bidding, canst thou, Falworth?"

"Nay," said Myles, "nor haply canst thou deny it either." And at this
covert reminder of his defeat Myles's followers laughed scoffingly and
Blunt bit his lip.

"Thou hast said it," said he. "Then sin. I met thee at thy bidding,
I dare to thee to meet me now at mine, and to fight this battle out
between our two selves, with sword and buckler and bascinet as gentles
should, and not in a wrestling match like two country hodges."

"Thou art a coward caitiff, Walter Blunt!" burst out Wilkes, who stood
by with a swelling lump upon his head, already as big as a walnut. "Well
thou knowest that Falworth is no match for thee at broadsword play. Is
he not four years younger than thou, and hast thou not had three times
the practice in arms that he hath had? I say thou art a coward to seek
to fight with cutting weapons."

Blunt made no answer to Wilkes's speech, but gazed steadfastly at Myles,
with a scornful smile curling the corners of his lips. Myles stood
looking upon the ground without once lifting his eyes, not knowing what
to answer, for he was well aware that he was no match for Blunt with the
broadsword.

"Thou art afraid to fight me, Myles Falworth," said Blunt, tauntingly,
and the bachelors gave a jeering laugh in echo.

Then Myles looked up, and I cannot say that his face was not a trifle
whiter than usual. "Nay," said he, "I am not afraid, and I will fight
thee, Blunt."

"So be it," said Blunt. "Then let us go at it straightway in the armory
yonder, for they be at dinner in the Great Hall, and just now there
be'st no one by to stay us."

"Thou shalt not fight him, Myles!" burst out Gascoyne. "He will murther
thee! Thou shalt not fight him, I say!"

Myles turned away without answering him.

"What is to do?" called one of those who were still looking out of the
windows as the crowd of boys passed beneath.

"Blunt and Falworth are going to fight it out hand to hand in the
armory," answered one of the bachelors, looking up.

The brawling of the squires was a jest to all the adjoining part of the
house. So the heads were withdrawn again, some laughing at the "sparring
of the cockerels."

But it was no jesting matter to poor Myles.

CHAPTER 16

I have no intention to describe the fight between Myles Falworth and
Walter Blunt. Fisticuffs of nowadays are brutal and debasing enough, but
a fight with a sharp-edged broadsword was not only brutal and debasing,
but cruel an