light steel cap, and Blunt dropped his ownblade clattering upon the floor. It was all over in an instant, but inthat instant what he saw was stamped upon Myles's mind with an indelibleimprint. He saw the young man stagger backward; he saw the eyes rollupward; and a red streak shoot out from under the cap and run downacross the cheek. 

Blunt reeled half around, and then fell prostrate upon his face; andMyles stood staring at him with the delirious turmoil of his battledissolving rapidly into a dumb fear at that which he had done. 

Once again he had won the victory--but what a victory! "Is he dead?" hewhispered to Gascoyne. 

"I know not, " said Gascoyne, with a very pale face. "But come away, Myles. " And he led his friend out of the room. 

Some little while later one of the bachelors came to the dormitory whereMyles, his wounds smarting and aching and throbbing, lay stretched uponhis cot, and with a very serious face bade him to go presently to SirJames, who had just come from dinner, and was then in his office. 

By this time Myles knew that he had not slain his enemy, and his heartwas light in spite of the coming interview. There was no one inthe office but Sir James and himself, and Myles, without concealinganything, told, point by point, the whole trouble. Sir James sat lookingsteadily at him for a while after he had ended. 

"Never, " said he, presently, "did I know any one of ye squires, in allthe time that I have been here, get himself into so many broils as thou, Myles Falworth. Belike thou sought to take this lad's life. "

"Nay, " said Myles, earnestly; "God forbid!"

"Ne'theless, " said Sir James, "thou fetched him a main shrewd blow; andit is by good hap, and no fault of thine, that he will live to do moremischief yet. This is thy second venture at him; the third time, haply, thou wilt end him for good. " Then suddenly assuming his grimmest andsternest manner: "Now, sirrah, do I put a stop to this, and no moreshall ye fight with edged tools. Get thee to the dormitory, and abidethere a full week without coming forth. Michael shall bring thee breadand water twice a day for that time. That is all the food thou shalthave, and we will see if that fare will not cool thy hot humors withal. "

Myles had expected a punishment so much more severe than that which wasthus meted to him, that in the sudden relief he broke into a convulsivelaugh, and then, with a hasty sweep, wiped a brimming moisture from hiseyes. 

Sir James looked keenly at him for a moment. "Thou art white i' theface, " said he. "Art thou wounded very sorely?"

"Nay" said Myles, "it is not much; but I be sick in my stomach. "

"Aye, aye, " said Sir James; "I know that feeling well. It is thusthat one always feeleth in coming out from a sore battle when one hathsuffered wounds and lost blood. An thou wouldst keep thyself hale, keepthyself from needless fighting. Now go thou to the dormitory, and, as Isaid, come thou not forth again for a week. Stay, sirrah!" he added; "Iwill send Georgebarber to thee to look to thy sores. Green wounds arebest drawn and salved ere they grow cold. "

I wonder what Myles would have thought had he known that so soon ashe had left the office, Sir James had gone straight to the Earl andrecounted the whole matter to him, with a deal of dry gusto, and thatthe Earl listened laughing. 

"Aye, " said he, when Sir James had done, "the boy hath mettle, sure. Nevertheless, we must transplant this fellow Blunt to the office ofgentleman-in-waiting. He must be old enough now, and gin he stayeth inhis present place, either he will do the boy a harm, or the boy will dohim a harm. "

So Blunt never came again to trouble the squires' quarters; andthereafter the youngsters rendered no more service to the elders. 

Myles's first great fight in life was won. 

CHAPTER 17

The summer passed away, and the bleak fall came. Myles had long sinceaccepted his position as one set apart from the others of his kind, andhad resigned himself to the evident fact that he was never to servein the household in waiting upon the Earl. I cannot say that it nevertroubled him, but in time there came a compensation of which I shallhave presently to speak. 

And then he had so much the more time to himself. The other lads weresometimes occupied by their household duties when sports were afootin which they would liked to have taken part. Myles was always freeto enter into any matter of the kind after his daily exercise had beenperformed at the pels, the butts, or the tilting-court. 

But even though he was never called to do service in "my Lord's house, "he was not long in gaining a sort of second-hand knowledge of all thefamily. My Lady, a thin, sallow, faded dame, not yet past middle age, but looking ten years older. The Lady Anne, the daughter of the house;a tall, thin, dark-eyed, dark-haired, handsome young dame of twenty ortwenty-one years of age, hawk-nosed like her father, and silent, proud, and haughty, Myles heard the squires say. Lady Alice, the Earl ofMackworth's niece and ward, a great heiress in her own right, astrikingly pretty black-eyed girl of fourteen or fifteen. 

These composed the Earl's personal family; but besides them was LordGeorge Beaumont, his Earl's brother, and him Myles soon came to knowbetter than any of the chief people of the castle excepting Sir JamesLee. 

For since Myles's great battle in the armory, Lord George had taken alaughing sort of liking to the lad, encouraging him at times to talk ofhis adventures, and of his hopes and aspirations. 

Perhaps the Earl's younger brother--who was himself somewhat a soldierof fortune, having fought in Spain, France, and Germany--felt a certainkinship in spirit with the adventurous youngster who had his unfriendedway to make in the world. However that might have been, Lord George wasvery kind and friendly to the lad, and the willing service that Mylesrendered him reconciled him not a little to the Earl's obvious neglect. 

Besides these of the more immediate family of the Earl were a numberof knights, ladies, and gentlemen, some of them cadets, some of themretainers, of the house of Beaumont, for the princely nobles of thosedays lived in state little less royal than royalty itself. 

Most of the knights and gentlemen Myles soon came to know by sight, meeting them in Lord George's apartments in the south wing of the greathouse, and some of them, following the lead of Lord George, singled himout for friendly notice, giving him a nod or a word in passing. 

Every season has its pleasures for boys, and the constant change thatthey bring is one of the greatest delights of boyhood's days. 

All of us, as we grow older, have in our memory pictures of by-gonetimes that are somehow more than usually vivid, the colors of some notblurring by time as others do. One of which, in remembering, alwaysfilled Myles's heart in after-years with an indefinable pleasure, wasthe recollection of standing with others of his fellow squires in thecrisp brown autumn grass of the paddock, and shooting with the long-bowat wildfowl, which, when the east wind was straining, flew low overheadto pitch to the lake in the forbidden precincts of the deer park beyondthe brow of the hill. More than once a brace or two of these wildfowl, shot in their southward flight by the lads and cooked by fat, good-natured Mother Joan, graced the rude mess-table of the squires inthe long hall, and even the toughest and fishiest drake, so the fruitof their skill, had a savor that, somehow or other, the daintiest farelacked in after-years. 

Then fall passed and winter came, bleak, cold, and dreary--not winter aswe know it nowadays, with warm fires and bright lights to make the longnights sweet and cheerful with comfort, but winter with all its grimnessand sternness. In the great cold stone-walled castles of those days theonly fire and almost the only light were those from the huge blazinglogs that roared and crackled in the great open stone fireplace, aroundwhich the folks gathered, sheltering their faces as best they could fromthe scorching heat, and cloaking their shoulders from the biting cold, for at the farther end of the room, where giant shadows swayed andbowed and danced huge and black against the high walls, the white frostglistened in the moonlight on the stone pavements, and the breath wentup like smoke. 

In those days were no books to read, but at the best only rude storiesand jests, recited by some strolling mummer or minstrel to the listeningcircle, gathered around the blaze and welcoming the coarse, gross jests, and coarser, grosser songs with roars of boisterous laughter. 

Yet bleak and dreary as was the winter in those days, and cold andbiting as was the frost in the cheerless, windy halls and corridors ofthe castle, it was not without its joys to the young lads; for then, asnow, boys could find pleasure even in slushy weather, when the soddensnow is fit for nothing but to make snowballs of. 

Thrice that bitter winter the moat was frozen over, and the lads, makingthemselves skates of marrow-bones, which they bought from the hall cookat a groat a pair, went skimming over the smooth surface, red-checkedand shouting, while the crows and the jackdaws looked down at them fromthe top of the bleak gray walls. 

Then at Yule-tide, which was somewhat of a rude semblance to the MerryChristmas season of our day, a great feast was held in the hall, and allthe castle folk were fed in the presence of the Earl and the Countess. Oxen and sheep were roasted whole; huge suet puddings, made of barleymeal sweetened with honey and stuffed with plums, were boiled in greatcaldrons in the open courtyard; whole barrels of ale and malmsey werebroached, and all the folk, gentle and simple, were bidden to the feast. Afterwards the minstrels danced and played a rude play, and in theevening a miracle show was performed on a raised platform in the northhall. 

For a week afterwards the castle was fed upon the remains of the goodthings left from that great feast, until everyone grew to loathe finevictuals, and longed for honest beef and mustard again. 

Then at last in that constant change the winter was gone, and even thelads who had enjoyed its passing were glad when the winds blew warm oncemore, and the grass showed green in sunny places, and the leader of thewild-fowl blew his horn, as they who in the fall had flown to the southflew, arrow-like, northward again; when the buds swelled and the leavesburst forth once more, and crocuses and then daffodils gleamed in thegreen grass, like sparks and flames of gold. 

With the spring came the out-door sports of the season; among othersthat of ball--for boys were boys, and played at ball even in thosefaraway days--a game called trap-ball. Even yet in some parts of Englandit is played just as it was in Myles Falworth's day, and enjoyed just asMyles and his friends enjoyed it. 

So now that the sun was warm and the weather pleasant the game oftrap-ball was in full swing every afternoon, the play-ground being anopen space between the wall that surrounded the castle grounds and thatof the privy garden--the pleasance in which the ladies of the Earl'sfamily took the air every day, and upon which their apartments opened. 

Now one fine breezy afternoon, when the lads were shouting and playingat this, then their favorite game, Myles himself was at the trapbarehanded and barearmed. The wind was blowing from behind him, and, aided perhaps by it, he had already struck three of four balls nearlythe whole length of the court--an unusual distance--and several of thelads had gone back almost as far as the wall of the privy garden tocatch any ball that might chance to fly as far as that. Then once moreMyles struck, throwing all his strength into the blow. The ball shot upinto the air, and when it fell, it was to drop within the privy garden. 

The shouts of the young players were instantly stilled, and Gascoyne, who stood nearest Myles, thrust his hands into his belt, giving a longshrill whistle. 

"This time thou hast struck us all out, Myles, " said he. "There be nomore play for us until we get another ball. "

The outfielders came slowly trooping in until they had gathered in alittle circle around Myles. 

"I could not help it, " said Myles, in answer to their grumbling. "Howknew I the ball would fly so far? But if I ha' lost the ball, I can getit again. I will climb the wall for it. "

"Thou shalt do naught of the kind, Myles, " said Gascoyne, hastily. "Thou art as mad as a March hare to think of such a venture! Wouldst getthyself shot with a bolt betwixt the ribs, like poor Diccon Cook?"

Of all places about the castle the privy garden was perhaps the mostsacred. It was a small plot of ground, only a few rods long and wide, and was kept absolutely private for the use of the Countess and herfamily. Only a little while before Myles had first come to Devlen, one of the cook's men had been found climbing the wall, whereupon thesoldier who saw him shot him with his cross bow. The poor fellow droppedfrom the wall into the garden, and when they found him, he still helda bunch of flowers in his hand, which he had perhaps been gathering forhis sweetheart. 

Had Myles seen him carried on a litter to the infirmary as Gascoyneand some of the others had done, he might have thought twice beforeventuring to enter the ladies' private garden. As it was, he only shookhis stubborn head, and said again, "I will climb the wall and fetch it. "

Now at the lower extremity of the court, and about twelve or fifteenfeet distant from the garden wall, there grew a pear-tree, some of thebranches of which overhung into the garden beyond. So, first making surethat no one was looking that way, and bidding the others keep a sharplookout, Myles shinned up this tree, and choosing one of the thickerlimbs, climbed out upon it for some little distance. Then lowering hisbody, he hung at arm's-length, the branch bending with his weight, andslowly let himself down hand under hand, until at last he hung directlyover the top of the wall, and perhaps a foot above it. Below him hecould see the leafy top of an arbor covered with a thick growth ofclematis, and even as he hung there he noticed the broad smoothwalks, the grassy terrace in front of the Countess's apartments in thedistance, the quaint flower-beds, the yew-trees trimmed into odd shapes, and even the deaf old gardener working bare-armed in the sunlight at aflower-bed in the far corner by the tool-house. 

The top of the wall was pointed like a house roof, and immediately belowhim was covered by a thick growth of green moss, and it flashed throughhis mind as he hung there that maybe it would offer a very slipperyfoothold for one dropping upon the steep slopes of the top. But it wastoo late to draw back now. 

Bracing himself for a moment, he loosed his hold upon the limb above. The branch flew back with a rush, and he dropped, striving to grasp thesloping angle with his feet. Instantly the treacherous slippery mossslid away from beneath him; he made a vain clutch at the wall, hisfingers sliding over the cold stones, then, with a sharp exclamation, down he pitched bodily into the garden beneath! A thousand thoughtsflew through his brain like a cloud of flies, and then a leafy greennessseemed to strike up against him. A splintering crash sounded in hisears as the lattice top of the arbor broke under him, and with one finalclutch at the empty air he fell heavily upon the ground beneath. 

He heard a shrill scream that seemed to find an instant echo; even ashe fell he had a vision of faces and bright colors, and when he sat up, dazed and bewildered, he found himself face to face with the Lady Anne, the daughter of the house, and her cousin, the Lady Alice, who clutchingone another tightly, stood staring at him with wide scared eyes. 

CHAPTER 18

For a little time there was a pause of deep silence, during which thefluttering leaves came drifting down from the broken arbor above. 

It was the Lady Anne who first spoke. "Who art thou, and whence comestthou?" said she, tremulously. 

Then Myles gathered himself up sheepishly. "My name is Myles Falworth, "said he, "and I am one of the squires of the body. "

"Oh! aye!" said the Lady Alice, suddenly. "Me thought I knew thy face. Art thou not the young man that I have seen in Lord George's train?"

"Yes, lady, " said Myles, wrapping and twining a piece of the broken vinein and out among his fingers. "Lord George hath often had me of lateabout his person. "

"And what dost thou do here, sirrah?" said Lady Anne, angrily. "Howdarest thou come so into our garden?"

"I meant not to come as I did, " said Myles, clumsily, and with a facehot and red. "But I slipped over the top of the wall and fell hastilyinto the garden. Truly, lady, I meant ye no harm or fright thereby. "

He looked so drolly abashed as he stood before them, with his clothestorn and soiled from the fall, his face red, and his eyes downcast, allthe while industriously twisting the piece of clematis in and around hisfingers, that Lady Anne's half-frightened anger could not last. She andher cousin exchanged glances, and smiled at one another. 

"But, " said she at last, trying to draw her pretty brows together into afrown, "tell me; why didst thou seek to climb the wall?"

"I came to seek a ball, " said Myles, "which I struck over hither fromthe court beyond. "

"And wouldst thou come into our privy garden for no better reason thanto find a ball?" said the young lady. 

"Nay, " said Myles; "it was not so much to find the ball, but, in goodsooth, I did truly strike it harder than need be, and so, gin I lost theball, I could do no less than come and find it again, else our sport isdone for the day. So it was I came hither. "

The two young ladies had by now recovered from their fright. The LadyAnne slyly nudged her cousin with her elbow, and the younger could notsuppress a half-nervous laugh. Myles heard it, and felt his face growhotter and redder than ever. 

"Nay, " said Lady Anne, "I do believe Master Giles--"

"My name be'st Myles, " corrected Myles. 

"Very well, then, Master Myles, I say I do believe that thou meanestno harm in coming hither; ne'theless it was ill of thee so to do. An myfather should find thee here, he would have thee shrewdly punished forsuch trespassing. Dost thou not know that no one is permitted to enterthis place--no, not even my uncle George? One fellow who came hither tosteal apples once had his ears shaven close to his head, and not morethan a year ago one of the cook's men who climbed the wall early onemorning was shot by the watchman. "

"Aye, " said Myles, "I knew of him who was shot, and it did go somewhatagainst my stomach to venture, knowing what had happed to him. Ne'theless, an I gat not the ball, how were we to play more to-day atthe trap?"

"Marry, thou art a bold fellow, I do believe me, " said the young lady, "and sin thou hast come in the face of such peril to get thy ball, thoushalt not go away empty. Whither didst thou strike it?"

"Over yonder by the cherry-tree, " said Myles, jerking his head in thatdirection. "An I may go get it, I will trouble ye no more. " As he spokehe made a motion to leave them. 

"Stay!" said the Lady Anne, hastily; "remain where thou art. An thoucross the open, some one may haply see thee from the house, and willgive the alarm, and thou wilt be lost. I will go get thy ball. "

And so she left Myles and her cousin, crossing the little plots of grassand skirting the rosebushes to the cherry-tree. 

When Myles found himself alone with Lady Alice, he knew not where tolook or what to do, but twisted the piece of clematis which he stillheld in and out more industriously than ever. 

Lady Alice watched him with dancing eyes for a little while. "Haply thouwilt spoil that poor vine, " said she by-and-by, breaking the silence andlaughing, then turning suddenly serious again. "Didst thou hurt thyselfby thy fall?"

"Nay, " said Myles, looking up, "such a fall as that was no great matter. Many and many a time I have had worse. "

"Hast thou so?" said the Lady Alice. "Thou didst fright me parlously, and my coz likewise. "

Myles hesitated for a moment, and then blurted out, "Thereat I grieve, for thee I would not fright for all the world. "

The young lady laughed and blushed. "All the world is a great matter, "said she. 

"Yea, " said he, "it is a great matter; but it is a greater matter tofright thee, and so I would not do it for that, and more. "

The young lady laughed again, but she did not say anything further, anda space of silence fell so long that by-and-by she forced herself tosay, "My cousin findeth not the ball presently. "

"Nay, " said Myles, briefly, and then again neither spoke, untilby-and-by the Lady Anne came, bringing the ball. Myles felt a greatsense of relief at that coming, and yet was somehow sorry. Then he tookthe ball, and knew enough to bow his acknowledgment in a manner neitherill nor awkward. 

"Didst thou hurt thyself?" asked Lady Anne. 

"Nay, " said Myles, giving himself a shake; "seest thou not I be whole, limb and bone? Nay, I have had shrewdly worse falls than that. Once Ifell out of an oak-tree down by the river and upon a root, and bethoughtme I did break a rib or more. And then one time when I was a boy inCrosbey-Dale--that was where I lived before I came hither--I did catchme hold of the blade of the windmill, thinking it was moving slowly, andthat I would have a ride i' th' air, and so was like to have had a fallten thousand times worse than this. "

"Oh, tell us more of that!" said the Lady Anne, eagerly. "I did neverhear of such an adventure as that. Come, coz, and sit down here upon thebench, and let us have him tell us all of that happening. "

Now the lads upon the other side of the wall had been whistlingfurtively for some time, not knowing whether Myles had broken his neckor had come off scot-free from his fall. "I would like right well tostay with ye, " said he, irresolutely, "and would gladly tell ye that andmore an ye would have me to do so; but hear ye not my friends call mefrom beyond? Mayhap they think I break my back, and are calling to seewhether I be alive or no. An I might whistle them answer and toss methis ball to them, all would then be well, and they would know that Iwas not hurt, and so, haply, would go away. "

"Then answer them, " said the Lady Anne, "and tell us of that thing thouspokest of anon--how thou tookest a ride upon the windmill. We youngladies do hear little of such matters, not being allowed to talk withlads. All that we hear of perils are of knights and ladies and jousting, and such like. It would pleasure us right well to have thee tell of thyadventures. "

So Myles tossed back the ball, and whistled in answer to his friends. 

Then he told the two young ladies not only of his adventure upon thewindmill, but also of other boyish escapades, and told them well, witha straightforward smack and vigor, for he enjoyed adventure and loved totalk of it. In a little while he had regained his ease; his shyness andawkwardness left him, and nothing remained but the delightful fact thathe was really and actually talking to two young ladies, and that withjust as much ease and infinitely more pleasure than could be had indiscourse with his fellow-squires. But at last it was time for him togo. "Marry, " said he, with a half-sigh, "methinks I did never ha' sosweet and pleasant a time in all my life before. Never did I know areal lady to talk with, saving only my mother, and I do tell yeplain methinks I would rather talk with ye than with any he inChristendom--saving, perhaps, only my friend Gascoyne. I would I mightcome hither again. "

The honest frankness of his speech was irresistible; the two girlsexchanged glances and then began laughing. "Truly, " said Lady Anne, who, as was said before, was some three or four years older than Myles, "thou art a bold lad to ask such a thing. How wouldst thou come hither?Wouldst tumble through our clematis arbor again, as thou didst thisday?"

"Nay, " said Myles, "I would not do that again, but if ye will bid me doso, I will find the means to come hither. "

"Nay, " said Lady Anne, "I dare not bid thee do such a foolhardy thing. Nevertheless, if thou hast the courage to come--"

"Yea, " said Myles, eagerly, "I have the courage. "

"Then, if thou hast so, we will be here in the garden on Saturday nextat this hour. I would like right well to hear more of thy adventures. But what didst thou say was thy name? I have forgot it again. "

"It is Myles Falworth. "

"Then we shall yclep thee Sir Myles, for thou art a soothlyerrant-knight. And stay! Every knight must have a lady to serve. Howwouldst thou like my Cousin Alice here for thy true lady?"

"Aye, " said Myles, eagerly, "I would like it right well. " And then heblushed fiery red at his boldness. 

"I want no errant-knight to serve me, " said the Lady Alice, blushing, in answer. "Thou dost ill tease me, coz! An thou art so free in choosinghim a lady to serve, thou mayst choose him thyself for thy pains. "

"Nay, " said the Lady Anne, laughing; "I say thou shalt be his true lady, and he shall be thy true knight. Who knows? Perchance he may serven theein some wondrous adventure, like as Chaucer telleth of. But now, SirErrant-Knight, thou must take thy leave of us, and I must e'en let theeprivily out by the postern-wicket. And if thou wilt take the risk uponthee and come hither again, prithee be wary in that coming, lest inventuring thou have thine ears clipped in most unknightly fashion. "

That evening, as he and Gascoyne sat together on a bench under the treesin the great quadrangle, Myles told of his adventure of the afternoon, and his friend listened with breathless interest. 

"But, Myles, " cried Gascoyne, "did the Lady Anne never once seem proudand unkind?"

"Nay, " said Myles; "only at first, when she chid me for falling throughthe roof of their arbor. And to think, Francis! Lady Anne herselfbade me hold the Lady Alice as my true lady, and to serve her in allknightliness!" Then he told his friend that he was going to the privygarden again on the next Saturday, and that the Lady Anne had given himpermission so to do. 

Gascoyne gave a long, wondering whistle, and then sat quite still, staring into the sky. By-and-by he turned to his friend and said, "Igive thee my pledge, Myles Falworth, that never in all my life did Ihear of any one that had such marvellous strange happenings befall himas thou. "

Whenever the opportunity occurred for sending a letter to Crosbey-Holt, Myles wrote one to his mother; and one can guess how they were treasuredby the good lady, and read over and over again to the blind old Lord ashe sat staring into darkness with his sightless eyes. 

About the time of this escapade he wrote a letter telling of thosedoings, wherein, after speaking of his misadventure of falling from thewall, and of his acquaintance with the young ladies, he went on to speakof the matter in which he repeated his visits. The letter was wordedin the English of that day--the quaint and crabbed language in whichChaucer wrote. Perhaps few boys could read it nowadays, so, modernizingit somewhat, it ran thus:

"And now to let ye weet that thing that followed that happening thatmade me acquaint with they two young Damoiselles. I take me to the southwall of that garden one day four and twenty great spikes, which PeterSmith did forge for me and for which I pay him fivepence, and that allthe money that I had left of my half-year's wage, and wot not where Imay get more at these present, withouten I do betake me to Sir James, who, as I did tell ye, hath consented to hold those moneys that PriorEdward gave me till I need them. 

