Long Will Part 55

"Then wherefore set them afire by the steel of armed knights?"

"Nay, my liege, but if these peasants be penitent, wherefore shall they refuse to be escorted thorough that fair city wherein they behaved so ill?"

"I will not betray my people," cried Richard, a sob in his voice.

"Disperse them only, my lord. Though there be many loyal, natheless we do know of surete that there be certain among them like to this Tyler, would make themselves King. Thyself hast seen how they are easily led this way and that, for good or ill. Remember the Archbishop, sire."

There shot a spasm of anguish athwart the King's face. "I will lead them into the fields. They shall be dispersed," he said with a loud, unsteady voice. "But I have set them free. I will not betray them! I will not betray them!"

And riding away he was presently in the midst of the peasant rout, laughing, leading them to Clerkenwell. But his cheeks were fever-bright, and the look of fear faded not out of his eyes. With quips and merry gests he lured them on, and he bethought him how that Stephen had said that night in the Tower, "They 'll be led like little children," and so they were.

"Hearken, my people," said Richard, wistful, "none standeth between us any more. Would ye that Wat Tyler had made himself your King?"

"King Richard!--King Richard!" they shouted.

"None standeth between us any more, mes amis,--neither n.o.ble, nor common man"--

"Nor archbishop," cried one, but a tumult of voices smothered him, with:--

"Nay--'t was Wat slew the Archbishop!"

And when they saw the cloud on Richard's brow, they cried yet more loud, as in a frenzy:--

"'T was Wat!--'t was Wat! Long live King Richard!"

But John Ball was not now in that throng, nor Jack Straw; they had fled away.

And now came Sir Robert Knollys with his knights and men-at-arms, retainers, surrounding the peasants that were as patient as silly sheep, for they looked upon their young shepherd and trusted him. So when certain of those soldiers would have fallen upon the people to slay them, King Richard arose in his saddle and forbade them, saying in anger:--

"These are my children,--mine! mine!--Let not a hair of their heads be harmed. If they had hearts of men, might they not slay me even now, beholding this foul ambush by which they are taken? But they are as babes doing my bidding. They have faith, even though I lead them into bondage."

Then he burst into tears, very pa.s.sionate, and screamed loud and hoa.r.s.e:--

"I have set them free! Do ye hearken?--I have set them free,--free! O Christ, I am not traitor to my people!"

My Lord Salisbury likewise forbade violence, and Richard, when he had dried his tears and got his voice, spoke again to the people and made them to know as how the men of Kent must homeward, and others in peace to north and west. And when they had set forth obedient, Richard rode into the city, the light as of a conqueror in his eyes. Nevertheless, behind this there lurked the look of fear.

Meanwhile in Smithfield Wat Tyler lay dead of his wounds. And when Richard led the peasants out to Clerkenwell, and the n.o.bles rode into the city to bring succour, Stephen only remained. But presently John Ball came forth of a house, and when they two saw that no man hindered, they took up the body of poor Wat and bore it within the Church of St. Bartholomew and laid it decently at the east end of the nave.

"Wat hath lost us London," said John Ball. "But who might believe that true knights and n.o.ble gentlemen would so sin against courtesy! Our hope now is to keep the shires stirring. I 'll not stay in this death-trap, but carry the spark to northward. Yorkshire ought to be up by now, if the message carried, and Cheshire, and Somerset. G.o.d keep thee, brother! While the breath 's in our bodies we may fan the flame." The priest was gone, and Stephen sat him down by the body to watch.

So after the day was won and the peasants scattered, Mayor Walworth bethought him of Wat Tyler and came again to Smithfield to seek him.

But finding naught except blood where the dead man had fallen, he searched diligently, as did two aldermen that were with him, and in the end they found that they sought.

"Have him forth!" said the Mayor. "'T is no place for traitors in a church."

"Good Master Walworth," pleaded Stephen, "this man was more honest than many. He followed truth,--and we be all stumblers. If he sought to take the King, what did he more than John of Gaunt would do, or others of the n.o.blesse? I have lived with Wat Tyler as he were my brother;--I know him that he sinned being ambitious, but this sin he shareth with John of Gaunt and better men; and not for himself alone did he desire to rule England, but for the sake of the poor that is so down-trodden. But John of Gaunt for power and his own sake only. I know him that he was a wrathful man,--but who so wrathful wild as Earl Percy of Northumberland, natheless men do him courtesy."

"Master Fitzwarine," made answer the Mayor, "give up thy sword and yield thee prisoner, for that thou defendest traitors and murderers, disturbers of the King's peace. This man hath slain the Archbishop of Canterbury."

