CHAPTER VIII
An Embassage
The winter days that followed were full of stir and strife, and thedevil with the long spoon was ever John of Gaunt. 'T was he set thepeople agog that day John Wyclif was sent for before the bishops in St.Paul's. For the people were friendly enough to this great preacher;they liked right well to hear him say that abbots and bishops shouldbe landless and dwell in Christian pauvrete. But they did not likethat John of Gaunt should be his friend; for in those days the Dukehad put it in the old King's heart to take away the rights of thepeople of London, that were theirs since old time, and set over them amayor who was none of their choosing. And when the people heard this,is no wonder they made a riot that day in St. Paul's, and in thestreets of the city. And they would have burned John of Gaunt's Palaceof the Savoy, that stood betwixt Charing Cross and Temple Bar, but theBishop of London persuaded them, and they left it for that time.
Jack Straw got a broken head in this riot and lay in Langland's cotthree days, and Calote quarrelled with him; for she said, if he andhis like went about burning and destroying all the fair palaces andsweet gardens, in the end, when his day came and all men should holdin common, there would be naught left that anybody would care to have.
Said he, her head was turned with seeing so many fine gentlemen aboutthe town, and because the little Prince had looked on her that day ofParliament. She was like all women with her vanity. She would sellherself for a gewgaw.
"Natheless," answered Calote, "I 've not been in haste to wear theribbon thou gavest me."
And Jack Straw swore at her, and cursed his lame head that kept himhelpless. 'T was a rough wooing. Calote minded her of the squire, andher heart sickened against Jack Straw.
At Eastertide she saw Stephen again. He was come to St. Paul's to hearMass, and she thought peradventure he had forgotten her. But then helooked in her eyes.
She found him awaiting her beneath the north porch when she came out,and he took her hand and begged leave to walk with her. In thebeginning she said him nay, but when he told her he was bearer of amessage from the Prince Richard, she let him have his way, and theywent out through the Aldersgate into Smithfield, under the shadow ofthe convent wall by St. Bartholomew's.
"O Calote!" said the squire. "O white flower! At night in my dreamthou hast come to me; and when I awoke I thought that no maid--nay,not thyself even--could be so fair as wert thou in the dream. Andnow,--and now,--behold! thou art more beautiful than thy dream-self."
"Is 't the message of the Prince?" quoth Calote. She held one handagainst her breast, for something fluttered there.
"Sweet heart, thou art loveliest of all ladies in England and inFrance," said Stephen. "Since I saw thee my heart is a white shrine,where I worship thee."
"Hast thou forgotten that day in our cot?" asked Calote, very sad."There was no lady's bower. Wilt leave me, sir? I may not listen.Betake thee to the palace with thy honeyed words!"
They stood in an angle of the wall, and Stephen knelt there and kissedthe ragged edge of Calote's gown. While his head was bent, she put outher hand and had well-nigh touched his hair. But when he lookedupward, she had both hands at her breast.
"O rose! O rose of love!" he murmured; and did not rise, but stayedkneeling, and so looking up.
"In that Romaunt," said Calote, "a maiden opened the gate. She bare amirror in her hand, and she was crowned and garlanded. Her name wasIdlelesse. But I am not she. I am not any of those fair damsels inthat garden."
"Thou art the rose," he said.
"I do not dwell in a garden."
"Thou art the rose."
"O sir!" she cried, and flung her arms wide. "There be so many kind oflove in the world! But this one kind I may not know. Do not profferit. The Lord hath made me a peasant. Love betwixt thee and me were nothonourable."
"'T is true, I am in tutelage," Stephen answered. "But one day I shallcome to mine own. Meanwhile, I serve thee. 'T is the device of myhouse, 'Steadfast.'"
"I am of the poor," said Calote. "I will not eat spiced meats while mypeople feed of black bread. I will not lie in a soft bed if othermaids must sleep o' the floor."
"I will serve thee!" cried Stephen. "My villeins shall be paid goodwage. Yea, I have read the Vision. The memory of thy father's words isever with me."
"Yet thou canst prate of _thy villeins_" she returned.
"But who will till my fields, else?" he asked of her most humbly.
And she answered him, "I do not care."
So he rose up from his knees a-sighing, and presently he said:--
"This is my motto: 'Steadfast.' And the message of the Prince is thathe would fain speak with thee. One day he will send and bid thee tothe palace; when the tutor and his lady mother shall be welldisposed."
"Sayst thou so?" cried Calote. "Ah, here 's service!"
But the squire was amazed and sorrowful.
"Art thou of the poor," he exclaimed, "and wilt none of me? But thoucanst clap thy hands for joy of being bid to the palace?"
"Nay, nay!" Calote protested. Tears came to her eyes; she laid herhand upon the squire's gay broidered sleeve. "But when I saw thelittle Prince a-going to Westminster, methought--'T is a fair childand noble; if he had one at his ear to tell him of the wrongs of hispoor, he might learn to love these poor. Piers could learn him much.Mayhap I might wake this love in 's heart. Then would there be neitherpoverty nor riches, when the king is friend to the ploughman."
"And if I serve thee faithful? If I bring thee to the Prince? If I makethese wrongs my wrongs, and plead to him?--Then--Calote--then--what wiltthou?"
"How can I tell?" she whispered.
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