"Now these same spikes, I say, I take me them down behind the corner ofthe wall, and there drave them betwixt the stones, my very dear comradeand true friend Gascoyne holping me thereto to do. And so come Saturday, I climb me over the wall and to the roof of the tool-house below, seeking a fitting opportunity when I might so do without being in toogreat jeopardy. 

"Yea; and who should be there but they two ladies, biding my coming, who, seeing me, made as though they had expected me not, and gave megreatest rebuke for adventuring so moughtily. Yet, methinks, were theyright well pleasured that I should so aventure, which indeed I might nototherwise do, seeing as I have telled to thee, that one of them is mineown true lady for to serven, and so was the only way that I might cometo speech with her. "

Such was Myles's own quaint way of telling how he accomplished his aimof visiting the forbidden garden, and no doubt the smack of adventureand the savor of danger in the undertaking recommended him not a littleto the favor of the young ladies. 

After this first acquaintance perhaps a month passed, during which Myleshad climbed the wall some half a dozen times (for the Lady Annewould not permit of too frequent visits), and during which the firstacquaintance of the three ripened rapidly to an honest, pleasantfriendship. More than once Myles, when in Lord George's train, caughta covert smile or half nod from one or both of the girls, not a littledelightful in its very secret friendliness. 

CHAPTER 19

As was said, perhaps a month passed; then Myles's visits came to anabrupt termination, and with it ended, in a certain sense, a chapter ofhis life. 

One Saturday afternoon he climbed the garden wall, and skirting behinda long row of rosebushes that screened him from the Countess's terrace, came to a little summer-house where the two young ladies had appointedto meet him that day. 

A pleasant half-hour or so was passed, and then it was time for Mylesto go. He lingered for a while before he took his final leave, leaningagainst the door-post, and laughingly telling how he and some of hisbrother squires had made a figure of straw dressed in men's clothes, andhad played a trick with it one night upon a watchman against whom theybore a grudge. 

The young ladies were listening with laughing faces, when suddenly, asMyles looked, he saw the smile vanish from Lady Alice's eyes and a wideterror take its place. She gave a half-articulate cry, and rose abruptlyfrom the bench upon which she was sitting. 

Myles turned sharply, and then his very heart seemed to stand stillwithin him; for there, standing in the broad sunlight without, andglaring in upon the party with baleful eyes, was the Earl of Mackworthhimself. 

How long was the breathless silence that followed, Myles could nevertell. He knew that the Lady Anne had also risen, and that she and hercousin were standing as still as statues. Presently the Earl pointed tothe house with his staff, and Myles noted stupidly how it trembled inhis hand. 

"Ye wenches, " said he at last, in a hard, harsh voice--"ye wenches, whatmeaneth this? Would ye deceive me so, and hold parlance thus secretlywith this fellow? I will settle with him anon. Meantime get yestraightway to the house and to your rooms, and there abide until I giveye leave to come forth again. Go, I say!"

"Father, " said Lady Anne, in a breathless voice--she was as white asdeath, and moistened her lips with her tongue before she spoke--"father, thou wilt not do harm to this young man. Spare him, I do beseech thee, for truly it was I who bade him come hither. I know that he would nothave come but at our bidding. "

The Earl stamped his foot upon the gravel. "Did ye not hear me?" saidhe, still pointing towards the house with his trembling staff. "I badeye go to your rooms. I will settle with this fellow, I say, as I deemfitting. "

"Father, " began Lady Anne again; but the Earl made such a savage gesturethat poor Lady Alice uttered a faint shriek, and Lady Anne stoppedabruptly, trembling. Then she turned and passed out the farther door ofthe summerhouse, poor little Lady Alice following, holding her tightby the skirts, and trembling and shuddering as though with a fit of theague. 

The Earl stood looking grimly after them from under his shaggy eyebrows, until they passed away behind the yew-trees, appeared again upon theterrace behind, entered the open doors of the women's house, and weregone. Myles heard their footsteps growing fainter and fainter, but henever raised his eyes. Upon the ground at his feet were four pebbles, and he noticed how they almost made a square, and would do so if hepushed one of them with his toe, and then it seemed strange to him thathe should think of such a little foolish thing at that dreadful time. 

He knew that the Earl was looking gloomily at him, and that his facemust be very pale. Suddenly Lord Mackworth spoke. "What hast thou tosay?" said he, harshly. 

Then Myles raised his eyes, and the Earl smiled grimly as he looked hisvictim over. "I have naught to say, " said the lad, huskily. 

"Didst thou not hear what my daughter spake but now?" said the Earl. "She said that thou came not of thy own free-will; what sayst thou tothat, sirrah--is it true?"

Myles hesitated for a moment or two; his throat was tight and dry. "Nay, " said he at last, "she belieth herself. It was I who first cameinto the garden. I fell by chance from the tree yonder--I was seekinga ball--then I asked those two if I might not come hither again, and sohave done some several times in all. But as for her--nay; it was not ather bidding that I came, but through mine own asking. "

The Earl gave a little grunt in his throat. "And how often hast thoubeen here?" said he, presently. 

Myles thought a moment or two. "This maketh the seventh time, " said he. 

Another pause of silence followed, and Myles began to pluck up someheart that maybe all would yet be well. The Earl's next speech dashedthat hope into a thousand fragments. "Well thou knowest, " said he, "thatit is forbid for any to come here. Well thou knowest that twice have menbeen punished for this thing that thou hast done, and yet thou camest inspite of all. Now dost thou know what thou wilt suffer?"

Myles picked with nervous fingers at a crack in the oaken post againstwhich he leaned. "Mayhap thou wilt kill me, " said he at last, in a dull, choking voice. 

Again the Earl smiled a grim smile. "Nay, " said he, "I would not slaythee, for thou hast gentle blood. But what sayest thou should I shearthine ears from thine head, or perchance have thee scourged in the greatcourt?"

The sting of the words sent the blood flying back to Myles's face again, and he looked quickly up. "Nay, " said he, with a boldness that surprisedhimself; "thou shalt do no such unlordly thing upon me as that. I be thypeer, sir, in blood; and though thou mayst kill me, thou hast no rightto shame me. "

Lord Mackworth bowed with a mocking courtesy. "Marry!" said he. "Methought it was one of mine own saucy popinjay squires that I caughtsneaking here and talking to those two foolish young lasses, and lo! itis a young Lord--or mayhap thou art a young Prince--and commandethme that I shall not do this and I shall not do that. I crave yourLordship's honorable pardon, if I have said aught that may have galledyou. "

The fear Myles had felt was now beginning to dissolve in rising wrath. "Nay, " said he, stoutly, "I be no Lord and I be no Prince, but I be asgood as thou. For am I not the son of thy onetime very true comrade andthy kinsman--to wit, the Lord Falworth, whom, as thou knowest, is poorand broken, and blind, and helpless, and outlawed, and banned? Yet, "cried he, grinding his teeth, as the thought of it all rushed in uponhim, "I would rather be in his place than in yours; for though he beruined, you--"

He had just sense enough to stop there. 

The Earl, gripping his staff behind his back, and with his head a littlebent, was looking keenly at the lad from under his shaggy gray brows. "Well, " said he, as Myles stopped, "thou hast gone too far now to drawback. Say thy say to the end. Why wouldst thou rather be in thy father'sstead than in mine?"

Myles did not answer. 

"Thou shalt finish thy speech, or else show thyself a coward. Though thyfather is ruined, thou didst say I am--what?"

Myles keyed himself up to the effort, and then blurted out, "Thou artattainted with shame. "

A long breathless silence followed. 

"Myles Falworth, " said the Earl at last (and even in the whirling of hiswits Myles wondered that he had the name so pat)--"Myles Falworth, ofall the bold, mad, hare-brained fools, thou art the most foolish. Howdost thou dare say such words to me? Dost thou not know that thou makestthy coming punishment ten times more bitter by such a speech?"

"Aye!" cried Myles, desperately; "but what else could I do? An I did notsay the words, thou callest me coward, and coward I am not. "

"By 'r Lady!" said the Earl, "I do believe thee. Thou art a bold, impudent varlet as ever lived--to beard me so, forsooth! Hark'ee; thousayst I think naught of mine old comrade. I will show thee that thoudost belie me. I will suffer what thou hast said to me for his sake, andfor his sake will forgive thee thy coming hither--which I would not doin another case to any other man. Now get thee gone straightway, andcome hither no more. Yonder is the postern-gate; mayhap thou knowest theway. But stay! How camest thou hither?"

Myles told him of the spikes he had driven in the wall, and the Earllistened, stroking his beard. When the lad had ended, he fixed a sharplook upon him. "But thou drove not those spikes alone, " said he; "whohelped thee do it?"

"That I may not tell, " said Myles, firmly. 

"So be it, " said the Earl. "I will not ask thee to tell his name. Nowget thee gone! And as for those spikes, thou mayst e'en knock them outof the wall, sin thou drave them in. Play no more pranks an thou wouldstkeep thy skin whole. And now go, I say!"

Myles needed no further bidding, but turned and left the Earl withoutanother word. As he went out the postern-gate he looked over hisshoulder, and saw the tall figure, in its long fur-trimmed gown, stillstanding in the middle of the path, looking after him from under theshaggy eyebrows. 

As he ran across the quadrangle, his heart still fluttering in hisbreast, he muttered to himself, "The old grizzle-beard; an I had notfaced him a bold front, mayhap he would have put such shame upon meas he said. I wonder why he stood so staring after me as I left thegarden. "

Then for the time the matter slipped from his mind, saving only thatpart that smacked of adventure. 

CHAPTER 20

So for a little while Myles was disposed to congratulate himself uponhaving come off so well from his adventure with the Earl. But after aday or two had passed, and he had time for second thought, he began tomisdoubt whether, after all, he might not have carried it with a betterair if he had shown more chivalrous boldness in the presence of his truelady; whether it would not have redounded more to his credit if he hadin some way asserted his rights as the young dame's knight-errant anddefender. Was it not ignominious to resign his rights and privileges soeasily and tamely at a signal from the Earl?

"For, in sooth, " said he to Gascoyne, as the two talked the matter over, "she hath, in a certain way, accepted me for her knight, and yet I stoodme there without saying so much as one single word in her behalf. "

"Nay, " said Gascoyne, "I would not trouble me on that score. Methinksthat thou didst come off wondrous well out of the business. I would nothave thought it possible that my Lord could ha' been so patient withthee as he showed himself. Methinks, forsooth, he must hold thee privilyin right high esteem. "

"Truly, " said Myles, after a little pause of meditative silence, "I knownot of any esteem, yet I do think he was passing patient with me in thismatter. But ne'theless, Francis, that changeth not my stand in the case. Yea, I did shamefully, so to resign my lady without speaking one word;nor will I so resign her even yet. I have bethought me much of thismatter of late, Francis, and now I come to thee to help me from my evilcase. I would have thee act the part of a true friend to me--like thatone I have told thee of in the story of the Emperor Justinian. I wouldhave thee, when next thou servest in the house, to so contrive that myLady Alice shall get a letter which I shall presently write, and whereinI may set all that is crooked straight again. "

"Heaven forbid, " said Gascoyne, hastily, "that I should be such a foolas to burn my fingers in drawing thy nuts from the fire! Deliver thyletter thyself, good fellow!"

So spoke Gascoyne, yet after all he ended, as he usually did, byyielding to Myles's superior will and persistence. So the letter waswritten and one day the good-natured Gascoyne carried it with him to thehouse, and the opportunity offering, gave it to one of the young ladiesattendant upon the Countess's family--a lass with whom he had friendlyintimacy--to be delivered to Lady Alice. 

But if Myles congratulated himself upon the success of this newadventure, it was not for long. That night, as the crowd of pages andsquires were making themselves ready for bed, the call came through theuproar for "Myles Falworth! Myles Falworth!"

"Here I be, " cried Myles, standing up on his cot. "Who calleth me?"

It was the groom of the Earl's bedchamber, and seeing Myles standingthus raised above the others, he came walking down the length of theroom towards him, the wonted hubbub gradually silencing as he advancedand the youngsters turning, staring, and wondering. 

"My Lord would speak with thee, Myles Falworth, " said the groom, when hehad come close enough to where Myles stood. "Busk thee and make ready;he is at livery even now. "

The groom's words fell upon Myles like a blow. He stood for a whilestaring wide-eyed. "My Lord speak with me, sayst thou!" he ejaculated atlast. 

"Aye, " said the other, impatiently; "get thee ready quickly. I mustreturn anon. "

Myles's head was in a whirl as he hastily changed his clothes for abetter suit, Gascoyne helping him. What could the Earl want with him atthis hour? He knew in his heart what it was; the interview could concernnothing but the letter that he had sent to Lady Alice that day. As hefollowed the groom through the now dark and silent courts, and acrossthe corner of the great quadrangle, and so to the Earl's house, he triedto brace his failing courage to meet the coming interview. Nevertheless, his heart beat tumultuously as he followed the other down the longcorridor, lit only by a flaring link set in a wrought-iron bracket. Thenhis conductor lifted the arras at the door of the bedchamber, whencecame the murmuring sound of many voices, and holding it aside, beckonedhim to enter, and Myles passed within. At the first, he was consciousof nothing but a crowd of people, and of the brightness of many lightedcandles; then he saw that he stood in a great airy room spread with awoven mat of rushes. On three sides the walls were hung with tapestryrepresenting hunting and battle scenes, at the farther end, where thebed stood, the stone wall of the fourth side was covered with cloth ofblue, embroidered with silver goshawks. Even now, in the ripe springtimeof May, the room was still chilly, and a great fire roared and crackledin the huge gaping mouth of the stone fireplace. Not far from the blazewere clustered the greater part of those present, buzzing in talk, nowand then swelled by murmuring laughter. Some of those who knew Mylesnodded to him, and two or three spoke to him as he stood waiting, whilstthe groom went forward to speak to the Earl; though what they said andwhat he answered, Myles, in his bewilderment and trepidation, hardlyknew. 

As was said before, the livery was the last meal of the day, and wastaken in bed. It was a simple repast--a manchette, or small loaf ofbread of pure white flour, a loaf of household bread, sometimes a lumpof cheese, and either a great flagon of ale or of sweet wine, warmand spiced. The Earl was sitting upright in bed, dressed in a furreddressing-gown, and propped up by two cylindrical bolsters of crimsonsatin. Upon the coverlet, and spread over his knees, was a large widenapkin of linen fringed with silver thread, and on it rested a silvertray containing the bread and some cheese. Two pages and three gentlemenwere waiting upon him, and Mad Noll, the jester, stood at the head ofthe bed, now and then jingling his bawble and passing some quaint jestupon the chance of making his master smile. Upon a table near by weresome dozen or so waxen tapers struck upon as many spiked candlesticksof silver-gilt, and illuminating that end of the room with their brighttwinkling flames. One of the gentlemen was in the act of serving theEarl with a goblet of wine, poured from a silver ewer by one of thesquires, as the groom of the chamber came forward and spoke. The Earl, taking the goblet, turned his head, and as Myles looked, their eyes met. Then the Earl turned away again and raised the cup to his lips, whileMyles felt his heart beat more rapidly than ever. 

But at last the meal was ended, and the Earl washed his hands and hismouth and his beard from a silver basin of scented water held by anotherone of the squires. Then, leaning back against the pillows, he beckonedto Myles. 

In answer Myles walked forward the length of the room, conscious thatall eyes were fixed upon him. The Earl said something, and those whostood near drew back as he came forward. Then Myles found himselfstanding beside the bed, looking down upon the quilted counterpane, feeling that the other was gazing fixedly at him. 

"I sent for thee, " said the Earl at last, still looking steadily athim, "because this afternoon came a letter to my hand which thou hadstwritten to my niece, the Lady Alice. I have it here, " said he, thrustinghis hand under the bolster, "and have just now finished reading it. "Then, after a moment's pause, whilst he opened the parchment and scannedit again, "I find no matter of harm in it, but hereafter write no moresuch. " He spoke entirely without anger, and Myles looked up in wonder. "Here, take it, " said the Earl, folding the letter and tossing it toMyles, who instinctively caught it, "and henceforth trouble thou myniece no more either by letter or any other way. I thought haply thouwouldst be at some such saucy trick, and I made Alice promise to let meknow when it happed. Now, I say, let this be an end of the matter. Dostthou not know thou mayst injure her by such witless folly as that ofmeeting her privily, and privily writing to her?"

"I meant no harm, " said Myles. 

"I believe thee, " said the Earl. "That will do now; thou mayst go. "

Myles hesitated. 

"What wouldst thou say?" said Lord Mackworth. 

"Only this, " said Myles, "an I have thy leave so to do, that the LadyAlice hath chosen me to be her knight, and so, whether I may see her orspeak with her or no, the laws of chivalry give me, who am gentle born, the right to serve her as a true knight may. "

"As a true fool may, " said the Earl, dryly. "Why, how now, thou art nota knight yet, nor anything but a raw lump of a boy. What rights do thelaws of chivalry give thee, sirrah? Thou art a fool!"

Had the Earl been ever so angry, his words would have been less bitterto Myles than his cool, unmoved patience; it mortified his pride andgalled it to the quick. 

"I know that thou dost hold me in contempt, " he mumbled. 

"Out upon thee!" said the Earl, testily. "Thou dost tease me beyondpatience. I hold thee in contempt, forsooth! Why, look thee, hadst thoubeen other than thou art, I would have had thee whipped out of my houselong since. Thinkest thou I would have borne so patiently with anotherone of ye squires had such an one held secret meeting with my daughterand niece, and tampered, as thou hast done, with my household, sendingthrough one of my people that letter? Go to; thou art a fool, MylesFalworth!"

Myles stood staring at the Earl without making an effort to speak. Thewords that he had heard suddenly flashed, as it were, a new light intohis mind. In that flash he fully recognized, and for the first time, the strange and wonderful forbearance the great Earl had shown to him, a poor obscure boy. What did it mean? Was Lord Mackworth his secretfriend, after all, as Gascoyne had more than once asserted? So Mylesstood silent, thinking many things. 

Meantime the other lay back upon the cylindrical bolsters, lookingthoughtfully at him. "How old art thou?" said he at last. 

"Seventeen last April, " answered Myles. 

"Then thou art old enough to have some of the thoughts of a man, and tolay aside those of a boy. Haply thou hast had foolish things in thyhead this short time past; it is time that thou put them away. Harkee, sirrah! the Lady Alice is a great heiress in her own right, and maystcommand the best alliance in England--an Earl--a Duke. She groweth apaceto a woman, and then her kind lieth in Courts and great houses. As forthee, thou art but a poor lad, penniless and without friends to aid theeto open advancement. Thy father is attainted, and one whisper of wherehe lieth hid would bring him thence to the Tower, and haply to theblock. Besides that, he hath an enemy, as Sir James Lee hath alreadytold thee--an enemy perhaps more great and powerful than myself. Thatenemy watcheth for thy father and for thee; shouldst thou dare raise thyhead or thy fortune ever so little, he would haply crop them both, andthat parlously quick. Myles Falworth, how dost thou dare to lift thineeyes to the Lady Alice de Mowbray?"

Poor Myles stood silent and motionless. "Sir, " said he at last, in adry choking voice, "thou art right, and I have been a fool. Sir, I willnever raise mine eyes to look upon the Lady Alice more. "

"I say not that either, boy, " said the Earl; "but ere thou dost so dare, thou must first place thyself and thy family whence ye fell. Till then, as thou art an honest man, trouble her not. Now get thee gone. "

As Myles crossed the dark and silent courtyards, and looked up at theclear, still twinkle of the stars, he felt a kind of dull wonder thatthey and the night and the world should seem so much the same, and he beso different. 

The first stroke had been given that was to break in pieces his boyhoodlife--the second was soon to follow. 

CHAPTER 21

There are now and then times in the life of every one when new andstrange things occur with such rapidity that one has hardly time tocatch one's breath between the happenings. It is as though the old werecrumbling away--breaking in pieces--to give place to the new that issoon to take its place. 

So it was with Myles Falworth about this time. The very next day afterthis interview in the bed-chamber, word came to him that Sir James Leewished to speak with him in the office. He found the lean, grizzled oldknight alone, sitting at the heavy oaken table with a tankard of spicedale at his elbow, and a dish of wafers and some fragments of cheese on apewter platter before him. He pointed to his clerk's seat--a joint stoolsomewhat like a camp-chair, but made of heavy oaken braces and with aseat of hog-skin--and bade Myles be seated. 

It was the first time that Myles had ever heard of such courtesy beingextended to one of the company of squires, and, much wondering, heobeyed the invitation, or rather command, and took the seat. 

The old knight sat regarding him for a while in silence, his one eye, as bright and as steady as that of a hawk, looking keenly from under thepenthouse of its bushy brows, the while he slowly twirled and twistedhis bristling wiry mustaches, as was his wont when in meditation. Atlast he broke the silence. "How old art thou?" said he, abruptly. 

"I be turned seventeen last April, " Myles answered, as he had theevening before to Lord Mackworth. 

"Humph!" said Sir James; "thou be'st big of bone and frame for thineage. I would that thy heart were more that of a man likewise, and lessthat of a giddy, hare-brained boy, thinking continually of naught butmischief. "

Again he fell silent, and Myles sat quite still, wondering if it wason account of any special one of his latest escapades that he had beensummoned to the office--the breaking of the window in the Long Hall bythe stone he had flung at the rook, or the climbing of the South Towerfor the jackdaw's nest. 

"Thou hast a friend, " said Sir James, suddenly breaking into hisspeculations, "of such a kind that few in this world possess. Almostever since thou hast been here he hath been watching over thee. Canstthou guess of whom I speak?"

"Haply it is Lord George Beaumont, " said Myles; "he hath always beenpassing kind to me. 

"Nay, " said Sir James, "it is not of him that I speak, though methinkshe liketh thee well enow. Canst thou keep a secret, boy?" he asked, suddenly. 

"Yea, " answered Myles. 

"And wilt thou do so in this case if I tell thee who it is that is thybest friend here?"

"Yea. "

"Then it is my Lord who is that friend--the Earl himself; but see thatthou breathe not a word of it. "

Myles sat staring at the old knight in utter and profound amazement, andpresently Sir James continued: "Yea, almost ever since thou hast comehere my Lord hath kept oversight upon all thy doings, upon all thy madpranks and thy quarrels and thy fights, thy goings out and comings in. What thinkest thou of that, Myles Falworth?"

Again the old knight stopped and regarded the lad, who sat silent, finding no words to answer. He seemed to find a grim pleasure in theyoungster's bewilderment and wonder. Then a sudden thought came toMyles. 

"Sir, " said he, "did my Lord know that I went to the privy garden as Idid?"

"Nay, " said Sir James; "of that he knew naught at first until thy fatherbade thy mother write and tell him. "

"My father!" ejaculated Myles. 

"Aye, " said Sir James, twisting his mustaches more vigorously than ever. "So soon as thy father heard of that prank, he wrote straightway tomy Lord that he should put a stop to what might in time have bredmischief. "

"Sir, " said Myles, in an almost breathless voice, "I know not how tobelieve all these things, or whether I be awake or a-dreaming. "

"Thou be'st surely enough awake, " answered the old man; "but there areother matters yet to be told. My Lord thinketh, as others of us do--LordGeorge and myself--that it is now time for thee to put away thy boyishfollies, and learn those things appertaining to manhood. Thou hast beenhere a year now, and hast had freedom to do as thou might list; but, boy, "--and the old warrior spoke seriously, almost solemnly--"upon theedoth rest matters of such great import that did I tell them to thee thoucouldst not grasp them. My Lord deems that thou hast, mayhap, promisebeyond the common of men; ne'theless it remaineth yet to be seen an hebe right; it is yet to test whether that promise may be fulfilled. NextMonday I and Sir Everard Willoughby take thee in hand to begin trainingthee in the knowledge and the use of the jousting lance, of arms, and ofhorsemanship. Thou art to go to Ralph Smith, and have him fit a suit ofplain armor to thee which he hath been charged to make for thee againstthis time. So get thee gone, think well over all these matters, andprepare thyself by next Monday. But stay, sirrah, " he added, as Myles, dazed and bewildered, turned to obey; "breathe to no living soul whatI ha' told thee--that my Lord is thy friend--neither speak of anythingconcerning him. Such is his own heavy command laid upon thee. "

Then Myles turned again without a word to leave the room. But as hereached the door Sir James stopped him a second time. 

