CHAPTER IV
In the Tower
Now all these things are writ in the Chronicles,--as how the Inns ofCourt of the Temple was destroyed and records burned, and the Hospitalof Saint John of Jerusalem at Clerkenwell burned, and prisons opened;wherefore this book needs not to tell.
So, when night was come and the people a little wearied of their wildwork, Wat Tyler sent the squire to Richard to know what the King woulddo. For this thing was plain, that the most part of the people wasloyal to the King, and minded to follow him and obey Calote's hest.And Wat Tyler, being wise, knew that if he would come at his goal, torule England, he must stand for a little behind Richard's chair.
"Bid the King come to his own," said Wat. "Thou and I and John Ball,we be as honest men as Salisbury and John of Gaunt and Simon theArchbishop."
In the beginning the guard at the Tower gate was loth to hold speechwith Stephen, but when he had given the word, and moreover thrown offhis hood that his face was plain, he was let come in; howbeit therewent a soldier at his side all the way.
When he came into the chapel, John Leg was there a-mumbling hisprayers, and at sound of footsteps he screeched and ran up thealtar-steps, For this John Leg was he that was leader of the poll-taxcommission, and he dwelt hourly in great fear of his life.
Beyond, in a large chamber, were gathered together all those that hadsought refuge in the Tower. The Queen was there, and her ladies,withdrawn to the dais and whispering. In the midst of the room, at atable, Salisbury sat, and Thomas of Woodstock, Earl of Buckingham, theKing's uncle, and the Earls of Warwick and Suffolk, and Simon Sudburythe Archbishop; also Mayor Walworth was there, set twixt Salisbury andthe Archbishop. Pages held torches nigh that they might the bettermark one another's faces, for the chamber was of a great size and fullof shadows. Within a window Robert Hales stood, looking out to northwhere was a red glare far off without the city; and he knew that thiswas his manor burning at Highbury. Sir John Holland and the Earl ofKent sat on the dais step with the ladies, but the King was notanywhere in the chamber. There was a young boy of haughty mien andfrowning brow that paced to and fro, and anon he halted to listen bythe table. This was Henry, John of Gaunt's son; and 't was he sawStephen and cried out:--
"My lords, here 's Etienne Fitzwarine! Now shall we know somewhat."
All those about the table turned and looked at Stephen, and the pagesheld their torches higher.
"Art thou for us, Fitzwarine?" quoth Salisbury. "Art thou come as afriend?"
"I am for the people, my lord,--with the King."
"The people first!" sneered Thomas of Woodstock, the Earl ofBuckingham. "A loyal servant, thou!"
"Doth not the King's self set the people first, afore the King?--May Ido less, my Lord of Buckingham?"
"How are we tainted!" groaned Sudbury the Archbishop.
"Tainted, ay!" Stephen cried. "The laws are so rotten that theys-stink. The Statute of Labourers is a plague-spot, festering out ofthe Black Death. Oh, my lords, cut it out!"
"This is Wyclif! This is John Ball!" Sudbury mourned, his head in hishands.
"For the people?" questioned Salisbury anew; "that 's to mean therebels,--and against nobilite?"
"Hear the word, my lord," Stephen said, and never a stammer caught histongue.
"'When Adam delved and Eve span, Who was then the gentleman?'
"Against all men am I, merchants, noblesse, lords of manors, that dooppress their brothers, and hold to villeinage. This law of villeinsis a dead law shall no longer be hanged about the necks of Englishpeasants. We be free men. Lawbreakers, say ye?--Of a surete we 'llbreak that law of villeins, smash and stamp it under foot, till 't ispast mending. I am for the villeins,--and the King. I am sent amessage to the King from his loyal people."
"By the rood of Chester!" shouted Thomas of Woodstock, "and thou artcome hither red-handed from slaughter and pillage of the noblesse tocast insult in the teeth of the King?--A message from yonderrabble?--A plot, a murder, belike!"
"Dost thou think so?" quoth Stephen very quiet, and drew sword anddagger and laid them on the table.
