Florence Converse

“ Natheless, I find it hard to believe as how Sir Austin will clip me and kiss me and call me brother. Sir Austin 's a proud man,—lord o' the manor,—and I a silly shepherd. Christ knoweth us poor,—for that he came to earth a poor man. He put our garb upon him. Till Sir Austin and his ilk do put them in poor men's weeds and ploughman's weeds and shepherd's weeds, how shall they know what 't is I suffer, or that rejoiceth me? Men know that they live. Small blame to Sir Austin, or to the King.
O Diggon,—my brother! This is a true word, cried the peddler. ”

“ Stephen pushed through the gaping crowd at the door, past the dead knight, and would have led Calote away into the fields, but she said:—
Let be! I will go home. I am very sick.
'T was not the King's fault; be sure of that! cried Stephen. They do so many wicked things in his name. He is but a weakling child.
It is time the people arose! answered Calote. Ah, how helpless am I, and thou, and the little King! How helpless is this country of England, where men slay each other before God's altar!
'T is John of Gaunt's doing, said Stephen. ”

“ I love mine own, said Kitte. Thy husband I shall love, and thy children. I am glad thy children will be free men.
Calote clung to her mother. And I had forgotten them! she said. Yet, meseems as every peasant in England were child of mine this day, so doth my heart beat for them. I 'm mother to all free English!—Ah! She cast her arms above her head, and her face was shining.
Thou art thy father's daughter, Kitte said; but then she caught the maid to her breast: Thy father's daughter, quoth she, but I 'm the woman that bore thee. Thou wilt not be always content to mother the world only. ”

“ Think you I feel, O my lord? Calote answered him. Yet I am of these people. 'T is to-day the first day ever I sat on a cushion.
The boy stared.
But thou shalt hereafter, he said. Etienne will clothe thee in silk, and feed thee dainties. I will give thee a girdle with a blue stone in it.
Nay, not so! she cried. How can I take mine ease if the people suffer? Oh, sweet child, wilt thou walk in silk, and the half of thy kingdom go naked? 'T is for thee they suffer. The white bread thou dost eat, the people harvested. They gathered it into thy barns. And yet thou wilt let them go hungry. ”

“ If the knight do the bidding of the ploughman, wherefore shall not Piers' daughter wed the son o' the knight?
He looked within her eyes most tenderly, his voice was deep with pity; he held her two hands in his own.
My Calote,—'t is not King Edward, nor King Edward's son, shall be counselled of the ploughman. 'T is a slow world, and no man so slow as the man at the plough. He hath his half acre to sow. Not in my day, nor in thine, shall the knight bethink him to set the ploughman free for pilgrimage to Truth.
But if he read thy Vision, father, he will. ”

“ I have heard my father say, before he died, said Richard, that no man is free, not the king even, for the nobles do bind his hands. I hate the great nobles! They come and look on me and chuck me under chin,—and anon they whisper in corners. They shall not bind my hands!
My father saith the common folk is three times more than the nobles, said Calote eagerly. If thou art friend to the poor, they will serve thee. They will bind the nobles and learn them to love. Oh, hearken to Piers! The Vision of Truth is with him. Take the poor man to thy friend! ”

“ My lord, Stephen soothed him, hast thou heard how they have cried out all this day in London streets, and at the burning of the Savoy, 'We will have no King called John?'
His name is Henry, the boy answered, 't is a froward child; and then passionately: Natheless, tell me 't is not true! Tell me,—tell me!
Look out of window, sire, on Saint Catherine's Hill, where thy people wait thee! So shall these fears and follies be dispelled.
Let us to the battlement to breathe, said Richard. Is more to see; and I 'm smothered here, walled in with my cousin. ”

“ Thou thinkest not of thy King, neither of his kingdom, but of thine own self only, said Richard, in the sulks, driving an arrow spear-fashion into the earth and wrenching it forth with a jerk that snapped the shaft.
I think of her, Etienne answered him sadly.
There is more kinds of love than one, Calote protested. Is there not a love for the whole people that is as worthy as the love for one woman? Yea, and more worthy, for 't is Christ's fashion of loving. What matter if I lose my life, if so be the people is free? ”

