CHAPTER VI.

But, despite the prophet's injunction, the tumultuary rising commenced with blood. The courts of trail baron were dispersed, and at Stamford the jurors beheaded, and their heads borne on lances to overawe those who might be inclined to arrest the progress of the insurgents; every building suspected of containing court-rolls was searched; all the documents found were destroyed, and the villeins met with, in the line of march, pronounced free and incited to join the popular insurrection. Their numbers were thus increased every mile of ground they passed over, till, at length, the whole mass amounted to one hundred thousand able-bodied men. It is impossible to say what such a force might not have effected, had there been a proper degree of subordination kept up among the led, or a proper degree of confidence and understanding among the leaders: but, as is usual in popular commotions, the reverse of this was the case. No one chose to occupy the lowest place, and each thought he could direct movements and affairs much better than the actual leader. Hence arose endless contentions and secessions, till at length from want of the grand principle of adhesion—unanimity, the vast body threatened to fall asunder, as if crushed by its own weight.

These things, however, gave little concern to the worthy who commanded the Kentish division. Tyler, though an excellent blacksmith, possessed few of the qualities requisite for forming a good general. Provided there was no very sensible diminution in the number of his followers, he cared not a straw for the score or two who, after quarrelling, or perhaps fighting, withdrew in such disgust that they vowed rather to pay the full tax for ever than submit to the insolence of the rebels. One man could fight as well as another, reasoned he; and, provided he was obeyed, what mattered it by whom. Dick went and Tom came—it was sure to be all one in the end.

Oakley, on the other hand, although, perhaps, equally arrogant when invested with this novel and temporary power, was more plausible, and managed to keep up a better understanding among his followers than Tyler. This sort of conciliatory conduct was, in a great measure, forced upon him by the circumstance of Leicester being immediately next him in command, and by the wish he had that no ill feelings against himself might weaken his authority when any favourable opportunity offered of reaping a golden harvest.

He knew that he had little co-operation to expect from Leicester, for independently of the personal enmity of the latter, which would rather induce opposition than support, the chief of Norfolk had not a particle of rapacity in his composition. Indeed, it is not often that he whose gaze is fixed upon some bold elevation, will stoop to rake in mire, even when sure of discovering gold. Leicester, was very indignant at thus becoming a subordinate, but the election of the prophet was decisive, and he was compelled to submit: for John Ball, seeing that one so rash and haughty, was not adapted to possess the unlimited control to which his influence, and the sacrifices he had made, seemed to entitle him; resolved that his indiscretion should be kept in check by the prudence and intelligence of Oakley.

The Essex division had marched on until within about three miles of the city of London, and here they halted, partly through fatigue and partly to interchange communications with the Kentish men; it having been determined, that while the latter where forcing a passage over London-bridge, the men of Essex should, at the same moment, effect an entrance by the east gate, and thus distract the attention of the citizens.

In the motley crowd, of nearly sixty thousand men, the most conspicuous figure was, perhaps, John Leicester himself, cased in a complete suit of steel armour, (taken as lawful spoil from some castle in the route) waving in the sun a bright Damascus scimitar, while he gave directions, in an authoritative tone, to a peasant who was unloosing the trappings of a large black horse, from which Leicester had just alighted. Standing at a short distance from him, John Oakley, otherwise Jack Straw, formed an adjunct little less important in the picturesque of the scene. Unwilling to incumber himself with armour, his portly person was defended by a leathern jack, covered over with a thick quilting of crimson silk, dagger proof; and in this guise, he contrasted well with the monk clad in dark woollen, with whom he was engaged in conversation—although turning every now and then, his large blue eyes towards a tempting display of eatables and wine profusely spread under the shade of a tree. A cluster of formidable-looking men in tough leathern jacks, were laying aside their hand-bills and swords and dividing the contents of a large satchel. There was a group variously armed and accoutred, some wearing the shirt of mail with the yew-tree bow in their hands and quivers of arrows at their backs; and others in doublets of leather or freize, with swords, some rusty and some bright, or staves, or sharp-pointed clubs, or reaping hooks, or wood-knives.

The arrival of such a body as the Essex men, so near the city, and the approach of the Kentish men, was, of course, no secret to those who inhabited the Tower, but there was no standing army ready, at a moment's notice, to march out and oppose their progress. They had, indeed, six hundred archers within the Tower, but it was considered the most prudent course not to send them forth, lest, while they were attacking one division, another might come on and make themselves masters of the strong hold. Many of the nobles who resided beyond the city walls fled from their dwellings to seek a refuge in the Tower, and among these Roland de Boteler, at his lady's earnest entreaty, withdrew with her, from his mansion just beyond Bishopgate, and sought a temporary shelter within the fortress.

Isabella was sitting in an apartment with the fair Joan of Kent, expatiating upon the insolence of the common people, and detailing a solitary instance of the evil that the family of a bondman might work to his lord, when the door was thrown open and Richard, with his beautiful countenance flushed with excitement, and followed by the archbishop of Canterbury, abruptly entered.

"We are resolved, my lord bishop," said Richard, as he threw himself on a seat by his mother; and, turning to an attendant, commanded that the royal barge should be instantly in readiness.

"You surely do not intend leaving the Tower," asked the queen-mother apprehensively.

"Madam," said Sudbury, with some heat, "his grace has so determined; and, moreover, contrary to the advice of his noble cousins and councillors, he will go down the river and parley with the villeins!"

The impetuosity of sixteen was not to be turned aside from its purpose by the remonstrances of the archbishop, or even the entreaties of a mother. Isabella, too, ventured to expostulate, but without effect; and, accompanied by Thomas of Woodstock, his uncle, Sir Robert Hales, the treasurer, the Earl of Oxford, De Boteler, and Simon Sudbury; who, though reprobating his majesty's conduct, generously resolved to share its consequences. Richard stepped into the royal barge with the most sanguine hopes of quelling the insurrection.

