A Dream of John Ball; and, A King's Lesson

by William Morris

  CHAPTER VIII

  SUPPER AT WILL GREEN'S

  I walked along with the others musing as if I did not belong to them,till we came to Will Green's house. He was one of the wealthier of theyeomen, and his house was one of those I told you of, the lower storyof which was built of stone. It had not been built long, and was verytrim and neat. The fit of wonder had worn off me again by then Ireached it, or perhaps I should give you a closer description of it,for it was a handsome yeoman's dwelling of that day, which is as muchas saying it was very beautiful. The house on the other side of it,the last house in the village, was old or even ancient; all built ofstone, and except for a newer piece built on to it--a hall, itseemed--had round arches, some of them handsomely carved. I knew thatthis was the parson's house; but he was another sort of priest thanJohn Ball, and what for fear, what for hatred, had gone back to hismonastery with the two other chantrey priests who dwelt in that house;so that the men of the township, and more especially the women, werethinking gladly how John Ball should say mass in their new chancel onthe morrow.

  Will Green's daughter was waiting for him at the door and gave him aclose and eager hug, and had a kiss to spare for each of us withal: astrong girl she was, as I have said, and sweet and wholesome also. Shemade merry with her father; yet it was easy to see that her heart wasin her mouth all along. There was a younger girl some twelve summersold, and a lad of ten, who were easily to be known for his children; anold woman also, who had her livelihood there, and helped the household;and moreover three long young men, who came into the house after we hadsat down, to whom Will nodded kindly. They were brisk lads and smart,but had been afield after the beasts that evening, and had not seen thefray.

  The room we came into was indeed the house, for there was nothing butit on the ground floor, but a stair in the corner went up to thechamber or loft above. It was much like the room at the Rose, butbigger; the cupboard better wrought, and with more vessels on it, andhandsomer. Also the walls, instead of being panelled, were hung with acoarse loosely-woven stuff of green worsted with birds and trees woveninto it. There were flowers in plenty stuck about the room, mostly ofthe yellow blossoming flag or flower-de-luce, of which I had seenplenty in all the ditches, but in the window near the door was a potfull of those same white poppies I had seen when I first woke up; andthe table was all set forth with meat and drink, a big salt-cellar ofpewter in the middle, covered with a white cloth.

  We sat down, the priest blessed the meat in the name of the Trinity,and we crossed ourselves and fell to. The victual was plentiful ofbroth and flesh-meat, and bread and cherries, so we ate and drank, andtalked lightly together when we were full.

  Yet was not the feast so gay as might have been. Will Green had me tosit next to him, and on the other side sat John Ball; but the priesthad grown somewhat distraught, and sat as one thinking of somewhat thatwas like to escape his thought. Will Green looked at his daughter fromtime to time, and whiles his eyes glanced round the fair chamber as onewho loved it, and his kind face grew sad, yet never sullen. When theherdsmen came into the hall they fell straightway to asking questionsconcerning those of the Fellowship who had been slain in the fray, andof their wives and children; so that for a while thereafter no mancared to jest, for they were a neighbourly and kind folk, and weresorry both for the dead, and also for the living that should sufferfrom that day's work.

  So then we sat silent awhile. The unseen moon was bright over the roofof the house, so that outside all was gleaming bright save the blackshadows, though the moon came not into the room, and the white wall ofthe tower was the whitest and the brightest thing we could see.

  Wide open were the windows, and the scents of the fragrant nightfloated in upon us, and the sounds of the men at their meat or makingmerry about the township; and whiles we heard the gibber of an owl fromthe trees westward of the church, and the sharp cry of a blackbird madefearful by the prowling stoat, or the far-off lowing of a cow from theupland pastures; or the hoofs of a horse trotting on the pilgrimageroad (and one of our watchers would that be).

  Thus we sat awhile, and once again came that feeling over me of wonderand pleasure at the strange and beautiful sights, mingled with thesights and sounds and scents beautiful indeed, yet not strange, butrather long familiar to me.

  But now Will Green started in his seat where he sat with his daughterhanging over his chair, her hand amidst his thick black curls, and sheweeping softly, I thought; and his rough strong voice broke the silence.

  "Why, lads and neighbours, what ails us? If the knights who fled fromus this eve were to creep back hither and look in at the window, theywould deem that they had slain us after all, and that we were but theghosts of the men who fought them. Yet, forsooth, fair it is at whilesto sit with friends and let the summer night speak for us and tell usits tales. But now, sweetling, fetch the mazer and the wine."

  "Forsooth," said John Ball, "if ye laugh not over-much now, ye shalllaugh the more on the morrow of to-morrow, as ye draw nearer to theplay of point and edge."

  "That is sooth," said one of the upland guests. "So it was seen inFrance when we fought there; and the eve of fight was sober and themorn was merry."

  "Yea," said another, "but there, forsooth, it was for nothing yefought; and to-morrow it shall be for a fair reward."

  "It was for life we fought," said the first.

  "Yea," said the second, "for life; and leave to go home and find thelawyers at their fell game. Ho, Will Green, call a health over thecup!"

  For now Will Green had a bowl of wine in his hand. He stood up andsaid: "Here, now, I call a health to the wrights of Kent who beturning our plough-shares into swords and our pruning-hooks intospears! Drink around, my masters!"

  Then he drank, and his daughter filled the bowl brimming again and hepassed it to me. As I took it I saw that it was of light polished woodcuriously speckled, with a band of silver round it, on which was cutthe legend, "In the name of the Trinity fill the cup and drink to me."And before I drank, it came upon me to say, "To-morrow, and the fairdays afterwards!"

  Then I drank a great draught of the strong red wine, and passed it on;and every man said something over it, as "The road to London Bridge!""Hob Carter and his mate!" and so on, till last of all John Ball drank,saying:

  "Ten years hence, and the freedom of the Fellowship!" Then he said toWill Green: "Now, Will, must I needs depart to go and wake the dead,both friend and foe in the church yonder; and whoso of you will beshriven let him come to me thither in the morn, nor spare for as littleafter sunrise as it may be. And this our friend and brother from overthe water of Thames, he hath will to talk with me and I with him; sonow will I take him by the hand: and so God keep you, fellows!"

  I rose to meet him as he came round the head of the table, and took hishand. Will Green turned round to me and said:

  "Thou wilt come back again timely, old lad; for betimes on the morrowmust we rise if we shall dine at Rochester."

  I stammered as I yea-said him; for John Ball was looking strangely atme with a half-smile, and my heart beat anxiously and fearfully: but wewent quietly to the door and so out into the bright moonlight.

  I lingered a little when we had passed the threshold, and looked backat the yellow-lighted window and the shapes of the men that I sawtherein with a grief and longing that I could not give myself a reasonfor, since I was to come back so soon. John Ball did not press me tomove forward, but held up his hand as if to bid me hearken. The folkand guests there had already shaken themselves down since ourdeparture, and were gotten to be reasonably merry it seemed; for one ofthe guests, he who had spoken of France before, had fallen to singing aballad of the war to a wild and melancholy tune. I remember the firstrhymes of it, which I heard as I turned away my head and we moved ontoward the church:

  "On a fair field of France We fought on a morning So lovely as it lieth Along by the water. There was many a lord there Mowed men in the medley, 'Mid
st the banners of the barons And bold men of the knighthood, And spearmen and sergeants And shooters of the shaft."