第 二十九 章 · Chapter 29

. Chapter 29

That night Myles lodged at Mackworth House. The next morning, as soon

as he had broken his fast, which he did in the privacy of his own

apartments, the Earl bade him and Gascoyne to make ready for the barge,

which was then waiting at the river stairs to take them to Scotland

Yard.

The Earl himself accompanied them, and as the heavy snub-nosed boat,

rowed by the six oarsmen in Mackworth livery, slid slowly and heavily

up against the stream, the Earl, leaning back in his cushioned seat,

pointed out the various inns of the great priests or nobles; palatial

town residences standing mostly a little distance back from the water

behind terraced high-walled gardens and lawns. Yon was the Bishop of

Exeter's Close; yon was the Bishop of Bath's; that was York House; and

that Chester Inn. So passing by gardens and lawns and palaces, they came

at last to Scotland Yard stairs, a broad flight of marble steps that led

upward to a stone platform above, upon which opened the gate-way of the

garden beyond.

The Scotland Yard of Myles Falworth's day was one of the more

pretentious and commodious of the palaces of the Strand. It took its

name from having been from ancient times the London inn which the

tributary Kings of Scotland occupied when on their periodical visits of

homage to England. Now, during this time of Scotland's independence, the

Prince of Wales had taken up his lodging in the old palace, and made it

noisy with the mad, boisterous mirth of his court.

As the watermen drew the barge close to the landing-place of the stairs,

the Earl stepped ashore, and followed by Myles and Gascoyne, ascended

to the broad gate-way of the river wall of the garden. Three men-at-arms

who lounged upon a bench under the shade of the little pent roof of a

guard-house beside the wall, arose and saluted as the well-known figure

of the Earl mounted the steps. The Earl nodded a cool answer, and

passing unchallenged through the gate, led the way up a pleached walk,

beyond which, as Myles could see, there stretched a little grassy lawn

and a stone-paved terrace. As the Earl and the two young men approached

the end of the walk, they were met by the sound of voices and laughter,

the clinking of glasses and the rattle of dishes. Turning a corner,

they came suddenly upon a party of young gentlemen, who sat at a late

breakfast under the shade of a wide-spreading lime-tree. They had

evidently just left the tilt-yard, for two of the guests--sturdy,

thick-set young knights--yet wore a part of their tilting armor.

Behind the merry scene stood the gray, hoary old palace, a steep flight

of stone steps, and a long, open, stone-arched gallery, which evidently

led to the kitchen beyond, for along it hurried serving-men, running up

and down the tall flight of steps, and bearing trays and dishes and cups

and flagons. It was a merry sight and a pleasant one. The day was warm

and balmy, and the yellow sunlight fell in waving uncertain patches of

light, dappling the table-cloth, and twinkling and sparkling upon the

dishes, cups, and flagons.

At the head of the table sat a young man some three or four years

older than Myles, dressed in a full suit of rich blue brocaded velvet,

embroidered with gold-thread and trimmed with black fur. His face, which

was turned towards them as they mounted from the lawn to the little

stone-flagged terrace, was frank and open; the cheeks smooth and fair;

the eyes dark and blue. He was tall and rather slight, and wore his

thick yellow hair hanging to his shoulders, where it was cut square

across, after the manner of the times. Myles did not need to be told

that it was the Prince of Wales.

“Ho, Gaffer Fox!” he cried, as soon as he caught sight of the Earl of

Mackworth, “what wind blows thee hither among us wild mallard drakes?

I warrant it is not for love of us, but only to fill thine own larder

after the manner of Sir Fox among the drakes. Whom hast thou with thee?

Some gosling thou art about to pluck?”

A sudden hush fell upon the company, and all faces were turned towards

the visitors.

The Earl bowed with a soft smile. “Your Highness,” said he, smoothly,

“is pleased to be pleasant. Sir, I bring you the young knight of whom I

spoke to you some time since--Sir Myles Falworth. You may be pleased to

bring to mind that you so condescended as to promise to take him into

your train until the fitting time arrived for that certain matter of

which we spoke.”

“Sir Myles,” said the Prince of Wales, with a frank, pleasant smile, “I

have heard great reports of thy skill and prowess in France, both from

Mackworth and from others. It will pleasure me greatly to have thee in

my household; more especially,” he added, “as it will get thee, callow

as thou art, out of my Lord Fox's clutches. Our faction cannot do

without the Earl of Mackworth's cunning wits, Sir Myles; ne'theless I

would not like to put all my fate and fortune into his hands without

bond. I hope that thou dost not rest thy fortunes entirely upon his aid

and countenance.”

All who were present felt the discomfort of the Prince's speech, It was

evident that one of his mad, wild humors was upon him. In another case

the hare-brained young courtiers around might have taken their cue

from him, but the Earl of Mackworth was no subject for their gibes

and witticisms. A constrained silence fell, in which the Earl alone

maintained a perfect ease of manner.

Myles bowed to hide his own embarrassment. “Your Highness,” said he,

evasively, “I rest my fortune, first of all, upon God, His strength and

justice.”

“Thou wilt find safer dependence there than upon the Lord of Mackworth,”

said the Prince, dryly. “But come,” he added, with a sudden change of

voice and manner, “these be jests that border too closely upon bitter

earnest for a merry breakfast. It is ill to idle with edged tools. Wilt

thou not stay and break thy fast with us, my Lord?”

