by Howard Pyle
CHAPTER 2
From the time the family escaped from Falworth Castle that midwinternight to the time Myles was sixteen years old he knew nothing of thegreat world beyond Crosbey-Dale. A fair was held twice in a twelvemonthat the market-town of Wisebey, and three times in the seven years oldDiccon Bowman took the lad to see the sights at that place. Beyond thesethree glimpses of the outer world he lived almost as secluded a life asone of the neighboring monks of St. Mary's Priory.
Crosbey-Holt, their new home, was different enough from Falworth orEasterbridge Castle, the former baronial seats of Lord Falworth. It wasa long, low, straw-thatched farm-house, once, when the church lands weredivided into two holdings, one of the bailiff's houses. All around werethe fruitful farms of the priory, tilled by well-to-do tenant holders,and rich with fields of waving grain, and meadow-lands where sheep andcattle grazed in flocks and herds; for in those days the church landswere under church rule, and were governed by church laws, and there,when war and famine and waste and sloth blighted the outside world,harvests flourished and were gathered, and sheep were sheared and cowswere milked in peace and quietness.
The Prior of St. Mary's owed much if not all of the church's prosperityto the blind Lord Falworth, and now he was paying it back with a havenof refuge from the ruin that his former patron had brought upon himselfby giving shelter to Sir John Dale.
I fancy that most boys do not love the grinding of school life--thelessons to be conned, the close application during study hours. It isnot often pleasant to brisk, lively lads to be so cooped up. I wonderwhat the boys of to-day would have thought of Myles's training. With himthat training was not only of the mind, but of the body as well, and forseven years it was almost unremitting. "Thou hast thine own way tomake in the world, sirrah," his father said more than once when the boycomplained of the grinding hardness of his life, and to make one's wayin those days meant a thousand times more than it does now; it meant notonly a heart to feel and a brain to think, but a hand quick and strongto strike in battle, and a body tough to endure the wounds and blows inreturn. And so it was that Myles's body as well as his mind had to betrained to meet the needs of the dark age in which he lived.
Every morning, winter or summer, rain or shine he tramped away six longmiles to the priory school, and in the evenings his mother taught himFrench.
Myles, being prejudiced in the school of thought of his day, rebellednot a little at that last branch of his studies. "Why must I learn thatvile tongue?" said he.
"Call it not vile," said the blind old Lord, grimly; "belike, when thouart grown a man, thou'lt have to seek thy fortune in France land, forEngland is haply no place for such as be of Falworth blood." And inafter-years, true to his father's prediction, the "vile tongue" servedhim well.
As for his physical training, that pretty well filled up the hoursbetween his morning studies at the monastery and his evening studiesat home. Then it was that old Diccon Bowman took him in hand, than whomnone could be better fitted to shape his young body to strength and hishands to skill in arms. The old bowman had served with Lord Falworth'sfather under the Black Prince both in France and Spain, and in longyears of war had gained a practical knowledge of arms that few couldsurpass. Besides the use of the broadsword, the short sword, thequarter-staff, and the cudgel, he taught Myles to shoot so skilfullywith the long-bow and the cross-bow that not a lad in the country-sidewas his match at the village butts. Attack and defence with the lance,and throwing the knife and dagger were also part of his training.
Then, in addition to this more regular part of his physical training,Myles was taught in another branch not so often included in the militaryeducation of the day--the art of wrestling. It happened that a fellowlived in Crosbey village, by name Ralph-the-Smith, who was the greatestwrestler in the country-side, and had worn the champion belt for threeyears. Every Sunday afternoon, in fair weather, he came to teach Mylesthe art, and being wonderfully adept in bodily feats, he soon grew soquick and active and firm-footed that he could cast any lad under twentyyears of age living within a range of five miles.
"It is main ungentle armscraft that he learneth," said Lord Falworth oneday to Prior Edward. "Saving only the broadsword, the dagger, and thelance, there is but little that a gentleman of his strain may use.Neth'less, he gaineth quickness and suppleness, and if he hath trueblood in his veins he will acquire knightly arts shrewdly quick when thetime cometh to learn them."
But hard and grinding as Myles's life was, it was not entirely withoutpleasures. There were many boys living in Crosbey-Dale and the village;yeomen's and farmers' sons, to be sure, but, nevertheless, lads of hisown age, and that, after all, is the main requirement for friendship inboyhood's world. Then there was the river to bathe in; there were thehills and valleys to roam over, and the wold and woodland, with theirwealth of nuts and birds'-nests and what not of boyhood's treasures.
