Author: Howard Pyle

Read book online «Men of Iron by Howard Pyle (best inspirational books .txt) 📕». Author - Howard Pyle

Go to page:

was aware that the young men were talking of him. He knew it by the way they eyed him askance, and spoke now and then in one another's ears. One of the four, a gay young fellow, with long riding-boots laced with green laces, said a few words, the others gave a laugh, and poor Myles, knowing how ungainly he must seem to them, felt the blood rush to his cheeks, and shyly turned his head.

Suddenly, as though stirred by an impulse, the same lad who had just created the laugh arose from the bench, and came directly across the room to where Myles and the bowman sat.

“Give thee good-den,” said he. “What be'st thy name and whence comest thou, an I may make bold so to ask?”

“My name is Myles Falworth,” said Myles; “and I come from Crosbey-Dale bearing a letter to my Lord.”

“Never did I hear of Crosbey-Dale,” said the squire. “But what seekest here, if so be I may ask that much?”

“I come seeking service,” said Myles, “and would enter as an esquire such as ye be in my Lord's household.”

Myles's new acquaintance grinned. “Thou'lt make a droll squire to wait in a Lord's household,” said he. “Hast ever been in such service?”

“Nay,” said Myles, “I have only been at school, and learned Latin and French and what not. But Diccon Bowman here hath taught me use of arms.”

The young squire laughed outright. “By'r Lady, thy talk doth tickle me, friend Myles,” said he. “Think'st thou such matters will gain thee footing here? But stay! Thou didst say anon that thou hadst a letter to my Lord. From whom is it?”

“It is from my father,” said Myles. “He is of noble blood, but fallen in estate. He is a kinsman of my Lord's, and one time his comrade in arms.”

“Sayst so?” said the other. “Then mayhap thy chances are not so ill, after all.” Then, after a moment, he added: “My name is Francis Gascoyne, and I will stand thy friend in this matter. Get thy letter ready, for my Lord and his Grace of York are within and come forth anon. The Archbishop is on his way to Dalworth, and my Lord escorts him so far as Uppingham. I and those others are to go along. Dost thou know my Lord by sight?”

“Nay,” said Myles, “I know him not.”

“Then I will tell thee when he cometh. Listen!” said he, as a confused clattering sounded in the court-yard without. “Yonder are the horses now. They come presently. Busk thee with thy letter, friend Myles.”

The attendants who passed through the anteroom now came and went more hurriedly, and Myles knew that the Earl must be about to come forth. He had hardly time to untie his pouch, take out the letter, and tie the strings again when the arras at the door-way was thrust suddenly aside, and a tall thin squire of about twenty came forth, said some words to the young men upon the bench, and then withdrew again. Instantly the squires arose and took their station beside the door-way. A sudden hush fell upon all in the room, and the men-at-arms stood in a line against the wall, stiff and erect as though all at once transformed to figures of iron. Once more the arras was drawn back, and in the hush Myles heard voices in the other room.

“My Lord cometh,” whispered Gascoyne in his ear, and Myles felt his heart leap in answer.

The next moment two noblemen came into the anteroom followed by a crowd of gentlemen, squires, and pages. One of the two was a dignitary of the Church; the other Myles instantly singled out as the Earl of Mackworth.

CHAPTER 4

He was a tall man, taller even than Myles's father. He had a thin face, deep-set bushy eyebrows, and a hawk nose. His upper lip was clean shaven, but from his chin a flowing beard of iron-gray hung nearly to his waist. He was clad in a riding-gown of black velvet that hung a little lower than the knee, trimmed with otter fur and embroidered with silver goshawks—the crest of the family of Beaumont.

A light shirt of link mail showed beneath the gown as he walked, and a pair of soft undressed leather riding-boots were laced as high as the knee, protecting his scarlet hose from mud and dirt. Over his shoulders he wore a collar of enamelled gold, from which hung a magnificent jewelled pendant, and upon his fist he carried a beautiful Iceland falcon.

As Myles stood staring, he suddenly heard Gascoyne's voice whisper in his ear, “Yon is my Lord; go forward and give him thy letter.”

Scarcely knowing what he did, he walked towards the Earl like a machine, his heart pounding within him and a great humming in his ears. As he drew near, the nobleman stopped for a moment and stared at him, and Myles, as in a dream, kneeled, and presented the letter. The Earl took it in his hand, turned it this way and that, looked first at the bearer, then at the packet, and then at the bearer again.

“Who art thou?” said he; “and what is the matter thou wouldst have of me?”

“I am Myles Falworth,” said the lad, in a low voice; “and I come seeking service with you.”

The Earl drew his thick eyebrows quickly together, and shot a keen look at the lad. “Falworth?” said he, sharply—“Falworth? I know no Falworth!”

“The letter will tell you,” said Myles. “It is from one once dear to you.”

The Earl took the letter, and handing it to a gentleman who stood near, bade him break the seal. “Thou mayst stand,” said he to Myles; “needst not kneel there forever.” Then, taking the opened parchment again, he glanced first at the face and then at the back, and, seeing its length, looked vexed. Then he read for an earnest moment or two, skipping from line to line. Presently he folded the letter and thrust it into the pouch at his side. “So it is, your Grace,” said he to the lordly prelate, “that we who have luck to rise in the world must ever suffer by being plagued at all times and seasons. Here is one I chanced to know a dozen years ago, who thinks he hath a claim upon me, and saddles me with his son. I must e'en take the lad, too, for the sake of peace and quietness.” He glanced around, and seeing Gascoyne, who had drawn near, beckoned to him. “Take me this fellow,” said he, “to the buttery, and see him fed; and then to Sir James Lee, and have his name entered in the castle books. And stay, sirrah,” he added; “bid me Sir James, if it may be so done, to enter him as a squire-at-arms. Methinks he will be better serving so than in the household, for he appeareth a soothly rough cub for a page.”

Myles did look rustic enough, standing clad in frieze in the midst of that gay company, and a murmur of laughter sounded around, though he was too bewildered to fully understand that he was the cause of the merriment. Then some hand drew him back—it was Gascoyne's—there was

Go to page:

Free e-book: «Men of Iron by Howard Pyle (best inspirational books .txt) 📕» - read online now on website american library books (americanlibrarybooks.com)

Comments (0)

There are no comments yet. You can be the first!

Add a comment