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Updated: May 31, 2025
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.
Do not speak his name or betray that thou art his son." Then he opened the wicket-gate and entered. Any lad of Myles's age, even one far more used to the world than he, would perhaps have felt all the oppression that he experienced under the weight of such a presentation.
As he clutched his enemy he felt what he had in that instant expected to feel the handle of a dagger. The next moment he cried, in a loud voice: "Oh, thou villain! Help, Gascoyne! He hath a knife under his doublet!" In answer to his cry for help, Myles's friends started to his aid. But the bachelors shouted, "Stand back and let them fight it out alone, else we will knife ye too."
As soon as he stood, the Earl and the Count advanced, and taking Myles by either hand, led him forward and up the steps of the dais to the platform above. As they drew a little to one side, the King stooped and buckled the sword-belt around Myles's waist, then, rising again, lifted his hand and struck him upon the shoulder, crying, in a loud voice. "Be thou a good knight!"
Such was Myles's own quaint way of telling how he accomplished his aim of visiting the forbidden garden, and no doubt the smack of adventure and the savor of danger in the undertaking recommended him not a little to the favor of the young ladies.
So Blunt never came again to trouble the squires' quarters; and thereafter the youngsters rendered no more service to the elders. Myles's first great fight in life was won. The summer passed away, and the bleak fall came.
And, finally, with the hopefulness of so many of the rest of us, he advised Myles to let matters alone, and they would right themselves in time. But Myles's mind was determined; his active spirit could not brook resting passively under a wrong; he would endure no longer, and now or never they must make their stand.
One day, a little before the good priest returned to Saint Mary's Priory, as he sat by Myles's bedside, his hands folded, and his sight turned inward, the young man suddenly said, "Tell me, holy father, is it always wrong for man to slay man?" The good priest sat silent for so long a time that Myles began to think he had not heard the question.
One of which, in remembering, always filled Myles's heart in after-years with an indefinable pleasure, was the recollection of standing with others of his fellow squires in the crisp brown autumn grass of the paddock, and shooting with the long-bow at wildfowl, which, when the east wind was straining, flew low overhead to pitch to the lake in the forbidden precincts of the deer park beyond the brow of the hill.
Nothing but Myles's undaunted pluck could have led him to dare to face an enemy so much older and stouter than himself. The pause was only for a moment. They who looked saw Blunt slide his hand furtively towards his bosom. Myles saw too, and in the flash of an instant knew what the gesture meant, and sprang upon the other before the hand could grasp what it sought.
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