The order had been so suddenly given that there was no intimation of the sovereign's excursion until the royal barge met the eye, consequently there was none of that excitement usual upon the most simple movements of royalty. Indeed, at any rate, the attention of all classes was, at this moment, so occupied by the Commons, that the king was scarcely thought of.

They had rowed about a mile down the river, when the chancellor, who was gazing with vacant eyes, but an occupied mind, upon the water, had his attentions suddenly fixed.

"Does your grace see that little boat just before us?"

"Yes," replied Richard.

"I am much mistaken," resumed Sudbury, quickly, "if that figure in the dark cloak is not he whose evil counsel has spread like a pestilence through the land."

"What! the audacious monk who intruded upon us at Kennington?"

"The same, your grace, if my judgment be correct."

"Let him be instantly seized!" replied the impetuous Richard. The boat was, accordingly, hailed, and John Ball dragged into the barge, and at once identified by Sudley and De Boteler. The monk did not resist either the capture or the bands that were bound around him; neither did he reply to the reproaches that were showered upon him; but silently and unresistingly suffered himself to be thrown into the bottom of the barge.

In a few minutes after this was effected, Richard's quick eye was suddenly attracted by an appearance on the beach.

"By my faith, cousin," said he, addressing Thomas of Woodstock, "yonder are the varlets! Do you see how bravely their pennons are waving, and how, here and there, among their black heads, something bright glitters in the sun?"

"That is their weapons, my liege," said Woodstock.

"Stolen from the castles and houses they have plundered," added Sudbury.

"Put to shore quickly," said Richard; "and let us see if those rebels will dare to appear in harness before their king!"

"You would not venture your sacred person among them, my liege!" cried Sir Robert Hales the treasurer, in alarm.

"What! think you, sir treasurer," asked De Boteler, "that the knaves, vile as they are, would harm his grace?"

"My lord baron," said Sudbury, sternly, "it is not well that a man of your experience should speak thus. Give not your countenance to an act that may yet lie heavy upon your soul!" Richard's cheek kindled as the baron stood rebuked; and with the generous indignation of youth, he said, in a tone of evident displeasure—

"My Lord Bishop, the Baron de Boteler did not counsel us to land: he was only doubting how far the impudence of those commons might go." Sudbury, knowing that soft words might turn away wrath, and perceiving that little good would be effected in the present case by pursuing a different course, suffered Sir Robert Hales to intreat, even as a father would entreat his only son, that the young king should not peril his life by venturing his royal person among those who were up in arms against his authority. But when he saw that Richard's ingenuous mind was touched by the earnest manner of the treasurer, he then prudently put his own weight into the balance, and the scale turned as he desired.

"Go you, then, my lord of Oxford," said Richard, "since it does not appear wise that we, ourselves, should land, and ask those men why they thus disturb the peace of their sovereign lord the king."

Robert de Vere accordingly, accompanied only by three men at arms, one to act as herald, and two as a sort of body guard, quitted the barge to hold parlance with the rebels.

"Why we are thus up in arms?" said Leicester, without circumlocution, as the herald proclaimed the king's interrogatory,—"why, because those who should command are thought nothing of, and those who do command ought to have their heads struck off."

"This is no meet answer, Sir Knight," said Oxford, glancing ironically at Leicester's armour. "You must consider of something more to the matter of his grace's demand, or Robert de Vere can be no messenger."

"Yes, yes, we will consider of some more fitting answer," said Leicester fiercely;—and after consulting earnestly for a few minutes with Jack Straw, Thomas Sack, and other leaders, he returned to De Vere, and said—

"Hear you, Robert de Vere, we demand that all whose names are in that parchment shall be beheaded, because they are enemies to the true Commons, and evil councillors to the king. And when this is done we will let his grace know what else we demand."

Robert de Vere took the scroll from Leicester with a haughty air, and glancing over the contents, without vouchsafing a word, turned away and rejoined the king.

"These knaves wish to carry things with a strong hand, my liege," said the Earl of Oxford, bending his knee as he presented the scroll.

"What!" said Richard, as his eye ran over the characters, "John, duke of Lancaster; Simon Sudbury, lord chancellor; John Fordham, clerk of the privy seal; Sir Robert Hales, treasurer; the bishop of London; Sir Robert Belknap, the chief justice; Sir Ralph Ferrers, and Sir Robert Blessinton. What! is this all the noble blood they wish to spill? By my faith!" he added, trampling the parchment under his foot, "we will listen to nothing more the knaves have to say; and ye may tell them that as they are bondmen so shall they remain; and that as my fathers ruled them with a rod of iron, so shall I rule them with a rod of scorpions."

But this burst of indignation soon passed away, and upon the suggestion of the prudent Sir Robert Hailes, he sent an evasive answer, with a command that the Commons should attend him at Windsor on the Sunday following.

The royal barge then returned to the Tower, and John Ball was again the tenant of a dungeon.

Tyler and his Kentish men were at this time upon Blackheath, awaiting the monk impatiently, who had strictly enjoined that no attack should be made upon London till the word was received from him. The day, however, wore away, and John Ball did not appear. The men grew impatient, but Tyler, though brooking the delay as ill as the most ardent among them, hesitated to take any decided step until the sanction of the prophet should warrant the deed.

"By St. Nicholas!" cried he at last, "something ill has befallen the holy man, or he would have been here before now. We will march on directly, and find him, or the London folks shall look to it."