“Pardon me, your Highness,” said the Earl, bowing, and smiling the same

smooth smile his lips had worn from the first--such a smile as Myles

had never thought to have seen upon his haughty face; “I crave your good

leave to decline. I must return home presently, for even now, haply,

your uncle, his Grace of Winchester, is awaiting my coming upon the

business you wot of. Haply your Highness will find more joyance in a

lusty young knight like Sir Myles than in an old fox like myself. So I

leave him with you, in your good care.”

Such was Myles's introduction to the wild young madcap Prince of Wales,

afterwards the famous Henry V, the conqueror of France.

For a month or more thereafter he was a member of the princely

household, and, after a little while, a trusted and honored member.

Perhaps it was the calm sturdy strength, the courage of the young

knight, that first appealed to the Prince's royal heart; perhaps

afterwards it was the more sterling qualities that underlaid that

courage that drew him to the young man; certain it was that in two weeks

Myles was the acknowledged favorite. He made no protestation of virtue;

he always accompanied the Prince in those madcap ventures to London,

where he beheld all manner of wild revelry; he never held himself aloof

from his gay comrades, but he looked upon all their mad sports with the

same calm gaze that had carried him without taint through the courts of

Burgundy and the Dauphin. The gay, roistering young lords and gentlemen

dubbed him Saint Myles, and jested with him about hair-cloth shirts

and flagellations, but witticism and jest alike failed to move Myles's

patient virtue; he went his own gait in the habits of his life, and in

so going knew as little as the others of the mad court that the Prince's

growing liking for him was, perhaps, more than all else, on account of

that very temperance.

Then, by-and-by, the Prince began to confide in him as he did in none of

the others. There was no great love betwixt the King and his son; it has

happened very often that the Kings of England have felt bitter jealousy

towards the heirs-apparent as they have grown in power, and such was the

case with the great King Henry IV. The Prince often spoke to Myles of

the clashing and jarring between himself and his father, and the thought

began to come to Myles's mind by degrees that maybe the King's jealousy

accounted not a little for the Prince's reckless intemperance.

Once, for instance, as the Prince leaned upon, his shoulder waiting,

whilst the attendants made ready the barge that was to carry them down

the river to the city, he said, abruptly: “Myles, what thinkest thou of

us all? Doth not thy honesty hold us in contempt?”

“Nay, Highness,” said Myles. “How could I hold contempt?”

“Marry,” said the Prince, “I myself hold contempt, and am not as honest

a man as thou. But, prithee, have patience with me, Myles. Some day,

perhaps, I too will live a clean life. Now, an I live seriously, the

King will be more jealous of me than ever, and that is not a little.

Maybe I live thus so that he may not know what I really am in soothly

earnest.”

The Prince also often talked to Myles concerning his own affairs; of

the battle he was to fight for his father's honor, of how the Earl of

Mackworth had plotted and planned to bring him face to face with the

Earl of Alban. He spoke to Myles more than once of the many great

changes of state and party that hung upon the downfall of the enemy

of the house of Falworth, and showed him how no hand but his own could

strike that enemy down; if he fell, it must be through the son of

Falworth. Sometimes it seemed to Myles as though he and his blind father

were the centre of a great web of plot and intrigue, stretching far and

wide, that included not only the greatest houses of England, but royalty

and the political balance of the country as well, and even before the

greatness of it all he did not flinch.

Then, at last, came the beginning of the time for action. It was in the

early part of May, and Myles had been a member of the Prince's household

for a little over a month. One morning he was ordered to attend the

Prince in his privy cabinet, and, obeying the summons, he found the

Prince, his younger brother, the Duke of Bedford, and his uncle, the

Bishop of Winchester, seated at a table, where they had just been

refreshing themselves with a flagon of wine and a plate of wafers.

“My poor Myles,” said the Prince, smiling, as the young knight bowed to

the three, and then stood erect, as though on duty. “It shames my heart,

brother--and thou, uncle--it shames my heart to be one privy to this

thing which we are set upon to do. Here be we, the greatest Lords of

England, making a cat's-paw of this lad--for he is only yet a boy--and

of his blind father, for to achieve our ends against Alban's faction. It

seemeth not over-honorable to my mind.”

“Pardon me, your Highness,” said Myles, blushing to the roots of his

hair; “but, an I may be so bold as to speak, I reck nothing of what your

aims may be; I only look to restoring my father's honor and the honor of

our house.”

“Truly,” said the Prince, smiling, “that is the only matter that maketh

me willing to lay my hands to this business. Dost thou know why I have

sent for thee? It is because this day thou must challenge the Duke of

Alban before the King. The Earl of Mackworth has laid all his plans and

the time is now ripe. Knowest that thy father is at Mackworth House?”

“Nay,” said Myles; “I knew it not.”

“He hath been there for nearly two days,” said the Prince. “Just now the

Earl hath sent for us to come first to Mackworth House. Then to go

to the palace, for he hath gained audience with the King, and hath so

arranged it that the Earl of Alban is to be there as well. We all go

straightway; so get thyself ready as soon as may be.”

Perhaps Myles's heart began beating more quickly within him at the

nearness of that great happening which he had looked forward to for so

long. If it did, he made no sign of his emotion, but only asked, “How

must I clothe myself, your Highness?”

“Wear thy light armor,” said the Prince, “but no helmet, a juppon

bearing the arms and colors that the Earl gave thee when thou wert

knighted, and carry thy right-hand gauntlet under thy belt for thy

challenge. Now make haste, for time passes.”