Men of Iron | Page 4

troubled before to notice
him, bethought themselves of him, and sent him to bed, rebellious at
having to go so early.
He remembered how the next morning, looking out of a window high
up under the eaves, he saw a great troop of horsemen come riding into
the courtyard beneath, where a powdering of snow had whitened
everything, and of how the leader, a knight clad in black armor,
dismounted and entered the great hall door-way below, followed by
several of the band.
He remembered how some of the castle women were standing in a
frightened group upon the landing of the stairs, talking together in low
voices about a matter he did not understand, excepting that the armed
men who had ridden into the courtyard had come for Sir John Dale.

None of the women paid any attention to him; so, shunning their notice,
he ran off down the winding stairs, expecting every moment to be
called back again by some one of them.
A crowd of castle people, all very serious and quiet, were gathered in
the hall, where a number of strange men-at-arms lounged upon the
benches, while two billmen in steel caps and leathern jacks stood
guarding the great door, the butts of their weapons resting upon the
ground, and the staves crossed, barring the door-way.
In the anteroom was the knight in black armor whom Myles had seen
from the window. He was sitting at the table, his great helmet lying
upon the bench beside him, and a quart beaker of spiced wine at his
elbow. A clerk sat at the other end of the same table, with inkhorn in
one hand and pen in the other, and a parchment spread in front of him.
Master Robert, the castle steward, stood before the knight, who every
now and then put to him a question, which the other would answer, and
the clerk write the answer down upon the parchment.
His father stood with his back to the fireplace, looking down upon the
floor with his blind eyes, his brows drawn moodily together, and the
scar of the great wound that he had received at the tournament at
York--the wound that had made him blind--showing red across his
forehead, as it always did when he was angered or troubled.
There was something about it all that frightened Myles, who crept to
his father's side, and slid his little hand into the palm that hung limp
and inert. In answer to the touch, his father grasped the hand tightly,
but did not seem otherwise to notice that he was there. Neither did the
black knight pay any attention to him, but continued putting his
questions to Master Robert.
Then, suddenly, there was a commotion in the hall without, loud voices,
and a hurrying here and there. The black knight half arose, grasping a
heavy iron mace that lay upon the bench beside him, and the next
moment Sir John Dale himself, as pale as death, walked into the
antechamber. He stopped in the very middle of the room. "I yield me to

my Lord's grace and mercy," said he to the black knight, and they were
the last words he ever uttered in this world.
The black knight shouted out some words of command, and swinging
up the iron mace in his hand, strode forward clanking towards Sir John,
who raised his arm as though to shield himself from the blow. Two or
three of those who stood in the hall without came running into the room
with drawn swords and bills, and little Myles, crying out with terror,
hid his face in his father's long gown.
The next instant came the sound of a heavy blow and of a groan, then
another blow and the sound of one falling upon the ground. Then the
clashing of steel, and in the midst Lord Falworth crying, in a dreadful
voice, "Thou traitor! thou coward! thou murderer!"
Master Robert snatched Myles away from his father, and bore him out
of the room in spite of his screams and struggles, and he remembered
just one instant's sight of Sir John lying still and silent upon his face,
and of the black knight standing above him, with the terrible mace in
his hand stained a dreadful red.
It was the next day that Lord and Lady Falworth and little Myles,
together with three of the more faithful of their people, left the castle.
His memory of past things held a picture for Myles of old Diccon
Bowman standing over him in the silence of midnight with a lighted
lamp in his hand, and with it a recollection of being bidden to hush
when he would have spoken, and of being dressed by Diccon and one
of the women, bewildered with sleep, shuddering and