Long Will

by Florence Converse

  CHAPTER II

  Blackheath

  On a Wednesday, being the twelfth day of June in that year, which wasthe fourth year of King Richard II., Wat Tyler and John Ball set uptwo great banners of Saint George on Blackheath, which was a moor thatlay to southward of London, distant from the Bridge by the highwayfive mile. And thither came folk from north and south all that day,and encamped round about those two banners. Calote was there, andStephen, and Long Will, to see them come in. Now 't was a band out ofSurrey, singing as they marched:--

  "When Adam delved and Eve span, Who was then the gentleman?"

  Now 't was foresters from the Weald, threescore and more. Anon, themen that had seen the siege and the taking of Rochester Castle camein; and these went about from one to other of the bands, telling theirtale, leaping in air and shouting as they were mad. Villeins and freelabourers of Sussex by score and by hundred came.

  "John Ball hath rungen our bell!" they said; "John Ball hath rungenour bell!"

  "H-how shall these men be fed?" Stephen asked John Ball.

  "London shall"--John Ball began, but he looked on Stephen and stayedhis speech; and quoth he presently: "So 't is thou?"

  For, albeit Stephen had donned his tabard and coarse hosen, his hair,which was of a pale brown colour like to the King's, was curled verydaintily; and he had a girdle, the which peasants might not wear, anda short sword therein and a dagger.

  "Yea, 't is I, Stephen Fitzwarine," he said. "W-Will Langland shallspeak for me that I be ever true man."

  "He saith soth," Will answered; "'t is a very gentleman and ourbrother."

  "Yea," affirmed Wat, who was come up. "Were all the King's servantslike to this one, our daughters"--But then he broke forth into cursingand crying out upon God and Christ Jesus very blasphemously, thatCalote wept to hear. Long Will went aside with him to speak comfort,and John Ball turned again to Stephen.

  "Art thou even now of the household of the King? 'T is very well. Wehave sent a message to the King to pray him that he come hither tospeak with us concerning this Rising and a remedy. Do thou go up andbe seen o' the river shore when he cometh; haply he 'll come the morewillingly an he see a friend."

  "Let the maid go with me," said Stephen. "She hath a token fromRichard; her word also will he trust."

  So Calote and Stephen went up to Thames by the Rotherhithe shore, andas they went they met a great rout of Essex men come across the river.They had three bloody heads on poles, the which they bore for banners,and these were three clerks that served the tax-collector was drivenout of Brentwood the last week in May. Crows flew squawking roundabout these heads. Meanwhile, the men strode on, chaunting:--

  "'Jack Trueman doth you to understand that falseness and guile havereigned too long.'"

  And they told Stephen and Calote as how other Essex men were encampedt' other side the river before Aldgate, to keep the city from thatside. And these other were Jack Straw's men.

  And Calote and Stephen went down to the water's edge and stood withthe throng that waited for the King.

  An hour they waited, singing, jostling, and in the end the royal bargecame down the river with Richard standing in the prow, and that oldwarrior and very perfect gentleman, the Earl of Salisbury, at hisright hand. In the midst of the boat Sudbury stood, and Hales, andwhen the folk on shore saw these two they set up a shout of--

  "Traitors!--Give up the traitors!--The Chancellor!--TheChancellor!--Poll-tax is his!--'T is Simon Sudbury taxed us!--Theyshall be slain!"

  Whereupon my Lord of Salisbury made a sign to the rowers that theyshould cease rowing, which they did, and the barge stood still in thestream.

  "How shall these jack-fools be hushed?" said Stephen. "They spoilall!"

  Then Calote wound the King's horn, once, twice, thrice, and in thesilence that followed after, Stephen put his hand to his mouth andshouted: "A parley! A parley!" and after: "My Lord King, beseech theecome hither, and alone, to speak with thy people. Shall none harm cometo thee."

  "A demand most uncourtly strange, Etienne Fitzwarine," cried the Earlof Salisbury, "that the King's person be sent unguarded among a packof rebels. It may not be."

  "My lord, now is no time to be nice in small matters. Moreover, thesebe not rebels, but loyal, true lovers of the King."

  "Yea,--yea!--God save the King!" shouted the mob. "Let our King cometo us that we may advise him of our wrongs."

  From where they stood on shore they could see Richard in the barge,how he laid his hand on my Lord Salisbury's arm and spoke earnestlywith him. But my Lord of Salisbury shook his head, and the Archbishopand John Hales came up a little way into the prow, as they werepleading and craving a boon.

  "This thing is not possible, that the body of our King should bedelivered to ruffians and staff-strikers," called out the Earl ofSalisbury yet again. "We, being his true servants and guardians, darenot do this thing; for if so be any harm come to him, all England willlay it at our door, and rightly. Neither may we come to land with him,seeing ye are so hot to slay certain among us, and one of those theArchbishop of Canterbury. This is scandal and deadly sin. I call uponye to disperse, in the King's name!"

  "We are risen in the King's name," cried out an Essex man; "how, then,shall we disperse?"

  They could see Richard urgent, though they might not hear his words;and the Earl always shaking his head for answer; and Robert Hales withhis two hands clinging to the King's cloak as a suppliant. Then theEarl of Salisbury made sign to the rowers, who began to turn the bargebackward and rowed up the river again to the Tower, the while thepeople on Rotherhithe shore cursed and roared for rage.

  Now when they were come again to Blackheath they found more men fromKent; and the taking of Canterbury was in every man's mouth; how themayor had sworn oath of fealty to King Richard and the Commons, andthe monks were afeared for their lives.

