And so it was that Myles's body as well as his mind had to be
trained to meet the needs of the dark age in which he lived.
Every morning, winter or summer, rain or shine he tramped away six long
miles to the priory school, and in the evenings his mother taught him
French.
Myles, being prejudiced in the school of thought of his day, rebelled
not a little at that last branch of his studies. "Why must I learn that
vile tongue?" said he.
"Call it not vile," said the blind old Lord, grimly; "belike, when thou
art grown a man, thou'lt have to seek thy fortune in France land, for
England is haply no place for such as be of Falworth blood." And in
after-years, true to his father's prediction, the "vile tongue" served
him well.
As for his physical training, that pretty well filled up the hours
between his morning studies at the monastery and his evening studies
at home. Then it was that old Diccon Bowman took him in hand, than whom
none could be better fitted to shape his young body to strength and his
hands to skill in arms. The old bowman had served with Lord Falworth's
father under the Black Prince both in France and Spain, and in long
years of war had gained a practical knowledge of arms that few could
surpass. Besides the use of the broadsword, the short sword, the
quarter-staff, and the cudgel, he taught Myles to shoot so skilfully
with the long-bow and the cross-bow that not a lad in the country-side
was his match at the village butts.
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