“The King is of the noblesse; speak not of death, my brothers. I know there shall be blood shed in this battle, for that the nobles hate us; and when they see us uprisen, there shall be fear added unto hate, and blows shall follow. But when we, being stricken, strike again, for freedom and our brother, we shall remember that there is nor hate nor fear in us. We are for love, my brothers; we are for fellowship; and so it cometh to pass we cannot hate any man.”
They gaped upon her and said nothing. John Ball drew his hand across his lips as to do away a smile; but his eyes were wet.
“Thou, and thou, and thou, and I, my brothers, when we rise up, 't shall be to mean that we have cast off hate; arisen out of that evil, as the soul out of sinful body. Hate 's a clog; shall be no uprising in England till we be set free from hate. We be villeins now, in bondage to nobles and lords of manors; we do affirm we rise up for freedom; but I ask ye, shall that be freedom which is but to turn table and set the nobles in bondage under us?”
“Ay, turn and turn about,” cried a man in the crowd. “Let them taste how 't is bitter!”
Calote's eyes flashed. “Turn and turn about, sayst thou?” she retorted; “and wilt thou be ready to go again into bondage when thy turn cometh?”
He growled and hung his head, and his neighbours laughed.
“Hark ye, brothers; we do not rise up for to bind any man, noble or villein, but for to set all England free. Let the King rule,—let the knight keep the borders of the land rid of Frenchman and Scot,—let the villein till his field for rent,”—
“Ay, ay, fourpence the acre!” said a villein.
“Ay, ay!” the others cried, vehement. “'T is fair in reason, fourpence, ay!”—
And then there came up the village street a clatter of hoofs, a man on a white horse, and the espier running at his side.