Men of Iron

by Howard Pyle

  CHAPTER 27

  As Myles took his place at the south end of the lists, he found theSieur de la Montaigne already at his station. Through the peep-hole inthe face of the huge helmet, a transverse slit known as the occularium,he could see, like a strange narrow picture, the farther end ofthe lists, the spectators upon either side moving and shifting withceaseless restlessness, and in the centre of all, his opponent, sittingwith spear point directed upward, erect, motionless as a statue of iron,the sunlight gleaming and flashing upon his polished plates of steel,and the trappings of his horse swaying and fluttering in the rushing ofthe fresh breeze.

  Upon that motionless figure his sight gradually centred with everyfaculty of mind and soul. He knew the next moment the signal would begiven that was to bring him either glory or shame from that iron statue.He ground his teeth together with stern resolve to do his best in thecoming encounter, and murmured a brief prayer in the hallow darkness ofhis huge helm. Then with a shake he settled himself more firmly in hissaddle, slowly raised his spear point until the shaft reached the exactangle, and there suffered it to rest motionless. There was a moment ofdead, tense, breathless pause, then he rather felt than saw the Marshalraise his baton. He gathered himself together, and the next moment abugle sounded loud and clear. In one blinding rush he drove his spursinto the sides of his horse, and in instant answer felt the noble steedspring forward with a bound.

  Through all the clashing of his armor reverberating in the hollow depthsof his helmet, he saw the mail-clad figure from the other end of thelists rushing towards him, looming larger and larger as they cametogether. He gripped his saddle with his knees, clutched the stirrupwith the soles of his feet, and bent his body still more forward. In theinstant of meeting, with almost the blindness of instinct, he droppedthe point of his spear against the single red flower-de-luce in themiddle of the on-coming shield. There was a thunderous crash that seemedto rack every joint, he heard the crackle of splintered wood, he feltthe momentary trembling recoil of the horse beneath him, and in the nextinstant had passed by. As he checked the onward rush of his horse at thefar end of the course, he heard faintly in the dim hollow recess of thehelm the loud shout and the clapping of hands of those who looked on,and found himself gripping with nervous intensity the butt of a brokenspear, his mouth clammy with excitement, and his heart thumping in histhroat.

  Then he realized that he had met his opponent, and had borne the meetingwell. As he turned his horse's head towards his own end of the lists, hesaw the other trotting slowly back towards his station, also holding abroken spear shaft in his hand.

  As he passed the iron figure a voice issued from the helmet, "Well done,Sir Myles, nobly done!" and his heart bounded in answer to the words ofpraise. When he had reached his own end of the lists, he flung away hisbroken spear, and Gascoyne came forward with another.

  "Oh, Myles!" he said, with sob in his voice, "it was nobly done. Neverdid I see a better ridden course in all my life. I did not believe thatthou couldst do half so well. Oh, Myles, prithee knock him out of hissaddle an thou lovest me!"

  Myles, in his high-keyed nervousness, could not forbear a shorthysterical laugh at his friend's warmth of enthusiasm. He took the freshlance in his hand, and then, seeing that his opponent was walking hishorse slowly up and down at his end of the lists, did the same duringthe little time of rest before the next encounter.

  When, in answer to the command of the Marshal, he took his place asecond time, he found himself calmer and more collected than before, butevery faculty no less intensely fixed than it had been at first. Oncemore the Marshal raised his baton, once more the horn sounded, and oncemore the two rushed together with the same thunderous crash, the samesplinter of broken spears, the same momentary trembling recoil ofthe horse, and the same onward rush past one another. Once more thespectators applauded and shouted as the two knights turned their horsesand rode back towards their station.

  This time as they met midway the Sieur de la Montaigne reined in hishorse. "Sir Myles," said his muffled voice, "I swear to thee, by myfaith, I had not thought to meet in thee such an opponent as thou dostprove thyself to be. I had thought to find in thee a raw boy, but findinstead a Paladin. Hitherto I have given thee grace as I wouldgive grace to any mere lad, and thought of nothing but to give theeopportunity to break thy lance. Now I shall do my endeavor to unhorsethee as I would an acknowledged peer in arms. Nevertheless, on accountof thy youth, I give thee this warning, so that thou mayst hold thyselfin readiness."