"Stay!" he called. "I had nigh missed telling thee somewhat else. MyLord hath made thee a present this morning that thou wottest not of. Itis"--then he stopped for a few moments, perhaps to enjoy the full flavorof what he had to say--"it is a great Flemish horse of true breed andright mettle; a horse such as a knight of the noblest strain might beproud to call his own. Myles Falworth, thou wert born upon a lucky day!"

"Sir, " cried Myles, and then stopped short. Then, "Sir, " he cried again, "didst thou say it--the horse--was to be mine?"

"Aye, it is to be thine. "

"My very own?"

"Thy very own. "

How Myles Falworth left that place he never knew. He was like one insome strange, some wonderful dream. He walked upon air, and his heartwas so full of joy and wonder and amazement that it thrilled almost toagony. Of course his first thought was of Gascoyne. How he ever foundhim he never could tell, but find him he did. 

"Come, Francis!" he cried, "I have that to tell thee so marvellous thathad it come upon me from paradise it could not be more strange. "

Then he dragged him away to their Eyry--it had been many a long daysince they had been there--and to all his friend's speeches, to all hiswondering questions, he answered never a word until they had climbed thestairs, and so come to their old haunt. Then he spoke. 

"Sit thee down, Francis, " said he, "till I tell thee that which passethwonder. " As Gascoyne obeyed, he himself stood looking about him. "Thisis the last time I shall ever come hither, " said he. And thereupon hepoured out his heart to his listening friend in the murmuring solitudeof the airy height. He did not speak of the Earl, but of the wonderfulnew life that had thus suddenly opened before him, with its goldenfuture of limitless hopes, of dazzling possibilities, of heroicambitions. He told everything, walking up and down the while--for hecould not remain quiet--his cheeks glowing and his eyes sparkling. 

Gascoyne sat quite still, staring straight before him. He knew that hisfriend was ruffling eagle pinions for a flight in which he could neverhope to follow, and somehow his heart ached, for he knew that this mustbe the beginning of the end of the dear, delightful friendship of theyear past. 

CHAPTER 22

And so ended Myles Falworth's boyhood. Three years followed, duringwhich he passed through that state which immediately follows boyhood inall men's lives--a time when they are neither lads nor grown men, butyouths passing from the one to the other period through what is often anuncouth and uncomfortable age. 

He had fancied, when he talked with Gascoyne in the Eyry that time, that he was to become a man all at once; he felt just then that he hadforever done with boyish things. But that is not the way it happens inmen's lives. Changes do not come so suddenly and swiftly as that, but bylittle and little. For three or four days, maybe, he went his new way oflife big with the great change that had come upon him, and then, nowin this and now in that, he drifted back very much into his old waysof boyish doings. As was said, one's young days do not end all at once, even when they be so suddenly and sharply shaken, and Myles was notdifferent from others. He had been stirred to the core by that firstwonderful sight of the great and glorious life of manhood opening beforehim, but he had yet many a sport to enjoy, many a game to play, many aboisterous romp to riot in the dormitory, many an expedition to maketo copse and spinney and river on days when he was off duty, and whenpermission had been granted. 

Nevertheless, there was a great and vital change in his life; a changewhich he hardly felt or realized. Even in resuming his old life therewas no longer the same vitality, the same zest, the same enjoyment inall these things. It seemed as though they were no longer a part ofhimself. The savor had gone from them, and by-and-by it was pleasanterto sit looking on at the sports and the games of the younger lads thanto take active part in them. 

These three years of his life that had thus passed had been very full;full mostly of work, grinding and monotonous; of training dull, dry, laborious. For Sir James Lee was a taskmaster as hard as iron andseemingly as cold as a stone. For two, perhaps for three, weeks Mylesentered into his new exercises with all the enthusiasm that noveltybrings; but these exercises hardly varied a tittle from day to day, andsoon became a duty, and finally a hard and grinding task. He used, inthe earlier days of his castle life, to hate the dull monotony of thetri-weekly hacking at the pels with a heavy broadsword as he hatednothing else; but now, though he still had that exercise to perform, itwas almost a relief from the heavy dulness of riding, riding, riding inthe tilt-yard with shield and lance--couch--recover--en passant. 

But though he had nowadays but little time for boyish plays andescapades, his life was not altogether without relaxation. Now andthen he was permitted to drive in mock battle with other of the youngerknights and bachelors in the paddock near the outer walls. It was astill more welcome change in the routine of his life when, occasionally, he would break a light lance in the tilting-court with Sir EverardWilloughby; Lord George, perhaps, and maybe one or two others of theHall folk, looking on. 

Then one gilded day, when Lord Dudleigh was visiting at Devlen, Mylesran a course with a heavier lance in the presence of the Earl, who camedown to the tilt-yard with his guest to see the young novitiate rideagainst Sir Everard. He did his best, and did it well. Lord Dudleighpraised his poise and carriage, and Lord George, who was present, gavehim an approving smile and nod. But the Earl of Mackworth only satstroking his beard impassively, as was his custom. Myles would havegiven much to know his thoughts. 

In all these years Sir James Lee almost never gave any expression eitherof approbation or disapproval--excepting when Myles exhibited somecarelessness or oversight. Then his words were sharp and harsh enough. More than once Myles's heart failed him, and bitter discouragementtook possession of him; then nothing but his bull-dog tenacity andstubbornness brought him out from the despondency of the dark hours. 

"Sir, " he burst out one day, when his heart was heavy with some failure, "tell me, I beseech thee, do I get me any of skill at all? Is it in meever to make a worthy knight, fit to hold lance and sword with othermen, or am I only soothly a dull heavy block, worth naught of any good?"

"Thou art a fool, sirrah!" answered Sir James, in his grimmest tones. "Thinkest thou to learn all of knightly prowess in a year and a half?Wait until thou art ripe, and then I will tell thee if thou art fit tocouch a lance or ride a course with a right knight. "

"Thou art an old bear!" muttered Myles to himself, as the old one-eyedknight turned on his heel and strode away. "Beshrew me! an I show theenot that I am as worthy to couch a lance as thou one of these finedays!"

However, during the last of the three years the grinding routine of histraining had not been quite so severe as at first. His exercises tookhim more often out into the fields, and it was during this time of hisknightly education that he sometimes rode against some of the castleknights in friendly battle with sword or lance or wooden mace. In theseencounters he always held his own; and held it more than well, though, in his boyish simplicity, he was altogether unconscious of his ownskill, address, and strength. Perhaps it was his very honest modestythat made him so popular and so heartily liked by all. 

He had by this time risen to the place of head squire or chief bachelor, holding the same position that Walter Blunt had occupied when he himselfhad first come, a raw country boy, to Devlen. The lesser squiresand pages fairly worshipped him as a hero, albeit imposing upon hisgood-nature. All took a pride in his practice in knightly exercises, andfabulous tales were current among the young fry concerning his strengthand skill. 

Yet, although Myles was now at the head of his class, he did not, as other chief bachelors had done, take a leading position among thesquires in the Earl's household service. Lord Mackworth, for his owngood reasons, relegated him to the position of Lord George's especialattendant. Nevertheless, the Earl always distinguished him from theother esquires, giving him a cool nod whenever they met; and Myles, uponhis part--now that he had learned better to appreciate how much his Lordhad done for him--would have shed the last drop of blood in his veinsfor the head of the house of Beaumont. 

As for the two young ladies, he often saw them, and sometimes, evenin the presence of the Earl, exchanged a few words with them, and LordMackworth neither forbade it nor seemed to notice it. 

Towards the Lady Anne he felt the steady friendly regard of a lad for agirl older than himself; towards the Lady Alice, now budding into ripeyoung womanhood, there lay deep in his heart the resolve to be some dayher true knight in earnest as he had been her knight in pretence in thattime of boyhood when he had so perilously climbed into the privy garden. 

In body and form he was now a man, and in thought and heart was quicklyripening to manhood, for, as was said before, men matured quickly inthose days. He was a right comely youth, for the promise of his boyishbody had been fulfilled in a tall, powerful, well-knit frame. His facewas still round and boyish, but on cheek and chin and lip was the curlof adolescent beard--soft, yellow, and silky. His eyes were as blueas steel, and quick and sharp in glance as those of a hawk; and as hewalked, his arms swung from his broad, square shoulders, and his bodyswayed with pent-up strength ready for action at any moment. 

If little Lady Alice, hearing much talk of his doings and of his promisein these latter times, thought of him now and then it is a matter notaltogether to be wondered at. 

Such were the changes that three years had wrought. And from now thestory of his manhood really begins. 

Perhaps in all the history of Devlen Castle, even at this, the high tideof pride and greatness of the house of Beaumont, the most notable timewas in the early autumn of the year 1411, when for five days King HenryIV was entertained by the Earl of Mackworth. The King was at that timemaking a progress through certain of the midland counties, and with himtravelled the Comte de Vermoise. The Count was the secret emissary ofthe Dauphin's faction in France, at that time in the very bitterestintensity of the struggle with the Duke of Burgundy, and had come toEngland seeking aid for his master in his quarrel. 

It was not the first time that royalty had visited Devlen. Once, in EarlRobert's day, King Edward II had spent a week at the castle during theperiod of the Scottish wars. But at that time it was little else than amilitary post, and was used by the King as such. Now the Beaumonts werein the very flower of their prosperity, and preparations were madefor the coming visit of royalty upon a scale of such magnificence andsplendor as Earl Robert, or perhaps even King Edward himself, had neverdreamed. 

For weeks the whole castle had been alive with folk hurrying hither andthither; and with the daily and almost hourly coming of pack-horses, laden with bales and boxes, from London. From morning to night one heardthe ceaseless chip-chipping of the masons' hammers, and saw carriersof stones and mortar ascending and descending the ladders of thescaffolding that covered the face of the great North Hall. Within, thatpart of the building was alive with the scraping of the carpenters'saws, the clattering of lumber, and the rapping and banging of hammers. 

The North Hall had been assigned as the lodging place for the King andhis court, and St. George's Hall (as the older building adjoining it wascalled) had been set apart as the lodging of the Comte de Vermoise andthe knights and gentlemen attendant upon him. 

The great North Hall had been very much altered and changed for theaccommodation of the King and his people; a beautiful gallery of carvedwood-work had been built within and across the south end of the room forthe use of the ladies who were to look down upon the ceremonies below. Two additional windows had been cut through the wall and glazed, andpassage-ways had been opened connecting with the royal apartmentsbeyond. In the bedchamber a bed of carved wood and silver had beenbuilt into the wall, and had been draped with hangings of pale blue andsilver, and a magnificent screen of wrought-iron and carved wood hadbeen erected around the couch; rich and beautiful tapestries broughtfrom Italy and Flanders were hung upon the walls; cushions of velvetsand silks stuffed with down covered benches and chairs. The floor ofthe hall was spread with mats of rushes stained in various colors, woveninto curious patterns, and in the smaller rooms precious carpets ofarras were laid on the cold stones. 

All of the cadets of the House had been assembled; all of thegentlemen in waiting, retainers and clients. The castle seemed full tooverflowing; even the dormitory of the squires was used as a lodgingplace for many of the lesser gentry. 

So at last, in the midst of all this bustle of preparation, came the dayof days when the King was to arrive. The day before a courier had comebringing the news that he was lodging at Donaster Abbey overnight, andwould make progress the next day to Devlen. 

That morning, as Myles was marshalling the pages and squires, and, withthe list of names in his hand, was striving to evolve some order outof the confusion, assigning the various individuals their specialduties--these to attend in the household, those to ride in theescort--one of the gentlemen of Lord George's household came with anorder for him to come immediately to the young nobleman's apartments. Myles hastily turned over his duties to Gascoyne and Wilkes, and thenhurried after the messenger. He found Lord George in the antechamber, three gentlemen squires arming him in a magnificent suit of ribbedMilan. 

He greeted Myles with a nod and a smile as the lad entered. "Sirrah, "said he, "I have had a talk with Mackworth this morn concerning thee, and have a mind to do thee an honor in my poor way. How wouldst thoulike to ride to-day as my special squire of escort?"

Myles flushed to the roots of his hair. "Oh, sir!" he cried, eagerly, "an I be not too ungainly for thy purpose, no honor in all the worldcould be such joy to me as that!"

Lord George laughed. "A little matter pleases thee hugely, " said he;"but as to being ungainly, who so sayeth that of thee belieth thee, Myles; thou art not ungainly, sirrah. But that is not to the point. Ihave chosen thee for my equerry to-day; so make thou haste and don thinearmor, and then come hither again, and Hollingwood will fit thee with awreathed bascinet I have within, and a juppon embroidered with my armsand colors. "

When Myles had made his bow and left his patron, he flew across thequadrangle, and burst into the armory upon Gascoyne, whom he found stilllingering there, chatting with one or two of the older bachelors. 

"What thinkest thou, Francis?" he cried, wild with excitement. "An honorhath been done me this day I could never have hoped to enjoy. Out ofall this household, Lord George hath chose me his equerry for the day toride to meet the King. Come, hasten to help me to arm! Art thou not gladof this thing for my sake, Francis?"

"Aye, glad am I indeed!" cried Gascoyne, that generous friend; "ratheralmost would I have this befall thee than myself!" And indeed he washardly less jubilant than Myles over the honor. 

Five minutes later he was busy arming him in the little room at the endof the dormitory which had been lately set apart for the use of the headbachelor. "And to think, " he said, looking up as he kneeled, strappingthe thigh-plates to his friend's legs, "that he should have chosen theebefore all others of the fine knights and lords and gentlemen of qualitythat are here!"

"Yea, " said Myles, "it passeth wonder. I know not why he should sosingle me out for such an honor. It is strangely marvellous. "

"Nay, " said Gascoyne, "there is no marvel in it, and I know right wellwhy he chooseth thee. It is because he sees, as we all see, that thouart the stoutest and the best-skilled in arms, and most easy of carriageof any man in all this place. "

Myles laughed. "An thou make sport of me, " said he, "I'll rap thy headwith this dagger hilt. Thou art a silly fellow, Francis, to talk so. Buttell me, hast thou heard who rides with my Lord?"

"Yea, I heard Wilkes say anon that it was Sir James Lee. "

"I am right glad of that, " said Myles; "for then he will show me what todo and how to bear myself. It frights me to think what would hap shouldI make some mistake in my awkwardness. Methinks Lord George would neverhave me with him more should I do amiss this day. "

"Never fear, " said Gascoyne; "thou wilt not do amiss. "

And now, at last, the Earl, Lord George, and all their escort wereready; then the orders were given to horse, the bugle sounded, and awaythey all rode, with clashing of iron hoofs and ringing and jinglingof armor, out into the dewy freshness of the early morning, the slantyellow sun of autumn blazing and flaming upon polished helmets andshields, and twinkling like sparks of fire upon spear points. Myles'sheart thrilled within him for pure joy, and he swelled out his sturdyyoung breast with great draughts of the sweet fresh air that camesinging across the sunny hill-tops. Sir James Lee, who acted as theEarl's equerry for the day, rode at a little distance, and there was analmost pathetic contrast between the grim, steadfast impassiveness ofthe tough old warrior and Myles's passionate exuberance of youth. 

At the head of the party rode the Earl and his brother side by side, each clad cap-a-pie in a suit of Milan armor, the cuirass of eachcovered with a velvet juppon embroidered in silver with the arms andquarterings of the Beaumonts. The Earl wore around his neck an "S S"collar, with a jewelled St. George hanging from it, and upon his head avizored bascinet, ornamented with a wreath covered with black and yellowvelvet and glistening with jewels. 

Lord George, as was said before, was clad in a beautiful suit of ribbedMilan armor. It was rimmed with a thin thread of gold, and, like hisbrother, he wore a bascinet wreathed with black and yellow velvet. 

Behind the two brothers and their equerries rode the rest in theirproper order--knights, gentlemen, esquires, men-at-arms--to the number, perhaps, of two hundred and fifty; spears and lances aslant, andbanners, permons, and pencels of black and yellow fluttering in the warmSeptember air. 

From the castle to the town they rode, and then across the bridge, andthence clattering up through the stony streets, where the folk lookeddown upon them from the windows above, or crowded the fronts of theshops of the tradesmen. Lusty cheers were shouted for the Earl, but thegreat Lord rode staring ever straight before him, as unmoved as a stone. Then out of the town they clattered, and away in a sweeping cloud ofdust across the country-side. 

It was not until they had reached the windy top of Willoughby Croft, tenmiles away, that they met the King and his company. As the two partiesapproached to within forty or fifty yards of one another they stopped. 

As they came to a halt, Myles observed that a gentleman dressed ina plain blue-gray riding-habit, and sitting upon a beautiful whitegelding, stood a little in advance of the rest of the party, and he knewthat that must be the King. Then Sir James nodded to Myles, and leapingfrom his horse, flung the reins to one of the attendants. Myles didthe like; and then, still following Sir James's lead as he servedLord Mackworth, went forward and held Lord George's stirrup while hedismounted. The two noblemen quickly removed each his bascinet, andMyles, holding the bridle-rein of Lord George's horse with his lefthand, took the helmet in his right, resting it upon his hip. 

Then the two brothers walked forward bare-headed, the Earl, a little inadvance. Reaching the King he stopped, and then bent his knee--stifflyin the armored plates--until it touched the ground. Thereupon the Kingreached him his hand, and he, rising again, took it, and set it to hislips. 

Then Lord George, advancing, kneeled as his brother had kneeled, and tohim also the King gave his hand. 

Myles could hear nothing, but he could see that a few words of greetingpassed between the three, and then the King, turning, beckoned to aknight who stood just behind him and a little in advance of the othersof the troop. In answer, the knight rode forward; the King spoke a fewwords of introduction, and the stranger, ceremoniously drawing off hisright gauntlet, clasped the hand, first of the Earl, and then of LordGeorge. Myles knew that he must be the great Comte de Vermoise, of whomhe had heard so much of late. 

A few moments of conversation followed, and then the King bowedslightly. The French nobleman instantly reined back his horse, an orderwas given, and then the whole company moved forward, the two brotherswalking upon either side of the King, the Earl lightly touching thebridle-rein with his bare hand. 

Whilst all this was passing, the Earl of Mackworth's company had beendrawn up in a double line along the road-side, leaving the way open tothe other party. As the King reached the head of the troop, another haltfollowed while he spoke a few courteous words of greeting to some of thelesser nobles attendant upon the Earl whom he knew. 

In that little time he was within a few paces of Myles, who stoodmotionless as a statue, holding the bascinet and the bridle-rein of LordGeorge's horse. 

What Myles saw was a plain, rather stout man, with a face fat, smooth, and waxy, with pale-blue eyes, and baggy in the lids; clean shaven, except for a mustache and tuft covering lips and chin. Somehow he felta deep disappointment. He had expected to see something lion-like, something regal, and, after all, the great King Henry was commonplace, fat, unwholesome-looking. It came to him with a sort of a shock that, after all, a King was in nowise different from other men. 

Meanwhile the Earl and his brother replaced their bascinets, andpresently the whole party moved forward upon the way to Mackworth. 

CHAPTER 23

That same afternoon the squires' quarters were thrown into such aferment of excitement as had, perhaps, never before stirred them. Aboutone o'clock in the afternoon the Earl himself and Lord George camewalking slowly across the Armory Court wrapped in deep conversation, andentered Sir James Lee's office. 

All the usual hubbub of noise that surrounded the neighborhood of thedormitory and the armory was stilled at their coming, and when the twonoblemen had entered Sir James's office, the lads and young men gatheredin knots discussing with an almost awesome interest what that visitmight portend. 

After some time Sir James Lee came to the door at the head of the longflight of stone steps, and whistling, beckoned one of the smaller pagesto him. He gave a short order that sent the little fellow flying on somemission. In the course of a few minutes he returned, hurrying acrossthe stony court with Myles Falworth, who presently entered Sir James'soffice. It was then and at this sight that the intense half-suppressedexcitement reached its height of fever-heat. What did it all mean? Theair was filled with a thousand vague, wild rumors--but the very wildestsurmises fell short of the real truth. 

Perhaps Myles was somewhat pale when he entered the office; certainlyhis nerves were in a tremor, for his heart told him that something veryportentous was about to befall him. The Earl sat at the table, and inthe seat that Sir James Lee usually occupied; Lord George half sat, halfleaned in the window-place. Sir James stood with his back to theempty fireplace, and his hands clasped behind him. All three were veryserious. 

"Give thee good den, Myles Falworth, " said the Earl, as Myles bowedfirst to him and then to the others; "and I would have thee preparethyself for a great happening. " Then, continuing directly to the point:"Thou knowest, sirrah, why we have been training thee so closely thesethree years gone; it is that thou shouldst be able to hold thine ownin the world. Nay, not only hold thine own, but to show thyself to bea knight of prowess shouldst it come to a battle between thee and thyfather's enemy; for there lieth no half-way place for thee, and thoumust be either great or else nothing. Well, sir, the time hath now comefor thee to show thy mettle. I would rather have chosen that thou hadstlabored a twelvemonth longer; but now, as I said, hath come a chance toprove thyself that may never come again. Sir James tells me that thouart passably ripe in skill. Thou must now show whether that be so or no. Hast thou ever heard of the Sieur de la Montaigne?"

"Yea, my Lord. I have heard of him often, " answered Myles. "It was hewho won the prize at the great tourney at Rochelle last year. "

"I see that thou hast his fame pat to thy tongue's end, " said the Earl;"he is the chevalier of whom I speak, and he is reckoned the best knightof Dauphiny. That one of which thou spokest was the third great tourneyin which he was adjudged the victor. I am glad that thou holdest hisprowess highly. Knowest thou that he is in the train of the Comte deVermoise?"

"Nay, " said Myles, flushing; "I did hear news he was in England, butknew not that he was in this place. "

"Yea, " said Lord Mackworth; "he is here. " He paused for a moment; thensaid, suddenly. "Tell me, Myles Falworth, an thou wert a knight and ofrank fit to run a joust with the Sieur de la Montaigne, wouldst thoudare encounter him in the lists?"

The Earl's question fell upon Myles so suddenly and unexpectedly thatfor a moment or so he stood staring at the speaker with mouth agape. Meanwhile the Earl sat looking calmly back at him, slowly stroking hisbeard the while. 

It was Sir James Lee's voice that broke the silence. "Thou heardst thyLord speak, " said he, harshly. "Hast thou no tongue to answer, sirrah?"

"Be silent, Lee, " said Lord Mackworth, quietly. "Let the lad have timeto think before he speaketh. "

The sound of the words aroused Myles. He advanced to the table, andrested his hand upon it. "My Lord--my Lord, " said he, "I know not whatto say, I--I am amazed and afeard. "

"How! how!" cried Sir James Lee, harshly. "Afeard, sayst thou? An thouart afeard, thou knave, thou needst never look upon my face or speak tome more! I have done with thee forever an thou art afeard even were thechampion a Sir Alisander. "

"Peace, peace, Lee, " said the Earl, holding up his hand. "Thou art toohasty. The lad shall have his will in this matter, and thou and no oneshall constrain him. Methinks, also, thou dost not understand him. Speakfrom thy heart, Myles; why art thou afraid?"

