Bab Bab 14 · Chapter 14

. Chapter 14

If Myles fancied that one single victory over his enemy would cure the

evil against which he fought, he was grievously mistaken; wrongs are not

righted so easily as that. It was only the beginning. Other and far more

bitter battles lay before him ere he could look around him and say, “I

have won the victory.”

For a day--for two days--the bachelors were demoralized at the fall of

their leader, and the Knights of the Rose were proportionately uplifted.

The day that Blunt met his fall, the wooden tank in which the water

had been poured every morning was found to have been taken away. The

bachelors made a great show of indignation and inquiry. Who was it stole

their 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 their

own water-tank, so that they might have no need for another fight over

the carrying of the water?”

The bachelors made an obvious show of not having heard what he said, and

a general laugh went around. No one doubted that Wilkes had spoken the

truth in his taunt, and that the bachelors had indeed stolen their own

tank. So no more water was ever carried for the head squires, but it was

plain to see that the war for the upperhand was not yet over.

Even if Myles had entertained comforting thoughts to the contrary, he

was speedily undeceived. One morning, about a week after the fight, as

he and Gascoyne were crossing the armory court, they were hailed by

a group of the bachelors standing at the stone steps of the great

building.

“Holloa, Falworth!” they cried. “Knowest thou that Blunt is nigh well

again?”

“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. “I

tell thee he is hot against thee, and swears when he cometh again he

will carve thee soothly.”

“Aye, marry!” said another. “I would not be in thy skin a week hence for

a ducat! Only this morning he told Philip Mowbray that he would have thy

blood for the fall thou gavest him. Look to thyself, Falworth; he cometh

again Wednesday or Thursday next; thou standest in a parlous state.”

“Myles,” said Gascoyne, as they entered the great quadrangle, “I do

indeed fear me that he meaneth to do thee evil.”

“I know not,” said Myles, boldly; “but I fear him not.” Nevertheless his

heart was heavy with the weight of impending ill.

One evening the bachelors were more than usually noisy in their end of

the dormitory, laughing and talking and shouting to one another.

“Holloa, you sirrah, Falworth!” called one of them along the length of

the room. “Blunt cometh again to-morrow day.”

Myles saw Gascoyne direct a sharp glance at him; but he answered nothing

either to his enemy's words or his friend's look.

As the bachelor had said, Blunt came the next morning. It was just after

chapel, and the whole body of squires was gathered in the armory waiting

for the orders of the day and the calling of the roll of those chosen

for household duty. Myles was sitting on a bench along the wall, talking

and jesting with some who stood by, when of a sudden his heart gave a

great leap within him.

It was Walter Blunt. He came walking in at the door as if nothing had

passed, and at his unexpected coming the hubbub of talk and laughter

was suddenly checked. Even Myles stopped in his speech for a moment, and

then continued with a beating heart and a carelessness of manner that

was altogether assumed. In his hand Blunt carried the house orders for

the day, and without seeming to notice Myles, he opened it and read the

list of those called upon for household service.

Myles had risen, and was now standing listening with the others. When

Blunt had ended reading the list of names, he rolled up the parchment,

and thrust it into his belt; then swinging suddenly on his heel, he

strode straight up to Myles, facing him front to front. A moment or two

of deep silence followed; not a sound broke the stillness. When Blunt

spoke 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 reckoning

with thee right soon that thou wilt not forget to the last day of thy

life.”

When Myles had seen his enemy turn upon him, he did not know at first

what to expect; he would not have been surprised had they come to blows

there and then, and he held himself prepared for any event. He faced

the other pluckily enough and without flinching, and spoke up boldly in

answer. “So be it, Walter Blunt; I fear thee not in whatever way thou

mayst encounter me.”

“Dost thou not?” said Blunt. “By'r Lady, thou'lt have cause to fear me

ere I am through with thee.” He smiled a baleful, lingering smile, and

then turned slowly and walked away.

“What thinkest thou, Myles?” said Gascoyne, as the two left the armory

together.

“I think naught,” said Myles gruffly. “He will not dare to touch me

to harm me. I fear him not.” Nevertheless, he did not speak the full

feelings of his heart.