This resolution was received with acclamation, and the whole mass moved forward with a quick step. Their direct way would have been to keep as far as was possible the banks of the Thames in view, until they arrived at London Bridge, but Sudbury's palace was at Lambeth, and Tyler, suspecting that the archbishop had some hand in the detention of the monk, vowed that his residence should be burned to the ground if some tidings were not gained of him. On they went, therefore, to Southwark; and with shouts and execrations, and torches flaming in their hands, approached the walls of the episcopal edifice. The gates were forced; the affrighted domestics and retainers fled; and it was well that Tyler, as he rushed on through room and corridor, did not encounter Sudbury; but the prelate being fortunately in the Tower, escaped the rage of the vindictive smith.

"He has been an ill friend to him," said Tyler, "even if he should not have harmed him now," (as a trembling domestic assured him that no prisoner had entered the palace) "and he deserves that his head should be carried on a pole before us to London Bridge."

And when, at length, the intruders were satisfied that the palace contained neither bishop nor monk, the search commenced for the documents and records. Cabinets were broken open, drawers and boxes forced, and the contents thrown carelessly about; jewels, silk damasks, and gold embroidery, were trampled under foot with as much loss of value through wantonness as if the spoilers had enriched themselves—a thing which, if done at all, was done to so small an extent, that he only who snatched up a gem or a piece of gold could have said that a theft had been committed.

In each apartment the writings found were thrown in a heap, and blazing torches flung upon them. These igniting the flooring and furniture, the building was presently in a blaze in a dozen different directions, and the Kentish men, with as rapid a step as they had approached, marched away, vowing vengeance to all the enemies of their prophet.

It was midnight when they arrived within view of London, but the red tinge in the southern horizon, and the glare of their thousand torches, had warned the citizens of their approach; the gates were shut, and the bridge itself crowded with aroused citizens. Tyler's first command was that they should rush on and set fire to the gates; but Holgrave had seen more of warfare than he, and he knew that, even though they might succeed in passing the bridge, if the citizens were thoroughly provoked, they might, in their narrow streets, occasion much annoyance; he, therefore, counselled Tyler to remain with the men marshalled before the bridge, while three or four, who had some knowledge of the city, and whom he would himself accompany, should pass stealthily over the river, and ascertain if their friends on the other side were ready to assist them. Tyler reluctantly agreed to this proposal.

Holgrave and two others then departed from the main body, unloosed a small boat from its moorings, and, in less than five minutes, they were walking, in the twilight of a starry midsummer's night, down the rough stone pathway of Thames-street.

While the guide paused for a moment to recollect the way to the head-quarters of the insurgents, some one who passed was heard speaking in a tone which fell upon Stephen's ear like a sound he ought to remember; he sprang from the side of his comrades, and, standing before the strangers, demanded, "With whom hold you?"

"With King Richard and the true commons!" was the reply. "Is it not Stephen Holgrave?" continued the galleyman, holding out his hand.

"Yes," replied Holgrave, giving it a friendly pressure; "I thought I knew your voice."

"Do you know my voice?" asked one of Wells's companions.

"Ah! Merritt, you are the man I wanted—when did you see father John? can you tell any thing of him?"

"Is not the father with Tyler?" asked Merritt. Holgrave then knew that some mishap must have befallen the monk; and the possibility of his being in the Tower occurred to all.

"Hollo!" cried the galleyman, as, at this moment, a party of men approached—"with whom hold ye, mates?"

"With whom should we hold," said the foremost, "but with King Richard and the true commons?"

"Well met, then," said Wells; "for the true commons are up—no time is to be lost—the prophet is in prison. Let each man steer his own course, muster all the hands he can, and meet on Tower-hill. Hark! that stroke tells one—remember we meet at two, and we will see if the Londoners and men of Kent cannot shake hands before the clock has tolled three."

The galleyman then hurried Holgrave up a narrow dark street, where, tapping gently at a door, it was instantly opened, to Stephen's great surprise, by old Hartwell.

"Is that you, Robin?" said a soft voice; and a female face was seen peeping half way down the stairs.

"Yes, yes; but go, Lucy, and tell that Stephen Holgrave is here."

"What! Stephen Holgrave!" said the warm-hearted Lucy, springing down the stairs; but, light and quick as was her step, another reached the bottom before her, and, with a faint shriek, Margaret Holgrave fell on her husband's neck.

"Father," resumed Wells, "take up that lamp, and we'll get a flask of the best, to drink a health to the rising; and do you, Holgrave, go up and just take a look at your children, and then we must be gone."

"And the strife will begin this night!" said Margaret, fearfully, as Holgrave, bending over the bed, where lay two sleeping children, glanced for an instant at a dark-haired boy of five or six, and then, taking a little rosy infant of about a twelve-month in his arms, kissed it, and gazed upon its face with all the delight of a father.

"There will be no strife, Margaret, to-night, or to-morrow. The commons of London are rising to help us, and the king will not hold out when he sees——but no matter. Tell me how you have fared. When I left Sudley, to join the commons, you were taken charge of by your brother, who, no doubt, placed you here with your friend Lucy, on her marriage with Wells——"

"Stephen!" said the galleyman, from below.

"Good heavens! I must go. Bless you, Margaret!—bless you! I will see you again soon! May God keep ye both!" Gently laying down the still sleeping babe, he tore himself from the arms of his weeping wife, and rushed down the stairs.

Holgrave had never much reason to boast of the gift of speech, more especially when his feelings were in any wise affected. Even the galleyman was not as eloquent now as upon former occasions, and the two issued forth, and walked on for about five minutes, without exchanging a word. Wells, at length, stopped at a house in the vicinity of St. Bartholomew's Priory, with a heavy, gothic, stone arch, inclosing an iron studded door, and the windows of the first, and still more the second, story projecting so as to cast a strong shadow over the casement of the ground-floor. Wells tapped twice with the hilt of his dagger at the oaken door, which was softly opened, and he and Holgrave entered.

