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 So the heads were withdrawn again, some laughing at the “sparring of the cockerels.”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.