"My Lord of Buckingham, we are sore tried," said Salisbury, "and 'twould seem we had just cause for anger these three days; natheless,let peasants rage; 't behoves us keep our tongues and tempers. Prytheegive again his sword and dagger to Etienne Fitzwarine."
"Nay, my lord," Stephen interposed; "'t was I was over-hasty to laythem down. I 'll take them up and bear no malice.--Beseech you, whereis the King?"
"Gone above to look forth from a turret," Henry answered. "I wouldhave borne him company, but he 's in the sulks."
"My lords, pray you, let me go bring hither the King," said Stephen,and he went into that corner of the room where a door opened upon thestair. Young Henry followed, plucking at his sleeve, with:--
"An thou canst, make my cousin to see here 's his time to play theman. But he 's a poor thing."
"My lord, 't is not so simple to be a king," Stephen answered coldly.
"To know what one will have, and to take it,--is not this enough?" theboy said with scorn. But Stephen left him and climbed the stair.
The dusk of summer came in at the windows of the dark turret, and inone of the windows Richard sat, hugging his knees.
"Go down, cousin!" he said sharply, without turning his head.
"'T is Etienne Fitzwarine, sire," Stephen ventured.
"Ah, thou!" exclaimed the boy. "Come hither, mignon!" and held out hisarms.
"On every hand they thwart me," he complained. "Mine Uncle Buckinghamcounselleth one way and Salisbury another. If I speak, they do notlisten; and if I rest silent, my cousin Henry hath fixed me withscornful eyes, as who should say, 'Were in thy shoes,'--Christ, but Ido hate my cousin Henry!--Etienne, methinks my star hath slipped,--Iwas not meant to be a king. One day 't will be discovered; then they'll cry out for Lancaster."
"My lord," Stephen soothed him, "hast thou heard how they have criedout all this day in London streets, and at the burning of the Savoy,'We will have no King called John?'"
"His name is Henry," the boy answered, "'t is a froward child;" andthen passionately: "Natheless, tell me 't is not true! Tell me,--tellme!"
"Look out of window, sire, on Saint Catherine's Hill, where thy peoplewait thee! So shall these fears and follies be dispelled."
"Let us to the battlement to breathe," said Richard. "Is more to see;and I 'm smothered here, walled in with my cousin."
So they went up; and all around the sky was red, but not with the sun,for that was set three hours past. There was a smell of ashes on theair. Near by, to eastward, on Saint Catherine's Hill, the peasantswere encamped. Which is to say, as many as were not lodged in thecity; Will Langland had a score and six lying close in his cot, andDame Emma harboured threescore and ten; there were some slept inPaul's Churchyard, and others in aldermen's soft beds,--that had neverknown but straw. Nevertheless, the most part of them was on the hill,and this was so close beneath the Tower that Richard, leaning on thebattlement, might descry their faces very plain by the light of thecamp-fires.
"And dost thou bid me look on these and so be assured I am a king?" hesaid, and laughed, the better to swallow a sob.
"My lord, these are the honesty of England," said Stephen. "Truest menon live. Trust them!"
"Yonder 's one with a brand on 's brow,--I see it, T!" cried the boy.Then he covered his face and shuddered.
"They have opened the prisons," said Stephen. "Oh, sire, judges err,and wherefore not these poor? Do but come out to them and hear whatthey would ask of thee, and thou shalt see how they 'll be led likelittle children."
"And would I not so, an I had my way?" Richard cried. "But oldSalisbury saith they 're rebels and 't is not meet the King shouldbend to their will. And Simon Sudbury lives in fear of his life, andso he saith they seek mine also."
"They will not have it they 're rebels, sire, being risen in the nameof the King."
"What for a rid
dle is here?" sighed Richard, but also he smiled."Shall we say to these, my kinsmen and guardians, that the King hathbidden his people to rise against the kingdom?--Dost think I 'll becalled a fool?--Nay!--Neither am I a babe to believe that thou and Iand yon ragged rout may rule England in despite of mine Uncle Gaunt,and Earl Percy, and other the flow'r of England's chivalry,--for allWill Langland's Vision of Ploughmen."