A low, stone passage conducted them into a spacious wainscotted room well lighted, and so full of company that it was not possible, at a glance, to guess at their number; and here, at the head of a long, narrow table, was Black Jack standing erect on the seat which he should have occupied in a different manner, and, with his eyes dancing, and his nose and cheeks glowing, haranguing the crowd in style of familiar eloquence.

"What, my old friend! what do you do here?" said the galleyman aloud, but evidently speaking to himself.

"Why," replied Holgrave, imagining the exclamation addressed to him, "I suppose he has left the Essex men to try what can be done among the bondmen!"

"But what has he to do with the Essex men or the bondmen?" asked the galleyman.

"Why, do you not know that that is Jack Straw, the Essex captain?"

"He Jack Straw!" cried Wells, with such a look as if his eyes rested on a spectre. "Have I not heard John Ball say that he wished Wat Tyler were like Jack Straw?"

"Yes; father John thinks better of him than of any who leads: but to tell you the truth," added Holgrave, in a whisper, "though he can read and write, and is as father John says, a prudent man—I don't like him."

"Do you know him?" emphatically asked the galleyman.

"To be sure I do!"

"But I mean," impatiently resumed Wells, "did you ever see him before he was with those Essex men?"

"No."

"Then, Stephen Holgrave, a word in your ear:—I know him; and let that man hoist what colours he may, steer clear of him—you understand me!"

Holgrave had not time to reply, when Wells suddenly, in a gay careless tone, accosted a man who was approaching the spot where they stood. "Hah! Harvey! who thought of seeing you among the true commons?"

Harvey looked at the speaker an instant, and then, recognizing him as poor Beauchamp's successor in the jury, was about to joke him upon his long fast, when his eyes, gleaming upon Holgrave, he thought it the most prudent course to make no allusion to the matter, but directly to reply to Wells's salutation.

"Why my business in the country," said he, "fell off a little; and so I was trying to make out a living here, and Tom Merritt coming across me, it took little to persuade me to hold with the commons."

"In hopes of being well paid," thought the galleyman, though he said nothing; he merely smiled an answer, and then, drawing Harvey a little aside, whispered him—

"But what gale drove our worthy foreman here?"

"Oh! you know, I suppose, that he is a sworn brother among the leaders, though I didn't know it till this very evening, when it happened that I was sent to the Essex men to know when they thought of marching. You know Black Jack gets on badly without a drop, and, as he could hardly obtain enough among them to wet his lips, he took the opportunity, as he said, of my coming to raise a good spirit among the bondmen—but in truth to——" and he put an empty wine-cup, that he held in his hands, to his mouth.

The apartment was so densely filled, that the door had opened, while this conversation passed without attracting the least attention; but Wells, who bethought him that the minutes were flitting, found a passage for himself, and, approaching the table, placed a stool that he took from behind one who had relinquished it, in order that not a word that fell from Jack Straw should escape him, and, mounting upon it, shouted out at the top of his voice—

"With whom hold ye, friends?"

There was a sudden hush at this abrupt interrogatory, and Jack Straw was about to answer in no very gentle manner, when, fixing his penetrating eyes upon Wells, a significant glance informed the galleyman that he was recognized, and, suppressing the epithet he was about to use, Oakley merely replied—

"We hold, as all honest men ought—with King Richard and the true commons!"

"It is of little use holding with them," returned Wells, "if you stand talking there all night;—the time is now come for action, not speech—at two the commons of London meet on Tower-hill—that is my message." He then turned away, and was hurrying with Holgrave from the room, when Jack Straw, stepping round from his post of orator, intercepted him, and, seizing him by the arm, whispered in his ear—

"Are you leaders too? By the green wax! I suppose I shall see the ghost of the ferret among the good commons next! But mind ye, galleyman—not a syllable that we ever met!" glancing his eyes at Holgrave.

"Not a word," replied Wells, breaking from the foreman's hold, and effecting a precipitate retreat.

At the appointed hour the commons of London mustered in strong force on Tower-hill; and, headed by Wells, passed on to London-bridge. Here they halted, and, upon a blazing brand being affixed to a long spear, and elevated in the air, a sudden shout from the thousands occupying the southern bank, was re-echoed by the Londoners, and caused, as might be expected, a strong sensation among the citizens, inducing a disposition rather to concede than to provoke. The elevation of a second torch was the signal that a parley had been demanded by the loyalists; and then the sudden silence was almost as startling as had been the previous tumult. The horn of the Lord Mayor's herald again sounded the parley: those who styled themselves the commons, demanded that the gates should be opened, and their brethren of Kent permitted to pass. There was some scruple as to the propriety of acceding to this demand, which, however, was soon got over by the unequivocal assurance that the commons would pass at any rate; and that, if further opposition was offered, their first act, upon entering the city, would be to tear down the houses and demolish the bridge. This argument was forcible; and, as there appeared no alternative, the mayor, first stipulating that the houses and stalls on the bridge should remain unharmed, and that free passage should be granted to the citizens to return to their dwellings, passed, with the civic force, between the opening ranks of the dictating commonalty. Those of the latter, who had arrows rested meanwhile on their bows, and those who were armed with swords and spears on their cross-hilts and handles;—and thus, in the attitude of submission, and in the silence of peace, stood the confederates until the last citizen had gone by. Then the close and the rush, and the simultaneous shout, came upon the eye and ear like the gathering of mighty waters; and, ere five minutes elapsed from the departure of the mayor, the bridge groaned with the hurried tread of the insurgents, and Tyler planted midway the banner of St. George on the highest house-top.