"Because, " said Myles, "I am so young, sir; I am but a raw boy. Howshould I dare be so hardy as to venture to set lance against such an oneas the Sieur de la Montaigne? What would I be but a laughing-stock forall the world who would see me so foolish as to venture me against oneof such prowess and skill?"

"Nay, Myles, " said Lord George, "thou thinkest not well enough of thineown skill and prowess. Thinkest thou we would undertake to set theeagainst him, an we did not think that thou couldst hold thine own fairlywell?"

"Hold mine own?" cried Myles, turning to Lord George. "Sir; thou dostnot mean--thou canst not mean, that I may hope or dream to hold mine ownagainst the Sieur de la Montaigne. "

"Aye, " said Lord George, "that was what I did mean. "

"Come, Myles, " said the Earl; "now tell me: wilt thou fight the Sieur dela Montaigne?"

"Yea, " said Myles, drawing himself to his full height and throwing outhis chest. "Yea, " and his cheeks and forehead flushed red; "an thou bidme do so, I will fight him. "

"There spake my brave lad!" cried Lord George heartily. 

"I give thee joy, Myles, " said the Earl, reaching him his hand, whichMyles took and kissed. "And I give thee double joy. I have talked withthe King concerning thee this morning, and he hath consented to knightthee--yea, to knight thee with all honors of the Bath--provided thouwilt match thee against the Sieur de la Montaigne for the honor ofEngland and Mackworth. Just now the King lieth to sleep for a littlewhile after his dinner; have thyself in readiness when he cometh forth, and I will have thee presented. "

Then the Earl turned to Sir James Lee, and questioned him as to how thebachelors were fitted with clothes. Myles listened, only half hearingthe words through the tumbling of his thoughts. He had dreamed in hisday-dreams that some time he might be knighted, but that time alwaysseemed very, very distant. To be knighted now, in his boyhood, by theKing, with the honors of the Bath, and under the patronage of theEarl of Mackworth; to joust--to actually joust--with the Sieur de laMontaigne, one of the most famous chevaliers of France! No wonder heonly half heard the words; half heard the Earl's questions concerninghis clothes and the discussion which followed; half heard Lord Georgevolunteer to array him in fitting garments from his own wardrobe. 

"Thou mayst go now, " said the Earl, at last turning to him. "But be thouat George's apartments by two of the clock to be dressed fittingly forthe occasion. "

Then Myles went out stupefied, dazed, bewildered. He looked around, but he did not see Gascoyne. He said not a word to any of the others inanswer to the eager questions poured upon him by his fellow-squires, but walked straight away. He hardly knew where he went, but by-and-byhe found himself in a grassy angle below the end of the south stable; aspot overlooking the outer wall and the river beyond. He looked around;no one was near, and he flung himself at length, burying his face inhis arms. How long he lay there he did not know, but suddenly someone touched him upon the shoulder, and he sprang up quickly. It wasGascoyne. 

"What is to do, Myles?" said his friend, anxiously. "What is all thistalk I hear concerning thee up yonder at the armory?"

"Oh, Francis!" cried Myles, with a husky choking voice: "I am to beknighted--by the King--by the King himself; and I--I am to fight theSieur de la Montaigne. "

He reached out his hand, and Gascoyne took it. They stood for a whilequite silent, and when at last the stillness was broken, it was Gascoynewho spoke, in a choking voice. 

"Thou art going to be great, Myles, " said he. "I always knew that itmust be so with thee, and now the time hath come. Yea, thou wilt begreat, and live at court amongst noble folk, and Kings haply. Presentlythou wilt not be with me any more, and wilt forget me by-and-by. "

"Nay, Francis, never will I forget thee!" answered Myles, pressinghis friend's hand. "I will always love thee better than any one in theworld, saving only my father and my mother. "

Gascoyne shook his head and looked away, swallowing at the dry lump inhis throat. Suddenly he turned to Myles. "Wilt thou grant me a boon?"

"Yea, " answered Myles. "What is it?"

"That thou wilt choose me for thy squire. "

"Nay, " said Myles; "how canst thou think to serve me as squire? Thouwilt be a knight thyself some day, Francis, and why dost thou wish nowto be my squire?"

"Because, " said Gascoyne, with a short laugh, "I would rather be in thycompany as a squire than in mine own as a knight, even if I might bebanneret. "

Myles flung his arm around his friend's neck, and kissed him upon thecheek. "Thou shalt have thy will, " said he; "but whether knight orsquire, thou art ever mine own true friend. "

Then they went slowly back together, hand in hand, to the castle worldagain. 

At two o'clock Myles went to Lord George's apartments, and there hisfriend and patron dressed him out in a costume better fitted for theceremony of presentation--a fur-trimmed jacket of green brocaded velvetembroidered with golden thread, a black velvet hood-cap rolled like aturban and with a jewel in the front, a pair of crimson hose, and a pairof black velvet shoes trimmed and stitched with gold-thread. Myles hadnever worn such splendid clothes in his life before, and he could notbut feel that they became him well. 

"Sir, " said he, as he looked down at himself, "sure it is not lawful forme to wear such clothes as these. "

In those days there was a law, known as a sumptuary law, which regulatedby statute the clothes that each class of people were privileged towear. It was, as Myles said, against the law for him to wear suchgarments as those in which he was clad--either velvet, crimson stuff, fur or silver or gold embroidery--nevertheless such a solemn ceremony aspresentation to the King excused the temporary overstepping of the law, and so Lord George told him. As he laid his hand upon the lad's shoulderand held him off at arm's-length, he added, "And I pledge thee my word, Myles, that thou art as lusty and handsome a lad as ever mine eyesbeheld. "

"Thou art very kind to me, sir, " said Myles, in answer. 

Lord George laughed; and then giving him a shake, let go his shoulder. 

It was about three o'clock when little Edmond de Montefort, LordMackworth's favorite page, came with word that the King was then walkingin the Earl's pleasance. 

"Come, Myles, " said Lord George, and then Myles arose from theseat where he had been sitting, his heart palpitating and throbbingtumultuously. 

At the wicket-gate of the pleasance two gentlemen-at-arms stood guard inhalf-armor; they saluted Lord George, and permitted him to pass with hisprotege. As he laid his hand upon the latch of the wicket he paused fora moment and turned. 

"Myles, " said he, in a low voice, "thou art a thoughtful and cautiouslad; for thy father's sake be thoughtful and cautious now. Do notspeak his name or betray that thou art his son. " Then he opened thewicket-gate and entered. 

Any lad of Myles's age, even one far more used to the world than he, would perhaps have felt all the oppression that he experienced under theweight of such a presentation. He hardly knew what he was doing asLord George led him to where the King stood, a little apart fromthe attendants, with the Earl and the Comte de Vermoise. Even in hisconfusion he knew enough to kneel, and somehow his honest, modestdiffidence became the young fellow very well. He was not awkward, forone so healthful in mind and body as he could not bear himself very ill, and he felt the assurance that in Lord George he had a kind friend athis side, and one well used to court ceremonies to lend him countenance. Then there is something always pleasing in frank, modest manliness suchas was stamped on Myles's handsome, sturdy face. No doubt the King'sheart warmed towards the fledgling warrior kneeling in the pathwaybefore him. He smiled very kindly as he gave the lad his hand to kiss, and that ceremony done, held fast to the hard, brown, sinewy fist of theyoung man with his soft white hand, and raised him to his feet. 

"By the mass!" said he, looking Myles over with smiling eyes, "thou arta right champion in good sooth. Such as thou art haply was Sir Galahadwhen he came to Arthur's court. And so they tell me, thou hast stomachto brook the Sieur de la Montaigne, that tough old boar of Dauphiny. Hast thou in good sooth the courage to face him? Knowest thou what agreat thing it is that thou hast set upon thyself--to do battle, even insport, with him?"

"Yea, your Majesty, " answered Myles, "well I wot it is a task haplybeyond me. But gladly would I take upon me even a greater venture, andone more dangerous, to do your Majesty's pleasure!"

The King looked pleased. "Now that was right well said, young man, " saidhe, "and I like it better that it came from such young and honest lips. Dost thou speak French?"

"Yea, your Majesty, " answered Myles. "In some small measure do I so. "

"I am glad of that, " said the King; "for so I may make thee acquaintedwith Sieur de la Montaigne. "

He turned as he ended speaking, and beckoned to a heavy, thick-set, black-browed chevalier who stood with the other gentlemen attendants ata little distance. He came instantly forward in answer to the summons, and the King introduced the two to one another. As each took the otherformally by the hand, he measured his opponent hastily, body and limb, and perhaps each thought that he had never seen a stronger, stouter, better-knit man than the one upon whom he looked. But neverthelessthe contrast betwixt the two was very great--Myles, young, boyish, fresh-faced; the other, bronzed, weather beaten, and seamed with a greatwhite scar that ran across his forehead and cheek; the one a novice, theother a warrior seasoned in twoscore battles. 

A few polite phrases passed between the two, the King listening smiling, but with an absent and far-away look gradually stealing upon his face. As they ended speaking, a little pause of silence followed, and then theKing suddenly aroused himself. 

"So, " said he, "I am glad that ye two are acquainted. And now we willleave our youthful champion in thy charge, Beaumont--and in thine, MonSieur, as well--and so soon as the proper ceremonies are ended, we willdub him knight with our own hands. And now, Mackworth, and thou my LordCount, let us walk a little; I have bethought me further concerningthese threescore extra men for Dauphiny. "

Then Myles withdrew, under the charge of Lord George and the Sieur dela Montaigne and while the King and the two nobles walked slowly up anddown the gravel path between the tall rose-bushes, Myles stoodtalking with the gentlemen attendants, finding himself, with a certaintriumphant exultation, the peer of any and the hero of the hour. 

That night was the last that Myles and Gascoyne spent lodging in thedormitory in their squirehood service. The next day they were assignedapartments in Lord George's part of the house, and thither theytransported themselves and their belongings, amid the awestruck wonderand admiration of their fellow-squires. 

CHAPTER 24

In Myles Falworth's day one of the greatest ceremonies of courtly lifewas that of the bestowal of knighthood by the King, with the honors ofthe Bath. By far the greater number of knights were at that time createdby other knights, or by nobles, or by officers of the crown. To beknighted by the King in person distinguished the recipient for life. Itwas this signal honor that the Earl, for his own purposes, wished Mylesto enjoy, and for this end he had laid not a few plans. 

The accolade was the term used for the creation of a knight upon thefield of battle. It was a reward of valor or of meritorious service, andwas generally bestowed in a more or less off-hand way; but the ceremonyof the Bath was an occasion of the greatest courtly moment, and it wasthus that Myles Falworth was to be knighted in addition to the honor ofa royal belting. 

A quaint old book treating of knighthood and chivalry gives a full anddetailed account of all the circumstances of the ceremony of a creationof a Knight of the Bath. It tells us that the candidate was firstplaced under the care of two squires of honor, "grave and well seen incourtship and nurture, and also in feats of chivalry, " which same werelikewise to be governors in all things relating to the coming honors. 

First of all, the barber shaved him, and cut his hair in a certainpeculiar fashion ordained for the occasion, the squires of honorsupervising the operation. This being concluded, the candidate wassolemnly conducted to the chamber where the bath of tepid water wasprepared, "hung within and without with linen, and likewise coveredwith rich cloths and embroidered linen. " While in the bath two "ancient, grave, and reverend knights" attended the bachelor, giving him "meetinstructions in the order and feats of chivalry. " The candidate was thenexamined as to his knowledge and acquirements, and then, all questionsbeing answered to the satisfaction of his examiners, the elder of thetwo dipped a handful of water out from the bath, and poured it upon hishead, at the same time signing his left shoulder with the sign of thecross. 

As soon as this ceremony was concluded, the two squires of honor helpedtheir charge from the bath, and conducted him to a plain bed withouthangings, where they let him rest until his body was warm and dry. Then they clad him in a white linen shirt, and over it a plain robe ofrusset, "girdled about the loins with a rope, and having a hood likeunto a hermit. "

As soon as the candidate had arisen, the two "ancient knights" returned, and all being in readiness he was escorted to the chapel, the twowalking, one upon either side of him, his squires of honor marchingbefore, and the whole party preceded by "sundry minstrels making a loudnoise of music. "

When they came to the chapel, the two knights who escorted him tookleave of the candidate, each saluting him with a kiss upon the cheek. No one remained with him but his squires of honor, the priest, and thechandler. 

In the mean time the novitiate's armor, sword, lance, and helmet hadbeen laid in readiness before the altar. These he watched and guardedwhile the others slept, keeping vigil until sunrise, during which time"he shall, " says the ancient authority, "pass the night in orisons, prayers, and meditation. " At daylight he confessed to the priest, heardmatins, and communicated in mass, and then presented a lighted candleat the altar, with a piece of money stuck in it as close to the flameas could be done, the candle being offered to the honor of God, and themoney to the honor of that person who was to make him a knight. 

So concluded the sacred ceremony, which being ended his squiresconducted the candidate to his chamber, and there made him comfortable, and left him to repose for a while before the second and final part ofthe ordinance. 

Such is a shortened account of the preparatory stages of the ceremoniesthrough which Myles Falworth passed. 

Matters had come upon him so suddenly one after the other, and had comewith such bewildering rapidity that all that week was to him like somestrange, wonderful, mysterious vision. He went through it all like onein a dream. Lord George Beaumont was one of his squires of honor; theother, by way of a fitting complement to the courage of the chivalrouslad, was the Sieur de la Montaigne, his opponent soon to be. They werewell versed in everything relating to knightcraft, and Myles followedall their directions with passive obedience. Then Sir James Lee and theComte de Vermoise administered the ceremony of the Bath, the old knightexamining him in the laws of chivalry. 

It occurs perhaps once or twice in one's lifetime that one passesthrough great happenings--sometimes of joy, sometimes of dreadfulbitterness--in just such a dazed state as Myles passed through this. Itis only afterwards that all comes back to one so sharply and keenly thatthe heart thrills almost in agony in living it over again. But perhapsof all the memory of that time, when it afterwards came back piece bypiece, none was so clear to Myles's back-turned vision as the longnight spent in the chapel, watching his armor, thinking such wonderfulthoughts, and dreaming such wonderful wide-eyed dreams. At such timesMyles saw again the dark mystery of the castle chapel; he saw again thehalf-moon gleaming white and silvery through the tall, narrow window, and throwing a broad form of still whiteness across stone floor, emptyseats, and still, motionless figures of stone effigies. At such timeshe stood again in front of the twinkling tapers that lit the altar wherehis armor lay piled in a heap, heard again the deep breathing of hiscompanions of the watch sleeping in some empty stall, wrapped each inhis cloak, and saw the old chandler bestir himself, and rise and comeforward to snuff the candles. At such times he saw again the day growingclearer and clearer through the tall, glazed windows, saw it change toa rosy pink, and then to a broad, ruddy glow that threw a halo of lightaround Father Thomas's bald head bowed in sleep, and lit up the bannersand trophies hanging motionless against the stony face of the west wall;heard again the stirring of life without and the sound of his companionsarousing themselves; saw them come forward, and heard them wish him joythat his long watch was ended. 

It was nearly noon when Myles was awakened from a fitful sleep byGascoyne bringing in his dinner, but, as might be supposed, he had butlittle hunger, and ate sparingly. He had hardly ended his frugal mealbefore his two squires of honor came in, followed by a servant carryingthe garments for the coming ceremony. He saluted them gravely, and thenarising, washed his face and hands in a basin which Gascoyne held; thenkneeled in prayer, the others standing silent at a little distance. Ashe arose, Lord George came forward. 

"The King and the company come presently to the Great Hall, Myles, " saidhe; "it is needful for thee to make all the haste that thou art able. "

Perhaps never had Devlen Castle seen a more brilliant and goodly companygathered in the great hall than that which came to witness King Henrycreate Myles Falworth a knight bachelor. 

At the upper end of the hall was a raised dais, upon which stooda throne covered with crimson satin and embroidered with lions andflower-deluces; it was the King's seat. He and his personal attendantshad not yet come, but the rest of the company were gathered. The daybeing warm and sultry, the balcony was all aflutter with the featherfans of the ladies of the family and their attendants, who from thishigh place looked down upon the hall below. Up the centre of the hallwas laid a carpet of arras, and the passage was protected by woodenrailings. Upon the one side were tiers of seats for the castlegentlefolks and the guests. Upon the other stood the burghers from thetown, clad in sober dun and russet, and yeomanry in green and brown. Thewhole of the great vaulted hall was full of the dull hum of many peoplewaiting, and a ceaseless restlessness stirred the crowded throng. Butat last a whisper went around that the King was coming. A momentary hushfell, and through it was heard the noisy clatter of horses' feet comingnearer and nearer, and then stopping before the door. The sudden blareof trumpets broke through the hush; another pause, and then in throughthe great door-way of the hall came the royal procession. 

First of all marched, in the order of their rank, and to the number ofa score or more, certain gentlemen, esquires and knights, chosen mostlyfrom the King's attendants. Behind these came two pursuivants-at-armsin tabards, and following them a party of a dozen more banneretsand barons. Behind these again, a little space intervening, came twoheralds, also in tabards, a group of the greater nobles attendantupon the King following in the order of their rank. Next came theKing-at-arms and, at a little distance and walking with sober slowness, the King himself, with the Earl and the Count directly attendant uponhim--the one marching upon the right hand and the other upon the left. A breathless silence filled the whole space as the royal processionadvanced slowly up the hall. Through the stillness could be heard themuffled sound of the footsteps on the carpet, the dry rustling ofsilk and satin garments, and the clear clink and jingle of chains andjewelled ornaments, but not the sound of a single voice. 

After the moment or two of bustle and confusion of the King taking hisplace had passed, another little space of expectant silence fell. Atlast there suddenly came the noise of acclamation of those who stoodwithout the door--cheering and the clapping of hands--sounds heraldingthe immediate advent of Myles and his attendants. The next moment thelittle party entered the hall. 

First of all, Gascoyne, bearing Myles's sword in both hands, the hiltresting against his breast, the point elevated at an angle of forty-fivedegrees. It was sheathed in a crimson scabbard, and the belt of Spanishleather studded with silver bosses was wound crosswise around it. Fromthe hilt of the sword dangled the gilt spurs of his coming knighthood. At a little distance behind his squire followed Myles, the centre ofall observation. He was clad in a novitiate dress, arranged under LordGeorge's personal supervision. It had been made somewhat differentlyfrom the fashion usual at such times, and was intended to indicate in amanner the candidate's extreme youthfulness and virginity in arms. Theouter garment was a tabard robe of white wool, embroidered at the hemwith fine lines of silver, and gathered loosely at the waist with a beltof lavender leather stitched with thread of silver. Beneath he was cladin armor (a present from the Earl), new and polished till it shone withdazzling brightness, the breastplate covered with a juppon of whitesatin, embroidered with silver. Behind Myles, and upon either hand, camehis squires of honor, sponsors, and friends--a little company ofsome half-dozen in all. As they advanced slowly up the great, dim, high-vaulted room, the whole multitude broke forth into a humming buzzof applause. Then a sudden clapping of hands began near the door-way, ran down through the length of the room, and was taken up by all withnoisy clatter. 

"Saw I never youth so comely, " whispered one of the Lady Anne'sattendant gentlewomen. "Sure he looketh as Sir Galahad looked when hecame first to King Arthur's court. "

Myles knew that he was very pale; he felt rather than saw the restlesscrowd of faces upon either side, for his eyes were fixed directly beforehim, upon the dais whereon sat the King, with the Earl of Mackworthstanding at his right hand, the Comte de Vermoise upon the left, and theothers ranged around and behind the throne. It was with the same tensefeeling of dreamy unreality that Myles walked slowly up the length ofthe hall, measuring his steps by those of Gascoyne. Suddenly hefelt Lord George Beaumont touch him lightly upon the arm, and almostinstinctively he stopped short--he was standing just before the coveredsteps of the throne. 

He saw Gascoyne mount to the third step, stop short, kneel, and offerthe sword and the spurs he carried to the King, who took the weaponand laid it across his knees. Then the squire bowed low, and walkingbackward withdrew to one side, leaving Myles standing alone facing thethrone. The King unlocked the spur chains from the sword-hilt, andthen, holding the gilt spurs in his hand for a moment, he looked Mylesstraight in the eyes and smiled. Then he turned, and gave one of thespurs to the Earl of Mackworth. 

The Earl took it with a low bow, turned, and came slowly down the stepsto where Myles stood. Kneeling upon one knee, and placing Myles's footupon the other, Lord Mackworth set the spur in its place and latched thechain over the instep. He drew the sign of the cross upon Myles's bendedknee, set the foot back upon the ground, rose with slow dignity, andbowing to the King, drew a little to one side. 

As soon as the Earl had fulfilled his office the King gave the secondspur to the Comte de Vermoise, who set it to Myles's other foot with thesame ceremony that the Earl had observed, withdrawing as he had done toone side. 

An instant pause of motionless silence followed, and then the Kingslowly arose, and began deliberately to unwind the belt from around thescabbard of the sword he held. As soon as he stood, the Earl and theCount advanced, and taking Myles by either hand, led him forward and upthe steps of the dais to the platform above. As they drew a little toone side, the King stooped and buckled the sword-belt around Myles'swaist, then, rising again, lifted his hand and struck him upon theshoulder, crying, in a loud voice. 

"Be thou a good knight!"

Instantly a loud sound of applause and the clapping of hands filled thewhole hall, in the midst of which the King laid both hands upon Myles'sshoulders and kissed him upon the right cheek. So the ceremony ended;Myles was no longer Myles Falworth, but Sir Myles Falworth, Knight byOrder of the Bath and by grace of the King!

CHAPTER 25

It was the custom to conclude the ceremonies of the bestowal ofknighthood by a grand feast given in honor of the newly-created knight. But in Myles's instance the feast was dispensed with. The Earl ofMackworth had planned that Myles might be created a Knight of the Bathwith all possible pomp and ceremony; that his personality might bemost favorably impressed upon the King; that he might be so honorablyknighted as to make him the peer of any who wore spurs in all England;and, finally, that he might celebrate his new honors by jousting withsome knight of high fame and approved valor. All these desiderata chancehad fulfilled in the visit of the King to Devlen. 

As the Earl had said to Myles, he would rather have waited a littlewhile longer until the lad was riper in years and experience, but theopportunity was not to be lost. Young as he was, Myles must takehis chances against the years and grim experience of the Sieur de laMontaigne. But it was also a part of the Earl's purpose that the Kingand Myles should not be brought too intimately together just at thattime. Though every particular of circumstance should be fulfilled in theceremony, it would have been ruination to the Earl's plans to have theknowledge come prematurely to the King that Myles was the son ofthe attainted Lord Falworth. The Earl knew that Myles was a shrewd, coolheaded lad; but the King had already hinted that the name wasfamiliar to his ears, and a single hasty answer or unguarded speech uponthe young knight's part might awaken him to a full knowledge. Such amishap was, of all things, to be avoided just then, for, thanks to themachinations of that enemy of his father of whom Myles had heard somuch, and was soon to hear more, the King had always retained and stillheld a bitter and rancorous enmity against the unfortunate nobleman. 

It was no very difficult matter for the Earl to divert the King'sattention from the matter of the feast. His Majesty was very intentjust then upon supplying a quota of troops to the Dauphin, and the chiefobject of his visit to Devlen was to open negotiations with the Earllooking to that end. He was interested--much interested in Myles and inthe coming jousting in which the young warrior was to prove himself, buthe was interested in it by way of a relaxation from the other and moreengrossing matter. So, though he made some passing and half preoccupiedinquiry about the feast he was easily satisfied with the Earl's reasonsfor not holding it: which were that he had arranged a consultation forthat morning in regard to the troops for the Dauphin, to which meetinghe had summoned a number of his own more important dependent nobles, that the King himself needed repose and the hour or so of rest thathis barber-surgeon had ordered him to take after his mid-day meal; thatFather Thomas had laid upon Myles a petty penance--that for the firstthree days of his knighthood he should eat his meals without meat andin his own apartment--and various other reasons equally good andsufficient. So the King was satisfied, and the feast was dispensed with. 

