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, shortl
y, "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.