Shouting for the prophet, Tyler and the galleyman led on the multitude to Tower-hill; but when here, it was to little purpose that the former and Holgrave went rapidly along the verge of the moat, from one extremity to the other, and to as little purpose did the smith's practised eye run over every bar and fastening that came within his ken—he could detect nothing in the massive walls but the strong work of a skilful artizan.

"The ditch is deep," said Holgrave; "but a part could easily be filled up; and if we had ladders, the wall is not high."

"Age, or if you had a score or two of hempen ropes, with good grappling irons, it would be but boy's play to get aloft," said the galleyman.

Unfortunately, however, they were provided neither with ladders nor ropes; but even had they been so, it is doubtful whether they would have been put in requisition—for now arose the question as to what part of the building they ought to attack, and where lay the prison of the prophet, admitting that he was a prisoner. A thousand suppositions and conjectures were afloat, but no one was sufficiently well acquainted with the building to give a decisive answer. Indeed, it appeared that scarcely a single individual among them had ever crossed the drawbridge.

An angry debate now ensued among the leaders. Some, confiding in their numerical force, and zealous for the liberation of the prophet, were for storming the fortress at any point, and for effecting their object more speedily, proposed razing to the foundation some of the neighbouring houses, and filling up the ditch with the materials. Others thought such an attack might rather militate against themselves than turn to any account in redress of grievances, and after all might fail to advantage the monk: these proposed that a parley should be demanded, and their resolutions submitted to the king, with a requisition for the prophet's release.

"Men of Kent!" shouted Tyler, indignant at this pacific proposal, "what, do you suppose King Richard and his council, who are cooped up yonder, will think of us while we stand talking and gaping here? Think ye they will take off the poll-tax, or free the bondman? or open the prison door of our holy prophet, while they see us waiting like so many beggars, for them to read what is written on the sheepskins? I hold, that leaving half our brave fellows here, to let them know that if we do not mount their walls, we have an eye upon them, the rest should go on and see what is to be done in other parts of London. Who knows but we might get hold of that mortal fiend, John of Gaunt; if we once had him, by St. Nicholas! we might ask for what we liked. Stephen Holgrave, do you keep watch here, and let no one come or go: should there be any thing to be said, you know what to say—that is enough." And then, marshalling off a strong and picked body from among his followers, the smith hurried forward, accompanied by the galleyman and Kirkby, through the city, injuring neither person nor property, but only exacting from every one they encountered in their progress, a shout and a God-speed for the true commons.

The barred gates of the Fleet prison flew open before the assailants, and the wretched inmates felt their feverish temples once more cooled by the pure breath of liberty. At about a hundred paces from the Fleet, they passed a house, having the bush suspended in front, indicating its possessor to be a vintner; and the host himself, with singular foolhardiness, stood looking out from the open casement of the first story.

"With whom hold ye, friend?" said Tyler, as he passed, imagining, from the dauntless manner of the man, that he was a friend.

"Not with such traitors and rebels as ye, with whomever else I may hold!" returned the man.

At the instant, a bow was drawn, an arrow whizzed, and the imprudent vintner fell back from the casement.

"Break in the door!" said Tyler, "and let us see if the cellars of this unmannerly knave have any thing more to our liking than their master's speech."

There was no need to repeat the order—the door was smashed to splinters, and, in the rush to get at the cellars, several were thrown down, and trampled on. A large can, filled with wine, was handed to Tyler, and another to the galleyman, who, each quaffing a long draught, permitted the like indulgence to their followers; and then the word to march on was shouted by the chief. But now the smith perceived evidence of the folly he had been guilty of: the wine was too tempting to be left so soon—the vintner's house rang with execrations and tumult—and even among those who kept their station in the street, the dangerous liquid continued to circulate.

"This comes," said Tyler, enraged at such sudden disorder, "of letting folks taste of what they're not used to; but let them tipple on. By St. Nicholas! they may: I will wait for no man;" and snatching the banner of St. George from its half-stupified bearer, and waving it in the air, he applied a small bugle to his lips, and at the blast, all whose reason was not entirely lost in their thirst, followed the smith from the scene of inebriety.

Their next halt was at the beginning of the Strand, opposite the princely mansion of the bishop of Chester. The gates were forced in, and the garden encircling the building filled with the commons, who, hissing and shouting, bade John Fordham come forth. When it was discovered that the bishop was not within its walls, the house was presently glowing in one bright sheet of flame. It was told to Tyler, while this was going on, that a body of the Essex men had marched on from Mile-end, and taking a northerly direction, had pillaged and destroyed many dwellings, and among others, that of the prior of Saint John of Jerusalem, at Highbury; while another division was rapidly advancing by the way of Holborn, to attack the palace of John of Gaunt at the Savoy.

"By St. Nicholas!" said Tyler, "they shan't have it all their own way there;" and the Kentish men made all haste to be first to commence the work of destruction; but ere they had left the burning house, the dark body of the division of the Essex men was seen pouring into the Strand by the wall of the Convent garden.