  "Rochester and Canterbury is ours!" they cried.--"London next!"

  Those that had a crust shared it, but they were few; a-most men onBlackheath went hungry that night.

  "Yea, London next, and that quickly," said John Ball. "A man may notfill his belly with furze and heather."

  Meanwhile he preached to them that they might forget their hunger.There were so many that all could not come anigh, but those otherssang the catchwords and built fires on the heath; and some set off toSouthwark to see if they might find food in that suburb.

  And presently came riding three aldermen from London to bring amessage from Mayor Walworth that the people should come no nigherLondon, in the name of the King and the city. But when they saw howmany were gathered together, so that they might not be counted, andmore coming in as it were up from the edges of the world, they wereamazed and afraid. Nevertheless, two of them gave their messagefaithful and rode again to the city; but John Horn spake with Wat andthe priest, and revealed to them that London for the most part wasfriendly, and the prentices all of their party,--and he bade them tocome and take the city. Also he told them the name of the man shouldkeep the Bridge next day, and he was friend to them and would let downthe drawbridge whether or no Master Walworth gave leave.

  "Nay, more," quoth he: "I will even bring certain of you, three orfour, into the city this very night, to tell the good citizens ofLondon of all this cometh to pass."

  "Brother," said Stephen to John Ball, "prythee let him take the maidinto the city, and her father with her. This is no place for a maid atnight on the heath. And l-let me also g-go in, that I may get speechof Richard and ad-advise him how to be friend to his people."

  But now was heard a great clatter and trample of hoofs,--and womenshrieking, and the laughter of rude men,--and there came a coach closeto the banner where John Ball stood,--the horses plunging in a fright,and a score of villeins clinging to their bridles; the coachman fastbound on his seat, a stalward Kentish man sitting in his lap.

  "What 's here? Women?" cried Wat, and leapt to the coach door. "Havethem out!--Let us see how these nobles w
ill relish to have theirdaughters rough entreated." He thrust his hand in, with, "Come out,mistress,--my daughter's debt is but half paid!"

  "Goddes dignite!" said Stephen. "'T is the Queen-Mother!"

  Wat dropped the lady's hand and stared in amaze, and Stephen thrusthim aside.

  "Madame, 't is Etienne Fitzwarine," cried out one of the ladies, whichwas Godiyeva. "Now are we safe."

  And Etienne opened the coach door and got in to comfort them,--and allthey were weeping.

  "All England is risen up!" said the Queen. "The hedges are alive withrunaway villeins. And this great company,--what 's it to mean?"

  "'T is the poll-tax, madame," Etienne answered her, "and the people ispast patience."

  "Where is my son?" she shrieked. "Is he slain? Wherefore art thouhere?"

  "The King 's in the Tower, madame, whither I 'll presently be yourescort. The people is faithful to the King,--they will not harm him ahair,--nor the King's mother neither. I pray you patience, the while Iarrange this matter speedily as may be, and we 'll go on our way intothe city."

  So he went out and spoke with John Ball and the alderman, andmeanwhile, the peasant folk, when they heard who it was in the coach,stood a little way off, silent.

  When Stephen came again to the door he had Calote by the hand, and hesaid:--

  "May it please your Majeste that this damosel ride within."

  "An ill-smelling peasant!" cried the Queen.

  "Madame," said Godiyeva, "'t is the little jongleuse; so you giveconsent, she may sit beside me."

  "Let me sit o' the coachman's seat," entreated Calote.

  "Madame," Stephen made reply, "this damosel is promised to be mywedded wife,--the night is chill."

  "Thy wedded wife!" screamed all those ladies, and the Queen said, "Isthe world up-so-down?"

  But whether from fear of all that rout of peasants, or whether fromdesire to know what manner of maid this might be that should wedEtienne Fitzwarine, they drew aside to make a place for her, andGodiyeva put out a hand to help her in.

  "And for the wretch that dared thrust in his hand to take us," quoththe Queen, "let him be tied at tail of coach and so dragged to London.See to 't, Etienne!"

  "Madame, pray you pardon, but this may not be," said Etienne. "The manis a leader among the people, and beloved."

  He stood aside and looked out on the vast throng, and she, followinghis eye, grew a little pale.

  "The man hath provocation," Etienne continued; "his daughter was laidhands on roughly by the King's tax-gatherer, not many days past."

  "Let 's begone!" said the Queen hastily. "Christ, Mary, keep us safe!Give me my beads, Godiyeva, and do ye all say a rosary, and besilent!"

  So they rode away to London, with Stephen standing on the step on oneside, and Long Will and John Horn riding on the other on thealderman's horse. And Wat Tyler sat on the box seat beside thecoachman; but Stephen did not apprise the Queen of this.

  In Southwark, as they rode, was mischief let loose, for the MarshalseaPrison and King's Bench were set wide open and in a blaze, and all thereleased prisoners making merry in the streets. Hot cinders fell onthe coach, and Wat had much ado that it should not catch fire. Towestward was another glow, where the people destroyed Lambeth Palace.

  The Queen shut her eyes and said her prayers, but her ladies poppedhead out of window, this side and that, and whispered, "What 's thisto mean?"--and "Who 's yon?"--to Stephen and Calote.

  So they came to the Bridge and the drawbridge, and were let pass. Andnow Calote and Long Will turned them to Cornhill; but Stephen went tothe Tower with the Queen.