CHAPTER 4
He was a tall man, taller even than Myles's father. He had a thinface, deep-set bushy eyebrows, and a hawk nose. His upper lip was cleanshaven, but from his chin a flowing beard of iron-gray hung nearly tohis waist. He was clad in a riding-gown of black velvet that hung alittle lower than the knee, trimmed with otter fur and embroidered withsilver goshawks--the crest of the family of Beaumont.
A light shirt of link mail showed beneath the gown as he walked, and apair of soft undressed leather riding-boots were laced as high as theknee, protecting his scarlet hose from mud and dirt. Over his shouldershe wore a collar of enamelled gold, from which hung a magnificentjewelled pendant, and upon his fist he carried a beautiful Icelandfalcon.
As Myles stood staring, he suddenly heard Gascoyne's voice whisper inhis 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 hedrew near, the nobleman stopped for a moment and stared at him, andMyles, as in a dream, kneeled, and presented the letter. The Earl tookit 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 ofme?"
"I am Myles Falworth," said the lad, in a low voice; "and I come seekingservice with you."
The Earl drew his thick eyebrows quickly together, and shot a keenlook at the lad. "Falworth?" said he, sharply--"Falworth? I know noFalworth!"
"The letter will tell you," said Myles. "It is from one once dear toyou."
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; "needstnot kneel there forever." Then, taking the opened parchment again, heglanced 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 fromline to line. Presently he folded the letter and thrust it into thepouch at his side. "So it is, your Grace," said he to the lordlyprelate, "that we who have luck to rise in the world must ever suffer bybeing plagued at all times and seasons. Here is one I chanced to know adozen years ago, who thinks he hath a claim upon me, and saddles mewith his son. I must e'en take the lad, too, for the sake of peace andquietness." He glanced around, and seeing Gascoyne, who had drawn near,beckoned to him. "Take me this fellow," said he, "to the buttery, andsee him fed; and then to Sir James Lee, and have his name entered in thecastle books. And stay, sirrah," he added; "bid me Sir James, if it maybe so done, to enter him as a squire-at-arms. Methinks he will be betterserving so than in the household, for he appeareth a soothly rough cubfor a page."
Myles did look rustic enough, standing clad in frieze in the midst ofthat gay company, and a murmur of laughter sounded around, though hewas too bewildered to fully understand that he was the cause of themerriment. Then some hand drew him back--it was Gascoyne's--there was abustle of people passing, and the next minute they were gone, andMyles and old Diccon Bowman and the young squire were left alone in theanteroom.
Gascoyne looked very sour and put out. "Murrain upon it!" said he; "hereis good sport spoiled for me to see thee fed. I wish no ill to thee,friend, but I would thou hadst come this afternoon or to-morrow."
"Methinks I bring trouble and dole to every one," said Myles, somewhatbitterly. "It would have been better had I never come to this place,methinks."
His words and tone softened Gascoyne a little. "Ne'er mind," said thesquire; "it was not thy fault, and is past mending now. So come and fillthy stomach, in Heaven's name."
Perhaps not the least hard part of the whole trying day for Myleswas his parting with Diccon. Gascoyne and he had accompanied the oldretainer to the outer gate, in the archway of which they now stood; forwithout a permit they could go no farther. The old bowman led by thebridle-rein the horse upon which Myles had ridden that morning. His ownnag, a vicious brute, was restive to be gone, but Diccon held him inwith tight rein. He reached down, and took Myles's sturdy brown hand inhis crooked, knotted grasp.
"Farewell, young master," he croaked, tremulously, with a watery glimmerin his pale eyes. "Thou wilt not forget me when I am gone?"
"Nay," said Myles; "I will not forget thee."
"Aye, aye," said the old man, looking down at him, and shaking his headslowly from side to side; "thou art a great tall sturdy fellow now, yethave I held thee on my knee many and many's the time, and dandled theewhen thou wert only a little weeny babe. Be still, thou devil's limb!"he suddenly broke off, reining back his restive raw-boned steed,which began again to caper and prance. Myles was not sorry for theinterruption; he felt awkward and abashed at the parting, and at the oldman's reminiscences, knowing that Gascoyne's eyes were resting amusedlyupon the scene, and that the men-at-arms were looking on. Certainlyold Diccon did look droll as he struggled vainly with his vicioushigh-necked nag. "Nay, a murrain on thee! an' thou wilt go, go!" criedhe at last, with a savage dig of his heels into the animal's ribs,and away they clattered, the led-horse kicking up its heels as a finalparting, setting Gascoyne fairly alaughing. At the bend of the road theold man turned and nodded his head; the next moment he had disappearedaround the angle of the wall, and it seemed to Myles, as he stoodlooking after him, as though the last thread that bound him to hisold life had snapped and broken. As he turned he saw that Gascoyne waslooking at him.
"Dost feel downhearted?" said the young squire, curiously.
"Nay," said Myles, brusquely. Nevertheless his throat was tight and dry,and the word came huskily in spite of himself.