Tyler and the other leaders, followed by hundreds, now rushed on to the palace;—the massive gates yielded to their blows, and the assailants, pouring in through the arched passages, ran along gallery and window, and through seemingly countless apartments. Yet, even amidst their eagerness to capture Lancaster, they paused a moment, casting glances of astonishment and pleasure at the beautifully inlaid cabinets, rich tapestries, and embroidered cushions, which every where met their gaze. The galleyman, however, was perhaps the only one among all the gazers who knew the value of the things he looked upon; and he could not repress a feeling of regret, as he glanced at the damask hangings, and the gold cords and fringes, and remembered that all these would be speedily feeding the flames. As he was thus occupied, and thinking what a fortune these articles would be to a pedling merchant, he saw Jack Straw in the act of whispering in Harvey's ear (who, by some strange sort of moral attraction, was standing by his side), and he noticed them linger until the group they had accompanied passed on to the inspection of other apartments. Oakley then opened a door in a recess in the corridor, which, when they entered, they closed hastily after them.

"Master Tyler," said Wells, springing up to the chief, "they are boarding a prize yonder;" and he pointed to the half-concealed door.

"Have they got John of Gaunt?" vociferated the smith; but as he turned his eyes from the spot to which his attention had been directed, to his informant, the galleyman could not be distinguished among the group—for, in truth, he was rather solicitous to avoid any kind of contact with his old associates.

"Confound the unmannerly carl," muttered Tyler, as he rushed forward with his men to seek an explanation in the room itself. The door, however, resisted all their efforts; and this only strengthening their hasty suspicions respecting Lancaster, the stout polished oak was presently split asunder by their axes, and they forced an entrance into a small light apartment, furnished in a style of eastern luxury. From the carved ceiling were hanging the broken links of a gold chain; and on the soft crimson cushions of an ebony couch, and on the floor, were scattered the miscellaneous contents of an exquisite ivory cabinet.

"He has escaped us!" shouted Tyler and the others, as, after casting a rapid glance around the empty apartment, they darted through an open door on the other side. This led into a luxurious dressing room, and this again into a sumptuous dormitory. If there were any outlet from this room, it was concealed by the splendid hangings, and the pursuers, after assuring themselves that no human being was within, returned to the dressing-room. The door of egress from this apartment was secured on the outside, and so, without a moment's delay, they had recourse to their former expedient, and the door was instantly hewn to splinters. On creeping through the aperture, and passing through a short passage, they found themselves in the gallery that ran round the hall. Here, chafing with disappointment, the pursuers had only to hope that they might, by chance, take the right scent, and were rushing along the gallery, when Tyler, casting his eyes below, and observing the galleyman cross the hall, hallooed to him; and then springing along the gallery, and down the spiral stairs, seized Wells rather unceremoniously, and upbraided him with conniving at the escape of Lancaster.

"Avast there! Master Tyler," said Wells, shaking off the grip of the smith; "I know no more of Lancaster than yourself: I told you this morning he was on the borders—and so, how, in the name of all the saints, could he be here?—but I tell ye, there are some here who would rather lay hand upon John of Gaunt's gold than upon John of Gaunt's body!"

"They have better not come across me," replied the smith, comprehending the galleyman's hint; but still persisting in his scepticism, he resumed his search. But even the smith was, at length, compelled to admit that, whether Lancaster had escaped or not, it did not appear likely that he would be found;—and the order was given for firing the palace. At the same instant a leathern jack, covered all over with a thick quilting of blue satin, was held upon the point of a lance, and as many arrows shot at it as they would more willingly have aimed at the breast of its owner. The building was already smoking in fifty different places, and at some points the flames were already rising. Tyler, who had determined not to believe in Lancaster's absence, after lingering about the palace with the hope that the devouring element might force him from some hiding-place, accidentally found himself in the chapel close to the sanctuary, and just at the opportune moment to detect a sacrilegious hand removing a massive gold candlestick from the altar.

"Infidel! devil!" shouted Tyler, springing over the railing of the sanctuary, and raising his clenched fist: the candlestick fell from the grasp of the delinquent, and he reeled against the altar with the force of the blow. "What!" continued Tyler, aghast, "can it be Jack Straw?"

"Yes, it is," replied Oakley, fiercely, in some measure recovering from his confusion, and from the effects of the blow, "and, by the green wax! a strange way you have of claiming acquaintance—what did you think, Tyler, I was going to do with the candlestick? Will not the Commons have churches of their own, when they obtain their rights, and would it not be a triumph over Lancaster, to have these brave candlesticks gracing our altars."

Tyler had turned away while Black Jack was speaking, but suddenly stopping, turned abruptly round, and looking full at him—

"I'll tell you, Jack Straw," said he, "were it not for my respect for father John, I would have every door of this chapel fastened up, and then the flames that are already crackling the painted windows yonder, would just give you time to say a paternoster and an ave, before they cheated the gibbet of its due! but, as it is, let him who put you over the Essex men look to you, but, by my faith," he added, stamping his foot against the pavement, and speaking quicker, "if you do not instantly leave this place, all the monks that ever told a bead shall not save you!"

It was yet possible for Oakley to feel shame, and it was not entirely with rage, that his whole body at this moment trembled. He looked at the smith as he spoke, and half drew a dagger from his bosom, and, an indifferent spectator, regarding the two—Oakley still standing on the upper step of the altar, and Tyler, at a dozen paces down the centre aisle—would have thought that there could have existed but little odds between the physical power of the men; but Oakley, although he ground his teeth, and felt almost suffocated, had too much prudence to expose his gross enervated body to the muscular arm of the vigorous smith. Therefore, assuming an indignation of a very different character from his real feelings, he said, as he stepped from the altar into the nave of the chapel,

"I don't understand your language, Master Tyler—am not I a leader?—Does not the prophet know me, and trust me?"

"By St. Nicholas! the prophet does not know you! Do you think he would have trusted you, if he had thought you would have skulked into a chapel to steal the very candlesticks from the holy altar!"

An execration passed between Oakley's teeth—he sprang upon Tyler, and had not the smith dexterously raised his left arm and arrested the blow, Black Jack's dagger would have been buried in his bosom.

