Richard II Part 13

The next morning, a grand consultation among the rebels was determined upon. It was to be held in a great open s.p.a.ce called Smithfield--a s.p.a.ce set apart as a cattle-market, at the outskirts of London, toward the north. All the leaders who had not returned to their homes were present at the consultation. Among them, and at the head of them, indeed, was Wat Tyler.

The king that morning, it happened, having spent the night at the private house down the river where his mother had sought refuge after making her escape from the Tower, concluded to go to Westminster to attend ma.s.s. His real motive for making this excursion was probably to show the insurgents that he did not fear them, and also, perhaps, to make observations in respect to their condition and movements, without appearing to watch them.

He accordingly went to Westminster, accompanied and escorted by a suitable cortege and guard. The mayor of the city of London was with the party. After hearing ma.s.s at Westminster, the king set out on his return home; but, instead of going back through the heart of London, as he had come, he took a circuit to the northward by a road which, as it happened, led through Smithfield, where a great body of the insurgents had a.s.sembled, as has already been said. Thus the king came upon them quite unexpectedly both to himself and to them. When he saw them, he halted, and the hors.e.m.e.n who were with him halted too. There were about sixty hors.e.m.e.n in his train.

Some of his officers thought it would be better to avoid a re-encounter with so large a body of the insurgents--for there were about twenty thousand on the field--and recommended that the king's party should turn aside, and go home another way; but the king said "No; he preferred to speak to them."

He would go, he said, and ascertain what it was that they wanted more.

He thought that by a friendly colloquy with them he could appease them.

While the king and his party thus halted to consider what to do, the attention of the leaders of the insurgents had been directed toward them. They knew at once that it was the king.

"It is the king," said Walter. "I am going to meet him and speak with him. All the rest of you are to remain here. You must not move from this spot until I come back, unless you see me make this signal."

So saying, Walter made a certain gesture with his hand, which was to be the signal for his men.

"When you see me make this signal," said he, "do you all rush forward and kill every man in the troop except the king. You must not hurt the king. We will take him and keep him. He is young, and we can make him do whatever we say. We will put him at the head of our company, as if he were our commander, and we were obeying his orders, and we will do every thing in his name. In this way we can go wherever we please, all over England, and do what we think best, and there will be no opposition to us."

When I say that Walter gave these orders to his men, I mean that these words were attributed to him by one of the historians of the time. As, however, all the accounts which we have of these transactions were written by persons who hated the insurgents, and wished to present their case in the most unfavorable light possible, we can not depend absolutely on the truth of their accounts, especially in cases like this, when they could not have been present to hear or see.

At any rate, Walter rode up alone to meet the king. He advanced so near to him that his horse's head touched the king's horse. While in this position, a conversation ensued between him and the king. Walter pointed to the vast concourse of men who were a.s.sembled in the field, and told the king that they were all under his orders, and that what he commanded them to do they would do. The king told him that if that were the case, he would do well to recommend them all to go to their respective homes. He had granted the pet.i.tion, he said, which they had offered the day before, and had ordered decrees to be prepared emanc.i.p.ating them from their bondage. He asked Walter what more they required.

Walter replied that they wanted the decrees to be delivered to _them_.

"We are not willing to depart till we get all the decrees," said he.

"There are all these men, and as many more besides in the city, and we wish you to give us all the decrees, that we may take them home ourselves to our several villages and towns."

The king said that the secretaries were preparing the decrees as fast as they could, and the men might depend that those which had not yet been delivered would be sent as soon as they were ready to the villages and towns.

"Go back to your men," he added, "and tell them that they had better return peaceably to their homes. The decrees will all arrive there in due time."

But Walter did not seem at all inclined to go. He looked around upon the king's attendants, and seeing one that he had known before, a squire, who was in immediate attendance on the king's person, he said to him,

"What! You here?"

This squire was the king's sword-bearer. In addition to the king's sword, which it was his duty to carry, he was armed with a dagger of his own.

Walter turned his horse toward the squire and said,

"Let me see that dagger that you have got."

"No," said the squire, drawing back.

"Yes," said the king, "let him take the dagger."

The king was not at all afraid of the rebel, and wished to let him see that he was not afraid of him.

So the squire gave Walter the dagger. Walter took it and examined it in all its parts very carefully, turning it over and over in his hands as he sat upon his horse. It was very richly ornamented, and Walter had probably never had the opportunity to examine closely any thing so beautifully finished before.