“ When the people discover that they are—that they—are—
Tricked! shouted Buckingham, laughing loud. Tricked, my wise nephew! 'T were well to crush them neath the iron hand of fear, ere they find out this. So, I say, fall to!—Beat them down! Let blood flow! 'T is the one way!
Tricked? the King repeated, frowning. But I was honest.
Ay, my lord, assured him Salisbury. And so wert thou honest if a madman came to thee and gripped thy throat and said, 'Give me thy kingdom, King Richard,' and thou didst answer, 'Yea, freely I give it thee.' Natheless, the madman might not rule England. ”

“ Men say mine uncle hath it in his heart to kill me.
O sire! the people love thee! cried Calote. The people is thy friend; they hold to thee for thy father's sake; and if thou be friend and brother to them, be sure they will hold to thee for thine own. Wilt thou be king of common folk, sire? Wilt thou right the wrongs of thy poor? Now God and Wat Tyler forgive me if I betray aught. But hearken! The people has a great plot whereby they hope to rise against this power of the nobles, this evil power that eateth out the heart of this kingdom. ”

“ Calote, rosy red, her lips a-quiver, stood with her hands crossed on her breast, that frighted but yet steadfast way she had. Then:—
Light down, Etienne, thou laggard lover! 'T is thy true love hath followed thee from London town these many miles, laughed Richard, and flung himself off his horse.
Oh, me, harrow, weyl a way! said Calote, covering up her face. 'T is not true! I am not so unmaidenly; my heart is full of other matter than light love. She turned to Stephen, who was also lighted off his horse, and Dost thou believe I followed for love of thee? she cried. ”

“ But kings give ear to a poet; ladies weep over a sad tale in hall. Who shall sing this song if not I? Lord, I will go forth and learn a way to set these matters straight. I will sing this in my song: how to live well, so that poor men be not so cast down, as now they are. Sweet Jesu, I will not cease to sing this one song. I will tell my tale, and the king shall find a way to succour his poor men. Now glory be to God, and praise and thanksgiving, that He hath given me a vision. For my brother's sake I sing; he is dumb; he is so fast in prison that he cannot get forth ”

“ Do I forget that thy hair is golden and thine eyes are gray? the squire retorted. Thrice in the week, at the very least, he will have me come to his bed at night and read thy father's Vision till he sleeps.
Alas! and doth he sleep when thou read'st that book? murmured Calote.
Ah, my lady! wherefore wilt thou so evil entreat me? Stephen pleaded. I may not open my lips but thou redest my meaning awry. The King hath a loving heart and a delicate fancy, but he is over-young. Thy father's Vision is a sober tale; 't is an old-fashioned music; haply I read it ill. Natheless, Richard is constant. ”

“ Thy men are puppets, O poet! he cried. Where is the breath of life in them? Didst never see a man, that thou canst make him so like to a wooden doll? The stone abbot down yonder, on his tomb in the Priory, is more alive than these. Hast seen the Miracle Play in Paul's Churchyard at Whitsuntide? There will be a crowd alive for thee. Hast never seen the 'prentices breaking each other his pate of a holiday in London streets? There be men! Thine are a string o' names my lord Bishop might be a-reading before the altar to shame their owners.
Men be but little more than names for me, young master. ”

“ Wait, quotha! sneered Jack Straw. And what hast thou been about, this two year, that thou wert sent to learn them fellowship? I trow there hath been little wisdom, but loving a-plenty,—in corners with stray peddlers and packmen. 'Wait,' sayst 'ou? But I say 't is time! Wherefore is not the people ready?
Will Langland caught the peddler by the arm, and, Jack, said he, whiles I do more than mouth words. What though I repent after, 't is too late then, if thou art throttled.
Nay, let me speak! Calote importuned, thrusting aside her father. Wherefore is the people not ready, Jack Straw? Wherefore? ”

“ I am not any of those fair damsels in that garden.
Thou art the rose, he said.
I do not dwell in a garden.
Thou art the rose.
O sir! she cried, and flung her arms wide. There be so many kind of love in the world! But this one kind I may not know. Do not proffer it. The Lord hath made me a peasant. Love betwixt thee and me were not honourable.
'T is true, I am in tutelage, Stephen answered. But one day I shall come to mine own. Meanwhile, I serve thee. 'T is the device of my house, 'Steadfast.'
I am of the poor, said Calote. I will not eat spiced meats while my people feed of black bread. ”

