CHAPTER 31
It was not until the end of July that the High Court of Chivalry
rendered its judgment. There were many unusual points in the
case, some of which bore heavily against Lord Falworth, some of
which were in his favor. He was very ably defended by the lawyers
whom the Earl of Mackworth had engaged upon his side;
nevertheless, under ordinary circumstances, the judgment, no
doubt, would have been quickly rendered against him. As it was,
however, the circumstances were not ordinary, and it was rendered
in his favor. The Court besought the King to grant the ordeal by
battle, to accept Lord Falworth's champion, and to appoint the
time and place for the meeting.
The decision must have been a most bitter, galling one for the
sick King. He was naturally of a generous, forgiving nature, but
Lord Falworth in his time of power had been an unrelenting and
fearless opponent, and his Majesty who, like most generous men,
could on occasions be very cruel and intolerant, had never
forgiven him. He had steadily thrown the might of his influence
with the Court against the Falworths' case, but that influence
was no longer all-powerful for good or ill. He was failing in
health, and it could only be a matter of a few years, probably of
only a few months, before his successor sat upon the throne.
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 and astute intriguers in Europe. So, as the
outcome of all the plotting and counter-plotting, scheming and
counter-scheming, the case was decided in Lord Falworth's favor.
The knowledge of the ultimate result was known to the Prince of
Wales's circle almost a week before it was finally decided.
Indeed, the Earl of Mackworth had made pretty sure of that result
before he had summoned Myles from France, but upon the King it
fell like the shock of a sudden blow. All that day he kept
himself in moody seclusion, nursing his silent, bitter anger, and
making only one outbreak, in which he swore by the Holy Rood that
should Myles be worsted in the encounter, he would not take the
battle into his own hands, but would suffer him to be slain, and
furthermore, that should the Earl show signs of failing at any
time, he would do all in his power to save him. One of the
courtiers who had been present, and who was secretly inclined to
the Prince of Wales's faction, had repeated this speech 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 of Chivalry had been rendered that the King announced the
time and place of battle--the time to be the 3d of September, the
place to be Smithfield--a spot much used for such encounters.
During the three weeks or so that intervened between this
announcement and the time of combat, Myles went nearly every day
to visit the lists in course of erection. Often the Prince went
with him; always two or three of his friends of the Scotland Yard
court accompanied him.
The lists were laid out in the usual form. The true or principal
list in which the combatants were to engage was sixty yards long
and forty yards wide; this rectangular space being surrounded by
a fence about six feet high, painted vermilion. Between the fence
and the stand where the King and the spectators sat, and
surrounding the central space, was the outer or false list, also
surrounded by a fence. In the false list the Constable and the
Marshal and their followers and attendants were to be stationed
at the time of battle to preserve the general peace during the
contest between the principals.
One day as Myles, his princely patron, and his friends entered
the barriers, leaving their horses at the outer gate, they met
the Earl of Alban and his followers, who were just quitting the
lists, which they also were in the habit of visiting nearly every
day. As the two parties passed one another, the Earl spoke to a
gentleman walking beside him and in a voice loud enough to be
clearly overheard by the others: "Yonder is the young sprig of
Falworth," said he. "His father, my Lords, is not content with
forfeiting his own life for his treason, but must, forsooth,
throw away his son's also. I have faced and overthrown many a
better knight than that boy."
Myles heard the speech, and knew that it was intended for him to
hear it; but he paid no attention to it, walking composedly at
the Prince's side. The Prince had also overheard it, and after a
little space of silence asked, "Dost thou not feel anxiety for
thy coming battle, Myles?"
"Yea, my Lord," said Myles; "sometimes I do feel anxiety, but not
such as my Lord of Alban would have me feel in uttering the
speech that he spake anon. It is anxiety for my father's sake and
my mother's sake that I feel, for truly there are great matters
for them pending upon this fight. 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 of the best-skilled knights in all England; moreover, he is
merciless and without generosity, so that an he gain aught
advantage over thee, he will 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,
putting his arm, as he spoke, around the young man's shoulder;
"for truly, wert thou a knight of forty years, instead of one of
twenty, thou couldst not bear thyself with more courage."