The next morning had been set for the jousting, and all that day theworkmen were busy erecting the lists in the great quadrangle upon which, as was said before, looked the main buildings of the castle. The windowsof Myles's apartment opened directly upon the bustling scene--thecarpenters hammering and sawing, the upholsterers snipping, cutting, and tacking. Myles and Gascoyne stood gazing out from the open casement, with their arms lying across one another's shoulders in the old boyhoodfashion, and Myles felt his heart shrink with a sudden tight pang asthe realization came sharply and vividly upon him that all thesepreparations were being made for him, and that the next day he should, with almost the certainty of death, meet either glory or failure underthe eyes not only of all the greater and lesser castle folk, but of theKing himself and noble strangers critically used to deeds of chivalryand prowess. Perhaps he had never fully realized the magnitude of thereality before. In that tight pang at his heart he drew a deep breath, almost a sigh. Gascoyne turned his head abruptly, and looked at hisfriend, but he did not ask the cause of the sigh. No doubt the samethoughts that were in Myles's mind were in his also. 

It was towards the latter part of the afternoon that a message came fromthe Earl, bidding Myles attend him in his private closet. After Myleshad bowed and kissed his lordship's hand, the Earl motioned him totake a seat, telling him that he had some final words to say that mightoccupy a considerable time. He talked to the young man for about halfan hour in his quiet, measured voice, only now and then showing a littleagitation by rising and walking up and down the room for a turn or two. Very many things were disclosed in that talk that had caused Myleslong hours of brooding thought, for the Earl spoke freely, and withoutconcealment to him concerning his father and the fortunes of the houseof Falworth. 

Myles had surmised many things, but it was not until then that he knewfor a certainty who was his father's malignant and powerful enemy--thatit was the great Earl of Alban, the rival and bitter enemy of the Earlof Mackworth. It was not until then that he knew that the present Earlof Alban was the Lord Brookhurst, who had killed Sir John Dale inthe anteroom at Falworth Castle that morning so long ago in his earlychildhood. It was not until then that he knew all the circumstances ofhis father's blindness; that he had been overthrown in the melee at thegreat tournament at York, and that that same Lord Brookhurst had riddenhis iron-shod war-horse twice over his enemy's prostrate body before hissquire could draw him from the press, and had then and there given himthe wound from which he afterwards went blind. The Earl swore to Mylesthat Lord Brookhurst had done what he did wilfully, and had afterwardsboasted of it. Then, with some hesitation, he told Myles the reasonof Lord Brookhurst's enmity, and that it had arisen on account of LadyFalworth, whom he had one time sought in marriage, and that he had swornvengeance against the man who had won her. 

Piece by piece the Earl of Mackworth recounted every circumstance anddetail of the revenge that the blind man's enemy had afterwardswreaked upon him. He told Myles how, when his father was attaintedof high-treason, and his estates forfeited to the crown, the King hadgranted the barony of Easterbridge to the then newly-created Earl ofAlban in spite of all the efforts of Lord Falworth's friends to thecontrary; that when he himself had come out from an audience with theKing, with others of his father's friends, the Earl of Alban had boastedin the anteroom, in a loud voice, evidently intended for them all tohear, that now that he had Falworth's fat lands, he would never resttill he had hunted the blind man out from his hiding, and brought hishead to the block. 

"Ever since then, " said the Earl of Mackworth "he hath been striving byevery means to discover thy father's place of concealment. Some time, haply, he may find it, and then--"

Myles had felt for a long time that he was being moulded and shaped, andthat the Earl of Mackworth's was the hand that was making him what hewas growing to be; but he had never realized how great were the thingsexpected of him should he pass the first great test, and show himselfwhat his friends hoped to see him. Now he knew that all were lookingupon him to act, sometime, as his father's champion, and when that timeshould come, to challenge the Earl of Alban to the ordeal of singlecombat, to purge his father's name of treason, to restore him to hisrank, and to set the house of Falworth where it stood before misfortunefell upon it. 

But it was not alone concerning his and his father's affairs that theEarl of Mackworth talked to Myles. He told him that the Earl of Albanwas the Earl of Mackworth's enemy also; that in his younger days he hadhelped Lord Falworth, who was his kinsman, to win his wife, and thatthen, Lord Brookhurst had sworn to compass his ruin as he had swornto compass the ruin of his friend. He told Myles how, now that LordBrookhurst was grown to be Earl of Alban, and great and powerful, hewas forever plotting against him, and showed Myles how, if Lord Falworthwere discovered and arrested for treason, he also would be likely tosuffer for aiding and abetting him. Then it dawned upon Myles that theEarl looked to him to champion the house of Beaumont as well as that ofFalworth. 

"Mayhap, " said the Earl, "thou didst think that it was all for thepleasant sport of the matter that I have taken upon me this toil andendeavor to have thee knighted with honor that thou mightst fight theDauphiny knight. Nay, nay, Myles Falworth, I have not labored sohard for such a small matter as that. I have had the King, unknown tohimself, so knight thee that thou mayst be the peer of Alban himself, and now I would have thee to hold thine own with the Sieur de laMontaigne, to try whether thou be'st Alban's match, and to approvethyself worthy of the honor of thy knighthood. I am sorry, ne'theless, "he added, after a moment's pause, "that this could not have been put offfor a while longer, for my plans for bringing thee to battle with thatvile Alban are not yet ripe. But such a chance of the King coming hitherhaps not often. And then I am glad of this much--that a good occasionoffers to get thee presently away from England. I would have thee outof the King's sight so soon as may be after this jousting. He taketha liking to thee, and I fear me lest he should inquire more nearlyconcerning thee and so all be discovered and spoiled. My brother Georgegoeth upon the first of next month to France to take service with theDauphin, having under his command a company of tenscore men--knights andarchers; thou shalt go with him, and there stay till I send for thee toreturn. "

With this, the protracted interview concluded, the Earl charging Mylesto say nothing further about the French expedition for the present--evento his friend--for it was as yet a matter of secrecy, known only to theKing and a few nobles closely concerned in the venture. 

Then Myles arose to take his leave. He asked and obtained permission forGascoyne to accompany him to France. Then he paused for a moment or two, for it was strongly upon him to speak of a matter that had been lyingin his mind all day--a matter that he had dreamed of much with open eyesduring the long vigil of the night before. 

The Earl looked up inquiringly. "What is it thou wouldst ask?" said he. 

Myles's heart was beating quickly within him at the thought of his ownboldness, and as he spoke his cheeks burned like fire. "Sir, " said he, mustering his courage at last, "haply thou hast forgot it, but I havenot; ne'theless, a long time since when I spoke of serving the--the LadyAlice as her true knight, thou didst wisely laugh at my words, and bademe wait first till I had earned my spurs. But now, sir, I have gottenmy spurs, and--and do now crave thy gracious leave that I may serve thatlady as her true knight. "

A space of dead silence fell, in which Myles's heart beat tumultuouslywithin him. 

"I know not what thou meanest, " said the Earl at last, in a somewhatconstrained voice. "How wouldst thou serve her? What wouldst thou have?"

"I would have only a little matter just now, " answered Myles. "I wouldbut crave of her a favor for to wear in the morrow's battle, so that shemay know that I hold her for my own true lady, and that I may have thecourage to fight more boldly, having that favor to defend. "

The Earl sat looking at him for a while in brooding silence, strokinghis beard the while. Suddenly his brow cleared. "So be it, " said he. "I grant thee my leave to ask the Lady Alice for a favor, and if sheis pleased to give it to thee, I shall not say thee nay. But I set thisupon thee as a provision: that thou shalt not see her without the LadyAnne be present. Thus it was, as I remember, thou saw her first, andwith it thou must now be satisfied. Go thou to the Long Gallery, andthither they will come anon if naught hinder them. "

Myles waited in the Long Gallery perhaps some fifteen or twenty minutes. No one was there but himself. It was a part of the castle connecting theEarl's and the Countess's apartments, and was used but little. Duringthat time he stood looking absently out of the open casement into thestony court-yard beyond, trying to put into words that which he hadto say; wondering, with anxiety, how soon the young ladies would come;wondering whether they would come at all. At last the door at thefarther end of the gallery opened, and turning sharply at the sound, hesaw the two young ladies enter, Lady Alice leaning upon Lady Anne's arm. It was the first time that he had seen them since the ceremony of themorning, and as he advanced to meet them, the Lady Anne came franklyforward, and gave him her hand, which Myles raised to his lips. 

"I give thee joy of thy knighthood, Sir Myles, " said she, "and dobelieve, in good sooth, that if any one deserveth such an honor, thouart he. "

At first little Lady Alice hung back behind her cousin, saying nothinguntil the Lady Anne, turning suddenly, said: "Come, coz, has thou naughtto say to our new-made knight? Canst thou not also wish him joy of hisknighthood?"

Lady Alice hesitated a minute, then gave Myles a timid hand, which he, with a strange mixture of joy and confusion, took as timidly as it wasoffered. He raised the hand, and set it lightly and for an instantto his lips, as he had done with the Lady Anne's hand, but with verydifferent emotions. 

"I give you joy of your knighthood, sir, " said Lady Alice, in a voice solow that Myles could hardly hear it. 

Both flushed red, and as he raised his head again, Myles saw that theLady Anne had withdrawn to one side. Then he knew that it was to givehim the opportunity to proffer his request. 

A little space of silence followed, the while he strove to key hiscourage to the saying of that which lay at his mind. "Lady, " said he atlast, and then again--"Lady, I--have a favor for to ask thee. "

"What is it thou wouldst have, Sir Myles?" she murmured, in reply. 

"Lady, " said he, "ever sin I first saw thee I have thought that if Imight choose of all the world, thou only wouldst I choose for--formy true lady, to serve as a right knight should. " Here he stopped, frightened at his own boldness. Lady Alice stood quite still, with herface turned away. "Thou--thou art not angered at what I say?" he said. 

She shook her head. 

"I have longed and longed for the time, " said he, "to ask a boon of thee, and now hath that time come. Lady, to-morrow I go to meet a right goodknight, and one skilled in arms and in jousting, as thou dost know. Yea, he is famous in arms, and I be nobody. Ne'theless, I fight for the honorof England and Mackworth--and--and for thy sake. I--Thou art not angeredat what I say?"

Again the Lady Alice shook her head. 

"I would that thou--I would that thou would give me some favor for towear--thy veil or thy necklace. "

He waited anxiously for a little while, but Lady Alice did not answerimmediately. 

"I fear me, " said Myles, presently, "that I have in sooth offended theein asking this thing. I know that it is a parlous bold matter for one soraw in chivalry and in courtliness as I am, and one so poor in rank, toask thee for thy favor. An I ha' offended, I prithee let it be as thoughI had not asked it. "

Perhaps it was the young man's timidity that brought a sudden courage toLady Alice; perhaps it was the graciousness of her gentle breeding thaturged her to relieve Myles's somewhat awkward humility, perhaps it wassomething more than either that lent her bravery to speak, even knowingthat the Lady Anne heard all. She turned quickly to him: "Nay, SirMyles, " she said, "I am foolish, and do wrong thee by my foolishnessand silence, for, truly, I am proud to have thee wear my favor. " Sheunclasped, as she spoke, the thin gold chain from about her neck. "Igive thee this chain, " said she, "and it will bring me joy to have ithonored by thy true knightliness, and, giving it, I do wish thee allsuccess. " Then she bowed her head, and, turning, left him holding thenecklace in his hand. 

Her cousin left the window to meet her, bowing her head with a smileto Myles as she took her cousin's arm again and led her away. He stoodlooking after them as they left the room, and when they were gone, heraised the necklace to his lips with a heart beating tumultuously with atriumphant joy it had never felt before. 

CHAPTER 26

And now, at last, had come the day of days for Myles Falworth; the daywhen he was to put to the test all that he had acquired in the threeyears of his training, the day that was to disclose what promise offuture greatness there was in his strong young body. And it was a nobleday; one of those of late September, when the air seems sweeter andfresher than at other times; the sun bright and as yellow as gold, thewind lusty and strong, before which the great white clouds go sailingmajestically across the bright blueness of the sky above, while theirdusky shadows skim across the brown face of the rusty earth beneath. 

As was said before, the lists had been set up in the great quadrangleof the castle, than which, level and smooth as a floor, no more fittingplace could be chosen. The course was of the usual size--sixty paceslong--and separated along its whole length by a barrier about five feethigh. Upon the west side of the course and about twenty paces distantfrom it, a scaffolding had been built facing towards the east so as toavoid the glare of the afternoon sun. In the centre was a raised dais, hung round with cloth of blue embroidered with lions rampant. Upon thedais stood a cushioned throne for the King, and upon the steps below, ranged in the order of their dignity, were seats for the Earl, hisguests, the family, the ladies, knights, and gentlemen of the castle. In front, the scaffolding was covered with the gayest tapestries andbrightest-colored hangings that the castle could afford. And above, parti-colored pennants and streamers, surmounted by the royal ensign ofEngland, waved and fluttered in the brisk wind. 

At either end of the lists stood the pavilions of the knights. That ofMyles was at the southern extremity and was hung, by the Earl's desire, with cloth of the Beaumont colors (black and yellow), while a woodenshield bearing three goshawks spread (the crest of the house) was nailedto the roof, and a long streamer of black and yellow trailed out in thewind from the staff above. Myles, partly armed, stood at the door-way ofthe pavilion, watching the folk gathering at the scaffolding. The ladiesof the house were already seated, and the ushers were bustling hitherand thither, assigning the others their places. A considerable crowdof common folk and burghers from the town had already gathered atthe barriers opposite, and as he looked at the restless and growingmultitude he felt his heart beat quickly and his flesh grow cold with anervous trepidation--just such as the lad of to-day feels when he seesthe auditorium filling with friends and strangers who are to listenby-and-by to the reading of his prize poem. 

Suddenly there came a loud blast of trumpets. A great gate at thefarther extremity of the lists was thrown open, and the King appeared, riding upon a white horse, preceded by the King-at-arms and the heralds, attended by the Earl and the Comte de Vermoise, and followed by a crowdof attendants. Just then Gascoyne, who, with Wilkes, was busied lacingsome of the armor plates with new thongs, called Myles, and he turnedand entered the pavilion. 

As the two squires were adjusting these last pieces, strapping them inplace and tying the thongs, Lord George and Sir James Lee enteredthe pavilion. Lord George took the young man by the hand, and with apleasant smile wished him success in the coming encounter. 

Sir James seemed anxious and disturbed. He said nothing, and afterGascoyne had placed the open bascinet that supports the tilting helmin its place, he came forward and examined the armor piece by piece, carefully and critically, testing the various straps and leather pointsand thongs to make sure of their strength. 

"Sir, " said Gascoyne, who stood by watching him anxiously, "I do trustthat I have done all meetly and well. "

"I see nothing amiss, sirrah, " said the old knight, half grudgingly. "Sofar as I may know, he is ready to mount. "

Just then a messenger entered, saying that the King was seated, and LordGeorge bade Myles make haste to meet the challenger. 

"Francis, " said Myles, "prithee give me my pouch yonder. "

Gascoyne handed him the velvet bag, and he opened it, and took out thenecklace that the Lady Alice had given him the day before. 

"Tie me this around my arm, " said he. He looked down, keeping his eyesstudiously fixed on Gascoyne's fingers, as they twined the thin goldenchain around the iron plates of his right arm, knowing that LordGeorge's eyes were upon him, and blushing fiery red at the knowledge. 

Sir James was at that moment examining the great tilting helm, and LordGeorge watched him, smiling amusedly. "And hast thou then already chosenthee a lady?" he said, presently. 

"Aye, my Lord, " answered Myles, simply. 

"Marry, I trust we be so honored that she is one of our castle folk, "said the Earl's brother. 

For a moment Myles did not reply; then he looked up. "My Lord, " said he, "the favor was given to me by the Lady Alice. "

Lord George looked grave for the moment; then he laughed. "Marry, thouart a bold archer to shoot for such high game. "

Myles did not answer, and at that moment two grooms led his horse up tothe door of the pavilion. Gascoyne and Wilkes helped him to his saddle, and then, Gascoyne holding his horse by the bridle-rein, he rode slowlyacross the lists to the little open space in front of the scaffoldingand the King's seat just as the Sieur de la Montaigne approached fromthe opposite direction. 

As soon as the two knights champion had reached each his appointedstation in front of the scaffolding, the Marshal bade the speaker readthe challenge, which, unrolling the parchment, he began to do in a loud, clear voice, so that all might hear. It was a quaint document, wrappedup in the tangled heraldic verbiage of the time. 

The pith of the matter was that the Sieur Brian Philip Francis de laMontaigne proclaimed before all men the greater chivalry and skill atarms of the knights of France and of Dauphiny, and likewise the greaterfairness of the ladies of France and Dauphiny, and would there defendthose sayings with his body without fear or attaint as to the truth ofthe same. As soon as the speaker had ended, the Marshal bade him callthe defendant of the other side. 

Then Myles spoke his part, with a voice trembling somewhat with theexcitement of the moment, but loudly and clearly enough: "I, MylesEdward Falworth, knight, so created by the hand and by the grace ofhis Majesty King Henry IV of England, do take upon me the gage of thisbattle, and will defend with my body the chivalry of the knights ofEngland and the fairness of the ladies thereof!"

Then, after the speaker ended his proclamation and had retired to hisplace, the ceremony of claiming and redeeming the helmet, to whichall young knights were subjected upon first entering the lists, wasperformed. 

One of the heralds cried in a loud voice, "I, Gilles Hamerton, herald tothe most noble Clarencieux King-at-arms, do claim the helm of Sir MylesEdward Falworth by this reason, that he hath never yet entered joust ortourney. "

To which Myles answered, "I do acknowledge the right of that claim, andherewith proffer thee in ransom for the same this purse of one hundredmarks in gold. "

As he spoke, Gascoyne stepped forward and delivered the purse, with themoney, to the Herald. It was a more than usually considerable ransom, and had been made up by the Earl and Lord George that morning. 

"Right nobly hast thou redeemed thy helm, " said the Herald, "andhereafter be thou free to enter any jousting whatsoever, and in whateverplace. "

So, all being ended, both knights bowed to the King, and then, escortedeach by his squire, returned to his pavilion, saluted by the spectatorswith a loud clapping of hands. 

Sir James Lee met Myles in front of his tent. Coming up to the side ofthe horse, the old man laid his hand upon the saddle, looking up intothe young man's face. 

"Thou wilt not fail in this venture and bring shame upon me?" said he. 

"Nay, my dear master, " said Myles; "I will do my best. "

"I doubt it not, " said the old man; "and I believe me thou wilt come offright well. From what he did say this morning, methinks the Sieur de laMontaigne meaneth only to break three lances with thee, and will contenthimself therewith, without seeking to unhorse thee. Ne'theless, be thoubold and watchful, and if thou find that he endeavor to cast thee, dothy best to unhorse him. Remember also those things which I have toldthee ten thousand times before: hold thy toes well down and grip thestirrup hard, more especially at the moment of meeting; bend thy bodyforward, and keep thine elbow close to thy side. Bear thy lance pointone foot above thine adversary's helm until within two lengths ofmeeting, and strike thou in the very middle of his shield. So, Myles, thou mayst hold thine own, and come off with glory. "

As he ended speaking he drew back, and Gascoyne, mounting upon a stool, covered his friend's head and bascinet with the great jousting helm, making fast the leathern points that held it to the iron collar. 

As he was tying the last thong a messenger came from the Herald, sayingthat the challenger was ready, and then Myles knew the time had come, and reaching down and giving Sir James a grip of the hand, he drew onhis gauntlet, took the jousting lance that Wilkes handed him, and turnedhis horse's head towards his end of the lists. 

CHAPTER 27

As Myles took his place at the south end of the lists, he found theSieur de la Montaigne already at his station. Through the peep-hole inthe face of the huge helmet, a transverse slit known as the occularium, he could see, like a strange narrow picture, the farther end ofthe lists, the spectators upon either side moving and shifting withceaseless restlessness, and in the centre of all, his opponent, sittingwith spear point directed upward, erect, motionless as a statue of iron, the sunlight gleaming and flashing upon his polished plates of steel, and the trappings of his horse swaying and fluttering in the rushing ofthe fresh breeze. 

Upon that motionless figure his sight gradually centred with everyfaculty of mind and soul. He knew the next moment the signal would begiven that was to bring him either glory or shame from that iron statue. He ground his teeth together with stern resolve to do his best in thecoming encounter, and murmured a brief prayer in the hallow darkness ofhis huge helm. Then with a shake he settled himself more firmly in hissaddle, slowly raised his spear point until the shaft reached the exactangle, and there suffered it to rest motionless. There was a moment ofdead, tense, breathless pause, then he rather felt than saw the Marshalraise his baton. He gathered himself together, and the next moment abugle sounded loud and clear. In one blinding rush he drove his spursinto the sides of his horse, and in instant answer felt the noble steedspring forward with a bound. 

Through all the clashing of his armor reverberating in the hollow depthsof his helmet, he saw the mail-clad figure from the other end of thelists rushing towards him, looming larger and larger as they cametogether. He gripped his saddle with his knees, clutched the stirrupwith the soles of his feet, and bent his body still more forward. In theinstant of meeting, with almost the blindness of instinct, he droppedthe point of his spear against the single red flower-de-luce in themiddle of the on-coming shield. There was a thunderous crash that seemedto rack every joint, he heard the crackle of splintered wood, he feltthe momentary trembling recoil of the horse beneath him, and in the nextinstant had passed by. As he checked the onward rush of his horse at thefar end of the course, he heard faintly in the dim hollow recess of thehelm the loud shout and the clapping of hands of those who looked on, and found himself gripping with nervous intensity the butt of a brokenspear, his mouth clammy with excitement, and his heart thumping in histhroat. 

Then he realized that he had met his opponent, and had borne the meetingwell. As he turned his horse's head towards his own end of the lists, hesaw the other trotting slowly back towards his station, also holding abroken spear shaft in his hand. 

As he passed the iron figure a voice issued from the helmet, "Well done, Sir Myles, nobly done!" and his heart bounded in answer to the words ofpraise. When he had reached his own end of the lists, he flung away hisbroken spear, and Gascoyne came forward with another. 

"Oh, Myles!" he said, with sob in his voice, "it was nobly done. Neverdid I see a better ridden course in all my life. I did not believe thatthou couldst do half so well. Oh, Myles, prithee knock him out of hissaddle an thou lovest me!"

Myles, in his high-keyed nervousness, could not forbear a shorthysterical laugh at his friend's warmth of enthusiasm. He took the freshlance in his hand, and then, seeing that his opponent was walking hishorse slowly up and down at his end of the lists, did the same duringthe little time of rest before the next encounter. 

When, in answer to the command of the Marshal, he took his place asecond time, he found himself calmer and more collected than before, butevery faculty no less intensely fixed than it had been at first. Oncemore the Marshal raised his baton, once more the horn sounded, and oncemore the two rushed together with the same thunderous crash, the samesplinter of broken spears, the same momentary trembling recoil ofthe horse, and the same onward rush past one another. Once more thespectators applauded and shouted as the two knights turned their horsesand rode back towards their station. 