“ By Holy Cuthbert, I swear thou art lovelier than any court lady ever I saw,—and I 've been in Edward's court,—yea, and in France likewise. Kiss me, wench!—By Saint Thomas, but I will kiss thee whether or no!
He stumbled and staggered to his feet and came at her with a lurch, for his head was dizzy with wine and pleasure.
Sir, I will not marry no knight,—nor lord of a manor,—unless he set free all his villeins, she said, and slipped aside. Neither will I kiss any man for love, till we be promised together. ”

“ Not to be villeins any longer, but freed men, with leave to come and go of their own will.
But noblesse,—villeinage,—these are fixed,—may not be overthrown.
Not by the King? asked Calote.
Richard looked on her uncertain, then his face flushed and he struck his long-bow vehement into the earth:—
The King may do what he will! he cried; else wherefore is he King? Tell me, will they aid me to put down mine uncle, John of Gaunt, and all these that tie my hands, and the Council that now is the verray governor of this realm? Will they do all these things for me, if I make them free men? ”

“ Calote set her finger upon his lips, but he drew away her hand:—
How have I cried out upon the begging friars! But thrice in the month I sit and feed at my Lord Latimer's table,—my Lord Latimer that betrayeth the poor,—I and a friar we dip our fingers into the same dish for alms' sake. I live in London and on London both. I praise Piers Ploughman for his diligence, yet have I no wish to bow my back to his toil. I live like a loller. I am one of those that sits and swings 's heels, saying: 'I may not work, but I 'll pray for you, Piers.' Yet am I not minded to go hungry, neither. ”

“ 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,—God 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 noblesse?
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. ”

“ But of late he groweth impatient; there be stirrings in him of manhood; he is taller than thou, albeit not yet thirteen. He demandeth to know when the people is to rise up. He saith, 'Seek out thy bien-aimée and bid her tell the people I am weary with waiting; I want to be a king,—for I am a king.' Last month he spake to me very lovingly of Walworth and Brembre and sundry others, merchants of London, that come often to the palace. 'I will be friend with merchants,' he saith; 'thy Calote spake truth, they are more loving than mine uncles.'
But the merchants be not the poor! said Calote. ”

“ I will listen to Dame Reason in the Romaunt,—and Wat, and the ploughman, and my father.
She crossed herself and said her Pater Noster, then dropped her kirtle and lay down upon her pallet. For coverlet she had a frayed old cassock of her father's. She lay beneath the window, and the moon came about to look on her.
I will love all I may, said Calote; but I will forget to be loved. ”

“ I marvel thou hast not found me out afore, said Langland quietly. Hast thou not heard me rail right prettily, many a time, against those priests that come to London to earn silver by singing prayers for the dead,—a lazy life; when they might, an they would, be a-starving in country villages for the sake o' the souls o' living poor wights that need comfort and counsel? Let God take care o' the dead, say I, and if a man pray for those, let him pray for love's sake. Yet here be I a chantry clerk in London,—I, that hold it akin to simony to take money for such-like Masses. ”

“ The ploughman knoweth the way to truth; the king shall crave his company.
Nay, thou dost not see clear. I doubt me if ever thou wilt, said Brother Owyn. Thou hast got the Malvern mist in thy head, boy. Who shall profit by a vision in a mist?
'T is larger than life, seen thus, quoth the dreamer. Natheless, let me go forth into a new land. How may I rid me of the mist if I dwell within it? Let me go to London, and if the vision fade, if it be proven a temptation, I 'll cast it from me. How may I know men in the wilderness? How may I touch their hearts if I know them not? ”

“ For he holdeth the land in fee, and the villeins sweat for him.—Nay, more,—and the dreamer bent his lips to Brother Owyn's ear and sunk his voice,—I have seen this Piers where he jousted in Jesus' armor, red as with blood,—and in His likeness. Hark you, master, the day is to the poor man. For Jesus Christ, of poor men the Prince,—He saith, 'I am the Truth.'
An I knew thee not this five year, quoth Brother Owyn, I had said thou art mad,—mad from very pride. The ploughman a leader of men! Wilt thou bring chaos about our ears? ”