CHAPTER XII
Sanctuary
Thrice in June Calote went to the Abbey church, and thrice in July,but 't was not till August that she saw the squire.
There was High Mass in the choir that day, and she knelt a little waydown the nave, beside a pillar. Immediately without the choir therewas a knight kneeling. He was a most devout person; and near by weretwo servants of his. These were all that were in the church at thattime, save and except the monks in their choir stalls, the celebrantand his acolytes at the altar, and Calote,--until the squire came in.
He looked up and down, and Calote lifted her head, for she knew thatsome one was come in by the north door. The knight also lifted hishead, and his two servants half arose from off their knees, as theywere watchful and expectant. But then they all three crossedthemselves and addressed them again to their devotions. The squirewent lightly down the nave to Calote's pillar, and kneeled by Calote'sside; and so, shutting his eyes, he made a short prayer. But presentlyhe opened his eyes again and turned his head;--the monks werechanting.
"I am in so close attendance upon the King that I do never go into thecity," he whispered.
"'T is well," answered Calote.
"'T is not well; 't is very ill," said the squire.
"Doth the King forget the wrongs of the poor?" asked Calote.
"Do I forget that thy hair is golden and thine eyes are gray?" thesquire retorted. "Thrice in the week, at the very least, he will haveme come to his bed at night and read thy father's Vision till hesleeps."
"Alas! and doth he sleep when thou read'st that book?" murmuredCalote.
"Ah, my lady! wherefore wilt thou so evil entreat me?" Stephenpleaded. "I may not open my lips but thou redest my meaning awry. TheKing hath a loving heart and a delicate fancy, but he is over-young.Thy father's Vision is a sober tale; 't is an old-fashioned music;haply I read it ill. Natheless, Richard is constant. When he is in agreat rage with his uncles, or the Council, or the Archbishop, andthey require of him what he is loth to perform, I do soothe him of hisweeping with the memory of that secret. But of late he growethimpatient; there be stirrings in him of manhood; he is taller thanthou, albeit not yet thirteen. He demandeth to know when the people isto rise up. He saith, 'Seek out thy bien-aimee and bid her tell thepeople I am weary with waiting; I want to be a king,--for I am aking.' Last month he spake to me very lovingly of Walworth and Brembreand sundry others, merchants of London, that come often to the palace.'I will be friend with merchants,' he saith; 'thy Calote spake truth,they are more loving than mine uncles.'"
"But the merchants be not the poor!" said Calote. "Oh, tell me true,hath he revealed aught to these rich merchants?"
"Nay, I trow not," Stephen answered. "But how may Richard know aughtof the poor, save and except beggars? How may I know, that live in thepalace and see the might and wit of nobles? How may I know that thisRising will ever be arisen? Ah, Calote, do they play upon thy pity,these dullard poor? I have seen my father, when I was a little child,quell a dozen of rebellious villeins with but a flash of his eye. Theydared not do him hurt, though he stood alone. Power is born with thenoble, 't is his heritage."
"Wilt thou leave thy palace folk and come to us, and we 'll learn theeto believe that the poor he hath virtue also," cried Calote, and was'ware of her own voice, for the gospeller stood to be censed.
So Stephen and Calote rose up from their knees to hear theGospel,--albeit they might hear little at so great distance. And inthe midst of the Gospel the north door went wide, and a great companyof men, armed, stood on the threshold as they were loth to enter. Theknight, which was also standing, for he was very devout, turned tolook on these men, and immediately, as it were in despite of his ownwill, he drew his sword; and then he made two running steps to thechoir.
Dogs will rest uncertain and look on the quarry if it stand, but if itturn to flee they are upon it. So now, when the knight ran up into thechoir like the hunted man he was, all they at the door forgot theirunwillingness to enter, and came on pell-mell.
"Sanctuary! Sanctuary!" cried the knight.
"In the name of the King!" cried the armed men, and some ran to thecloister door and others to the west door, and spread themselves aboutso that there was no chance to escape, and others went up into thechoir after the knight.