Once he gained a triumph that for many a day was very sweet under thetongue of his memory. As was said before, he had been three times to themarket-town at fair-time, and upon the last of these occasions he hadfought a bout of quarterstaff with a young fellow of twenty, and hadbeen the conqueror. He was then only a little over fourteen years old.
Old Diccon, who had gone with him to the fair, had met some cronies ofhis own, with whom he had sat gossiping in the ale-booth, leaving Mylesfor the nonce to shift for himself. By-and-by the old man had noticeda crowd gathered at one part of the fair-ground, and, snuffing a fight,had gone running, ale-pot in hand. Then, peering over the shoulders ofthe crowd, he had seen his young master, stripped to the waist, fightinglike a gladiator with a fellow a head taller than himself. Diccon wasabout to force his way through the crowd and drag them asunder, but asecond look had showed his practised eye that Myles was not only holdinghis own, but was in the way of winning the victory. So he had stood withthe others looking on, withholding himself from any interference andwhatever upbraiding might be necessary until the fight had been broughtto a triumphant close. Lord Falworth never heard directly of theredoubtable affair, but old Diccon was not so silent with the commonfolk of Crosbey-Dale, and so no doubt the father had some inkling ofwhat had happened. It was shortly after this notable event that Myleswas formally initiated into squirehood. His father and mother, as wasthe custom, stood sponsors for him. By them, each bearing a lightedtaper, he was escorted to the altar. It was at St. Mary's Priory, andPrior Edward blessed the sword and girded it to the lad's side. Noone was present but the four, and when the good Prior had given thebenediction and had signed the cross upon his forehead, Myles's motherstooped and kissed his brow just where the priest's finger had drawn theholy sign. Her eyes brimmed bright with tears as she did so. Poorlady! perhaps she only then and for the first time realized how big herfledgling was growing for his nest. Henceforth Myles had the right towear a sword.
Myles had ended his fifteenth year. He was a bonny lad, with brown face,curling hair, a square, strong chin, and a pair of merry laughingblue eyes; his shoulders were broad; his chest was thick of girth; hismuscles and thews were as tough as oak.
The day upon which he was sixteen years old, as he came whistling homefrom the monastery school he was met by Diccon Bowman.
"Master Myles," said the old man, with a snuffle in his voice--"MasterMyles, thy father would see thee in his chamber, and bade me send theeto him as soon as thou didst come home. Oh, Master Myles, I fear me thatbelike thou art going to leave home to-morrow day."
Myles stopped short. "To leave home!" he cried.
"Aye," said old Diccon, "belike thou goest to some grand castle tolive there, and be a page there and what not, and then, haply, agentleman-at-arms in some great lord's pay."
"What coil is this about castles and lords and gentlemen-at-arms?" saidMyles. "What talkest thou of, Diccon? Art thou jesting?"
"Nay," said Diccon, "I am not jesting. But go to thy father, and thenthou wilt presently know all. Only this I do say, that it is like thouleavest us to-morrow day."
And so it was as
Diccon had said; Myles was to leave home the verynext morning. He found his father and mother and Prior Edward together,waiting for his coming.
"We three have been talking it over this morning," said his father, "andso think each one that the time hath come for thee to quit this poorhome of ours. An thou stay here ten years longer, thou'lt be no more fitto go then than now. To-morrow I will give thee a letter to my kinsman,the Earl of Mackworth. He has thriven in these days and I have fallenaway, but time was that he and I were true sworn companions, andplighted together in friendship never to be sundered. Methinks, as Iremember him, he will abide by his plighted troth, and will give theehis aid to rise in the world. So, as I said, to-morrow morning thoushalt set forth with Diccon Bowman, and shall go to Castle Devlen, andthere deliver this letter which prayeth him to give thee a place in hishousehold. Thou mayst have this afternoon to thyself to make read suchthings as thou shalt take with thee. And bid me Diccon to take the grayhorse to the village and have it shod."
Prior Edward had been standing looking out of the window. As LordFalworth ended he turned.
"And, Myles," said he, "thou wilt need some money, so I will give theeas a loan forty shillings, which some day thou mayst return to me anthou wilt. For this know, Myles, a man cannot do in the world withoutmoney. Thy father hath it ready for thee in the chest, and will give itthee to-morrow ere thou goest."
Lord Falworth had the grim strength of manhood's hard sense to upbearhim in sending his son into the world, but the poor lady mother hadnothing of that to uphold her. No doubt it was as hard then as it isnow for the mother to see the nestling thrust from the nest to shift foritself. What tears were shed, what words of love were spoken to the onlyman-child, none but the mother and the son ever knew.
The next morning Myles and the old bowman rode away, and no doubt tothe boy himself the dark shadows of leave-taking were lost in the goldenlight of hope as he rode out into the great world to seek his fortune.
