This was a corner house, and the corner post of it
had a carved niche wherein stood a gaily painted figure holding an
anchor—St. Clement to wit, as the dweller in the house was a
blacksmith. Half a stone's throw from the east end of the
churchyard wall was a tall cross of stone, new like the church, the
head beautifully carved with a crucifix amidst leafage. It stood on
a set of wide stone steps, octagonal in shape, where three roads
from other villages met and formed a wide open space on which a
thousand people or more could stand together with no great
crowding.
All this I saw, and also that there was a goodish many people
about, women and children, and a few old men at the doors, many of
them somewhat gaily clad, and that men were coming into the village
street by the other end to that by which I had entered, by twos and
threes, most of them carrying what I could see were bows in cases
of linen yellow with wax or oil; they had quivers at their backs,
and most of them a short sword by their left side, and a pouch and
knife on the right; they were mostly dressed in red or brightish
green or blue cloth jerkins, with a hood on the head generally of
another colour. As they came nearer I saw that the cloth of their
garments was somewhat coarse, but stout and serviceable. I knew,
somehow, that they had been shooting at the butts, and, indeed, I
could still hear a noise of men thereabout, and even now and again
when the wind set from that quarter the twang of the bowstring and
the plump of the shaft in the target.
I leaned against the churchyard wall and watched these men, some
of whom went straight into their houses and some loitered about
still; they were rough-looking fellows, tall and stout, very black
some of them, and some red-haired, but most had hair burnt by the
sun into the colour of tow; and, indeed, they were all burned and
tanned and freckled variously. Their arms and buckles and belts and
the finishings and hems of their garments were all what we should
now call beautiful, rough as the men were; nor in their speech was
any of that drawling snarl or thick vulgarity which one is used to
hear from labourers in civilisation; not that they talked like
gentlemen either, but full and round and bold, and they were merry
and good-tempered enough; I could see that, though I felt shy and
timid amongst them.
One of them strode up to me across the road, a man some six feet
high, with a short black beard and black eyes and berry-brown skin,
with a huge bow in his hand bare of the case, a knife, a pouch, and
a short hatchet, all clattering together at his girdle.
"Well, friend," said he, "thou lookest partly mazed; what tongue
hast thou in thine head?"
"A tongue that can tell rhymes," said I.
"So I thought," said he. "Thirstest thou any?"
"Yea, and hunger," said I.
And therewith my hand went into my purse, and came out again
with but a few small and thin silver coins with a cross stamped on
each, and three pellets in each corner of the cross. The man
grinned.
"Aha!" said he, "is it so? Never heed it, mate. It shall be a
song for a supper this fair Sunday evening. But first, whose man
art thou?"
"No one's man," said I, reddening angrily; "I am my own
master."
He grinned again.
"Nay, that's not the custom of England, as one time belike it
will be. Methinks thou comest from heaven down, and hast had a high
place there too."
He seemed to hesitate a moment, and then leant forward and
whispered in my ear: "John the Miller, that ground small, small,
small," and stopped and winked at me, and from between my lips
without my mind forming any meaning came the words, "The king's son
of heaven shall pay for all."
He let his bow fall on to his shoulder, caught my right hand in
his and gave it a great grip, while his left hand fell among the
gear at his belt, and I could see that he half drew his knife.
"Well, brother," said he, "stand not here hungry in the highway
when there is flesh and bread in the Rose yonder. Come on."
And with that he drew me along toward what was clearly a tavern
door, outside which men were sitting on a couple of benches and
drinking meditatively from curiously shaped earthen pots glazed
green and yellow, some with quaint devices on them.
Chapter 2
THE MAN FROM ESSEX
I entered the door and started at first with my old
astonishment, with which I had woke up, so strange and beautiful
did this interior seem to me, though it was but a pothouse parlour.
A quaintly-carved side board held an array of bright pewter pots
and dishes and wooden and earthen bowls; a stout oak table went up
and down the room, and a carved oak chair stood by the
chimney-corner, now filled by a very old man dim-eyed and
white-bearded. That, except the rough stools and benches on which
the company sat, was all the furniture. The walls were panelled
roughly enough with oak boards to about six feet from the floor,
and about three feet of plaster above that was wrought in a pattern
of a rose stem running all round the room, freely and roughly done,
but with (as it seemed to my unused eyes) wonderful skill and
spirit. On the hood of the great chimney a huge rose was wrought in
the plaster and brightly painted in its proper colours. There were
a dozen or more of the men I had seen coming along the street
sitting there, some eating and all drinking; their cased bows
leaned against the wall, their quivers hung on pegs in the
panelling, and in a corner of the room I saw half-a-dozen
bill-hooks that looked made more for war than for hedge-shearing,
with ashen handles some seven foot long. Three or four children
were running about among the legs of the men, heeding them mighty
little in their bold play, and the men seemed little troubled by
it, although they were talking earnestly and seriously too. A
well-made comely girl leaned up against the chimney close to the
gaffer's chair, and seemed to be in waiting on the company: she was
clad in a close-fitting gown of bright blue cloth, with a broad
silver girdle daintily wrought, round her loins, a rose wreath was
on her head and her hair hung down unbound; the gaffer grumbled a
few words to her from time to time, so that I judged he was her
grandfather.