As the time for the duel approached, the days seemed to drag
themselves along upon leaden feet; nevertheless, the days came
and went, as all days do, bringing with them, at last, the
fateful 3d of September.
Early in the morning, while the sun was still level and red, the
Prince himself, unattended, came to Myles's apartment, in the
outer room of which Gascoyne was bustling busily about arranging
the armor piece by piece; renewing straps and thongs, but not
whistling over his work as he usually did. The Prince nodded to
him, and then passed silently through to the inner chamber. Myles
was upon his knees, and Father Ambrose, the Prince's chaplain,
was beside him. The Prince stood silently at the door, until
Myles, having told his last bead, rose and turned towards him.
"My dear Lord," said the young knight, "I give you gramercy for
the great honor you do me in coming so early for to visit me."
"Nay, Myles, give me no thanks," said the Prince, frankly
reaching him his hand, which Myles took and set to his lips. "I
lay bethinking me of thee this morning, while yet in bed, and so,
as I could not sleep any more, I was moved to come hither to see
thee."
Quite a number of the Prince's faction were at the breakfast at
Scotland Yard that morning; among others, the Earl of Mackworth.
All were more or less oppressed with anxiety, for nearly all of
them had staked much upon the coming battle. If Alban conquered,
he would be more powerful to harm them and to revenge himself
upon them than ever, and Myles was a very young champion upon
whom to depend. Myles himself, perhaps, showed as little anxiety
as any; he certainly ate more heartily of his breakfast that
morning than many of the others.
After the meal was ended, the Prince rose. "The boat is ready at
the stairs," said he; "if thou wouldst go to the Tower to visit
thy father, Myles, before hearing mass, I and Cholmondeley and
Vere and Poins will go with thee, if ye, Lords and gentlemen,
will grant me your pardon for leaving you. Are there any others
that thou wouldst have accompany thee?"
"I would have Sir James Lee and my squire, Master Gascoyne, if
thou art so pleased to give them leave to go," answered Myles.
"So be it," said the Prince. "We will stop at Mackworth stairs
for the knight."
The barge landed at the west stairs of the Tower wharf, and the
whole party were received with more than usual civilities by the
Governor, who conducted them at once to the Tower where Lord
Falworth was lodged. Lady Falworth met them at the head of the
stairs; her eyes were very red and her 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, pressing her handkerchief
for one moment to her eyes. Poor lady! What agony of anxiety and
dread did she not suffer for her boy's sake that day! Myles had
not hidden both from her and his father that he must either win
or die.
As Myles turned from his mother, Prior Edward came out from the
inner chamber, and was greeted warmly by him. The old priest had
arrived in London only the day before, having come down from
Crosbey Priory to be with his friend's family during this their
time of terrible anxiety.
After a little while of general talk, the Prince and his
attendants retired, leaving the family together, only Sir James
Lee and Gascoyne remaining behind.
Many matters that had been discussed before were now finally
settled, the chief of which was the disposition of Lady Falworth
in case the battle should go against them. Then Myles took his
leave, kissing his mother, 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 blessed him and signed the cross
upon his forehead. The Prince was waiting in the walled garden
adjoining, and as they rowed back again up the river to Scotland
Yard, all were thoughtful and serious, even Poins' and Vere'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, together with most of his court, had already gone on to
Smithfield, leaving behind him six young knights of his household
to act as escort to the young champion. Then at last the order to
horse was given; the great gate swung open, and out they rode,
clattering and jingling, the sunlight gleaming and flaming and
flashing upon their polished armor. They drew rein to the right,
and so rode in a little cloud of dust along the Strand Street
towards London town, with the breeze blowing merrily, and the
sunlight shining as sweetly and blithesomely as though they were
riding to a wedding rather than to a grim and dreadful ordeal
that meant either victory or death.
