Chương Chương 31 · Chapter 31

. 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.