manhood, and poor Gascoyne looked up at
him with a face ghastly white.

Then all were gone; the gates of the principal list and that of the
false list were closed clashing, and Myles was alone, face to face, with
his mortal enemy.

CHAPTER 33

There was a little while of restless, rustling silence, during which the
Constable took his place in the seat appointed for him directly in
front of and below the King's throne. A moment or two when even the
restlessness and the rustling were quieted, and then the King leaned
forward and spoke to the Constable, who immediately called out, in a
loud, clear voice.

"Let them go!" Then again, "Let them go!" Then, for the third and last
time, "Let them go and do their endeavor, in God's name!"

At this third command the combatants, each of whom had till that moment
been sitting as motionless as a statue of iron, tightened rein, and rode
slowly and deliberately forward without haste, yet without hesitation,
until they met in the very middle of the lists.

In the battle which followed, Myles fought with the long sword, the Earl
with the hand-gisarm for which he had asked. The moment they met, the
combat was opened, and for a time nothing was heard but the thunderous
clashing and clamor of blows, now and then beating intermittently, now
and then pausing. Occasionally, as the combatants spurred together,
checked, wheeled, and recovered, they would be hidden for a moment in
a misty veil of dust, which, again drifting down the wind, perhaps
revealed them drawn a little apart, resting their panting horses. Then,
again, they would spur together, striking as they passed, wheeling and
striking again.

Upon the scaffolding all was still, only now and then for the buzz of
muffled exclamations or applause of those who looked on. Mostly the
applause was from Myles's friends, for from the very first he showed and
steadily maintained his advantage over the older man. "Hah! well struck!
well recovered!" "Look ye! the sword bit that time!" "Nay, look, saw ye
him pass the point of the gisarm?" Then, "Falworth! Falworth!" as some
more than usually skilful stroke or parry occurred.

Meantime Myles's father sat straining his sightless eyeballs, as though
to pierce his body's darkness with one ray of light that would show him
how his boy held his own in the fight, and Lord Mackworth, leaning with
his lips close to the blind man's ear, told him point by point how the
battle stood.

"Fear not