This time as they met midway the Sieur de la Montaigne reined in hishorse. "Sir Myles, " said his muffled voice, "I swear to thee, by myfaith, I had not thought to meet in thee such an opponent as thou dostprove thyself to be. I had thought to find in thee a raw boy, but findinstead a Paladin. Hitherto I have given thee grace as I wouldgive grace to any mere lad, and thought of nothing but to give theeopportunity to break thy lance. Now I shall do my endeavor to unhorsethee as I would an acknowledged peer in arms. Nevertheless, on accountof thy youth, I give thee this warning, so that thou mayst hold thyselfin readiness. "

"I give thee gramercy for thy courtesy, my Lord, " answered Myles, speaking in French; "and I will strive to encounter thee as best I may, and pardon me if I seem forward in so saying, but were I in thy place, my Lord, I would change me yon breast-piece and over-girth of my saddle;they are sprung in the stitches. "

"Nay, " said the Sieur de la Montaigne, laughing, "breast-piece andover-girth have carried me through more tilts than one, and shallthrough this. An thou give me a blow so true as to burst breast-pieceand over-girth, I will own myself fairly conquered by thee. " So saying, he saluted Myles with the butt of the spear he still held, and passed byto his end of the lists. 

Myles, with Gascoyne running beside him, rode across to his pavilion, and called to Edmund Wilkes to bring him a cup of spiced wine. AfterGascoyne had taken off his helmet, and as he sat wiping the perspirationfrom his face Sir James came up and took him by the hand. 

"My dear boy, " said he, gripping the hand he held, "never could I hopeto be so overjoyed in mine old age as I am this day. Thou dost bringhonor to me, for I tell thee truly thou dost ride like a knight seasonedin twenty tourneys. "

"It doth give me tenfold courage to hear thee so say, dear master, "answered Myles. "And truly, " he added, "I shall need all my couragethis bout, for the Sieur de la Montaigne telleth me that he will ride tounhorse me this time. "

"Did he indeed so say?" said Sir James. "Then belike he meaneth tostrike at thy helm. Thy best chance is to strike also at his. Doth thyhand tremble?"

"Not now, " answered Myles. 

"Then keep thy head cool and thine eye true. Set thy trust in God, andhaply thou wilt come out of this bout honorably in spite of the rawnessof thy youth. "

Just then Edmund Wilkes presented the cup of wine to Myles, who drank itoff at a draught, and thereupon Gascoyne replaced the helm and tied thethongs. 

The charge that Sir James Lee had given to Myles to strike at hisadversary's helm was a piece of advice he probably would not have givento so young a knight, excepting as a last resort. A blow perfectlydelivered upon the helm was of all others the most difficult for therecipient to recover from, but then a blow upon the helm was not onetime in fifty perfectly given. The huge cylindrical tilting helm was soconstructed in front as to slope at an angle in all directions to onepoint. That point was the centre of a cross formed by two iron bandswelded to the steel-face plates of the helm where it was weakened by theopening slit of the occularium, or peephole. In the very centre ofthis cross was a little flattened surface where the bands were rivetedtogether, and it was upon that minute point that the blow must be givento be perfect, and that stroke Myles determined to attempt. 

As he took his station Edmund Wilkes came running across from thepavilion with a lance that Sir James had chosen, and Myles, returningthe one that Gascoyne had just given him, took it in his hand. It wasof seasoned oak, somewhat thicker than the other, a tough weapon, noteasily to be broken even in such an encounter as he was like to have. Hebalanced the weapon, and found that it fitted perfectly to his grasp. As he raised the point to rest, his opponent took his station at thefarther extremity of the lists, and again there was a little space ofbreathless pause. Myles was surprised at his own coolness; every nervoustremor was gone. Before, he had been conscious of the critical multitudelooking down upon him; now it was a conflict of man to man, and such aconflict had no terrors for his young heart of iron. 

The spectators had somehow come to the knowledge that this was to bea more serious encounter than the two which had preceded it, and abreathless silence fell for the moment or two that the knights stood inplace. 

Once more he breathed a short prayer, "Holy Mary, guard me!"

Then again, for the third time, the Marshal raised his baton, and thehorn sounded, and for the third time Myles drove his spurs into hishorse's flanks. Again he saw the iron figure of his opponent rushingnearer, nearer, nearer. He centred, with a straining intensity, everyfaculty of soul, mind, and body upon one point--the cross of theoccularium, the mark he was to strike. He braced himself for thetremendous shock which he knew must meet him, and then in a flashdropped lance point straight and true. The next instant there was adeafening stunning crash--a crash like the stroke of a thunder-bolt. There was a dazzling blaze of blinding light, and a myriad sparks dancedand flickered and sparkled before his eyes. He felt his horse staggerunder him with the recoil, and hardly knowing what he did, he drovehis spurs deep into its sides with a shout. At the same moment thereresounded in his ears a crashing rattle and clatter, he knew not ofwhat, and then, as his horse recovered and sprang forward, and as thestunning bewilderment passed, he found that his helmet had beenstruck off. He heard a great shout arise from all, and thought, with asickening, bitter disappointment, that it was because he had lost. Atthe farther end of the course he turned his horse, and then his heartgave a leap and a bound as though it would burst, the blood leaped tohis cheeks tingling, and his bosom thrilled with an almost agonizingpang of triumph, of wonder, of amazement. 

There, in a tangle of his horse's harness and of embroidered trappings, the Sieur de la Montaigne lay stretched upon the ground, with his saddlenear by, and his riderless horse was trotting aimlessly about at thefarther end of the lists. 

Myles saw the two squires of the fallen knight run across to where theirmaster lay, he saw the ladies waving their kerchiefs and veils, and thecastle people swinging their hats and shouting in an ecstasy of delight. Then he rode slowly back to where the squires were now aiding the fallenknight to arise. The senior squire drew his dagger, cut the leatherpoints, and drew off the helm, disclosing the knight's face--a facewhite as death, and convulsed with rage, mortification, and bitterhumiliation. 

"I was not rightly unhorsed!" he cried, hoarsely and with livid lips, to the Marshal and his attendants, who had ridden up. "I unhelmed himfairly enough, but my over-girth and breast-strap burst, and my saddleslipped. I was not unhorsed, I say, and I lay claim that I unhelmedhim. "

"Sir, " said the Marshal calmly, and speaking in French, "surely thouknowest that the loss of helmet does not decide an encounter. I need notremind thee, my Lord, that it was so awarded by John of Gaunt, Duke ofLancaster, when in the jousting match between Reynand de Roye and Johnde Holland, the Sieur Reynand left every point of his helm loosened, sothat the helm was beaten off at each stroke. If he then was justified indoing so of his own choice, and wilfully suffering to be unhelmed, howthen can this knight be accused of evil who suffered it by chance?"

"Nevertheless, " said the Sieur de la Montaigne, in the same hoarse, breathless voice, "I do affirm, and will make my affirmation goodwith my body, that I fell only by the breaking of my girth. Who saysotherwise lies!"

"It is the truth he speaketh, " said Myles. "I myself saw the stitcheswere some little what burst, and warned him thereof before we ran thiscourse. 

"Sir, " said the Marshal to the Sieur de la Montaigne, "how can you nowcomplain of that thing which your own enemy advised you of and warnedyou against? Was it not right knightly for him so to do?"

The Sieur de la Montaigne stood quite still for a little while, leaningon the shoulder of his chief squire, looking moodily upon the ground;then, without making answer, he turned, and walked slowly away to hispavilion, still leaning on his squire's shoulder, whilst the otherattendant followed behind, bearing his shield and helmet. 

Gascoyne had picked up Myles's fallen helmet as the Sieur de laMontaigne moved away, and Lord George and Sir James Lee came walkingacross the lists to where Myles still sat. Then, the one taking hishorse by the bridle-rein, and the other walking beside the saddle, theyled him before the raised dais where the King sat. 

Even the Comte de Vermoise, mortified and amazed as he must have beenat the overthrow of his best knight, joined in the praise andcongratulation that poured upon the young conqueror. Myles, his heartswelling with a passion of triumphant delight, looked up and met thegaze of Lady Alice fixed intently upon him. A red spot of excitementstill burned in either cheek, and it flamed to a rosier red as he bowedhis head to her before turning away. 

Gascoyne had just removed Myles's breastplate and gorget, when Sir JamesLee burst into the pavilion. All his grim coldness was gone, and heflung his arms around the young man's neck, hugging him heartily, andkissing him upon either cheek. 

Ere he let him go, "Mine own dear boy, " he said, holding him off atarm's-length, and winking his one keen eye rapidly, as though to winkaway a dampness of which he was ashamed--"mine own dear boy, I do tellthee truly this is as sweet to me as though thou wert mine own son;sweeter to me than when I first broke mine own lance in triumph, andfelt myself to be a right knight. "

"Sir, " answered Myles, "what thou sayest doth rejoice my very heart. Ne'theless, it is but just to say that both his breast-piece andover-girth were burst in the stitches before he ran his course, for so Isaw with mine own eyes. "

"Burst in the stitches!" snorted Sir James. "Thinkest thou he did notknow in what condition was his horse's gearing? I tell thee he went downbecause thou didst strike fair and true, and he did not so strike thee. Had he been Guy of Warwick he had gone down all the same under such astroke and in such case. "

CHAPTER 28

It was not until more than three weeks after the King had left DevlenCastle that Lord George and his company of knights and archers wereready for the expedition to France. Two weeks of that time Myles spentat Crosbey-Dale with his father and mother. It was the first time thathe had seen them since, four years ago, he had quitted the low, narrow, white-walled farmhouse for the castle of the great Earl of Mackworth. Hehad never appreciated before how low and narrow and poor the farm-housewas. Now, with his eyes trained to the bigness of Devlen Castle, he looked around him with wonder and pity at his father's humblesurroundings. He realized as he never else could have realized how greatwas the fall in fortune that had cast the house of Falworth down fromits rightful station to such a level as that upon which it now rested. And at the same time that he thus recognized how poor was their lot, howdependent upon the charity of others, he also recognized how generouswas the friendship of Prior Edward, who perilled his own safety sogreatly in affording the family of the attainted Lord an asylum in itsbitter hour of need and peril. 

Myles paid many visits to the gentle old priest during those two weeks'visit, and had many long and serious talks with him. One warm brightafternoon, as he and the old man walked together in the priory garden, after a game or two of draughts, the young knight talked more freely andopenly of his plans, his hopes, his ambitions, than perhaps he hadever done. He told the old man all that the Earl had disclosed to himconcerning the fallen fortunes of his father's house, and of how allwho knew those circumstances looked to him to set the family in its oldplace once more. Prior Edward added many things to those which Mylesalready knew--things of which the Earl either did not know, or did notchoose to speak. He told the young man, among other matters, the reasonof the bitter and lasting enmity that the King felt for the blindnobleman: that Lord Falworth had been one of King Richard's council intimes past; that it was not a little owing to him that King Henry, whenEarl of Derby, had been banished from England, and that though hewas then living in the retirement of private life, he bitterly andsteadfastly opposed King Richard's abdication. He told Myles that at thetime when Sir John Dale found shelter at Falworth Castle, vengeance wasready to fall upon his father at any moment, and it needed only such apretext as that of sheltering so prominent a conspirator as Sir John tocomplete his ruin. 

Myles, as he listened intently, could not but confess in his own mindthat the King had many rational, perhaps just, grounds for grievanceagainst such an ardent opponent as the blind Lord had shown himself tobe. "But, sir, " said he, after a little space of silence, when PriorEdward had ended, "to hold enmity and to breed treason are verydifferent matters. Haply my father was Bolingbroke's enemy, but, sure, thou dost not believe he is justly and rightfully tainted with treason?"

"Nay, " answered the priest, "how canst thou ask me such a thing? Did Ibelieve thy father a traitor, thinkest thou I would thus tell his sonthereof? Nay, Myles, I do know thy father well, and have known him formany years, and this of him, that few men are so honorable in heart andsoul as he. But I have told thee all these things to show that the Kingis not without some reason to be thy father's unfriend. Neither, haply, is the Earl of Alban without cause of enmity against him. So thou, uponthy part, shouldst not feel bitter rancor against the King for what hathhapped to thy house, nor even against William Brookhurst--I mean theEarl of Alban--for, I tell thee, the worst of our enemies and the worstof men believe themselves always to have right and justice upon theirside, even when they most wish evil to others. "

So spoke the gentle old priest, who looked from his peaceful haven withdreamy eyes upon the sweat and tussle of the world's battle. Had heinstead been in the thick of the fight, it might have been harder forhim to believe that his enemies ever had right upon their side. 

"But tell me this, " said Myles, presently, "dost thou, then, think thatI do evil in seeking to do a battle of life or death with this wickedEarl of Alban, who hath so ruined my father in body and fortune?"

"Nay, " said Prior Edward, thoughtfully, "I say not that thou doest evil. War and bloodshed seem hard and cruel matters to me; but God hath giventhat they be in the world, and may He forbid that such a poor worm as Ishould say that they be all wrong and evil. Meseems even an evil thingis sometimes passing good when rightfully used. "

Myles did not fully understand what the old man meant, but this much hegathered, that his spiritual father did not think ill of his fightingthe Earl of Alban for his temporal father's sake. 

So Myles went to France in Lord George's company, a soldier of fortune, as his Captain was. He was there for only six months, but those sixmonths wrought a great change in his life. In the fierce factionalbattles that raged around the walls of Paris; in the evil life whichhe saw at the Burgundian court in Paris itself after the truce--a courtbrilliant and wicked, witty and cruel--the wonderful liquor of youth hadevaporated rapidly, and his character had crystallized as rapidly intothe hardness of manhood. The warfare, the blood, the evil pleasureswhich he had seen had been a fiery, crucible test to his soul, and Ilove my hero that he should have come forth from it so well. He was nolonger the innocent Sir Galahad who had walked in pure white up theLong Hall to be knighted by the King, but his soul was of that grim, sterling, rugged sort that looked out calmly from his gray eyes upon thewickedness and debauchery around him, and loved it not. 

Then one day a courier came, bringing a packet. It was a letter from theEarl, bidding Myles return straightway to England and to Mackworth Houseupon the Strand, nigh to London, without delay, and Myles knew that histime had come. 

It was a bright day in April when he and Gascoyne rode clattering outthrough Temple Bar, leaving behind them quaint old London town, itsblank stone wall, its crooked, dirty streets, its high-gabled woodenhouses, over which rose the sharp spire of St. Paul's, towering highinto the golden air. Before them stretched the straight, broad highwayof the Strand, on one side the great houses and palaces of princelypriests and powerful nobles; on the other the Covent Garden, (or theConvent Garden, as it was then called), and the rolling country, wheregreat stone windmills swung their slow-moving arms in the damp, softApril breeze, and away in the distance the Scottish Palace, the WhiteHall, and Westminster. 

It was the first time that Myles had seen famous London town. In thatdim and distant time of his boyhood, six months before, he wouldhave been wild with delight and enthusiasm. Now he jogged along withGascoyne, gazing about him with calm interest at open shops and boothsand tall, gabled houses; at the busy throng of merchants and craftsmen, jostling and elbowing one another; at townsfolk--men and dames--pickingtheir way along the muddy kennel of a sidewalk. He had seen so much ofthe world that he had lost somewhat of interest in new things. So hedid not care to tarry, but rode, with a mind heavy with graver matters, through the streets and out through the Temple Bar direct for MackworthHouse, near the Savoy Palace. 

It was with a great deal of interest that Myles and his patron regardedone another when they met for the first time after that half-year whichthe young soldier had spent in France. To Myles it seemed somehow verystrange that his Lordship's familiar face and figure should look soexactly the same. To Lord Mackworth, perhaps, it seemed even morestrange that six short months should have wrought so great a change inthe young man. The rugged exposure in camp and field during the hardwinter that had passed had roughened the smooth bloom of his boyishcomplexion and bronzed his fair skin almost as much as a midsummer's suncould have done. His beard and mustache had grown again, (now heavierand more mannish from having been shaved), and the white seam of a scarover the right temple gave, if not a stern, at least a determined lookto the strong, square-jawed young face. So the two stood for a whileregarding one another. Myles was the first to break the silence. 

"My Lord, " said he, "thou didst send for me to come back to England;behold, here am I. "

"When didst thou land, Sir Myles?" said the Earl. 

"I and my squire landed at Dover upon Tuesday last, " answered the youngman. 

The Earl of Mackworth stroked his beard softly. "Thou art marvellouschanged, " said he. "I would not have thought it possible. "

Myles smiled somewhat grimly. "I have seen such things, my Lord, inFrance and in Paris, " said he, quietly, "as, mayhap, may make a lad aman before his time. "

"From which I gather, " said the Earl, "that many adventures havebefallen thee. Methought thou wouldst find troublesome times in theDauphin's camp, else I would not have sent thee to France. "

A little space of silence followed, during which the Earl sat musingly, half absently, regarding the tall, erect, powerful young figure standingbefore him, awaiting his pleasure in motionless, patient, almost doggedsilence. The strong, sinewy hands were clasped and rested upon the longheavy sword, around the scabbard of which the belt was loosely wrapped, and the plates of mail caught and reflected in flashing, broken pieces, the bright sunlight from the window behind. 

"Sir Myles, " said the Earl, suddenly, breaking the silence at last, "dost thou know why I sent for thee hither?"

"Aye, " said Myles, calmly, "how can I else? Thou wouldst not have calledme from Paris but for one thing. Methinks thou hast sent for me to fightthe Earl of Alban, and lo! I am here. "

"Thou speakest very boldly, " said the Earl. "I do hope that thy deeds beas bold as thy words. "

"That, " said Myles, "thou must ask other men. Methinks no one may justlycall me coward. "

"By my troth!" said the Earl, smiling, "looking upon thee--limbs andgirth, bone and sinew--I would not like to be the he that would dareaccuse thee of such a thing. As for thy surmise, I may tell thee plainthat thou art right, and that it was to fight the Earl of Alban I sentfor thee hither. The time is now nearly ripe, and I will straightwaysend for thy father to come to London. Meantime it would not be safeeither for thee or for me to keep thee in my service. I have spoken tohis Highness the Prince of Wales, who, with other of the Princes, isupon our side in this quarrel. He hath promised to take thee into hisservice until the fitting time comes to bring thee and thine enemytogether, and to-morrow I shall take thee to Scotland Yard, where hisHighness is now lodging. "

As the Earl ended his speech, Myles bowed, but did not speak. The Earlwaited for a little while, as though to give him the opportunity toanswer. 

"Well, sirrah, " said he at last, with a shade of impatience, "hast thounaught to say? Meseems thou takest all this with marvellous coolness. "

"Have I then my Lord's permission to speak my mind?"

"Aye, " said the Earl, "say thy say. "

"Sir, " said Myles, "I have thought and pondered this matter much whileabroad, and would now ask thee a plain question in all honest an I ha'thy leave. "

The Earl nodded his head. 

"Sir, am I not right in believing that thou hast certain weightypurposes and aims of thine own to gain an I win this battle against theEarl of Alban?"

"Has my brother George been telling thee aught to such a purpose?" saidthe Earl, after a moment or two of silence. 

Myles did not answer. 

"No matter, " added Lord Mackworth. "I will not ask thee who told theesuch a thing. As for thy question--well, sin thou ask it frankly, I willbe frank with thee. Yea, I have certain ends to gain in having the Earlof Alban overthrown. "

Myles bowed. "Sir, " said he, "haply thine ends are as much beyond aughtthat I can comprehend as though I were a little child; only this I know, that they must be very great. Thou knowest well that in any case I wouldfight me this battle for my father's sake and for the honor of my house;nevertheless, in return for all that it will so greatly advantage thee, wilt thou not grant me a boon in return should I overcome mine enemy?"

"What is thy boon, Sir Myles?"

"That thou wilt grant me thy favor to seek the Lady Alice de Mowbray formy wife. "

The Earl of Mackworth started up from his seat. "Sir Myles Falworth"--hebegan, violently, and then stopped short, drawing his bushy eyebrowstogether into a frown stern, if not sinister. 

Myles withstood his look calmly and impassively, and presently the Earlturned on his heel, and strode to the open window. A long time passed insilence while he stood there, gazing out of the window into the gardenbeyond with his back to the young man. 

Suddenly he swung around again. "Sir Myles, " said he, "the family ofFalworth is as good as any in Derbyshire. Just now it is poor and fallenin estate, but if it is again placed in credit and honor, thou, who artthe son of the house, shalt have thy suit weighed with as much respectand consideration as though thou wert my peer in all things, Such is myanswer. Art thou satisfied?"

"I could ask no more, " answered Myles. 

CHAPTER 29

That night Myles lodged at Mackworth House. The next morning, as soonas he had broken his fast, which he did in the privacy of his ownapartments, the Earl bade him and Gascoyne to make ready for the barge, which was then waiting at the river stairs to take them to ScotlandYard. 

The Earl himself accompanied them, and as the heavy snub-nosed boat, rowed by the six oarsmen in Mackworth livery, slid slowly and heavilyup against the stream, the Earl, leaning back in his cushioned seat, pointed out the various inns of the great priests or nobles; palatialtown residences standing mostly a little distance back from the waterbehind terraced high-walled gardens and lawns. Yon was the Bishop ofExeter's Close; yon was the Bishop of Bath's; that was York House; andthat Chester Inn. So passing by gardens and lawns and palaces, they cameat last to Scotland Yard stairs, a broad flight of marble steps that ledupward to a stone platform above, upon which opened the gate-way of thegarden beyond. 

The Scotland Yard of Myles Falworth's day was one of the morepretentious and commodious of the palaces of the Strand. It took itsname from having been from ancient times the London inn which thetributary Kings of Scotland occupied when on their periodical visits ofhomage to England. Now, during this time of Scotland's independence, thePrince of Wales had taken up his lodging in the old palace, and made itnoisy with the mad, boisterous mirth of his court. 

As the watermen drew the barge close to the landing-place of the stairs, the Earl stepped ashore, and followed by Myles and Gascoyne, ascendedto the broad gate-way of the river wall of the garden. Three men-at-armswho lounged upon a bench under the shade of the little pent roof of aguard-house beside the wall, arose and saluted as the well-known figureof the Earl mounted the steps. The Earl nodded a cool answer, andpassing unchallenged through the gate, led the way up a pleached walk, beyond which, as Myles could see, there stretched a little grassy lawnand a stone-paved terrace. As the Earl and the two young men approachedthe end of the walk, they were met by the sound of voices and laughter, the clinking of glasses and the rattle of dishes. Turning a corner, they came suddenly upon a party of young gentlemen, who sat at a latebreakfast under the shade of a wide-spreading lime-tree. They hadevidently just left the tilt-yard, for two of the guests--sturdy, thick-set young knights--yet wore a part of their tilting armor. 

Behind the merry scene stood the gray, hoary old palace, a steep flightof stone steps, and a long, open, stone-arched gallery, which evidentlyled to the kitchen beyond, for along it hurried serving-men, running upand down the tall flight of steps, and bearing trays and dishes and cupsand flagons. It was a merry sight and a pleasant one. The day was warmand balmy, and the yellow sunlight fell in waving uncertain patches oflight, dappling the table-cloth, and twinkling and sparkling upon thedishes, cups, and flagons. 

At the head of the table sat a young man some three or four yearsolder than Myles, dressed in a full suit of rich blue brocaded velvet, embroidered with gold-thread and trimmed with black fur. His face, whichwas turned towards them as they mounted from the lawn to the littlestone-flagged terrace, was frank and open; the cheeks smooth and fair;the eyes dark and blue. He was tall and rather slight, and wore histhick yellow hair hanging to his shoulders, where it was cut squareacross, after the manner of the times. Myles did not need to be toldthat it was the Prince of Wales. 

"Ho, Gaffer Fox!" he cried, as soon as he caught sight of the Earl ofMackworth, "what wind blows thee hither among us wild mallard drakes?I warrant it is not for love of us, but only to fill thine own larderafter the manner of Sir Fox among the drakes. Whom hast thou with thee?Some gosling thou art about to pluck?"

A sudden hush fell upon the company, and all faces were turned towardsthe visitors. 

