Myles Falworth was but eight years of age at that time, and itwas only afterwards, and when he grew old enough to know more ofthe ins and outs of the matter, that he could remember by bitsand pieces the things that afterwards happened; how one evening aknight came clattering into the court-yard upon a horse,red-nostrilled and smeared with the sweat and foam of a desperateride--Sir John Dale, a dear friend of the blind Lord.
Even though so young, Myles knew that something very serious hadhappened to make Sir John so pale and haggard, and he dimlyremembered leaning against the knight's iron-covered knees,looking up into his gloomy face, and asking him if he was sick tolook so strange. Thereupon those who had been too troubled beforeto 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 highup under the eaves, he saw a great troop of horsemen come ridinginto the courtyard beneath, where a powdering of snow hadwhitened everything, and of how the leader, a knight clad inblack armor, dismounted and entered the great hall door-waybelow, followed by several of the band.
He remembered how some of the castle women were standing in afrightened group upon the landing of the stairs, talking togetherin low voices about a matter he did not understand, exceptingthat the armed men who had ridden into the courtyard had come forSir 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 ofthem.
A crowd of castle people, all very serious and quiet, weregathered in the hall, where a number of strange men-at-armslounged upon the benches, while two billmen in steel caps andleathern jacks stood guarding the great door, the butts of theirweapons resting upon the ground, and the staves crossed, barringthe door-way.
In the anteroom was the knight in black armor whom Myles had seenfrom the window. He was sitting at the table, his great helmetlying upon the bench beside him, and a quart beaker of spicedwine at his elbow. A clerk sat at the other end of the sametable, with inkhorn in one hand and pen in the other, and aparchment spread in front of him.
Master Robert, the castle steward, stood before the knight, whoevery now and then put to him a question, which the other wouldanswer, and the clerk write the answer down upon the parchment.
His father stood with his back to the fireplace, looking downupon the floor with his blind eyes, his brows drawn moodilytogether, and the scar of the great wound that he had received atthe tournament at York--the wound that had made himblind--showing red across his forehead, as it always did when hewas angered or troubled.
There was something about it all that frightened Myles, who creptto his father's side, and slid his little hand into the palm thathung limp and inert. In answer to the touch, his father graspedthe hand tightly, but did not seem otherwise to notice that hewas there. Neither did the black knight pay any attention to him,but continued putting his questions to Master Robert.