  "I give thee gramercy for thy courtesy, my Lord," answered Myles,speaking in French; "and I will strive to encounter thee as best I may,and pardon me if I seem forward in so saying, but were I in thy place,my Lord, I would change me yon breast-piece and over-girth of my saddle;they are sprung in the stitches."

  "Nay," said the Sieur de la Montaigne, laughing, "breast-piece andover-girth have carried me through more tilts than one, and shallthrough this. An thou give me a blow so true as to burst breast-pieceand over-girth, I will own myself fairly conquered by thee." So saying,he saluted Myles with the butt of the spear he still held, and passed byto his end of the lists.

  Myles, with Gascoyne running beside him, rode across to his pavilion,and called to Edmund Wilkes to bring him a cup of spiced wine. AfterGascoyne had taken off his helmet, and as he sat wiping the perspirationfrom his face Sir James came up and took him by the hand.

  "My dear boy," said he, gripping the hand he held, "never could I hopeto be so overjoyed in mine old age as I am this day. Thou dost bringhonor to me, for I tell thee truly thou dost ride like a knight seasonedin twenty tourneys."

  "It doth give me tenfold courage to hear thee so say, dear master,"answered Myles. "And truly," he added, "I shall need all my couragethis bout, for the Sieur de la Montaigne telleth me that he will ride tounhorse me this time."

  "Did he indeed so say?" said Sir James. "Then belike he meaneth tostrike at thy helm. Thy best chance is to strike also at his. Doth thyhand tremble?"

  "Not now," answered Myles.

  "Then keep thy head cool and thine eye true. Set thy trust in God, andhaply thou wilt come out of this bout honorably in spite of the rawnessof thy youth."

  Just then Edmund Wilkes presented the cup of wine to Myles, who drank itoff at a draught, and thereupon Gascoyne replaced the helm and tied thethongs.

  The charge that Sir James Lee had given to Myles to strike at hisadversary's helm was a piece of advice he probably would not have givento so young a knight, excepting as a last resort. A blow perfectlydelivered upon the helm was of all others the most difficult for therecipient to recover from, but then a blow upon the helm was not onetime in fifty perfectly given. The huge cylindrical tilting helm was soconstructed in front as to slope at an angle in all directions to onepoint. That point was the centre of a cross formed by two iron bandswelded to the steel-face plates of the helm where it was weakened by theopening slit of the occularium, or peephole. In the very centre ofthis cross was a little flattened surface where the bands were rivetedtogether, and it was upon that minute point that the blow must be givento be perfect, and that stroke Myles determined to attempt.

  As he took his station Edmund Wilkes came running across from thepavilion with a lance that Sir James had chosen, and Myles, returningthe one that Gascoyne had just given him, took it in his hand. It wasof seasoned oak, somewhat thicker than the other, a tough weapon, noteasily to be broken even in such an encounter as he was like to have. Hebalanced the weapon, and found that it fitted perfectly to his grasp.As he raised the point to rest, his opponent took his station at thefarther extremity of the lists, and again there was a little space ofbreathless pause. Myles was surprised at his own coolness; every nervoustremor was gone. Before, he had been conscious of the critical multitudelooking down upon him; now it was a conflict of man to man, and such aconflict had no terrors for his young heart of iron.

  The spectators had somehow come to the knowledge that this was to bea more serious encounter than the two which had preceded i
t, and abreathless silence fell for the moment or two that the knights stood inplace.

  Once more he breathed a short prayer, "Holy Mary, guard me!"

  Then again, for the third time, the Marshal raised his baton, and thehorn sounded, and for the third time Myles drove his spurs into hishorse's flanks. Again he saw the iron figure of his opponent rushingnearer, nearer, nearer. He centred, with a straining intensity, everyfaculty of soul, mind, and body upon one point--the cross of theoccularium, the mark he was to strike. He braced himself for thetremendous shock which he knew must meet him, and then in a flashdropped lance point straight and true. The next instant there was adeafening stunning crash--a crash like the stroke of a thunder-bolt.There was a dazzling blaze of blinding light, and a myriad sparks dancedand flickered and sparkled before his eyes. He felt his horse staggerunder him with the recoil, and hardly knowing what he did, he drovehis spurs deep into its sides with a shout. At the same moment thereresounded in his ears a crashing rattle and clatter, he knew not ofwhat, and then, as his horse recovered and sprang forward, and as thestunning bewilderment passed, he found that his helmet had beenstruck off. He heard a great shout arise from all, and thought, with asickening, bitter disappointment, that it was because he had lost. Atthe farther end of the course he turned his horse, and then his heartgave a leap and a bound as though it would burst, the blood leaped tohis cheeks tingling, and his bosom thrilled with an almost agonizingpang of triumph, of wonder, of amazement.