The Earl bowed with a soft smile. "Your Highness, " said he, smoothly, "is pleased to be pleasant. Sir, I bring you the young knight of whom Ispoke to you some time since--Sir Myles Falworth. You may be pleased tobring to mind that you so condescended as to promise to take him intoyour train until the fitting time arrived for that certain matter ofwhich we spoke. "

"Sir Myles, " said the Prince of Wales, with a frank, pleasant smile, "Ihave heard great reports of thy skill and prowess in France, both fromMackworth and from others. It will pleasure me greatly to have thee inmy household; more especially, " he added, "as it will get thee, callowas thou art, out of my Lord Fox's clutches. Our faction cannot dowithout the Earl of Mackworth's cunning wits, Sir Myles; ne'theless Iwould not like to put all my fate and fortune into his hands withoutbond. I hope that thou dost not rest thy fortunes entirely upon his aidand countenance. "

All who were present felt the discomfort of the Prince's speech, It wasevident that one of his mad, wild humors was upon him. In another casethe hare-brained young courtiers around might have taken their cuefrom him, but the Earl of Mackworth was no subject for their gibesand witticisms. A constrained silence fell, in which the Earl alonemaintained a perfect ease of manner. 

Myles bowed to hide his own embarrassment. "Your Highness, " said he, evasively, "I rest my fortune, first of all, upon God, His strength andjustice. "

"Thou wilt find safer dependence there than upon the Lord of Mackworth, "said the Prince, dryly. "But come, " he added, with a sudden change ofvoice and manner, "these be jests that border too closely upon bitterearnest for a merry breakfast. It is ill to idle with edged tools. Wiltthou not stay and break thy fast with us, my Lord?"

"Pardon me, your Highness, " said the Earl, bowing, and smiling the samesmooth smile his lips had worn from the first--such a smile as Myleshad never thought to have seen upon his haughty face; "I crave your goodleave to decline. I must return home presently, for even now, haply, your uncle, his Grace of Winchester, is awaiting my coming upon thebusiness you wot of. Haply your Highness will find more joyance in alusty young knight like Sir Myles than in an old fox like myself. So Ileave him with you, in your good care. "

Such was Myles's introduction to the wild young madcap Prince of Wales, afterwards the famous Henry V, the conqueror of France. 

For a month or more thereafter he was a member of the princelyhousehold, and, after a little while, a trusted and honored member. Perhaps it was the calm sturdy strength, the courage of the youngknight, that first appealed to the Prince's royal heart; perhapsafterwards it was the more sterling qualities that underlaid thatcourage that drew him to the young man; certain it was that in two weeksMyles was the acknowledged favorite. He made no protestation of virtue;he always accompanied the Prince in those madcap ventures to London, where he beheld all manner of wild revelry; he never held himself alooffrom his gay comrades, but he looked upon all their mad sports with thesame calm gaze that had carried him without taint through the courts ofBurgundy and the Dauphin. The gay, roistering young lords and gentlemendubbed him Saint Myles, and jested with him about hair-cloth shirtsand flagellations, but witticism and jest alike failed to move Myles'spatient virtue; he went his own gait in the habits of his life, and inso going knew as little as the others of the mad court that the Prince'sgrowing liking for him was, perhaps, more than all else, on account ofthat very temperance. 

Then, by-and-by, the Prince began to confide in him as he did in none ofthe others. There was no great love betwixt the King and his son; it hashappened very often that the Kings of England have felt bitter jealousytowards the heirs-apparent as they have grown in power, and such was thecase with the great King Henry IV. The Prince often spoke to Myles ofthe clashing and jarring between himself and his father, and the thoughtbegan to come to Myles's mind by degrees that maybe the King's jealousyaccounted not a little for the Prince's reckless intemperance. 

Once, for instance, as the Prince leaned upon, his shoulder waiting, whilst the attendants made ready the barge that was to carry them downthe river to the city, he said, abruptly: "Myles, what thinkest thou ofus all? Doth not thy honesty hold us in contempt?"

"Nay, Highness, " said Myles. "How could I hold contempt?"

"Marry, " said the Prince, "I myself hold contempt, and am not as honesta man as thou. But, prithee, have patience with me, Myles. Some day, perhaps, I too will live a clean life. Now, an I live seriously, theKing will be more jealous of me than ever, and that is not a little. Maybe I live thus so that he may not know what I really am in soothlyearnest. "

The Prince also often talked to Myles concerning his own affairs; ofthe battle he was to fight for his father's honor, of how the Earl ofMackworth had plotted and planned to bring him face to face with theEarl of Alban. He spoke to Myles more than once of the many greatchanges of state and party that hung upon the downfall of the enemyof the house of Falworth, and showed him how no hand but his own couldstrike that enemy down; if he fell, it must be through the son ofFalworth. Sometimes it seemed to Myles as though he and his blind fatherwere the centre of a great web of plot and intrigue, stretching far andwide, that included not only the greatest houses of England, but royaltyand the political balance of the country as well, and even before thegreatness of it all he did not flinch. 

Then, at last, came the beginning of the time for action. It was in theearly part of May, and Myles had been a member of the Prince's householdfor a little over a month. One morning he was ordered to attend thePrince in his privy cabinet, and, obeying the summons, he found thePrince, his younger brother, the Duke of Bedford, and his uncle, theBishop of Winchester, seated at a table, where they had just beenrefreshing themselves with a flagon of wine and a plate of wafers. 

"My poor Myles, " said the Prince, smiling, as the young knight bowed tothe three, and then stood erect, as though on duty. "It shames my heart, brother--and thou, uncle--it shames my heart to be one privy to thisthing which we are set upon to do. Here be we, the greatest Lords ofEngland, making a cat's-paw of this lad--for he is only yet a boy--andof his blind father, for to achieve our ends against Alban's faction. Itseemeth not over-honorable to my mind. "

"Pardon me, your Highness, " said Myles, blushing to the roots of hishair; "but, an I may be so bold as to speak, I reck nothing of what youraims may be; I only look to restoring my father's honor and the honor ofour house. "

"Truly, " said the Prince, smiling, "that is the only matter that makethme willing to lay my hands to this business. Dost thou know why I havesent for thee? It is because this day thou must challenge the Duke ofAlban before the King. The Earl of Mackworth has laid all his plans andthe time is now ripe. Knowest that thy father is at Mackworth House?"

"Nay, " said Myles; "I knew it not. "

"He hath been there for nearly two days, " said the Prince. "Just now theEarl hath sent for us to come first to Mackworth House. Then to goto the palace, for he hath gained audience with the King, and hath soarranged it that the Earl of Alban is to be there as well. We all gostraightway; so get thyself ready as soon as may be. "

Perhaps Myles's heart began beating more quickly within him at thenearness of that great happening which he had looked forward to for solong. If it did, he made no sign of his emotion, but only asked, "Howmust I clothe myself, your Highness?"

"Wear thy light armor, " said the Prince, "but no helmet, a jupponbearing the arms and colors that the Earl gave thee when thou wertknighted, and carry thy right-hand gauntlet under thy belt for thychallenge. Now make haste, for time passes. "

CHAPTER 30

Adjoining the ancient palace of Westminster, where King Henry IV wasthen holding his court, was a no less ancient stone building known asthe Painted Room. Upon the walls were depicted a series of battle scenesin long bands reaching around this room, one above another. Some ofthese pictures had been painted as far back as the days of Henry III, others had been added since his time. They chronicled the various warsof the King of England, and it was from them that the little hall tookits name of the Painted Room. 

This ancient wing, or offshoot, of the main buildings was more retiredfrom the hurly-burly of outer life than other parts of the palace, andthither the sick King was very fond of retiring from the business ofState, which ever rested more and more heavily upon his shoulders, sometimes to squander in quietness a spare hour or two; sometimes toidle over a favorite book; sometimes to play a game of chess with afavorite courtier. The cold painted walls had been hung with tapestry, and its floor had been spread with arras carpet. These and the cushionedcouches and chairs that stood around gave its gloomy antiquity an air ofcomfort--an air even of luxury. 

It was to this favorite retreat of the King's that Myles was broughtthat morning with his father to face the great Earl of Alban. 

In the anteroom the little party of Princes and nobles who escortedthe father and son had held a brief consultation. Then the others hadentered, leaving Myles and his blind father in charge of Lord Lumley andtwo knights of the court, Sir Reginald Hallowell and Sir Piers Averell. 

Myles, as he stood patiently waiting, with his father's arm resting inhis, could hear the muffled sound of voices from beyond the arras. Amongothers, he recognized the well-remembered tones of the King. He fanciedthat he heard his own name mentioned more than once, and then the soundof talking ceased. The next moment the arras was drawn aside, and theEarl entered the antechamber again. 

"All is ready, cousin, " said he to Lord Falworth, in a suppressed voice. "Essex hath done as he promised, and Alban is within there now. " Then, turning to Myles, speaking in the same low voice, and betraying moreagitation than Myles had thought it possible for him to show, "SirMyles, " said he, "remember all that hath been told thee. Thou knowestwhat thou hast to say and do. " Then, without further word, he took LordFalworth by the hand, and led the way into the room, Myles followingclose behind. 

The King half sat, half inclined, upon a cushioned seat close to whichstood the two Princes. There were some dozen others present, mostlypriests and noblemen of high quality who clustered in a group at alittle distance. Myles knew most of them at a glance having seen themcome and go at Scotland Yard. But among them all, he singled out onlyone--the Earl of Alban. He had not seen that face since he was a littlechild eight years old, but now that he beheld it again, it fittedinstantly and vividly into the remembrance of the time of that terriblescene at Falworth Castle, when he had beheld the then Lord Brookhurststanding above the dead body of Sir John Dale, with the bloody maceclinched in his hand. There were the same heavy black brows, sinisterand gloomy, the same hooked nose, the same swarthy cheeks. He evenremembered the deep dent in the forehead, where the brows met inperpetual frown. So it was that upon that face his looks centred andrested. 

The Earl of Alban had just been speaking to some Lord who stood besidehim, and a half-smile still hung about the corners of his lips. Atfirst, as he looked up at the entrance of the newcomers, there was noother expression; then suddenly came a flash of recognition, a look ofwide-eyed amazement; then the blood left the cheeks and the lips, andthe face grew very pale. No doubt he saw at a flash that some greatdanger overhung him in this sudden coming of his old enemy, for he wasas keen and as astute a politician as he was a famous warrior. At leasthe knew that the eyes of most of those present were fixed keenly andsearchingly upon him. After the first start of recognition, his lefthand, hanging at his side, gradually closed around the scabbard of hissword, clutching it in a vice-like grip. 

Meantime the Earl of Mackworth had led the blind Lord to the King, whereboth kneeled. 

"Why, how now, my Lord?" said the King. "Methought it was our youngPaladin whom we knighted at Devlen that was to be presented, and herethou bringest this old man. A blind man, ha! What is the meaning ofthis?"

"Majesty, " said the Earl, "I have taken this chance to bring to thymerciful consideration one who hath most wofully and unjustly sufferedfrom thine anger. Yonder stands the young knight of whom we spake; thisis his father, Gilbert Reginald, whilom Lord Falworth, who craves mercyand justice at thy hands. "

"Falworth, " said the King, placing his hand to his head. "The name isnot strange to mine ears, but I cannot place it. My head hath troubledme sorely to-day, and I cannot remember. "

At this point the Earl of Alban came quietly and deliberately forward. "Sire, " said he, "pardon my boldness in so venturing to address you, buthaply I may bring the name more clearly to your mind. He is, as my Lordof Mackworth said, the whilom Baron Falworth, the outlawed, attaintedtraitor; so declared for the harboring of Sir John Dale, who was one ofthose who sought your Majesty's life at Windsor eleven years ago. Sire, he is mine enemy as well, and is brought hither by my proclaimedenemies. Should aught occur to my harm, I rest my case in your gracioushands. "

The dusty red flamed into the King's pale, sickly face in answer, and herose hastily from his seat. 

"Aye, " said he, "I remember me now--I remember me the man and the name!Who hath dared bring him here before us?" All the dull heaviness ofsickness was gone for the moment, and King Henry was the King Henry often years ago as he rolled his eyes balefully from one to another of thecourtiers who stood silently around. 

The Earl of Mackworth shot a covert glance at the Bishop of Winchester, who came forward in answer. 

"Your Majesty, " said he, "here am I, your brother, who beseech you asyour brother not to judge over-hastily in this matter. It is truethat this man has been adjudged a traitor, but he has been so adjudgedwithout a hearing. I beseech thee to listen patiently to whatsoever hemay have to say. "

The King fixed the Bishop with a look of the bitterest, deepest anger, holding his nether lip tightly under his teeth--a trick he had whenstrongly moved with anger--and the Bishop's eyes fell under the look. Meantime the Earl of Alban stood calm and silent. No doubt he saw thatthe King's anger was likely to befriend him more than any words that hehimself could say, and he perilled his case with no more speech whichcould only prove superfluous. 

At last the King turned a face red and swollen with anger to the blindLord, who still kneeled before him. 

"What hast thou to say?" he said, in a deep and sullen voice. 

"Gracious and merciful Lord, " said the blind nobleman, "I come to thee, the fountain-head of justice, craving justice. Sire, I do now and heredeny my treason, which denial I could not before make, being blind andhelpless, and mine enemies strong and malignant. But now, sire, Heavenhath sent me help, and therefore I do acclaim before thee that myaccuser, William Bushy Brookhurst, Earl of Alban, is a foul and anattainted liar in all that he hath accused me of. To uphold whichallegation, and to defend me, who am blinded by his unknightliness, I dooffer a champion to prove all that I say with his body in combat. "

The Earl of Mackworth darted a quick look at Myles, who came forward themoment his father had ended, and kneeled beside him. The King offered nointerruption to his speech, but he bent a look heavy with anger upon theyoung man. 

"My gracious Lord and King, " said Myles, "I, the son of the accused, dooffer myself as his champion in this cause, beseeching thee of thy graceleave to prove the truth of the same, being a belted knight by thy graceand of thy creation and the peer of any who weareth spurs. " Thereupon, rising, he drew his iron gauntlet from his girdle, and flung it clashingdown upon the floor, and with his heart swelling within him with angerand indignation and pity of his blind father, he cried, in a loudvoice, "I do accuse thee, William of Alban, that thou liest vilely asaforesaid, and here cast down my gage, daring thee to take it up. "

The Earl of Alban made as though he would accept the challenge, but theKing stopped him hastily. 

"Stop!" he cried, harshly. "Touch not the gage! Let it lie--let it lie, I tell thee, my Lord! Now then, " said he, turning to the others, "tellme what meaneth all this coil? Who brought this man hither?"

He looked from one to another of those who stood silently around, but noone answered. 

"I see, " said he, "ye all have had to do with it. It is as my Lord ofAlban sayeth; ye are his enemies, and ye are my enemies as well. In thisI do smell a vile plot. I cannot undo what I have done, and since I havemade this young man a knight with mine own hands, I cannot deny thathe is fit to challenge my Lord of Alban. Ne'theless, the High Court ofChivalry shall adjudge this case. Meantime, " said he, turning to theEarl Marshal, who was present, "I give thee this attainted Lord incharge. Convey him presently to the Tower, and let him abide ourpleasure there. Also, thou mayst take up yon gage, and keep it till itis redeemed according to our pleasure. "

He stood thoughtfully for a moment, and then raising his eyes, lookedfixedly at the Earl of Mackworth. "I know, " he said, "that I be a rightsick man, and there be some who are already plotting to overthrow thosewho have held up my hand with their own strength for all these years. "Then speaking more directly: "My Lord Earl of Mackworth, I see your handin this before all others. It was thou who so played upon me as to getme to knight this young man, and thus make him worthy to challenge myLord of Alban. It was thy doings that brought him here to-day, backedby mine own sons and my brother and by these noblemen. " Then turningsuddenly to the Earl of Alban: "Come, my Lord, " said he; "I am awearywith all this coil. Lend me thine arm to leave this place. " So itwas that he left the room, leaning upon the Earl of Alban's arm, andfollowed by the two or three of the Alban faction who were present. 

"Your Royal Highness, " said the Earl Marshal, "I must e'en do the King'sbidding, and take this gentleman into arrest. "

"Do thy duty, " said the Prince. "We knew it must come to this. Meanwhilehe is to be a prisoner of honor, and see that he be well lodged andcared for. Thou wilt find my barge at the stairs to convey him down theriver, and I myself will come this afternoon to visit him. "

CHAPTER 31

It was not until the end of July that the High Court of Chivalryrendered its judgment. There were many unusual points in the case, someof which bore heavily against Lord Falworth, some of which were inhis favor. He was very ably defended by the lawyers whom the Earlof Mackworth had engaged upon his side; nevertheless, under ordinarycircumstances, the judgment, no doubt, would have been quickly renderedagainst him. As it was, however, the circumstances were not ordinary, and it was rendered in his favor. The Court besought the King to grantthe ordeal by battle, to accept Lord Falworth's champion, and to appointthe time and place for the meeting. 

The decision must have been a most bitter, galling one for the sickKing. He was naturally of a generous, forgiving nature, but LordFalworth in his time of power had been an unrelenting and fearlessopponent, and his Majesty who, like most generous men, could onoccasions be very cruel and intolerant, had never forgiven him. He hadsteadily thrown the might of his influence with the Court against theFalworths' case, but that influence was no longer all-powerful for goodor ill. He was failing in health, and it could only be a matter of a fewyears, probably of only a few months, before his successor sat upon thethrone. 

Upon the other hand, the Prince of Wales's faction had been steadily, and of late rapidly, increasing in power, and in the Earl of Mackworth, its virtual head, it possessed one of the most capable politicians andastute intriguers in Europe. So, as the outcome of all the plotting andcounter-plotting, scheming and counter-scheming, the case was decided inLord Falworth's favor. The knowledge of the ultimate result was knownto the Prince of Wales's circle almost a week before it was finallydecided. Indeed, the Earl of Mackworth had made pretty sure of thatresult before he had summoned Myles from France, but upon the King itfell like the shock of a sudden blow. All that day he kept himself inmoody seclusion, nursing his silent, bitter anger, and making onlyone outbreak, in which he swore by the Holy Rood that should Myles beworsted in the encounter, he would not take the battle into his ownhands, but would suffer him to be slain, and furthermore, that shouldthe Earl show signs of failing at any time, he would do all in his powerto save him. One of the courtiers who had been present, and who wassecretly inclined to the Prince of Wales's faction, had repeated thisspeech at Scotland Yard, and the Prince had said, "That meaneth, Myles, that thou must either win or die. "

"And so I would have it to be, my Lord, " Myles had answered. 

It was not until nearly a fortnight after the decision of the Court ofChivalry had been rendered that the King announced the time and placeof battle--the time to be the 3d of September, the place to beSmithfield--a spot much used for such encounters. 

During the three weeks or so that intervened between this announcementand the time of combat, Myles went nearly every day to visit the listsin course of erection. Often the Prince went with him; always two orthree of his friends of the Scotland Yard court accompanied him. 

The lists were laid out in the usual form. The true or principal list inwhich the combatants were to engage was sixty yards long and forty yardswide; this rectangular space being surrounded by a fence about six feethigh, painted vermilion. Between the fence and the stand where the Kingand the spectators sat, and surrounding the central space, was theouter or false list, also surrounded by a fence. In the false list theConstable and the Marshal and their followers and attendants were to bestationed at the time of battle to preserve the general peace during thecontest between the principals. 

One day as Myles, his princely patron, and his friends entered thebarriers, leaving their horses at the outer gate, they met the Earl ofAlban and his followers, who were just quitting the lists, which theyalso were in the habit of visiting nearly every day. As the two partiespassed one another, the Earl spoke to a gentleman walking beside him andin a voice loud enough to be clearly overheard by the others: "Yonderis the young sprig of Falworth, " said he. "His father, my Lords, isnot content with forfeiting his own life for his treason, but must, forsooth, throw away his son's also. I have faced and overthrown many abetter knight than that boy. "

Myles heard the speech, and knew that it was intended for him to hearit; but he paid no attention to it, walking composedly at the Prince'sside. The Prince had also overheard it, and after a little space ofsilence asked, "Dost thou not feel anxiety for thy coming battle, Myles?"

"Yea, my Lord, " said Myles; "sometimes I do feel anxiety, but not suchas my Lord of Alban would have me feel in uttering the speech that hespake anon. It is anxiety for my father's sake and my mother's sake thatI feel, for truly there are great matters for them pending upon thisfight. Ne'theless, I do know that God will not desert me in my cause, for verily my father is no traitor. "

"But the Earl of Alban, " said the Prince, gravely, "is reputed one ofthe best-skilled knights in all England; moreover, he is merciless andwithout generosity, so that an he gain aught advantage over thee, hewill surely slay thee. "

"I am not afraid, my Lord, " said Myles, still calmly and composedly. 

"Nor am I afraid for thee, Myles, " said the Prince, heartily, puttinghis arm, as he spoke, around the young man's shoulder; "for truly, wertthou a knight of forty years, instead of one of twenty, thou couldst notbear thyself with more courage. "

As the time for the duel approached, the days seemed to drag themselvesalong upon leaden feet; nevertheless, the days came and went, as alldays do, bringing with them, at last, the fateful 3d of September. 

Early in the morning, while the sun was still level and red, the Princehimself, unattended, came to Myles's apartment, in the outer room ofwhich Gascoyne was bustling busily about arranging the armor piece bypiece; renewing straps and thongs, but not whistling over his work as heusually did. The Prince nodded to him, and then passed silently throughto the inner chamber. Myles was upon his knees, and Father Ambrose, the Prince's chaplain, was beside him. The Prince stood silently at thedoor, until Myles, having told his last bead, rose and turned towardshim. 

"My dear Lord, " said the young knight, "I give you gramercy for thegreat honor you do me in coming so early for to visit me. "

"Nay, Myles, give me no thanks, " said the Prince, frankly reaching himhis hand, which Myles took and set to his lips. "I lay bethinking me ofthee this morning, while yet in bed, and so, as I could not sleep anymore, I was moved to come hither to see thee. "

Quite a number of the Prince's faction were at the breakfast at ScotlandYard that morning; among others, the Earl of Mackworth. All were more orless oppressed with anxiety, for nearly all of them had staked much uponthe coming battle. If Alban conquered, he would be more powerful to harmthem and to revenge himself upon them than ever, and Myles was a veryyoung champion upon whom to depend. Myles himself, perhaps, showed aslittle anxiety as any; he certainly ate more heartily of his breakfastthat morning than many of the others. 

After the meal was ended, the Prince rose. "The boat is ready at thestairs, " said he; "if thou wouldst go to the Tower to visit thy father, Myles, before hearing mass, I and Cholmondeley and Vere and Poins willgo with thee, if ye, Lords and gentlemen, will grant me your pardonfor leaving you. Are there any others that thou wouldst have accompanythee?"

"I would have Sir James Lee and my squire, Master Gascoyne, if thou artso pleased to give them leave to go, " answered Myles. 

"So be it, " said the Prince. "We will stop at Mackworth stairs for theknight. "

The barge landed at the west stairs of the Tower wharf, and the wholeparty were received with more than usual civilities by the Governor, whoconducted them at once to the Tower where Lord Falworth was lodged. LadyFalworth met them at the head of the stairs; her eyes were very red andher face pale, and as Myles raised her hand and set a long kiss upon it, her lips trembled, and she turned her face quickly away, pressingher handkerchief for one moment to her eyes. Poor lady! What agony ofanxiety and dread did she not suffer for her boy's sake that day! Myleshad not hidden both from her and his father that he must either win ordie. 

As Myles turned from his mother, Prior Edward came out from the innerchamber, and was greeted warmly by him. The old priest had arrived inLondon only the day before, having come down from Crosbey Priory to bewith his friend's family during this their time of terrible anxiety. 

