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"Yea, thou art he," returned the old monk. "I had forgot."
A little while they slept in the sun, but betwixt the hours of s.e.xt and nones, Will moved his head on his pillow:--
"If any goeth into Yorkshire, I would have him seek out Stephen Fitzwarine, and Calote his wife, and say to them that Will Langland hath gone home to the Hills of Malvern for a little s.p.a.ce. They would have had me stay. My daughter wept when she bade good-by, and the babe on her arm held me by my hair.--All 's not failure,--brother."
The old man dozed and did not hear him.
"She stood in her cottage doorway,--my daughter,--and the wolds stretching far like the billows of the sea. But they 're not the Hills of Malvern.
"'We 'll watch for thee, father,' she said, 'bide not long away. Here 's thy corner by the fireside. Here 's home.'--But I was born in the Malvern Hills, my daughter.
"Stephen saw me as I crossed the wold.--He stood in the midst of his flock; and young Will ran and gave me his shepherd's crook,--'Thou hast no staff, gran'ther,' he said, 'I 'll fashion me another.' 'T was early morn,--springtime. But I 've come back to Malvern--for a little"--
"Here is a safe refuge for them that wait," the old man answered.
Long Will moved his head, restless. "But I may not wait long," he said, "I go forth a pilgrimage to Truth, that dwelleth in the Kingdom of Rightwisnesse."
"My daughter dwelleth therein,--I prythee tell her I 'm an old man now. I am fain to cross the river."
"I will," said the sick man.
So they were silent until the setting of the sun. Then said Long Will out aloud:--
"By Christ--I will become a pilgrim, And wander as wide as the world reaches, To seek Piers the Ploughman that Pride might destroy-- ... Now Kynde me avenge, And send me success and salvation till I have Piers Ploughman."
So, after the sun was set, that other brother came forth, and the prior.
"Said I not so, that he would be gone about now?" quoth the brother.
"Yea," smiled Brother Owyn. "Hath gone on pilgrimage. This long-legged lad 's more than he seems. Prythee let him go, prior. He 's a poet,--will one day bring honour to Malvern Priory."