There was a great tumult, with screaming of monks, and bits of Latinprayer, and stout English curses,--and "Sanctuary! Sanctuary!" and "Inthe King's name!" The servants of the knight ran before and after himand got in the way of his pursuers, which once laid hands on him buthe beat them back with his sword. Round the choir they went, trippingover monks and over each other. The gospeller fell down on his knees,and the acolyte that held the candles to read by dashed them down andfled away. Round the choir they went twice. "Sanctuary! Sanctuary!"
"O God!" cried Calote; "O God!--what is this they do in the King'sname?"
Then she saw how one stabbed the knight, and all those others crowdedto that spot where he lay. They panted, and hung over his dead bodylike fierce dogs. Then they laid hold on it by the legs and dragged itbleeding down the aisle, and so cast it out at the door.
Stephen took Calote by the wrist and led her forth. She was shaking.
"In the King's name!" she said; "O Christ!"
By the altar there was another dead body, a monk, and other monksknelt beside, wringing their hands and wailing.
Stephen pushed through the gaping crowd at the door, past the deadknight, and would have led Calote away into the fields, but shesaid:--
"Let be! I will go home. I am very sick."
"'T was not the King's fault; be sure of that!" cried Stephen. "Theydo so many wicked things in his name. He is but a weakling child."
"It is time the people arose!" answered Calote. "Ah, how helpless amI, and thou, and the little King! How helpless is this country ofEngland, where men slay each other before God's altar!"
"'T is John of Gaunt's doing," said Stephen. "'T was concerning aSpanish hostage that was in the hands of this knight and another, andthe King's Council said they would take the hostage, for that theymight claim the ransom; but the knights hid him and would not saywhere he was hid."
"O Covetise!" sobbed Calote. "Of what avail that my father called theeto repent in his Vision! All prophecies is lies. 'T is a wicked world,without love. All men hate one another, and I would I were dead."
"Nay, nay!" Stephen protested. "I love!--I 'll prove my love!"
"Thou canst not. Thou art bound to the King,--and the King is indurance to the covetous nobles. King and people is in the samestraits, browbeat both alike."
But here they were 'ware of a man that watched them, and when he camenigh 't was Jack Straw.
"So, mistress! Wert thou in the church?" he asked.
"'T is a friend of my father's," said Calote to Stephen. "I will gointo the city with him. Fare thee well!"
"I 'll go also," Stephen made answer; but she would not have it so.
"Thy place is with the King," she said. "Go learn him of this new sin;how men defile churches in his name!"
And to Jack Straw, on the homeward way, she would say nothing but:--
"Prate to me not of thy plot, and thy Rising! I 've no faith in thee,nor any man. The people is afraid to rise; all 's words. O me, alas!'T is now a year, and am I gone on pilgrimage to rouse the people? Donot the great lords slay and steal as they have ever done? Do not thepeople starve? Ye are afeared to rise up; afeared of the Duke and hisretainers. Poor men are cowards."
"I would have sent thee forth six months agone," said Jack Straw,soothing her; "but Wat would not. Patience, mistress!"
And a month after, Jack Straw came to Calote and told her the time wasnigh.
"The Parliament meets in Gloucester next month," he said; "for thatthe quarrel 'twixt the King and the monks of Westminster is not yethealed, and the church is not re-consecrate since the sacrilege.--Nowthe people will see the King as he goeth on his progress to
Gloucester, and this is well. They will see his face and know him inmany shires and hundreds. Their hearts will be warmed to him. Do thoufollow and get thy token from him, and they 'll believe thee the morereadily that thou art seen about Gloucester and those villages in thatsame time. But have a care not to speak thy message till Parliament isdissolved and the knights returned home; only do thou be seen here andthere."
"When do I go?" asked Calote, trembling.
"I have a friend, a peddler and his wife, that go about in a littlecart. They 'll be like to follow in the tail of the King's retinue,for the better protection. Meanwhile, an thou 'rt wise, thou wilt notmingle lightly with the King's household; but with the peasants in thevillages 't is another matter."
"Yea, I know," she answered.
"That gay sprig--that squire"--began Jack Straw.
"Hold thy peace!" said Calote. "But for him, how had I come at theKing?"
And Jack Straw shut his lips and gulped down his jealousy, but it lefta bitter smart in his throat.
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