But now came Calote with a question: “Shall the King be warned anew afore the people rise?”
“The King?” said John Ball, staring.
“Yea; I give my message in the name of the King; I have his token.” She drew forth the horn.
Wat Tyler was admonishing the priest, with nod of head and uplift of eyebrow.
“Oh, ay,” John Ball said hastily; “I had forgot. Nay, we 'll wait and let the people rise and seek him out. 'T will be time enough.”
“What was 't thou hadst forgot?” Calote queried. But she got no answer, for the door burst open, and men and women came in and crowded about John Ball and kissed his garment's hem. And in the same moment the church-bell began to ring.
“Ho, my brothers!” laughed the priest, “let be! I have not rung your bell. The Archbishop hath long ears. 'T is not safe.”
“There be espiers set in every lane and the highway,” said the alewife. “They 'll give warning.”
So they carried him, protesting, laughing, up the village street to the cross.
That was a November day, gray, misty, chill. The trees were bare. The earth was wet with the rain of yesternight. Weatherwise folk saw snow in the clouds.