After having satisfied himself with examining the dagger, he turned again to the squire:

"And now," said he, "let me see your sword."

"No," said the squire, "this is the king's sword, and it is not going into the hands of such a lowborn fellow as you. And, moreover," he added, after pausing a moment and looking at Walter with an expression of defiance, "if you and I had met somewhere alone, you would not have dared to talk as you have done, not for a heap of gold as high as this church."

There was a famous church, called the Church of St. Bartholomew, near the place where the king and his party had halted.

"By the powers," said Walter, "I will not eat this day before I have your head."

Seeing that a quarrel was impending, the mayor of London and a dozen hors.e.m.e.n rode up and surrounded Walter and the squire.

"Scoundrel!" said the mayor, "how dare you utter such threats as those?"

"What business is that of yours?" said Walter, turning fiercely toward the mayor. "What have you to do with it?"

"Seize him!" said the king; for the king himself was now beginning to lose his patience.

The mayor, encouraged by these words, and being already in a state of boiling indignation and rage, immediately struck a tremendous blow upon Walter's head with a cimeter which he had in his hand. The blow stunned him, and he fell heavily from his horse to the ground. One of the hors.e.m.e.n who had come up with the mayor--a man named John Standwich--immediately dismounted, and thrust the body of Walter through with his sword, killing him on the spot.

In the mean time, the crowd of the insurgents had remained where Walter had left them, watching the proceedings. They had received orders not to move from their position until Walter should make the signal; but when they saw Walter struck down from his horse, and stabbed as he lay on the ground, they cried out, "They have killed our captain. Form the lines! form the lines! We will go and kill every one of them."

So they hastily formed in array, and got their weapons ready, prepared to charge upon the king's party; but Richard, who in all these transactions evinced a degree of bravery and coolness very remarkable for a young man of sixteen, rode forward alone, and boldly, to meet them.

"Gentlemen," said he, "you have no leader but me. I am your king.

Remain quiet and peaceable."

The insurgents seemed not to know what to do on hearing these words.

Some began to move away, but the more violent and determined kept their ground, and seemed still bent on mischief. The king went back to his party, and asked them what they should do next. Some advised that they should make for the open fields, and try to escape; but the mayor of London advised that they should remain quietly where they were.

"It will be of no use," said he, "for us to try to make our escape, but if we remain here we shall soon have help."

The mayor had already sent hors.e.m.e.n into London to summon help. These messengers spread the cry in the city, "TO SMITHFIELD! TO SMITHFIELD!

THEY ARE KILLING THE KING!" This cry produced universal excitement and alarm. The bands of armed men quartered in London were immediately turned out, and great numbers of volunteers too, seizing such weapons as they could find, made haste to march to Smithfield; and thus, in a short time, the king found himself supported by a body of seven or eight thousand men.

Some of his advisers then urged that the whole of this force should fall at once upon the insurgents, and slaughter them without mercy.

This it was thought that they could easily do, although the insurgents were far more numerous than they; for the king's party consisted, in great measure, of well-armed and well-disciplined soldiers, while the insurgents were comparatively a helpless and defenseless rabble.

The king, however, would not consent to this. Perhaps somebody advised him what to do, or perhaps it was his own prudence and moderation which suggested his course. He sent messengers forward to remonstrate calmly with the men, and demand of them that they should give up their banners. If they would do so, the messengers said that the king would pardon them. So they gave up their banners. This seemed to be the signal of disbanding, and large parties of the men began to separate from the ma.s.s, and move away toward their homes.

Next, the king sent to demand that those who had received decrees of emanc.i.p.ation should return them. They did so; and in this way a considerable number of the decrees were given up. The king tore them to pieces on the field, upon the plea that they were forfeited by the men's having continued in rebellion after the decrees were granted.

The whole ma.s.s of the insurgents began now rapidly to get into disorder. They had no head, no banners, and the army which was gathering against them was increasing in strength and resolution every moment. The dispersal went on faster and faster, until at last those that remained threw down their weapons and fled to London.

The king then went home to his mother. She was overjoyed to see him safely returning.

"My dear son," said she, "you can not conceive what pain and anguish I have suffered for you this day."

"Yes, mother," said Richard, "I have no doubt you have suffered a great deal. But it is all over now. Now you can rejoice and thank G.o.d, for I have regained my inheritance, the kingdom of England, which I had lost."