  There, in a tangle of his horse's harness and of embroidered trappings,the Sieur de la Montaigne lay stretched upon the ground, with his saddlenear by, and his riderless horse was trotting aimlessly about at thefarther end of the lists.

  Myles saw the two squires of the fallen knight run across to where theirmaster lay, he saw the ladies waving their kerchiefs and veils, and thecastle people swinging their hats and shouting in an ecstasy of delight.Then he rode slowly back to where the squires were now aiding the fallenknight to arise. The senior squire drew his dagger, cut the leatherpoints, and drew off the helm, disclosing the knight's face--a facewhite as death, and convulsed with rage, mortification, and bitterhumiliation.

  "I was not rightly unhorsed!" he cried, hoarsely and with livid lips,to the Marshal and his attendants, who had ridden up. "I unhelmed himfairly enough, but my over-girth and breast-strap burst, and my saddleslipped. I was not unhorsed, I say, and I lay claim that I unhelmedhim."

  "Sir," said the Marshal calmly, and speaking in French, "surely thouknowest that the loss of helmet does not decide an encounter. I need notremind thee, my Lord, that it was so awarded by John of Gaunt, Duke ofLancaster, when in the jousting match between Reynand de Roye and Johnde Holland, the Sieur Reynand left every point of his helm loosened, sothat the helm was beaten off at each stroke. If he then was justified indoing so of his own choice, and wilfully suffering to be unhelmed, howthen can this knight be accused of evil who suffered it by chance?"

  "Nevertheless," said the Sieur de la Montaigne, in the same hoarse,breathless voice, "I do affirm, and will make my affirmation goodwith my body, that I fell only by the breaking of my girth. Who saysotherwise lies!"

  "It is the truth he speaketh," said Myles. "I myself saw the stitcheswere some little what burst, and warned him thereof before we ran thiscourse.

  "Sir," said the Marshal to the Sieur de la Montaigne, "how can you nowcomplain of that thing which your own enemy advised you of and warnedyou against? Was it not right knightly for him so to do?"

  The Sieur de la Montaigne stood quite still for a little while, leaningon the shoulder of his chief squire, looking moodily upon the ground;then, without making answer, he turned, and walked slowly away to hispavilion, still leaning on his squire's shoulder, whilst the otherattendant followed behind, bearing his shield and helmet.

  Gascoyne had picked up Myles's fallen helmet as the Sieur de laMontaigne moved away, and Lord George and Sir James Lee came walkingacross the lists to where Myles still sat. Then, the one taking hishorse by the bridle-rein, and the other walking beside the saddle, theyled him before the raised dais where the King sat.

  Even the Comte de Vermoise, mortified and amazed as he must have beenat the overthrow of his best knight, joined in the praise andcongratulation that poured upon the young conqueror. Myles, his heartswelling with a passion of triumphant delight, looked up and met thegaze of Lady Alice fixed intently upon him. A red spot of excitementstill burned in either cheek, and it flamed to a rosier red as he bowedhis head to her before turning away.

  Gascoyne had just removed Myles's breastplate and gorget, when Sir JamesLee burst into the pavilion. All his grim coldness was gone, and heflung his arms around the young man's neck, hugging him heartily, andkissing him upon either cheek.

  Ere he let him go, "Mine own dear boy," he said, holding him off atarm's-length, and winking his one keen eye rapidly, as though to winkaway a dampness of which he was ashamed--"mine own dear boy, I do tellthee truly this is as sweet to me as though thou wert mine own son;sweeter to me than when I first broke mine own lance in triumph, andfelt myself to be a right knight."

  "Sir," answered Myles, "what thou sayest doth rejoice my very heart.Ne'theless, it is but just to say that both his breast-piece andover-girth were burst in the stitches before he ran his course, for so Isaw with mine own eyes."

  "Burst in the stitches!" snorted Sir James. "Thinkest thou he did notknow in what condition was his horse's gearing? I tell thee he went downbecause thou didst strike fair and true, and he did not so strike thee.Had he been Guy of Warwick he had gone down all the same under such astroke and in such case."