"'T is very true, if Wat Tyler is traitor then am I likewise," said Stephen, and gave up his sword. And one of the aldermen bound him with a rope to lead him away. Then did Mayor Walworth take Wat Tyler's body by the heels, and dragged it forth into Smithfield and hewed the head from the trunk. This he did with Stephen's sword. After, he gave the head to that other alderman, not him that bound Stephen, and bade him take down the Archbishop's head from London Bridge and set Wat Tyler's where that one had hung; and these things were done. But Stephen was cast into a dungeon in the Tower.

CHAPTER X

The Old Fetters

On the Sunday when Long Will and Calote were come from the burial of Kitte, they were met at their door by Walworth and certain of the King's officers, who said:--

"Knowest aught concerning that arch-traitor, Jack Straw? 'T is believed he lieth hid in the city.--In the King's name, open thy door!"

"Name him not!" cried Will, and crossed himself. "I am a clerk; I may not venge mine own wrong!--Natheless his name breeds murder in my heart." He groaned and covered his face. Those others stared in amaze.

"Heard ye not?" said Calote then. "'T was Friday he came into our cot by night, and he would have slain one slept there, but my mother ran in between.--My mother was slain."

"Alack, sweet maid, here 's news!" exclaimed the Mayor. "I 've been busied propping the kingdom." And to the men he said: "On! he is not here."

But one of the men answered him: "The fellow was seen o' Cornhill within the hour. Is a most arrant knave. This house were safest in all London, seeing he hath shed blood in it. Let us enter!"

So they went in and threw wide the window and the doors, for that the room was dark. And some mounted to the chamber under the roof. Then the man that craved leave to enter went and stood by the great chest in the lower room; and presently he had lifted the lid and thrust in his hand, and all they heard a terrible squawk. The man had Jack Straw by the leg, and flung him out on the floor.

"O thou vile murderer!" cried Calote. "Coward, without shame! Dost shelter thee on this hearth thou hast defiled? O craven dog!"

There were deep shadows in the eyes of Calote. This horror of her mother's death was yet upon her. Moreover, she knew what it was to fail.

"Do not let the clerk come at me!" Jack Straw prayed the Mayor. He shivered; he was all of a sweat. "Wherefore do ye take me? Thrust thy fingers in my breast, the King's pardon is there. Hark ye,--I 'll say it. I have it by heart. 'Know that of our special grace we have manumitted'--hearken, 'freed him of all bondage, and made him quit by these presents.' I be free man, pardoned of all felonies, treasons, transgressions, and extortions. Look ye, masters,--'t is writ here.--Bind not my hands! Read!--'And a.s.sure him of our summa pax.' I 'm free man. Read!--'Dated June the fourteenth, anno regni quarto.' I had it of yonder clerk, learned me the Latin the while he writ. I 'm free man. Will,--speak for me! Will!--Will!--I meant no harm,--she came between and I knew 't not. Will, thou knowest I meant no harm to Kitte. Speak! Is 't for this I 'm ta'en? The Lord is leech of love, Will, forgiveth his enemies. I 'm thy friend, Will;--was ever."

"Have him forth!" shouted Langland above this din. "Have him forth swift,--else must ye bind me likewise. O Christ--give me leave!--Avenge her, Christ Jesus!"

Then Jack Straw, being 'ware that here was no hope, turned him at the threshold and said:--

"There be others, prisoners, mistress, and thy peddler is one. I saw him borne to Tower yester e'en. Thy fine esquire 's like to lose his head as soon as I."

"Set a gag twixt his teeth," said Walworth. So they did, and bore him through London streets. And if any man was his friend, he went and hid himself.

Meanwhile, the King took counsel with his lords in the great chamber in the Tower. His cheeks were pale, his eyes heavy. He pressed his hand oft to his brow, where sat a frown.

"Sire," said Buckingham, "'t is very certain these knaves ought to be punished, else shall we never have done with uprisings and rebellions that do endanger the kingdom."

"Where is Etienne Fitzwarine?" asked Richard, fretful. "Let him mix my cup! There 's a fever inward, parcheth my throat."

My Lord of Buckingham looked uneasy on my Lord of Salisbury. Then Sir John Holland behind the King's back said: "No doubt he consorteth with those low fellows, his friends, and maketh merry that the King is cozened."

"Ribaude!" cried the boy starting from his seat. "I cozened?--I?--I?"

He choked and turned half round, his hand on his sword.