Long Will

by Florence Converse

  CHAPTER VII

  A Progress to Westminster

  Throughout that uneasy winter following the death of Edward the BlackPrince, Jack Straw and Wat Tyler were much in London. None knew theirbusiness, but they hung upon the skirts of all public disturbance andwould seem to have been held in esteem by certain of the citizens.They slept, of nights, on the floor of that lower room in Langland'scot, and here Peter, the Devonshire ploughman, kept them company. Hehad got him a job to blow the bellows for Hobbe Smith, and he stood ina dark corner all day, earning his meat and drink, and biding his timetill the law might no more hale him back to Devon for a runaway. Forthis was the law, that if a 'scaped villein should dwell in any town ayear and a day and his lord did not take him, he was free of his lord.

  Once, at midnight, Peter awoke with a light in his eyes, and after amoment of blinking discovered Jack Straw and Wat a-sprawling on theirbellies, head to head, and a rushlight betwixt them. They had a squareof parchment spread out, and Wat drew upon it with a quill.

  "Now here I make Mile End," said he, "and just here i' the wall 'sAldgate,--and they that come by this road"--But here he was 'ware ofPeter's shock-head that shaded the light.

  "Thou hast spoiled a page o' Long Will's Vision wi' hen-tracks," saidPeter; "and he hath much ado to save 's parchment out of 's victual."

  "'T is a plan of London, fool!" answered Wat, and would have displayedhis handiwork, but Jack Straw blew out the light.

  Calote did not like Jack Straw. Thrice, of late, he would have kissedher when her father was not by, but she slipped from his hand. At thefeast of St. Nicholas he gave her a ribbon. Jack Straw was a widowerwith two little lads. "And their grandam is old, poor soul," he waswont to say with a sigh, looking on Calote from beneath his whiteeyelashes.

  Calote took the ribbon with an ill grace:--

  "I am daughter to a poor man; I do not wear fallals," she objected.And at night, when she and her mother had come to bed, she spread theribbon on her knee with discontent.

  "He smelleth ever o' mouldy thatch," she murmured. "I 'll warrant hebeat his wife."

  And Kitte answered drily:--

  "No doubt but she deserved all she got."

  "My father doth never beat thee," Calote averred.

  "Thy father is no common man," said Kitte, "but a poet,--and apriest."

  "I 'll not marry a common man," cried Calote, tossing the ribbon onthe floor.

  "Thou wilt not find another like to thy father," quoth Kitte. She laidher hand upon her daughter's shoulder and looked down for a moment onthe yellow hair; then, as she had taken resolve, she said, "Natheless,an' 't were to live again, I 'd take t' other man."

  Calote looked up, white; there was a question in her eyes.

  "Ah, no!" said Kitte, answering, "'t was thy father I loved, fasteno'. The other man was a lord's son; he did not woo me in way ofmarriage. But I was desperate for love of thy father. I said, 'Whatmatter? I will give myself to this lord, and forget.' Then my motherwatched; and she betrayed me to Will; for that all our women werehonest and she feared for my soul. And Will came to me and said,'Choose! shall it be marriage with a clerk in orders,--a poor sort ofmarriage and hopeless,--but yet a marriage? Or shall it be the other,with this lording?' And his humilite and sweet pleasure that I hadsighed for him so played upon me that I mistook; I thought he lovedme. But a priest with a wife is a maimed creature. To marry the man welove is not alway the best we may do for him. Were thy father free, hemight be well on to a bishopric by now."

  "Bishops be not so enviable," answered Calote. "Here 's Wykeham thrustforth by John of Gaunt, all his estates confiscate, and he huntedhither and yon by the king's men. My father envieth not such."

  "Thou art wilful," said Kitte sternly. "Kneel down and pray that thoumayst never know the bitterness it is to drag down thy best beloved,that was born to mount higher than thou,--be he priest or knight."

  "My father would not be but a poor man, ever," cried Calote. "Bishopsand great abbots they oppress the people and acquire lands"--

  "Hold thy tongue and say thy prayers!" said Kitte, and shook her.

  "How may I do both?" answered Calote.

  "One learns," Kitte made reply coldly. And Calote, her prayers said,went to her mother's bed and kissed her.

  "Thou shouldst marry a prince the morrow morn, had I my way," Kittedid murmur wistfully.