"That for ye, coward," said Tyler, striking him with the flat side of his bared weapon. Oakley aimed another thrust which was again turned aside, and the smith, now flinging down his sword, seized upon his right hand and wrenched the dagger from its grasp. After a short struggle, Oakley fell heavily on the pavement with the blood streaming from his mouth and nostrils.

"Lie there, for a dog—to strike at a man with a dagger!" said Tyler, as he took up his sword, and muttering something about "if it was not for the sake of the prophet," strode hastily away. And there was little time for delay; the atmosphere of the place was becoming quite insupportable, and the flames were spreading with such rapidity, that the smith, half stupified and scorching, had enough to do to escape from the mischief he had kindled.

That afternoon, Richard was standing on a turret of the fortress, looking at the column of flame which still rose brightly from Lancaster palace, even above the heavy smoke and occasional sparklings which told elsewhere of the whereabout of the incendiaries.

"Our cousin will have to crave hospitality, when he returns home," said Richard, addressing the Earl of Oxford, who stood beside him.

"The knaves have been merry on their march," replied Oxford. "Does your grace see the bonfires they have lit yonder?" and he pointed towards the north.

"By my faith, it is more than provoking to see the audacity of the kerns. Think you not," added Richard, after pausing a moment, "that if that monk was brought forth, and his head laid on a block, some terms might be made with the rebels. Do you see," continued the king, as they descended to the battlements, "they are bringing huge beams towards the drawbridge."

It indeed seemed evident that some bold measure was contemplated, and Richard's suggestion respecting the monk was about to be acted upon, with only a prudent hint from Sir Robert Hales not to provoke the Commons to desperation, when De Boteler's page approached his master.

The baron was standing apart from the other nobles, scanning, with a gloomy countenance, the dark undulating mass below. Once he could have sworn that Stephen Holgrave stood upon the verge of the ditch before him, but if it was he, he stood but an instant, and then was lost amidst the multitude. This circumstance gave a new turn to De Boteler's meditations; he thought too of the monk of Winchcombe Abbey—this John Ball, who was styled the prophet; and it seemed to be no less true than strange, that the germ of all this wide-spreading disorder had sprung from his own soil. So much, in fact, was he absorbed in these ideas, that he actually started when his page, who had been for the space of a minute endeavouring to draw his attention by repeated obeisances, ventured to pronounce his name in rather a high key, as he presented to him an arrow which had been found sticking in the door-post of the building in which father John was confined. "And this was shot from the river?" asked De Boteler, as he received the arrow and unrolled a parchment wrapped round it.

"Yes, my lord."

"Tell Calverley to come hither directly."

The page withdrew, and De Boteler, after perusing the parchment, presented it to Richard. It ran thus: "A retainer of the Lord de Boteler, will come, unarmed and alone, beneath the southern battlements, at ten o'clock. He is a leader of the commons, but, being touched with remorse, he will, if admitted before the king in council, disclose all the secrets of the rebels."

"Know you any retainer of yours who could have written this?"

"My steward, who approaches, can better answer the question, your highness," returned the baron.

The parchment being handed to Calverley, he instantly recognized the hand, and, in answer to De Boteler's question, replied—

"This is the handwriting of a retainer called Oakley."

"Do you know the man?"

"Yes, my lord."

Calverley then retired, and those whom the matter concerned, withdrew to an apartment, and gave their opinions according to the view in which the thing appeared to them.

That it was a stratagem to gain entrance to the Tower, was the opinion of several, but, after much discussion, it was decided that the man should be admitted, and that the monk should be exhibited merely to intimidate the rebels, until the result of this promised communication should be known.

About ten, a small boat was observed to approach the southern walls of the fortress. A man stepped from it and was permitted to ascend the terrace, and Calverley, who was standing there, challenged the stranger.

The steward clapped his hands, and immediately the bows of a hundred archers stationed around, were unbent, and he addressed Oakley as follows:

"It was you who shot the arrow?"

"Yes."

"Are you a leader, Oakley?"

"I was a leader," returned Oakley, gloomily.

"It was well that I was here to recognize your writing."

"Where there is a will there is a way, steward, and I should have found means of getting revenge even if you had kept safe at Sudley."

"Is it for revenge, Oakley, or for gold?"

"I tell you Master Calverley, it is revenge," said Black Jack, stopping short, as they were crossing the court-yard, "It is revenge! When I joined the commons I swore I would not betray them, and I would not—betray them for gold did you say?—listen—I had gold—aye gold enough, to have kept me an honest man all the days of my life, after this rising, and that—that blacksmith, who killed the baron's retainer—"

"Turner! what of him?"

But Oakley went on without heeding the interruption. "What was it to the knave whether I or the flames had them—and to be cuffed and threatened!—but the gibbet shall not be cheated of him. Do you know they threw Harvey into the flames—I heard the shrieks of the wretch, but I could not help him, though I knew my treasure was burning with him! for I was crawling, all but suffocated, and seeking for an outlet towards the river. I heard the cry, but for an instant, and then nothing, through the long passage but the rush and the roar of the flames."

"Then the gold you speak of was lost?"

"Yes, by the green wax! it was. If I had only been wise enough to have kept the bag myself, poor Harvey might have been alive, and I should not have done what I am going to do this night. No;—I should only have cursed the smith and forsworn the Commons, and made the best of my way to where I could have turned the gold and the gems into hard coin. Is my lord De Boteler here?"

"Yes."

"Then, master Calverley, although, as I have said before, it is to revenge myself, you must tell the baron that the king must not expect to have my assistance in betraying the Commons without paying for it."

"My lord will not see you but in the presence of the council."