The men all looked up as we came into the room, my mate leading
me by the hand, and he called out in his rough, good-tempered
voice, "Here, my masters, I bring you tidings and a tale; give it
meat and drink that it may be strong and sweet."
"Whence are thy tidings, Will Green?" said one.
My mate grinned again with the pleasure of making his joke once
more in a bigger company: "It seemeth from heaven, since this good
old lad hath no master," said he.
"The more fool he to come here," said a thin man with a grizzled
beard, amidst the laughter that followed, "unless he had the choice
given him between hell and England."
"Nay," said I, "I come not from heaven, but from Essex."
As I said the word a great shout sprang from all mouths at once,
as clear and sudden as a shot from a gun. For I must tell you that
I knew somehow, but I know not how, that the men of Essex were
gathering to rise against the poll-groat bailiffs and the lords
that would turn them all into villeins again, as their grandfathers
had been. And the people was weak and the lords were poor; for many
a mother's son had fallen in the war in France in the old king's
time, and the Black Death had slain a many; so that the lords had
bethought them: "We are growing poorer, and these upland-bred
villeins are growing richer, and the guilds of craft are waxing in
the towns, and soon what will there be left for us who cannot weave
and will not dig? Good it were if we fell on all who are not
guildsmen or men of free land, if we fell on soccage tenants and
others, and brought both the law and the strong hand on them, and
made them all villeins in deed as they are now in name; for now
these rascals make more than their bellies need of bread, and their
backs of homespun, and the overplus they keep to themselves; and we
are more worthy of it than they. So let us get the collar on their
necks again, and make their day's work longer and their bever-time
shorter, as the good statute of the old king bade. And good it were
if the Holy Church were to look to it (and the Lollards might help
herein) that all these naughty and wearisome holidays were done
away with; or that it should be unlawful for any man below the
degree of a squire to keep the holy days of the church, except in
the heart and the spirit only, and let the body labour meanwhile;
for does not the Apostle say, 'If a man work not, neither should he
eat'? And if such things were done, and such an estate of noble
rich men and worthy poor men upholden for ever, then would it be
good times in England, and life were worth the living."
All this were the lords at work on, and such talk I knew was
common not only among the lords themselves, but also among their
sergeants and very serving-men. But the people would not abide it;
therefore, as I said, in Essex they were on the point of rising,
and word had gone how that at St. Albans they were wellnigh at
blows with the Lord Abbot's soldiers; that north away at Norwich
John Litster was wiping the woad from his arms, as who would have
to stain them red again, but not with grain or madder; and that the
valiant tiler of Dartford had smitten a poll-groat bailiff to death
with his lath-rending axe for mishandling a young maid, his
daughter; and that the men of Kent were on the move.
Now, knowing all this I was not astonished that they shouted at
the thought of their fellows the men of Essex, but rather that they
said little more about it; only Will Green saying quietly, "Well,
the tidings shall be told when our fellowship is greater; fall-to
now on the meat, brother, that we may the sooner have thy tale." As
he spoke the blue-clad damsel bestirred herself and brought me a
clean trencher—that is, a square piece of thin oak board scraped
clean—and a pewter pot of liquor. So without more ado, and as one
used to it, I drew my knife out of my girdle and cut myself what I
would of the flesh and bread on the table. But Will Green mocked at
me as I cut, and said, "Certes, brother, thou hast not been a
lord's carver, though but for thy word thou mightest have been his
reader. Hast thou seen Oxford, scholar?"
A vision of grey-roofed houses and a long winding street and the
sound of many bells came over me at that word as I nodded "Yes" to
him, my mouth full of salt pork and rye-bread; and then I lifted my
pot and we made the clattering mugs kiss and I drank, and the fire
of the good Kentish mead ran through my veins and deepened my dream
of things past, present, and to come, as I said: "Now hearken a
tale, since ye will have it so. For last autumn I was in Suffolk at
the good town of Dunwich, and thither came the keels from Iceland,
and on them were some men of Iceland, and many a tale they had on
their tongues; and with these men I foregathered, for I am in sooth
a gatherer of tales, and this that is now at my tongue's end is one
of them."
So such a tale I told them, long familiar to me; but as I told
it the words seemed to quicken and grow, so that I knew not the
sound of my own voice, and they ran almost into rhyme and measure
as I told it; and when I had done there was silence awhile, till
one man spake, but not loudly:
"Yea, in that land was the summer short and the winter long; but
men lived both summer and winter; and if the trees grew ill and the
corn throve not, yet did the plant called man thrive and do well.
God send us such men even here."
"Nay," said another, "such men have been and will be, and belike
are not far from this same door even now."
"Yea," said a third, "hearken a stave of Robin Hood; maybe that
shall hasten the coming of one I wot of." And he fell to singing in
a clear voice, for he was a young man, and to a sweet wild melody,
one of those ballads which in an incomplete and degraded form you
have read perhaps. My heart rose high as I heard him, for it was
concerning the struggle against tyranny for the freedom of life,
how that the wildwood and the heath, despite of wind and weather,
were better for a free man than the court and the cheaping-town; of
the taking from the rich to give to the poor; of the life of a man
doing his own will and not the will of another man commanding him
for the commandment's sake.
1 comment