“I know not, Myles,” said Gascoyne, shaking his head doubtfully. “Walter

Blunt is a parlous evil-minded knave, and methinks will do whatever evil

he 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 condition

of affairs. Even before that coming the bachelors had somewhat recovered

from their demoralization, and now again they began to pluck up their

confidence and to order the younger squires and pages upon this personal

service or upon that.

“See ye not,” said Myles one day, when the Knights of the Rose were

gathered 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 cease

not troubling them. Thou hast bred mischief enow for thyself already.”

“No matter for that,” said Myles; “it is not to be borne that they order

others of us about as they do. I mean to speak to them to-night, and

tell them it shall not be.”

He was as good as his word. That night, as the youngsters were shouting

and romping and skylarking, as they always did before turning in, he

stood upon his cot and shouted: “Silence! List to me a little!” And

then, 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 wait

upon them, they must get them otherwheres than here. There be twenty of

us 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 of

confusion instantly filled the place. What was the effect of his words

upon the bachelors he could not see. What was the result he was not slow

in discovering.

The next day Myles and Gascoyne were throwing their daggers for a

wager 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 on

a bench looking on, and now and then applauding a more than usually

well-aimed cast of the knife. Suddenly that impish little page spoken of

before, Robin Ingoldsby, thrust his shock head around the corner of

the smithy, and said: “Ho, Falworth! Blunt is going to serve thee out

to-day, and I myself heard him say so. He says he is going to slit thine

ears.” And then he was gone as suddenly as he had appeared.

Myles darted after him, caught him midway in the quadrangle, and brought

him back by the scuff of the neck, squalling and struggling.

“There!” said he, still panting from the chase and seating the boy by no

means gently upon the bench beside Wilkes. “Sit thou there, thou imp of

evil! And now tell me what thou didst mean by thy words anon--an thou

stop not thine outcry, I will cut thy throat for thee,” and he made a

ferocious gesture with his dagger.

It was by no means easy to worm the story from the mischievous little

monkey; 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 friends

managed to get at the facts. The youngster had been sent to clean the

riding-boots of one of the bachelors, instead of which he had lolled

idly on a cot in the dormitory, until he had at last fallen asleep. He

had been awakened by the opening of the dormitory door and by the sound

of voices--among them was that of his taskmaster. Fearing punishment for

his neglected duty, he had slipped out of the cot, and hidden himself

beneath it.

Those who had entered were Walter Blunt and three of the older

bachelors. Blunt's companions were trying to persuade him against

something, but without avail. It was--Myles's heart thrilled and his

blood boiled--to lie in wait for him, to overpower him by numbers,

and to mutilate him by slitting his ears--a disgraceful punishment

administered, as a rule, only for thieving and poaching.

“He would not dare to do such a thing!” cried Myles, with heaving breast

and 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 punish

him even for such a matter as that. But tell me, Robin Ingoldsby, dost

know aught more of this matter? Prithee tell it me, Robin. Where do they

propose to lie in wait for Falworth?”

“In the gate-way of the Buttery Court, so as to catch him when he passes

by 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 and

gather the others. He heard thee tell Gosse, Falworth, that thou wert

going 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 ears

suggestively 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 they

hunger to fight, give them their stomachful.”

The others were very reluctant for such extreme measures, but Myles, as

usual, carried his way, and so a pitched battle was decided upon. It was

Gascoyne who suggested the plan which they afterwards followed.

Then Wilkes started away to gather together those of the Knights of the

Rose not upon household duty, and Myles, with the others, went to the

armor smith to have him make for them a set of knives with which to meet

their enemies--knives with blades a foot long, pointed and double-edged.

The smith, leaning with his hammer upon the anvil, listened to them as

they described the weapons.

“Nay, nay, Master Myles,” said he, when Myles had ended by telling the

use to which he intended putting them. “Thou art going all wrong in this

matter. With such blades, ere this battle is ended, some one would be

slain, and so murder done. Then the family of him who was killed would

haply have ye cited, and mayhap it might e'en come to the hanging, for

some 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 a

head withal, and with them, gin ye keep your wits, ye may hold your own

against knives or short swords. I tell thee, e'en though my trade be

making of blades, rather would I ha' a good stout cudgel in my hand than

the 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 to

have blood upon our hands.”