“Yea, my Lord. I have heard of him often,” answered Myles. “It was he who won the prize at the great tourney at Rochelle last year.”
“I see that thou hast his fame pat to thy tongue's end,” said the Earl; “he is the chevalier of whom I speak, and he is reckoned the best knight of Dauphiny. That one of which thou spokest was the third great tourney in which he was adjudged the victor. I am glad that thou holdest his prowess highly. Knowest thou that he is in the train of the Comte de Vermoise?”
“Nay,” said Myles, flushing; “I did hear news he was in England, but knew not that he was in this place.”
“Yea,” said Lord Mackworth; “he is here.” He paused for a moment; then said, suddenly. “Tell me, Myles Falworth, an thou wert a knight and of rank fit to run a joust with the Sieur de la Montaigne, wouldst thou dare encounter him in the lists?”
The Earl's question fell upon Myles so suddenly and unexpectedly that for a moment or so he stood staring at the speaker with mouth agape. Meanwhile the Earl sat looking calmly back at him, slowly stroking his beard the while.
It was Sir James Lee's voice that broke the silence. “Thou heardst thy Lord speak,” said he, harshly. “Hast thou no tongue to answer, sirrah?”
“Be silent, Lee,” said Lord Mackworth, quietly. “Let the lad have time to think before he speaketh.”
The sound of the words aroused Myles. He advanced to the table, and rested his hand upon it. “My Lord—my Lord,” said he, “I know not what to say, I—I am amazed and afeard.”
“How! how!” cried Sir James Lee, harshly. “Afeard, sayst thou? An thou art afeard, thou knave, thou needst never look upon my face or speak to me more! I have done with thee forever an thou art afeard even were the champion a Sir Alisander.”
“Peace, peace, Lee,” said the Earl, holding up his hand. “Thou art too hasty. The lad shall have his will in this matter, and thou and no one shall constrain him. Methinks, also, thou dost not understand him. Speak from thy heart, Myles; why art thou afraid?”