"But these folk do not demand to rule, my lord," protested Stephen."'T is to be made free men, no longer villeins and serfs."
"The Archbishop saith 't is more than this,--for that John Ball andWat Tyler be desperate men and they have made a plot to slay allnobilite. If they do so shall not I be as truly in bondage as now Iam? And how vile bondage! Faugh!--filthy hinds!--Canst smell theirstench even now?"
Stephen leaned on the battlement pondering what he would say. At lasthe spoke, his eyes fixed always on the hill and the restless throngthereon:
"'T is very true," he said, "that there be certain among them areconsumed with the s-sin of envy and lust of power, but the most partof the people m-meddleth not with these subtleties. Freedom is theirdesire, and not to be called villeins; and when they have obtainedthese, they will return to their homes. For W-Wat Tyler and Jack Strawand John Ball, they weigh not a fly as against King Richard in thehearts of the people."
"Sayst thou so?" the boy murmured, and clutched Etienne'sshoulder,--"sayst thou so?" Then he flung out his arms on thebattlement, and his head on his arms. "Ah, wherefore do I take keep ifthis people love me or no? Wherefore do I take keep of the love ofdirty ploughmen, vermin-ridden,--of branded knaves and silly raggedfolk? But I do,--Dieu, ma vie, I do!"
"Then come to them, sire!--Hear them!--Another day and 't will be toolate. They will believe thou hast forsaken them,--and what they 'llthen do, I dare not think on. They are not so strong as to overturn akingdom, but"--He swept his arm about, where the sky glowed to thenorth, and westward the Savoy lay, red embers. "Oh, sire, they havemade Cheapside a shambles!"
"Wilt thou have me go out, now, thither?" said Richard, pointing tothe camp. Here and there men slept. Others roasted bullocks by thefire that hissed with the dropping of blood. The sound of a catch cameup:--
"Help truth, and truth shall help you! Now reigneth pride in price, And covetise is counted wise, And lechery withouten shame, And gluttony withouten blame. Envy reigneth with reason, And sloth is take in great season. God do bote, for now is time."
"If we do," the King continued, "we must steal forth secretly, monami; for Sudbury and the rest would never let us from the gate oftheir own will."
"Nay, we 'll not go to-night, sire; but do thou come down with me tothe chamber below and persuade the Archbishop and Salisbury that thouwilt meet the people on the morrow to have speech of them,--else allLondon is like to be made a desert afore aid come."
So they went down and, at the foot of the stair, young Henry sat,half-asleep, but he shook himself and followed after them to the tablewhereon the nobles now leaned elbow in gloomy silence.
"My lords," said Richard, "here 's Etienne Fitzwarine hath been in thecity all day, saith somewhat must be done if we will not have themorrow's sun set redder than to-day's."
"Must be done!" shouted Thomas of Woodstock, shaking the table with ablow of his fist.--"Have I not said so?--Up!--Assemble the guard andmake an onslaught! A sudden sally forth with the guard, at midnightwhen these rebels be sleeping, and we may rout them and put them toflight. These be village churls, untrained to matters of war,--they'll fly before a sword. So saith Master Walworth likewise. Peasantsand prentices be no warriors. Moreover, Sir Robert Knolles holdeth hisown house against them in the city,--he will help us."
The Earl of Salisbury lifted his head as he would speak, but Richardwas before him.
"My lords," he said, and all they marvelled to hear his voice how itwas assured,--"my lords, I am going forth on the morrow to have speechof my people;--to hear what it is they will have. Etienne saith theydesire freedom and no more to be called villeins. My lords, I knowwhat this is, to desire to be free. I and my people, we shall be freemen on the morrow."
There was silence throughout the chamber, and every eye was fixed onthe King where he stood. Then Salisbury bent his gray head above theboy's white hand that lay clenched on the table.
"Sire," he said, "if you can appease them by fair words and grant themwhat they wish, it will be so much the better; for should we beginwhat we cannot go through, we shall never be able to recover it. Itwill be all over with us and our heirs, and England will be a desert."
"Give you good-night, my lords," said Richard then. "I will go to thechapel to my prayers."
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