  Nevertheless, on a day in late January, when Jack Straw said he wouldtake Calote to see the Prince Richard and his train ride forth toWestminster, for Parliament was to be opened that day, Calote wentwith him gladly.

  The old King was very sick in Kent; and John of Gaunt, to pleasure thepeople and so further his cause with them, had obtained that theParliament be opened by the Prince. This was John of Gaunt'sParliament,--he had it packed; there was scarce a knight of any shirebut was his creature. The town was full of lords and their retainers,of knights and burgesses.

  'T was in a jostling crowd, and none too good-natured, that Calote andJack Straw, Hobbe the smith, Peter from Devon, and Wat Tyler stood tosee the heir pass. They were by Charing Cross, meaning to follow on toWestminster with the train when it came from the city. All about thepeople grumbled, and trod upon one another's toes. Prentices sang lewdsongs and played vile pranks; anon the babel rose into a guffaw orlapsed to a snarl. Ploughman Peter squatted on the top step of theCross, within a forest of legs, and slept. Hobbe gave entertainment tohimself, and many beside, with mows and grins and gibberings out ofthe devil's part in the Miracle; yet he was mindful of Calote, andturned him to her now and again with:--

  "Yon fellow 's of the household of Northumberland; dost mark hisbadge?"--or, "See, mistress! the black horse is one I shod yesterday;an ill-conditioned beast as ever champed bit;" and such-likeinformation.

  Wat Tyler and Jack Straw whispered together of certain oppressioncommitted of late by Earl Percy and his retainers, and hinted at whatshould hap when the people claimed freedom for itself, and put downall such packed Parliaments as this was like to be.

  "But, Wat," said Calote, who paid more heed to these two than to Hobbeand his pranks; "in my father's Vision nobles and common folk labouredside by side in amity. Dost not mind the fine lady with the veil, howshe sewed sacking and garments, and broidered altar-cloths? And theknight came to Piers in friendly wise to know what he might do. Yetthou wilt have it that the people is to do all, and moreover they willcast down the nobles from their place, with hatred. How can this bewhen Christ the Lord is Leech of Love? Why wilt thou not have thenobles into thy counsel; speak to them as they were thy brothers, andgain their love?"

  Wat Tyler laughed aloud, and Jack Straw set his finger beneathCalote's chin and smiled upon her.

  "Sweet preaching lips," quoth he, and would have kissed her; but shestruck him, and Wat said:--

  "Let be! Why tease the maid?"

  But they ceased their whispering, for the crowd was making a greatroar, and some said they could see the Prince. So many rude folkclambered up the steps of the Cross that Calote was pressed upon andwell-nigh breathless, and she could see naught but the broad backs ofmen and the wide caps of women; so Jack Straw made as to lift her inhis arms; but she, in haste, cried:--

  "Wat shall hold me; he 's taller."

  And Wat, laughing, swung her to his shoulder, for she was but a slipof a child.

  "I 've a maid of mine own in Kent rides often thus," said tall Wat.And Jack Straw smiled; yet, though he smiled, he cursed.

  Now there came by trumpeters, and gentlemen in arms, a-many; and thisand that and the other great lord. And then there came a little lad ona great horse.

  He was all bejewelled, this little lad; he had a great ruby in hisbonnet, and three gold chains about his neck, and a broad ribbonacross his breast. His little legs stood out upon the back of thegreat horse, and his long mantle of velvet spread as far as thehorse's tail. He had a fair and childlike countenance and a proudchin. His mien was serious, and he bore himself with a p
rettystateliness, yet was nowise haughty. And the people cheered, andcheered, and cheered again; men laughed with love in their eyes, andwomen blessed him and sobbed. On his right hand rode the great Duke,smiling and affable; on his left, but sourly, the Earl of March. Closeafter came young Thomas of Woodstock. At Richard's bridle-rein therewalked a young squire very gaily clad, and when the great horse cameopposite Charing Cross and the place where Calote was lifted above theheads of the people, this squire said somewhat to the little Prince;whereupon Richard, forgetful, for the nonce, of Parliament andkingdom, stretched upward, turned his head like any eager child, with"Where?" upon his lips, and looked until he found--Calote.

