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.