There was set up in Cheapside a block to behead lawyers and all such as were enemy to the people, and there were a-many slain in this fashion, hastily, without shrift. Calote saw this block, and the bodies of men lying on heap; and the prentices played at foot-ball with the b.l.o.o.d.y heads. And Calote ran down Cornhill as she were mad, and burst into the cot to her father, where he sat a-copying Piers Ploughman. To him she told these horrors, and when she had made an end, he said:--
"Nay,--these be not brute beasts, but men, our brothers. This is the meaning of battle. Haply angels wage war and is no letting of blood; but not so men. Not yet."
""T is Hobbe is headsman," sobbed Calote. "Oh, father,--Hobbe! And shouting a jest with every blow."
"And thou and I, we know what a kindly man is this Hobbe; and if we know, doth not Christ Jesus know, who shall absolve him? Be sure, if the King"s Son of Heaven hath given His work in hands of sinful men, He knoweth to make excuse."
She lifted her head, bewildered:--
"Methought,--methought thou wert against wars, and this Rising?"
He smiled, amused, wistful, patient.
"I am one of the peacemakers," he said. "Natheless, in this battle, the word of my Vision is on the lips of them that slay. I am not for battle, "t is true; but these fight on G.o.d"s side. If He give leave, who am I to say nay?"
"And thou believest we shall win?" she cried. "Thou believest we shall win?"
"What is "t--to win?" he asked. "Christ Jesus died on cross atwixt two thieves; but He is victor."
This was the day the Savoy was burned, John of Gaunt"s palace without the gates twixt Temple Bar and Charing Cross, and all the furniture and rich stuffs therein that were not burned were hewed and all to-tore and cast in the river. Howsoever, John of Gaunt was in the north at that time, and well for him. In the garden, Stephen, who was in the forefront of the mob all that day, came upon a lad hid behind a bush and busied in rending the badge of Lancaster from his sleeve.
"Dieu merci!--then thou art not slain, my lord!" cried Stephen.
But the boy, drawing a sword, ran upon him with, "Oh, thou false traitor!"
"No traitor, my Lord Henry," Stephen answered, his hand twisting the child"s wrist that the sword dropped harmless. "No traitor, but brother to the people and loyal true subject of King Richard. Have I not sought thee this hour and more throughout the palace? Come, thou art not safe till the Tower hold thee."
"If I were King," said the lad fiercely, "I "d burn them all in hot fire, as they have burned my father"s house."
"Come," said Stephen, and led him hastily by the hand. But to depart from the gardens they must needs pa.s.s nigh the blazing palace, and presently they came upon rioters breaking up chairs and tables and carved beds, and among these Jack Straw.
"What boy is this?" Jack cried, barring the way.
"A friend of mine," said Stephen.
"Then art thou traitor. The people has no silken friends."
"How often have I heard thee say," retorted Stephen, "that one day thou and all men shall be clad in silk?"
There was a crowd gathering, men stood about with broken legs of chairs, good bludgeons, in their hands.
"Natheless, to-day our friends go in russet and rags," said Jack Straw.
"So be it," Stephen a.s.sented, and stripped the child of his silk coat so that he stood in his shirt. "Art a-cold, friend?--Wilt have my courtepy?"
"Nay," the boy answered, looking about on all those rough faces of men, but with a strange gleam in his eye,--"nay,--the fire warms me."
They all laughed loud, except Jack Straw, that stooped and set his face close to the boy"s face, but the boy did not blink. "Here "s no place for children," Jack cried, drawing back baffled.
"For that reason do I take him hence," Stephen explained.
Jack narrowed his eyes: "The boy hath a tongue in "s head, and stout legs; is "t for this cause that thou art received into the Fellowship, to play the nursemaid to lost brats? Thou bawdy waster, false faitour!
What knowest thou of brotherhood, that hast not soiled thy fingers this day to serve thy fellows?"
"Nor I will not neither," cried Stephen. And at this word the men drew yet more close and their faces were awry twixt anger and amaze.
"I say I will not," he repeated, "if to serve my fellows is to burn and pillage other men"s goods."
"Pillage!" roared all they as with one throat. "We be not thieves!"
"Ye say so," he answered, and then: "This cause is a righteous cause, and I will not hinder; but "t is not I have suffered at the hands of the n.o.blesse; wherefore I will not wantonly overturn and lay waste. "T is my part to play messenger."
""T is thy part to do whatsoever we bid thee," snarled Jack Straw.
"I am not of thy menye, Jack," said Stephen.
"Nay, for only honest fellows are of my menye,--thou art a traitor, a liar, a spy"--
"After a little while I w-will kill thee, Jack Straw,--I will s-sl-slit thy throat and c-cut out thy lying tongue,--but not to-day."
Jack wetted his lips and looked around upon his men; they were drawn close, their faces were full of bewilderment, they watched their leader and waited for a sign.
"And is this treason, brothers?" said Jack.--"He will slay me, in a little while?--Will ye wait,--till he slay me?"--
There was a rustle,--a growl,--every moment the mob grew,--
"Will ye wait?" said Jack Straw again.
Some fellow in the crowd threw a carved bit of a bed cornice at Stephen, but it fell short of him,--a chair leg struck his shoulder.
He unbuckled his sword and laid it on the ground at his feet; he unbuckled the boy"s sword also. A man with a table-top heaved up on high set it down.
"Brothers," said Stephen, "kill me an you will; but I am no traitor.
Jack Straw and I have a quarrel concerneth us two and no other man.
One day we "ll settle it in fair fight,--one day when all men are free. I am loyal true to the Fellowship,--and to the King. Are ye all loyal to the King?"
"Yea,--G.o.d bless the King!" they cried.
"Ye come at the King by me, no man else may go in at the Tower. And will ye kill me and leave the King prisoned with the n.o.blesse?"
"Fitzwarine!--Fitzwarine!" cried a voice at the far edge of the throng. "Is "t Stephen Fitzwarine yonder? Wat Tyler hath need of him for a message. Fitzwarine!"
And the mob parted to right and left to let Stephen pa.s.s through. As he went, one ran after and gave him his sword.
"And my sword?" said the boy, who clung to Stephen"s hand and followed close behind.
"Nay, let it lie," Stephen answered him.
By Charing Cross they found Wat Tyler, and, by good hap, Calote.