Long Will Part 48

All this Stephen cried out of window, and presently there began to be a fraying away on the edges of the mob, as a cloud frays.

"Let us go and make ready," said Richard; his eyes were very bright, he held his head high.

But when he had kissed his mother, and dried her tears, and had bade saddle the horses,--and his half-brothers, Kent and Sir John Holland, were fidgeting, pale, for that he would have them ride with him,--suddenly came into the hall Simon Sudbury, with yellow sweat beading on his brow.

"How now!" cried the King; "methought thou wert scaped by the river?"

"The watch on the hill hath keen eyes, sire. We put forth, but they raised a cry. Was naught for 't but to turn back."

"But thou must begone!--I say thou must!" Richard exclaimed, stamping his foot. "Christ!--I 've said they may come in and search!" Then he went and caught Simon by the shoulders, and his lip quivered:--

"As regarding that poll-tax, thou wert a fool, my lord,--a fool!--a fool! But thou art a faithful servant, and a true man,--and I love thee!"

His voice broke, and he hid his face in the Archbishop's breast.

"Sire," said Simon gently, and put both arms about his king as 't were his own son; "do not grieve! I know a way to baffle them. Go thou to Mile End, and leave me here to play my part."

"Thou wilt surely scape?" Richard questioned.

"Yea,--I shall surely scape."

Then they went together into the chapel and prayed awhile; and when the King was going out at the door, he looked back to see where the Archbishop stood at the altar making ready the sacrifice of the Ma.s.s.

John Leg knelt on the steps and Robert Hales,--and there was a certain friar, a friend of John of Gaunt, who served at the Ma.s.s.

So Richard rode forth of the Tower, and 't was a Friday in the morning,--and with him Etienne Fitzwarine, and Thomas of Woodstock that was Earl of Buckingham, and old Salisbury, and others,--earls and gentlemen,--and also Sir John Holland and the Earl of Kent, the King's half-brothers; but these, for fear, set spur to horse and departed from the company into the fields.

Meanwhile, in the fields about Mile End the folk came together, a many thousand, with their leaders. Long Will also was there, and Calote.

London prentices played at ball the while they waited; country louts sang and cuffed one another; cooks went about crying "Hot pies, hot!"

There was a bearward with his beast, making merry. And in the midst of this babel, John Ball and Wat Tyler and Jack Straw were silent. The priest had set his back against a tree, and so stood with folded arms and sunken chin, his eyes gazing out to a vision. Wat paced up and down, restless; anon he lifted his head uncertain, and stood looking down by the way the King must come; anon he gnawed his lip and strode on. Jack Straw, squatting among the roots of a yew, watched those others and bit his finger-nails.

"And what will ye do when the King cometh?" asked Long Will of the three.

John Ball did not hear him, or if he did, he made no sign. Jack leered up at Wat, and Wat stood still.

"How may a man know what he will do till the time come?" he said uneasily.

Will lifted his eyebrows. Jack Straw hacked at the yew tree root with his great knife. Wat walked slow past John Ball and back again to Will, and here he came to pause.

"We shall make certain demands," he explained in a voice as he were a.s.suring himself,--"we shall make certain demands. 'T is wherefore we are here."

He s.h.i.+fted from right foot to left.

"And if the King grant all?" quoth Will.

"Richard 's tongue-tied," sneered Jack Straw.--"No fear!"

"And do not ye desire that he shall grant these requests?" asked Calote.

"Whether the King grant them or no, we shall take them," snarled Jack Straw. "Are we not here to take them? What is the will of a weakling boy in face of thousands?"

"Wat," Calote said, tugging at his sleeve, "what is 't thou 'rt minded to do to the King? He is anointed of High G.o.d. Oh, Wat, what is 't thou hast in thy heart to do this day?"

"Pshaw!" he groaned, jerking his arm away and clapping both hands to his ears,--"I know not!--I know not! How shall I know till the time come? Leave me in peace!"

And then there came a cloud of dust along the highway, and in the midst of it King Richard, Etienne his squire, and Salisbury, and those others.

When the people saw it they went mad with joy.

"Hath come!--Hath come!" they cried, capering and clipping and kissing. "He is our King, come out to his own people!" And then there went up such shouts as rent the air and could be heard far as London wall. Jack Straw got to his feet and stuck his knife in his belt. 'T would seem the shouting of the people made him dizzy, he staggered. It was a wondrous compelling sound, this cry of joy of ten thousand hearts set at rest. The King had come to them. He belonged to his people.

John Ball and Wat Tyler came and stood with Jack beneath the yew tree, the people surging all about.

"Fools!" muttered Wat.

"Thou fool!" Jack whispered twixt chattering teeth.

"I told thee, truth is better than strategy," said John Ball. "I would have apprised the Fellows.h.i.+p our purpose to take him."

Hardly was he heard for the clamour. In the beginning there were only shouts, but after a little there began to be disparted from the waves of sound, words: "Long live the King!--Long live the King!--Long live the King!"--The blessing roared like as 't were a torrent. Calote could see how Jack Straw and Wat spoke one to other, for that their lips moved,--but what they said was lost. They were very white and their hands hanging down helpless. This joy that beat about them, they might not escape from it, and it smothered them.

"How might I tell them?" gasped Wat,--"the maid hath preached love and loyaute.--Is 't loyaute to take him against his will?"

"Wherefore, against his will?" said Jack.

Richard, in the midst of this rapture, laughed wistfully, with arms outspread as to embrace his people, and when they saw this they cried out anew: "G.o.d save the King!--Long live the King!--Long live the King!"--And those that were nigh kissed his stirrups and his saddlecloth.

"Mes amis!" he said, and they that saw his lips move began to beat upon that tumult with: "Peace!--Peace!--The King speaks!--Peace!" till the shouting died as the wind drops, and but for a solitary voice cast up fitful now and again, there was stillness.

"What will ye?" Richard cried. "I am here. I have taken Reason and Conscience to be my counsellors:--

'And Reason shall reckon with you if I reign anywhile, And judge you by this day as ye have deserved.'"

And when they had heard the words of Long Will's Vision, they laughed, and not a few wept for joy.

"Persuade him that he come to us," whispered John Ball.

"Do thou," Wat retorted, uneasy. "Thou hast a softer tongue and more learning. Cursed be these fools!"

"Let one speak!" said the King, "and say what the people will have."

There was pause, rustle, a craning of necks to see.

Jack Straw shook as with an ague fit. Wat Tyler started uncertain, looked at John Ball, and drew back.

"Speak thou!" said the priest, low. "I am under ban of Holy Church,--his guardians will not hear me patiently."

There began to be a murmur: "Speak!--Speak!" and it waxed louder.

"I 'm a rough man; Jack, thou 'rt the crafty one,--oil thy tongue to persuasion."