“N-nay, father,” stammered the peddler, and grew yet more red.
“I 'll be sworn thou 'rt no villein,” said the priest, very grim.
The peddler glanced at Calote and dropped his eyes.
“N-nay!” he murmured.
“Wat!” called the priest; but one said, “Hath but now gone to spread the alarm.”
“Art thou of the Fellowship, stranger?” John Ball questioned, sharp.
Then did the peddler lift up his head, and looked the priest in the eye: “In my heart am I of the Fellowship, but I have not given my hand on 't,” he said.
John Ball laid hand on the peddler's shoulder and turned him about to face the folk.
“Knoweth any here this gentle, that would be of our Fellowship?” he asked.
The rustics pressed close, peered over other's shoulder, but at last shook their heads.