Long Will Part 15

And this law was amended and made more harsh other years after.

But the villeins, having tasted freedom, were loth to return into bondage. They fled away from the manors; they hid in the woods; they gathered them into companies and would do no work except their demand of wage and liberty were granted. Moreover, certain men of a quick wit went about and preached against kings and lords. They said all men were brothers and free, they must share as brothers. One of these preachers was John Ball, a priest, a good man, fearless and fervent.

For a score of years he traversed England calling men to fellows.h.i.+p; and for this he was persecuted of Holy Church. Rich prelates had no mind to share their wealth with villeins. But and because John Ball suffered, the common folk loved him the better and believed on him.

Langland knew him and had speech of him many a time; nevertheless, Langland said that John Ball would not make England new. Mayhap 't was by John Ball and his ilk that Langland's Vision came into the countryside and spread among cottagers; and Wat Tyler heard it, and Jack Straw,--and came out of Kent to learn more of this doctrine. So they found Will Langland and loved him; but for understanding of him, that was another matter. There were few men at that time could rede this chantry priest.

So it was that the thought of fellows.h.i.+p grew up out of all these rhymings and prophecies of John Ball and Long Will: and how that one man of himself was well-nigh powerless before unrighteous rule, but if many men were joined together to persuade the King and Parliament, there might be pause and parley; and if all the villeins and artisans and prentices in the wide realm of England were so banded--That was a great thought! 'T was too big for the breast of Wat Tyler and Jack Straw; it must out. Already it spread; it lodged in other b.r.e.a.s.t.s. But this was all,--a thought like a thistledown flying from man to man; and one blew it this way, and another blew it that; and if by chance it made as to fall on the earth, there was always Jack Straw, or Wat Tyler, or John Ball, to blow a great breath and set it off again.

"Natheless, in the end, naught will come of 't," said Long Will, that night.

"Wherefore?" Wat Tyler questioned hotly.

"Who shall lead?" Will asked him.

Wat Tyler looked at Jack Straw and Jack Straw at him, yet neither in the eyes of the other.

"There shall be a many leaders," said Jack Straw presently. "Of every hundred, and of every s.h.i.+re, a leader."

"And the grievance of every leader shall differ from the grievance of every other leader; yea," Langland added, "one only desire shall they have in common,--to lead,--to put themselves in the place of power."

"For the people's sake," protested Wat.

"Their leader is G.o.d and the king; and wilt thou learn them another lesson?"

"Yea, by"--But Wat Tyler looked on Jack Straw and swore no oath.

"The people of England is a loyal people," said Langland, "and slow witted, loth to swallow a new thought."

"'T is no new thought," cried Wat in a great pa.s.sion. "Hast thou not sung it like a gnat in our ear these many years? By Christ, Will, but I 'm past patience with thee! Wilt thou blow hot and cold? Cease thy lies, if lies they be; but if thou say soth, act on 't!"

"Though thou art mazed, Wat, yet art thou not more mazed than I," said Long Will wearily.

"I am not mazed," quoth Wat; "I see right clear. The n.o.bles are our oppressors, and 't is us poor folk pay. We till their fields, fight their battles, give good money for their French war. Wilt thou tell us to-day a tale of the ploughman that ruleth the kingdom, and to-morrow prate of kings?"

"Thou art no ploughman, Wat," said Long Will, "but an artisan, well-to-do, able to pay head-money to the bailiff and so be quit of the manor when thou wilt to ply thy trade elsewhere."

"A quibble! A poor quibble!" Wat retorted. "With copying of charters and drawing of wills thou 'rt tainted; thou 'rt half man o' law; thou 'rt neither fish nor flesh, nor good red herring."

"I marvel thou hast not found me out afore," said Langland quietly.

"Hast thou not heard me rail right prettily, many a time, against those priests that come to London to earn silver by singing prayers for the dead,--a lazy life; when they might, an they would, be a-starving in country villages for the sake o' the souls o' living poor wights that need comfort and counsel? Let G.o.d take care o' the dead, say I, and if a man pray for those, let him pray for love's sake. Yet here be I a chantry clerk in London,--I, that hold it akin to simony to take money for such-like Ma.s.ses. And there 's silver in my pouch; not much,--for I 've not had the singing o' prayers for the Black Prince,--yet silver: 't comes off black on my fingers."

