"They won't be so glad of their fine wines when they see us pouring them down our throats," exclaimed one.
"Nor of their jewelled goblets when they see them at our lips," continued another in the same strain.
Annys groaned, for he had dreaded just such an outburst. He was about to command that this wild talk cease instantly when Rugge, whose patience had also given way, leaned close to the last speaker, and rammed a formidable-looking fist into his face, crying, "Look, Adam Clymme, the man who speaks like that is a traitor to the Cause, and a worse traitor than any abbot or clerk."
The man jerked back his head. "What d'ye mean?" he asked sullenly.
"Just what I said. Our cause is just, we want to be free men, we want to live as decent men should; but that does not mean that we covet the rich man's jewels and wines. We will be looked upon as thieves and murderers, not honest men asking for our rights."
The fellow flushed and muttered angrily, but several raised their voices and cried, "He's right, Ralph Rugge's right!" Annys looked gratefully at Rugge, who continued warmly: "They'll be glad enough to call us thieves. We'll take their gold and jewels and fine linens and burn them in great bonfires all throughout the land to show we don't approve of such gewgaws. No one must say we are rising because we are greedy for these things for ourselves. I warn ye, wherever I am in command, I shall strike dead the first man that steals, if it be only so much as a bit of silver."
"Good! Good!" spoke up young Meryl with ringing voice. "For no cause was ever won by thieves and robbers; we be honest men who seek what is ours by right." His face shone with enthusiasm as he spoke.
"Ay! but it is by the sweat of our brows and the stoop of our backs that the rich have these things," protested Jack the smith.
But Annys now spoke.
"My friends," he said, "ye all know of that great and noble poet Will Langland whose hero is Piers Ploughman."