After a little while of general talk, the Prince and his attendantsretired, leaving the family together, only Sir James Lee and Gascoyneremaining behind. 

Many matters that had been discussed before were now finally settled, the chief of which was the disposition of Lady Falworth in case thebattle should go against them. Then Myles took his leave, kissing hismother, who began crying, and comforting her with brave assurances. Prior Edward accompanied him as far as the head of the Tower stairs, where Myles kneeled upon the stone steps, while the good priest blessedhim and signed the cross upon his forehead. The Prince was waiting inthe walled garden adjoining, and as they rowed back again up the riverto Scotland Yard, all were thoughtful and serious, even Poins' andVere's merry tongues being stilled from their usual quips and jesting. 

It was about the quarter of the hour before eleven o'clock when Myles, with Gascoyne, set forth for the lists. The Prince of Wales, togetherwith most of his court, had already gone on to Smithfield, leavingbehind him six young knights of his household to act as escort to theyoung champion. Then at last the order to horse was given; the greatgate swung open, and out they rode, clattering and jingling, thesunlight gleaming and flaming and flashing upon their polished armor. They drew rein to the right, and so rode in a little cloud of dust alongthe Strand Street towards London town, with the breeze blowing merrily, and the sunlight shining as sweetly and blithesomely as though they wereriding to a wedding rather than to a grim and dreadful ordeal that meanteither victory or death. 

CHAPTER 32

In the days of King Edward III a code of laws relating to trial bybattle had been compiled for one of his sons, Thomas of Woodstock. Inthis work each and every detail, to the most minute, had been arrangedand fixed, and from that time judicial combats had been regulated inaccordance with its mandates. 

It was in obedience to this code that Myles Falworth appeared at theeast gate of the lists (the east gate being assigned by law to thechallenger), clad in full armor of proof, attended by Gascoyne, andaccompanied by two of the young knights who had acted as his escort fromScotland Yard. 

At the barriers he was met by the attorney Willingwood, the chief lawyerwho had conducted the Falworth case before the High Court of Chivalry, and who was to attend him during the administration of the oaths beforethe King. 

As Myles presented himself at the gate he was met by the Constable, theMarshal, and their immediate attendants. The Constable, laying his handupon the bridle-rein, said, in a loud voice: "Stand, Sir Knight, andtell me why thou art come thus armed to the gates of the lists. What isthy name? Wherefore art thou come?"

Myles answered, "I am Myles Falworth, a Knight of the Bath by grace ofhis Majesty King Henry IV and by his creation, and do come hither todefend my challenge upon the body of William Bushy Brookhurst, Earl ofAlban, proclaiming him an unknightly knight and a false and perjuredliar, in that he hath accused Gilbert Reginald, Lord Falworth, oftreason against our beloved Lord, his Majesty the King, and may Goddefend the right!"

As he ended speaking, the Constable advanced close to his side, andformally raising the umbril of the helmet, looked him in the face. Thereupon, having approved his identity, he ordered the gates to beopened, and bade Myles enter the lists with his squire and his friends. 

At the south side of the lists a raised scaffolding had been built forthe King and those who looked on. It was not unlike that which hadbeen erected at Devlen Castle when Myles had first jousted as beltedknight--here were the same raised seat for the King, the tapestries, thehangings, the fluttering pennons, and the royal standard floating above;only here were no fair-faced ladies looking down upon him, but instead, stern-browed Lords and knights in armor and squires, and here were nomerry laughing and buzz of talk and flutter of fans and kerchiefs, butall was very quiet and serious. 

Myles riding upon his horse, with Gascoyne holding the bridle-rein, and his attorney walking beside him with his hand upon the stirrups, followed the Constable across the lists to an open space in front of theseat where the King sat. Then, having reached his appointed station, hestopped, and the Constable, advancing to the foot of the stair-way thatled to the dais above, announced in a loud voice that the challenger hadentered the lists. 

"Then called the defendant straightway, " said the King, "for noondraweth nigh. "

The day was very warm, and the sun, bright and unclouded, shone fiercelydown upon the open lists. Perhaps few men nowadays could bear thescorching heat of iron plates such as Myles wore, from which the bodywas only protected by a leathern jacket and hose. But men's bodies inthose days were tougher and more seasoned to hardships of weather thanthey are in these our times. Myles thought no more of the burningiron plates that incased him than a modern soldier thinks of his dressuniform in warm weather. Nevertheless, he raised the umbril of hishelmet to cool his face as he waited the coming of his opponent. Heturned his eyes upward to the row of seats on the scaffolding above, and even in the restless, bewildering multitude of strange faces turnedtowards him recognized those that he knew: the Prince of Wales, hiscompanions of the Scotland Yard household, the Duke of Clarence, the Bishop of Winchester, and some of the noblemen of the Earl ofMackworth's party, who had been buzzing about the Prince for the pastmonth or so. But his glance swept over all these, rather perceivingthan seeing them, and then rested upon a square box-like compartment notunlike a prisoner's dock in the courtroom of our day, for in the box sathis father, with the Earl of Mackworth upon one side and Sir James Leeupon the other. The blind man's face was very pale, but still wore itsusual expression of calm serenity--the calm serenity of a blind face. The Earl was also very pale, and he kept his eyes fixed steadfastly uponMyles with a keen and searching look, as though to pierce to the verybottom of the young man's heart, and discover if indeed not one littlefragment of dryrot of fear or uncertainty tainted the solid courage ofhis knighthood. 

Then he heard the criers calling the defendant at the four corners ofthe list: "Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! William Bushy Brookhurst, Earl of Alban, come to this combat, in which you be enterprised this day to dischargeyour sureties before the King, the Constable, and the Marshal, and toencounter in your defence Myles Falworth, knight, the accepted championupon behalf of Gilbert Reginald Falworth, the challenger! Oyez! Oyez!Oyez! Let the defendant come!"

So they continued calling, until, by the sudden turning of all faces, Myles knew that his enemy was at hand. 

Then presently he saw the Earl and his attendants enter the outer gateat the west end of the barrier; he saw the Constable and Marshal meethim; he saw the formal words of greeting pass; he saw the Constableraise the umbril of the helmet. Then the gate opened, and the Earl ofAlban entered, clad cap-a-pie in a full suit of magnificent Milan armorwithout juppon or adornment of any kind. As he approached across thelists, Myles closed the umbril of his helmet, and then sat quite stilland motionless, for the time was come. 

So he sat, erect and motionless as a statue of iron, half hearing thereading of the long intricately-worded bills, absorbed in many thoughtsof past and present things. At last the reading ended, and then hecalmly and composedly obeyed, under the direction of his attorney, the several forms and ceremonies that followed; answered the variousofficial questions, took the various oaths. Then Gascoyne, leading thehorse by the bridle-rein, conducted him back to his station at the eastend of the lists. 

As the faithful friend and squire made one last and searchingexamination of arms and armor, the Marshal and the clerk came to theyoung champion and administered the final oath by which he swore that hecarried no concealed weapons. 

The weapons allowed by the High Court were then measured and attested. They consisted of the long sword, the short sword, the dagger, the mace, and a weapon known as the hand-gisarm, or glave-lot--a heavy swordlikeblade eight palms long, a palm in breadth, and riveted to a stout handleof wood three feet long. 

The usual lance had not been included in the list of arms, thehand-gisarm being substituted in its place. It was a fearful andmurderous weapon, though cumbersome, Unhandy, and ill adapted for quickor dexterous stroke; nevertheless, the Earl of Alban had petitionedthe King to have it included in the list, and in answer to the King'sexpressed desire the Court had adopted it in the stead of the lance, yielding thus much to the royal wishes. Nor was it a small concession. The hand-gisarm had been a weapon very much in vogue in King Richard'sday, and was now nearly if not entirely out of fashion with the youngergeneration of warriors. The Earl of Alban was, of course, well used tothe blade; with Myles it was strange and new, either for attack or indefence. 

With the administration of the final oath and the examination of theweapons, the preliminary ceremonies came to an end, and presently Mylesheard the criers calling to clear the lists. As those around him movedto withdraw, the young knight drew off his mailed gauntlet, and gaveGascoyne's hand one last final clasp, strong, earnest, and intense withthe close friendship of young manhood, and poor Gascoyne looked up athim with a face ghastly white. 

Then all were gone; the gates of the principal list and that of thefalse list were closed clashing, and Myles was alone, face to face, withhis mortal enemy. 

CHAPTER 33

There was a little while of restless, rustling silence, during which theConstable took his place in the seat appointed for him directly infront of and below the King's throne. A moment or two when even therestlessness and the rustling were quieted, and then the King leanedforward and spoke to the Constable, who immediately called out, in aloud, clear voice. 

"Let them go!" Then again, "Let them go!" Then, for the third and lasttime, "Let them go and do their endeavor, in God's name!"

At this third command the combatants, each of whom had till that momentbeen sitting as motionless as a statue of iron, tightened rein, and rodeslowly and deliberately forward without haste, yet without hesitation, until they met in the very middle of the lists. 

In the battle which followed, Myles fought with the long sword, the Earlwith the hand-gisarm for which he had asked. The moment they met, thecombat was opened, and for a time nothing was heard but the thunderousclashing and clamor of blows, now and then beating intermittently, nowand then pausing. Occasionally, as the combatants spurred together, checked, wheeled, and recovered, they would be hidden for a moment ina misty veil of dust, which, again drifting down the wind, perhapsrevealed them drawn a little apart, resting their panting horses. Then, again, they would spur together, striking as they passed, wheeling andstriking again. 

Upon the scaffolding all was still, only now and then for the buzz ofmuffled exclamations or applause of those who looked on. Mostly theapplause was from Myles's friends, for from the very first he showed andsteadily maintained his advantage over the older man. "Hah! well struck!well recovered!" "Look ye! the sword bit that time!" "Nay, look, saw yehim pass the point of the gisarm?" Then, "Falworth! Falworth!" as somemore than usually skilful stroke or parry occurred. 

Meantime Myles's father sat straining his sightless eyeballs, as thoughto pierce his body's darkness with one ray of light that would show himhow his boy held his own in the fight, and Lord Mackworth, leaning withhis lips close to the blind man's ear, told him point by point how thebattle stood. 

"Fear not, Gilbert, " said he at each pause in the fight. "He holdeth hisown right well. " Then, after a while: "God is with us, Gilbert. Albanis twice wounded and his horse faileth. One little while longer and thevictory is ours!"

A longer and more continuous interval of combat followed thislast assurance, during which Myles drove the assault fiercely andunrelentingly as though to overbear his enemy by the very powerand violence of the blows he delivered. The Earl defended himselfdesperately, but was borne back, back, back, farther and farther. Everynerve of those who looked on was stretched to breathless tensity, when, almost as his enemy was against the barriers, Myles paused and rested. 

"Out upon it!" exclaimed the Earl of Mackworth, almost shrilly in hisexcitement, as the sudden lull followed the crashing of blows. "Why doththe boy spare him? That is thrice he hath given him grace to recover;an he had pushed the battle that time he had driven him back against thebarriers. "

It was as the Earl had said; Myles had three times given his enemy gracewhen victory was almost in his very grasp. He had three times sparedhim, in spite of all he and those dear to him must suffer should hiscruel and merciless enemy gain the victory. It was a false and foolishgenerosity, partly the fault of his impulsive youth--more largely ofhis romantic training in the artificial code of French chivalry. He feltthat the battle was his, and so he gave his enemy these three chances torecover, as some chevalier or knight-errant of romance might havedone, instead of pushing the combat to a mercifully speedy end--and hisfoolish generosity cost him dear. 

In the momentary pause that had thus stirred the Earl of Mackworth toa sudden outbreak, the Earl of Alban sat upon his panting, sweatingwar-horse, facing his powerful young enemy at about twelve pacesdistant. He sat as still as a rock, holding his gisarm poised in frontof him. He had, as the Earl of Mackworth had said, been wounded twice, and each time with the point of the sword, so much more dangerous than adirect cut with the weapon. One wound was beneath his armor, and no onebut he knew how serious it might be; the other was under the overlappingof the epauhere, and from it a finger's-breadth of blood ran straightdown his side and over the housings of his horse. From without, thestill motionless iron figure appeared calm and expressionless; within, who knows what consuming blasts of hate, rage, and despair swept hisheart as with a fiery whirlwind. 

As Myles looked at the motionless, bleeding figure, his breast swelledwith pity. "My Lord, " said he, "thou art sore wounded and the fight isagainst thee; wilt thou not yield thee?"

No one but that other heard the speech, and no one but Myles heard theanswer that came back, hollow, cavernous, "Never, thou dog! Never!"

Then in an instant, as quick as a flash, his enemy spurred straight uponMyles, and as he spurred he struck a last desperate, swinging blow, inwhich he threw in one final effort all the strength of hate, of fury, and of despair. Myles whirled his horse backward, warding the blow withhis shield as he did so. The blade glanced from the smooth face of theshield, and, whether by mistake or not, fell straight and true, and withalmost undiminished force, upon the neck of Myles's war-horse, and justbehind the ears. The animal staggered forward, and then fell upon itsknees, and at the same instant the other, as though by the impetus ofthe rush, dashed full upon it with all the momentum lent by the weightof iron it carried. The shock was irresistible, and the stunned andwounded horse was flung upon the ground, rolling over and over. As hishorse fell, Myles wrenched one of his feet out of the stirrup; the othercaught for an instant, and he was flung headlong with stunning violence, his armor crashing as he fell. In the cloud of dust that arose noone could see just what happened, but that what was done was donedeliberately no one doubted. The earl, at once checking and spurringhis foaming charger, drove the iron-shod war-horse directly over Myles'sprostrate body. Then, checking him fiercely with the curb, reined himback, the hoofs clashing and crashing, over the figure beneath. Sohe had ridden over the father at York, and so he rode over the son atSmithfield. 

Myles, as he lay prostrate and half stunned by his fall, had seen hisenemy thus driving his rearing horse down upon him, but was not able todefend himself. A fallen knight in full armor was utterly powerless torise without assistance; Myles lay helpless in the clutch of the veryiron that was his defence. He closed his eyes involuntarily, and thenhorse and rider were upon him. There was a deafening, sparkling crash, a glimmering faintness, then another crash as the horse was reinedfuriously back again, and then a humming stillness. 

In a moment, upon the scaffolding all was a tumult of uproar andconfusion, shouting and gesticulation; only the King sat calm, sullen, impassive. The Earl wheeled his horse and sat for a moment or two asthough to make quite sure that he knew the King's mind. The blow thathad been given was foul, unknightly, but the King gave no sign either ofacquiescence or rebuke; he had willed that Myles was to die. 

Then the Earl turned again, and rode deliberately up to his prostrateenemy. 

When Myles opened his eyes after that moment of stunning silence, it wasto see the other looming above him on his war-horse, swinging his gisarmfor one last mortal blow--pitiless, merciless. 

The sight of that looming peril brought back Myles's wandering senseslike a flash of lightning. He flung up his shield, and met the blow evenas it descended, turning it aside. It only protracted the end. 

Once more the Earl of Alban raised the gisarm, swinging it twice aroundhis head before he struck. This time, though the shield glanced it, theblow fell upon the shoulder-piece, biting through the steel plate andleathern jack beneath even to the bone. Then Myles covered his head withhis shield as a last protecting chance for life. 

For the third time the Earl swung the blade flashing, and then it fell, straight and true, upon the defenceless body, just below the left arm, biting deep through the armor plates. For an instant the blade stuckfast, and that instant was Myles's salvation. Under the agony of theblow he gave a muffled cry, and almost instinctively grasped the shaftof the weapon with both hands. Had the Earl let go his end of theweapon, he would have won the battle at his leisure and most easily; asit was, he struggled violently to wrench the gisarm away from Myles. Inthat short, fierce struggle Myles was dragged to his knees, and then, still holding the weapon with one hand, he clutched the trappings of theEarl's horse with the other. The next moment he was upon his feet. Theother struggled to thrust him away, but Myles, letting go the gisarm, which he held with his left hand, clutched him tightly by the sword-beltin the intense, vise-like grip of despair. In vain the Earl strove tobeat him loose with the shaft of the gisarm, in vain he spurred andreared his horse to shake him off; Myles held him tight, in spite of allhis struggles. 

He felt neither the streaming blood nor the throbbing agony of hiswounds; every faculty of soul, mind, body, every power of life, wascentered in one intense, burning effort. He neither felt, thought, norreasoned, but clutching, with the blindness of instinct, the heavy, spiked, iron-headed mace that hung at the Earl's saddle-bow, he gave itone tremendous wrench that snapped the plaited leathern thongs that heldit as though they were skeins of thread. Then, grinding his teeth aswith a spasm, he struck as he had never struck before--once, twice, thrice full upon the front of the helmet. Crash! crash! And then, evenas the Earl toppled sidelong, crash! And the iron plates split andcrackled under the third blow. Myles had one flashing glimpse of anawful face, and then the saddle was empty. 

Then, as he held tight to the horse, panting, dizzy, sick to death, hefelt the hot blood gushing from his side, filling his body armor, andstaining the ground upon which he stood. Still he held tightly to thesaddle-bow of the fallen man's horse until, through his glimmeringsight, he saw the Marshal, the Lieutenant, and the attendants gatheraround him. He heard the Marshal ask him, in a voice that sounded faintand distant, if he was dangerously wounded. He did not answer, and oneof the attendants, leaping from his horse, opened the umbril of hishelmet, disclosing the dull, hollow eyes, the ashy, colorless lips, andthe waxy forehead, upon which stood great beads of sweat. 

"Water! water!" he cried, hoarsely; "give me to drink!" Then, quittinghis hold upon the horse, he started blindly across the lists towards thegate of the barrier. A shadow that chilled his heart seemed to fall uponhim. "It is death, " he muttered; then he stopped, then swayed for aninstant, and then toppled headlong, crashing as he fell. 

CONCLUSION

But Myles was not dead. Those who had seen his face when the umbril ofthe helmet was raised, and then saw him fall as he tottered across thelists, had at first thought so. But his faintness was more from lossof blood and the sudden unstringing of nerve and sense from the intensefurious strain of the last few moments of battle than from the vitalnature of the wound. Indeed, after Myles had been carried out of thelists and laid upon the ground in the shade between the barriers, Master Thomas, the Prince's barber-surgeon, having examined the wounds, declared that he might be even carried on a covered litter to ScotlandYard without serious danger. The Prince was extremely desirous of havinghim under his care, and so the venture was tried. Myles was carried toScotland Yard, and perhaps was none the worse therefore. The Prince, theEarl of Mackworth, and two or three others stood silently watching asthe worthy shaver and leecher, assisted by his apprentice and Gascoyne, washed and bathed the great gaping wound in the side, and bound it withlinen bandages. Myles lay with closed eyelids, still, pallid, weak asa little child. Presently he opened his eyes and turned them, dull andlanguid, to the Prince. 

"What hath happed my father, my Lord?" said he, in a faint, whisperingvoice. 

"Thou hath saved his life and honor, Myles, " the Prince answered. "Heis here now, and thy mother hath been sent for, and cometh anon with thepriest who was with them this morn. "

Myles dropped his eyelids again; his lips moved, but he made no sound, and then two bright tears trickled across his white cheek. 

"He maketh a woman of me, " the Prince muttered through his teeth, andthen, swinging on his heel, he stood for a long time looking out of thewindow into the garden beneath. 

"May I see my father?" said Myles, presently, without opening his eyes. 

The Prince turned around and looked inquiringly at the surgeon. 

The good man shook his head. "Not to-day, " said he; "haply to-morrow hemay see him and his mother. The bleeding is but new stanched, and suchmatters as seeing his father and mother may make the heart to swell, andso maybe the wound burst afresh and he die. An he would hope to live, hemust rest quiet until to-morrow day. "

But though Myles's wound was not mortal, it was very serious. The feverwhich followed lingered longer than common--perhaps because of the hotweather--and the days stretched to weeks, and the weeks to months, andstill he lay there, nursed by his mother and Gascoyne and Prior Edward, and now and again by Sir James Lee. 

One day, a little before the good priest returned to Saint Mary'sPriory, as he sat by Myles's bedside, his hands folded, and his sightturned inward, the young man suddenly said, "Tell me, holy father, is italways wrong for man to slay man?"

The good priest sat silent for so long a time that Myles began to thinkhe had not heard the question. But by-and-by he answered, almost with asigh, "It is a hard question, my son, but I must in truth say, meseemsit is not always wrong. "

"Sir, " said Myles, "I have been in battle when men were slain, but neverdid I think thereon as I have upon this matter. Did I sin in so slayingmy father's enemy?"

"Nay, " said Prior Edward, quietly, "thou didst not sin. It was forothers thou didst fight, my son, and for others it is pardonable to dobattle. Had it been thine own quarrel, it might haply have been morehard to have answered thee. "

Who can gainsay, even in these days of light, the truth of this that thegood priest said to the sick lad so far away in the past?

One day the Earl of Mackworth came to visit Myles. At that time theyoung knight was mending, and was sitting propped up with pillows, andwas wrapped in Sir James Lee's cloak, for the day was chilly. After alittle time of talk, a pause of silence fell. 

"My Lord, " said Myles, suddenly, "dost thou remember one part of amatter we spoke of when I first came from France?"

The Earl made no pretence of ignorance. "I remember, " said he, quietly, looking straight into the young man's thin white face. 

"And have I yet won the right to ask for the Lady Alice de Mowbray towife?" said Myles, the red rising faintly to his cheeks. 

"Thou hast won it, " said the Earl, with a smile. 

Myles's eyes shone and his lips trembled with the pang of sudden joyand triumph, for he was still very weak. "My Lord, " said he, presently"belike thou camest here to see me for this very matter?"

The Earl smiled again without answering, and Myles knew that he hadguessed aright. He reached out one of his weak, pallid hands frombeneath the cloak. The Earl of Mackworth took it with a firm pressure, then instantly quitting it again, rose, as if ashamed of his emotion, stamped his feet, as though in pretence of being chilled, and thencrossed the room to where the fire crackled brightly in the great stonefireplace. 

Little else remains to be told; only a few loose strands to tie, and thestory is complete. 

Though Lord Falworth was saved from death at the block, though his honorwas cleansed from stain, he was yet as poor and needy as ever. TheKing, in spite of all the pressure brought to bear upon him, refused torestore the estates of Falworth and Easterbridge--the latter of whichhad again reverted to the crown upon the death of the Earl of Albanwithout issue--upon the grounds that they had been forfeited not becauseof the attaint of treason, but because of Lord Falworth having refusedto respond to the citation of the courts. So the business dragged alongfor month after month, until in January the King died suddenly in theJerusalem Chamber at Westminster. Then matters went smoothly enough, andFalworth and Mackworth swam upon the flood-tide of fortune. 

So Myles was married, for how else should the story end? And one dayhe brought his beautiful young wife home to Falworth Castle, which hisfather had given him for his own, and at the gateway of which he was metby Sir James Lee and by the newly-knighted Sir Francis Gascoyne. 

One day, soon after this home-coming, as he stood with her at an openwindow into which came blowing the pleasant May-time breeze, he suddenlysaid, "What didst thou think of me when I first fell almost into thylap, like an apple from heaven?"

"I thought thou wert a great, good-hearted boy, as I think thou artnow, " said she, twisting his strong, sinewy fingers in and out. 

"If thou thoughtst me so then, what a very fool I must have looked tothee when I so clumsily besought thee for thy favor for my jousting atDevlen. Did I not so?"

"Thou didst look to me the most noble, handsome young knight that didever live; thou didst look to me Sir Galahad, as they did call thee, withouten taint or stain. "

Myles did not even smile in answer, but looked at his wife with such alook that she blushed a rosy red. Then, laughing, she slipped from hishold, and before he could catch her again was gone. 

I am glad that he was to be rich and happy and honored and beloved afterall his hard and noble fighting.