“Another year, and I 'll be mine own man, lord of mine own manor, which the Earl of March shall render to me; then we 'll be wed,” quoth Stephen.
“And the villeins shall be freed?” said Calote.
“Yea, of surety shall they,” he answered. “Meanwhile, 't were wise I dwell at Westminster. I 'm the one only man is King's friend and poor man's friend, true alike to one and t' other. Richard hath need of such an one.”
“Alack! tell me of the King,” cried Calote. “Doth he forget?”
“He 's young,” Stephen made answer, unwilling; “he 's nor boy nor man. He doth not forget, but he doth not any more believe, neither. He will have it as how 't was child's prattle yonder in Malvern Chase. An they 'd give him work to do, he 'd grow to be a king; but the Council and the great lords is afeared to let slip the reins. One day he 'll claim his own, and God grant 't will not then be too late.”
“Child's prattle!” sighed Calote. “Harrow!”
“Nay, be comforted!” pleaded Stephen. “This past month that I am come back to court, he is uncertain. He plieth me with when and how. But Robert de Vere is ever hanging on his neck; 't is not thrice in a week I may come at him. Though he may not rule in vérité, he maketh bold pretense; is naught but feasting and jollité from morn till night; largess and bounty, and wanton dispending of the gold wherefore[2] the people is taxed. He hath in mind to bid thee and thy father to court one day, to sing to him and run a tilt of song with Master Chaucer.”
After this Stephen betook him to Westminster, and November was past and gone, and the blessed Nativité and mummers of Twelfth Night were past; and all this great while Calote was in and out of London, bearing the message and binding the Brotherhood. Wat Tyler bode with her whithersoever she went, in Essex and Norfolk and Suffolk, and southward into Kent, and back again to London. She would not go alone with Jack Straw, wherefore he was very wroth. And what though Calote kept tryst once, twice, thrice, with the peddler, she did not tell him as how she was afeared of Jack Straw; for that she knew Jack Straw had it in his heart to slay the peddler, if so he might take him unaware.
So all that winter the people was making them ready. There were certain aldermen of London also that were of the Great Society. At their houses were met together the leaders, to discover how best London should be taken; and they said it must be when such an one was Alderman of Bridge, for by the Bridge was the surest way to come into the city for to take it.
Now it was marvel that the lords paid no heed, for, albeit these things were done privily, they might not be altogether hid. No man rode the highway half a mile but he happed upon strange adventure, as of a preacher preaching; or of villeins gathered together in a company, clasping hands and swearing strange oaths; or of a bailiff gagged and helpless, his wallet empty. Moreover, it was rumoured at court as how the peasants would rise. But this was not to be believed. If the nobles thought on it, 't was to jest. What though dark looks followed after them when they rode abroad,—was not the peasant ever a sulky churl? What though there was a whispering in tavern and town,—the villein had grumbled these thirty years and more. As they that have eyes and see not, were the lords, and having ears yet they did not hear.