"Father!" cried Calote, and clasped him round his neck; but he paid her no heed.

"Am I of those, the disciples of John Wyclif, that begin to go about and whisper that priests may marry without sin? Nay,--though I be in accord somewhat with his doctrines of poverty,--conscience hath not a.s.soiled me that I am married, and my daughter sits on my knee."

"Ah, Will!" said Kitte, and she arose heavily and went out of the room.

Calote set her finger upon his lips, but he drew away her hand:--

"How have I cried out upon the begging friars! But thrice in the month I sit and feed at my Lord Latimer's table,--my Lord Latimer that betrayeth the poor,--I and a friar we dip our fingers into the same dish for alms' sake. I live in London and on London both. I praise Piers Ploughman for his diligence, yet have I no wish to bow my back to his toil. I live like a loller. I am one of those that sits and swings 's heels, saying: 'I may not work, but I 'll pray for you, Piers.' Yet am I not minded to go hungry, neither. This is thy prophet, Wat. Saint Truth, she is my lady. Bethink thee, but she 's proud o' such a lover?"

Wat Tyler drew his hand across his eyes, there was water in them.

"Beshrew me, but I do love thee," he said. "Natheless, I believe thou 'rt mad; mad of thy wrongs. G.o.d! I could slay and slay and slay! I 'm thirsty."

"Poor Wat--poor Wat!" said Langland. "'T is not all ambition with thee, I know well.--But wrongs? My wrongs? Yea, truly they are mine, for I 've made them."

"'T is the times makes them!" muttered Wat; "the times that do beset us round with custom and circ.u.mstance, till there 's no help for 't but to live lies. Thou canst not scape."

"Yea, I 'm in a net, but may I not tear with beak and claw? Yet I do not so. And still thou believest on me?"

"Thou art truest man alive!" said Wat.

"Yet I tell thee in one breath the ploughman shall show the people the way to truth,--and next breath, the king's the leader.--What sayest thou; that I 'm mad? Which word is the mad word,--rede me which?"

Then Calote left her father's knee and came and stood in their midst.

Her cheeks were of the colour of scarlet, her eyes very bright.

"Hearken!" she said. "'T is both of them a true word. The King is our leader, shall learn of the ploughman. The King and the ploughman is friends together. The King shall right our wrongs, the ploughman leading him to truth." And she told them of Richard.

Wat Tyler listened with a frown, Jack Straw with a smile that was not near so pleasant as any frown. Kitte, in the doorway, stood open-mouthed. Only Long Will sat unmoved. He had heard this tale.

When it was ended they all looked upon one another. Will smiled, but Jack Straw laughed, a most unkindly laugh.

"An thou wert my wench, I 'd beat thee," said Wat. "Thou shouldst not walk abroad but with a gag atween thy teeth."

"Soft--soft!" Jack Straw interposed him. "Milk's spilt: let 's lap it up as best we may! Let 's consider to make the best on 't! Methinks I see a way"--

"Send the maid to her bed, Will, an thou 'lt not lay on the rod,"

growled Wat Tyler. "Here 's enough o' long ears and blabbing tongues."

"Thou cruel Wat!" cried Calote. "Thou art no true man! What care hast thou of the poor? Dost think to be king thine own self? A pretty king, thou"--

"Chut, chut!" Long Will rebuked her. "Get thee to thy mother!"

"Nay, let her bide!" said Jack Straw gently. "Let her bide! She hath brought us into this mishap, so may she help us forth."

"Thou fool!" cried Wat. "Thou lovesick fool! Wilt come a-courtin', leave me at home!"

"I will," Jack Straw made answer, with narrow eyes. "But to-night I 'm no lover, nor no fool neither; natheless, the maid shall bide. Never fear, Calote, we 'll mend thy mischief."

"'T is no mischief," Calote retorted. "'T is a true loyalty to tell the King."

"Yea, so! And if thou 'lt hearken, I 'll give thee more news to tell him. Thou shalt never be naught but loyal, Calote."

"Mark you, Will!" cried Wat Tyler, "I 'm mum! If there 's aught else to be betrayed, 't is he plays tattle-tongue. My rough speech is not fit to be carried to court."

"So be it!" Jack a.s.sented. "Thou hast spoke to no purpose this hour and more; 't is now my turn. Hearken!"

Jack Straw spoke not overloud at any time; yet folk heard him always.