  He looked on her with a solemn curiosity, as a child will, and shefrom her high seat looked on him. Wat Tyler was moving on with thecrowd, so the two kept pace, holding each other's glance. Once,Calote's eyes fell to the squire, whereupon he lifted his cap. Allabout her was shouting, but she heard only her own thoughts, whichwere, of a sudden, very loud and clear.--If this little child couldlearn to love and trust the poor, might not the Vision indeed befulfilled? Might not the king and the ploughman indeed toil together,side by side, for the good of the people? Oh, if there were some oneto teach this child! If she, Calote, might speak to him and tell himhow far poverty differed from riches! The squire must have spokenconcerning her, else why should the boy keep his eyes so fixed on herface? If she could but speak to him and tell him of the Vision, andwhat a king might do! He was so little, so noble,--he would assuredlylearn.

  But now Wat, jostled amid the throng, was not able to keep pace withthe Prince, and fell behind. And they were before Westminster, wherethe Duke lifted his nephew off the horse and led him within the Abbey;and other lords dismounted to follow, and there was confusion andshouting of pages. All this while, the ploughman, being waked when thePrince came past the Cross, had followed on behind Wat, agape on thesplendour and forgetful of his own safety. But when the Earl of Devonand his retainers made a stand to dismount, on a sudden a stocky,red-faced knight sware a great oath and, leaping off his horse, cameand took Peter by the ear:--

  "A villein! A 'scaped villein!" he cried. "'T is mine! Bind him!"

  And all the crowd was echoing, "A villein 'scaped!" when Hobbe,thrusting men and women to right and left, laid his hand upon Peter'sshoulder and bawled:--

  "A lie! A very villainous lie! 'T is my prentice that 's served mefaithful this year and more."

  "Hobbe's prentice!" cried the mob. "Good fellows, stand by the smith!"And they closed about the knight, so that he had no room to draw hissword.

  But one came riding from the old Earl of Devon to question concerningthe affray, and the knight cried: "Justice! Justice, my lord! Here 'smine own villein kept from me by a rabble!"

  "Justice!" bellowed the smith. "Oh, good citizens of London, do yestand idly by and see the rights of prentices and masters sotrampled?"

  "Nay!--Nay!--Nay!--Nay!" said many voices; and the people surged thisway and that.

  "Rescue! Rescue!"

  "Stand on your rights!"

  "Does Devon rule because a Courtney 's Bishop o' London?"

  The burly smith and the no less redoubtable knight stood a-glaring,each with his hand upon his claimed property.

  "'T is mine!" cried the knight. "He ran not six months agone."

  "'T is mine!" roared the smith. "Hath blowed my bellus this year andsix."

  One said the Bishop of London was sent for to quell the mob. A clot ofmud caught the knight on the side of his bullet head. It could be seenwhere Devon consulted with his sons and retainers, for 't was no lightmatter to wrest away a London prentice, on whichsoever side lay theright.

  "The smith speaks truth!" said Jack Straw, lifting up his voice. "Whendo the lords aught but lie to the people?"

  Some one threw a stone.

  Then Calote leaned down and laid her hand on Peter's head. "O sir!"she said to the knight, "this is a man. Christ came in his likeness.He is thy bloody brother. Will ye not love one another?"

  They that were near at hand stood agape. Others beyond said, "What is't?" "Who is 't?"--and others again answered them, "'T is Long Will'slittle maid." "'T is a maid with hair like the sun." Those at the edgeof the throng thought an angel was sent, and they crossed themselves.

  The knight lifted his purple face, and his mouth dropped wide open.

  All this while had Peter stood silent, passive, hopeless; but now hespoke:--

  "In five months I were a free man," he said, "but to-day I am thisman's villein. He saith true."

  "Fool!" cried Hobbe; "I would have delivered thee."

  "Fool!" cried Jack Straw.

  "Fool!" laughed the crowd. "Bind him!" "Give him to 's master!" "Bindhim!" "Hobbe 's well rid!" "Bind him!"

  So they bound him fast, and two stout knaves set him on the knight'shorse, and the knight went into Westminster.

  "Take me to him," said Calote; and Wat carried her to the side of thehorse.

  "Good-by, mistress," said Peter; "God bless thee!"

  "Good-by, Peter," said Calote. "'T is very true what my father saith,how that Truth resteth with the ploughman."

  "Heh?" asked Peter; but she was gone on her way.

  In a moment she bade Wat set her down, and when he did so she lookedin his face, for throughout this hubbub he had uttered nor word norsound.

  There was foam upon his lip.