CHAPTER 9
"How now, messieurs?" said a harsh voice, that fell upon the
turmoil like a thunder-clap, and there stood Sir James Lee.
Instantly the struggle ceased, and the combatants scrambled to
their feet.
The older lads stood silent before their chief, but Myles was
deaf and blind and mad with passion, he knew not where he stood
or what he said or did. White as death, he stood for a while
glaring about him, catching his breath convulsively. Then he
screamed hoarsely.
"Who struck me? Who struck me when I was down? I will have his
blood that struck me!" He caught sight of Blunt. "It was he that
struck me!" he cried. "Thou foul traitor! thou coward!" and
thereupon leaped at his enemy 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. "I will not stop!" he cried, struggling and striking at the
knight. "Let me go! I will have his life that struck me when I
was down!"
The next moment he found himself pinned close against the wall,
and then, as though his sight came back, he saw the grim face of
the old one- 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
spasmodically for a moment or two, and then, in the sudden
revulsion of feeling, burst out sobbing convulsively.
Sir James marched the two off to his office, he himself walking
between them, holding an arm of each, the other lads following
behind, awe-struck and silent. Entering the office, Sir James
shut the door behind him, leaving the group of squires clustered
outside about the stone steps, speculating in whispers as to what
would be the outcome of the matter.
After Sir James had seated himself, the two standing facing him,
he regarded them for a while in silence. "How now, Walter Blunt,"
said he at last, "what is to do?"
"Why, this," said Blunt, wiping his bleeding lip. "That fellow,
Myles Falworth, hath been breeding mutiny and revolt ever sin he
came hither among 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 my life."
"Be silent, sir," said Sir James, sternly. "I will hear thee
anon."
"Nay," said Myles, with his lips twitching and writhing, "I will
not be silent. I am friendless here, and ye are all against me,
but I will not be silent, and brook to have lies spoken of me."
Even Blunt stood aghast at Myles's boldness. Never had he heard
any one so speak to Sir James before. He did not dare for the
moment even to look up. Second after second of dead stillness
passed, while Sir James sat looking at Myles with a stern,
terrifying calmness that chilled him in spite of the heat of his
passion.
"Sir," said the old man at last, in a hard, quiet voice, "thou
dost know naught of rules and laws of such a place as this.
Nevertheless, it is time for thee to learn them. So I will tell
thee now that if thou openest 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 hot spirits on bread and water
for a week." There was something in the measured quietness of the
old knight's tone that quelled Myles utterly and entirely. A
little space of silence followed. "Now, then, Blunt," said Sir
James, turning to the bachelor, "tell me all the ins and outs of
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 knight listening attentively.
"Why, how now, Blunt," said Sir James, when Myles had ended, "I
myself gave the lads leave to go to the river to bathe. Wherefore
shouldst thou forbid 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 upon ye to gainsay any of my orders or permits, come ye first
to me. Dost thou understand?"
"Aye," answered Blunt, sullenly.
"So be it, and now get thee gone," said the knight; "and let me
hear no more 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 hath happed; gin I hear more of such doings--" He did
utter his threat, but stopped short, and fixed his one eye
sternly upon the head squire. "Now shake 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 not serve 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 me serve them. An thou bid me do it, sir, I will do it; but
not at their command."
"Nay," said the knight, "I do not bid thee do them service. That
lieth with thee, to render or not, as thou seest fit. But how
canst thou hope to fight single-handed against the commands of a
dozen lads all older and mightier than thou?"
"I know not," said Myles; "but were they an hundred, instead of
thirteen, they should not make me serve them."
"Thou art a fool!" said the old knight, smiling faintly, "for
that be'st not courage, but folly. When one setteth about
righting a wrong, one driveth not full head against it, for in so
doing one getteth naught but hard 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 of Derby, what could he
have gained had he stood so against the old King Richard,
brooking the King face to face? I tell thee he would have been
knocked on the head as thou wert like to have been this day. Now
were I thee, and had to fight a fight against odds, I would first
get me friends behind me, and then--" He stopped short, but Myles
understood him well enough.
"Sir," said he, with a gulp, "I do thank thee for thy friendship,
and ask thy pardon for doing as I did anon."
"I grant thee pardon," said the knight, "but tell thee plainly,
an thou dost face me so again, I will truly send thee to the
black cell for a week. Now get thee away."
All the other lads were gone when Myles came forth, save only the
faithful Gascoyne, who sacrificed his bath that day to stay with
his friend; and perhaps that little act of self-denial moved
Myles more than many a great thing might have done.
"It was right kind of thee, Francis," said he, laying his hand
affectionately on his friend's shoulder. "I know not why thou
lovest me so."
"Why, for one thing, this matter," answered his friend; "because
methinks thou art the best fighter and the bravest one of all of
us squires."
Myles laughed. Nevertheless Gascoyne's words were a soothing balm
for much 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 advised about biding his time.
Gascoyne blew a long whistle. "Beshrew me!" quoth he, "but
methinks old Bruin is on thy side of the quarrel, Myles. An that
be so, I am with thee also, and others that I can name as well."
"So be it," said Myles. "Then am I content to abide the time when
we may become strong enough to stand against them."
