บทที่ บทที่ 6 · Chapter 6

. Chapter 6

A boy's life is of a very flexible sort. It takes but a little while for

it to shape itself to any new surroundings in which it may be thrown, to

make itself new friends, to settle itself to new habits; and so it was

that Myles fell directly into the ways of the lads of Devlen. On his

first morning, as he washed his face and hands with the other squires

and pages in a great tank of water in the armory court-yard, he

presently found himself splashing and dashing with the others, laughing

and shouting as loud as any, and calling some by their Christian names

as though he had known them for years instead of overnight. During

chapel he watched with sympathetic delight the covert pranks of the

youngsters during the half-hour that Father Emmanuel droned his Latin,

and with his dagger point he carved his own name among the many cut

deep into the back of the bench before him. When, after breakfast, the

squires poured like school-boys into the great armory to answer to the

roll-call for daily exercise, he came storming in with the rest, beating

the lad in front of him with his cap.

Boys are very keen to feel the influence of a forceful character. A lad

with a strong will is quick to reach his proper level as a greater or

lesser leader among the others, and Myles was of just the masterful

nature to make his individuality felt among the Devlen squires. He was

quick enough to yield obedience upon all occasions to proper authority,

but would never bend an inch to the usurpation of tyranny. In the school

at St. Mary's Priory at Crosbey-Dale he would submit without a murmur or

offer of resistance to chastisement by old Father Ambrose, the

regular teacher; but once, when the fat old monk was sick, and a great

long-legged strapping young friar, who had temporarily taken his place,

undertook to administer punishment, Myles, with a wrestling trip, flung

him sprawling backward over a bench into the midst of a shoal of small

boys amid a hubbub of riotous confusion. He had been flogged soundly

for it under the supervision of Prior Edward himself; but so soon as

his punishment was over, he assured the prior very seriously that should

like occasion again happen he would act in the same manner, flogging or

no flogging.

It was this bold, outspoken spirit that gained him at once friends and

enemies at Devlen, and though it first showed itself in what was but a

little matter, nevertheless it set a mark upon him that singled him out

from the rest, and, although he did not suspect it at the time, called

to him the attention of Sir James Lee himself, who regarded him as a lad

of free and frank spirit.

The first morning after the roll-call in the armory, as Walter Blunt,

the head bachelor, rolled up the slip of parchment, and the temporary

silence burst forth into redoubled noise and confusion, each lad arming

himself from a row of racks that stood along the wall, he beckoned Myles

to him.

“My Lord himself hath spoken to Sir James Lee concerning thee,” said he.

“Sir James maintaineth that he will not enter thee into the body till

thou hast first practised for a while at the pels, and shown what thou

canst do at broadsword. Hast ever fought at the pel?”

“Aye,” answered Myles, “and that every day of my life sin I became

esquire four years ago, saving only Sundays and holy days.”

“With shield and broadsword?”

“Sometimes,” said Myles, “and sometimes with the short sword.”

“Sir James would have thee come to the tilt-yard this morn; he himself

will take thee in hand to try what thou canst do. Thou mayst take the

arms upon yonder rack, and use them until otherwise bidden. Thou seest

that the number painted above it on the wall is seventeen; that will be

thy number for the nonce.”

So Myles armed himself from his rack as the others were doing from

theirs. The armor was rude and heavy, used to accustom the body to the

weight of the iron plates rather than for any defence. It consisted of

a cuirass, or breastplate of iron, opening at the side with hinges, and

catching with hooks and eyes; epauliers, or shoulder-plates; arm-plates

and leg-pieces; and a bascinet, or open-faced helmet. A great triangular

shield covered with leather and studded with bosses of iron, and a heavy

broadsword, pointed and dulled at the edges, completed the equipment.

The practice at the pels which Myles was bidden to attend comprised the

chief exercise of the day with the esquires of young cadet soldiers of

that time, and in it they learned not only all the strokes, cuts, and

thrusts of sword-play then in vogue, but also toughness, endurance, and

elastic quickness. The pels themselves consisted of upright posts of

ash or oak, about five feet six inches in height, and in girth somewhat

thicker than a man's thigh. They were firmly planted in the ground, and

upon them the strokes of the broadsword were directed.

At Devlen the pels stood just back of the open and covered tilting

courts and the archery ranges, and thither those lads not upon household

duty were marched every morning excepting Fridays and Sundays, and were

there exercised under the direction of Sir James Lee and two assistants.

The whole company was divided into two, sometimes into three parties,

each of which took its turn at the exercise, delivering at the word

of command the various strokes, feints, attacks, and retreats as the

instructors ordered.

After five minutes of this mock battle the perspiration began to pour

down the faces, and the breath to come thick and short; but it was not

until the lads could absolutely endure no more that the order was given

to rest, and they were allowed to fling themselves panting upon the

ground, while another company took its place at the triple row of posts.

As Myles struck and hacked at the pel assigned to him, Sir James Lee

stood beside him watching him in grim silence. The lad did his best to

show the knight all that he knew of upper cut, under cut, thrust, and

back-hand stroke, but it did not seem to him that Sir James was very

well satisfied with his skill.

“Thou fightest like a clodpole,” said the old man. “Ha, that stroke

was but ill-recovered. Strike me it again, and get thou in guard more

quickly.”

Myles repeated the stroke.

“Pest!” cried Sir James. “Thou art too slow by a week. Here, strike thou

the blow at me.”

Myles hesitated. Sir James held a stout staff in his hand, but otherwise

he was unarmed.

“Strike, I say!” said Sir James. “What stayest thou for? Art afeard?”

It was Myles's answer that set the seal of individuality upon him.

“Nay,” said he, boldly, “I am not afeard. I fear not thee nor any man!”

So saying, he delivered the stroke at Sir James with might and main. It

was met with a jarring blow that made his wrist and arm tingle, and the

next instant he received a stroke upon the bascinet that caused his ears

to ring and the sparks to dance and fly before his eyes.

“Pardee!” said Sir James, grimly. “An I had had a mace in my hand, I

would have knocked thy cockerel brains out that time. Thou mayst take

that blow for answering me so pertly. And now we are quits. Now strike

me the stroke again an thou art not afeard.”

Myles's eyes watered in spite of himself, and he shut the lids tight to

wink the dimness away. Nevertheless he spoke up undauntedly as before.

“Aye, marry, will I strike it again,” said he; and this time he was

able to recover guard quickly enough to turn Sir James's blow with his

shield, instead of receiving it upon his head.

“So!” said Sir James. “Now mind thee of this, that when thou strikest

that lower cut at the legs, recover thyself more quickly. Now, then,

strike me it at the pel.”

Gascoyne and other of the lads who were just then lying stretched out

upon the grass beneath, a tree at the edge of the open court where stood

the pels, were interested spectators of the whole scene. Not one of them

in their memory had heard Sir James so answered face to face as Myles

had answered him, and, after all, perhaps the lad himself would not

have done so had he been longer a resident in the squires' quarters at

Devlen.

“By 'r Lady! thou art a cool blade, Myles,” said Gascoyne, as they

marched back to the armory again. “Never heard I one bespeak Sir James

as thou hast done this day.”

“And, after all,” said another of the young squires, “old Bruin was not

so ill-pleased, methinks. That was a shrewd blow he fetched thee on the

crown, Falworth. Marry, I would not have had it on my own skull for a

silver penny.”