"Not see me! then, by the green wax! I may be cheated; for one can hardly ask the king for money to his face."

"The baron has pledged himself that, if your intelligence and services are such as you hinted at, you may claim your own reward."

"May I?—then John Oakley will be no niggard," his countenance losing much of the gloomy ferocity it had been marked with. "But, steward," he added, as they walked through the building, "the smoke and the flame are even now in my throat;—you must give me wine, or I shall not be able to speak a word."

De Boteler was instantly acquainted with Oakley's arrival, and the council assembled, impressed with the importance of detaching so influential a leader from the Commons. Indeed, energy had given place to indecision, at a moment that required prompt measures. Tyler had, but an hour before, sent an intimation, that, if the prophet was not released in twenty-four hours, the city would be fired, and the Tower assaulted: and, even at the moment when the members of the council were entering the chamber, the air was rent with the shouts of the Commons on Tower-hill and Smithfield, as some skilful artizans among their body had nearly matured some machines for facilitating the attack. Symptoms of panic or indifference had been also manifested among those who guarded the Tower. The strange stories whispered of Ball, his prophecies, and his calm bearing while confined in his dungeon, with his oft repeated assertions of being liberated by the Commons, were calculated, in such an age, to fill their minds with the belief that he was, in truth, a prophet, and one whom it would be impiety to meddle with.

After Richard, surrounded by the lords, had taken his seat at the table, Black Jack was introduced by De Boteler as the writer of the scroll.

"You are a leader of the rebels?" interrogated Sudbury.

"I am, your grace," replied Oakley.

"Which division of the kerns do you command?"

"The commons of Essex."

"What! all?" interrupted Richard.

"My liege, I am leader of fifty thousand men."

"Then what is the design of this rising?" again asked Sudbury.

"To free the bond—to acquire land at a low rent—to be at liberty to buy and sell in all cities and towns, without toll or interruption;—and lastly, to obtain a pardon for this insurrection."

"By my faith!" said Sir Robert Hales, "these are bold demands, which the sword alone must decide."

"Peace! Sir Robert," said Sudbury.—"What have you to suggest which may benefit the realm, sir leader?" he continued.

"Ere I say more," said Oakley, falling on his knees before Richard, "I crave a general pardon, not only for myself, as leader in this rising, but for all other trespasses by me committed."

"Ha, ha, ha," laughed Richard, "the knave is wisely valiant! He has an especial care of his own neck. Rise—thou art pardoned."

"But, my liege," continued Oakley, still kneeling, "there is one confined in this fortress for whom I would solicit freedom."

"To whom do you allude, knave?" asked Sudbury, with some surprise.

"To father John Ball."

"To father John Ball! to that son of satan—that vile author of all this confusion. Be content with saving your own head."

"Then, my lord archbishop," said Oakley, rising, "if a hair of that monk's head is touched, I will not answer for the result. Wat Tyler, my lords, is a man of desperate purpose. He has sworn before the multitude, that, if the prophet is not freed before the twenty-four hours, the heads of all these noble peers around me shall answer for it.—Nay more——"

"Hold, kern," interrupted Richard fiercely; "we despise the threat."

"But, my liege," persisted Jack Straw, "let the council consider the danger of the delay. I have reason to know, that those you reckon upon to oppose an entrance here are not to be trusted: the prophet has worked wonders, even within the fortress."

"How know you that?" asked Richard, with surprise.

"My liege, there are disciples of John Ball in the Tower—aye, even among the royal household!"

"'Tis false!" returned Richard, angrily—"who are they?—confess! confess!"

"No, my liege—though I have renounced the confederates, I cannot betray them; but if the monk is freed, I will, at the risk of my head, quell the rising, without blood."

"How?—speak!" said Sudbury.

"My lord, you have heard the conditions, which have been drawn up by John Ball himself. I would humbly suggest, that charters of freedom should be granted under the royal hand and seal: if it so please you—they can be revoked at leisure. The Essex men will be content with these charters and a general pardon—but the prophet must be first set at liberty: he abhors bloodshed, will curb this Tyler, and thus this formidable array may be dispersed. I would further suggest, that your highness, attended by a slight retinue, and unarmed, should repair to-morrow to Mile-end, where I shall have assembled the leaders, and will sound them on these points. The charters may then be read, and, my lords, you are aware, that even the royal franchise cannot destroy your right over the bondmen, without an act of parliament."

While Oakley was speaking, all eyes were fixed upon him with something of astonishment at advice that would not come amiss from the sagest among them.

"Retire," said Sudbury; "we shall consider the matter."

"My lords," said the wily prelate, in a solemn tone, "this man has anticipated my counsel. It may not be safe to meddle with this Ball for the present. The charters may be made out, and, of course revoked hereafter; but I like not your grace perilling your person, alone and unguarded, among the kerns."

"My lord," said Richard, "we are resolved to meet these bold men, and hear what they have to say. Shall you attend us, my lord of Canterbury?"

"I would fain be excused, with your highness's leave. A dignitary of holy church should not degrade his calling by communing with the scum of the land!"

"Then, my lord bishop, let who will stay, we go. My lords, will you attend your king?"

"To death, my liege," said De Boteler and the rest.

"'Tis well—let this man be recalled."

"Tell the commons, that King Richard will see them to-morrow," said De Boteler.

"Then, my lord, the monk is to be freed?" asked Oakley.

"His life is spared till after the conference," said the treasurer; "his freedom depends upon the disbanding of the Essex men."

Oakley was then led forth from the council by De Boteler, who pledged himself that the monk should not be harmed; and, after receiving, from Calverley, a part of the stipulated reward, he retired from the fortress by the way he had entered.