“How may a man know what he will do till the time come?” he said uneasily.
Will lifted his eyebrows. Jack Straw hacked at the yew tree root with his great knife. Wat walked slow past John Ball and back again to Will, and here he came to pause.
“We shall make certain demands,” he explained in a voice as he were assuring himself,—“we shall make certain demands. 'T is wherefore we are here.”
He shifted from right foot to left.
“And if the King grant all?” quoth Will.
“Richard 's tongue-tied,” sneered Jack Straw.—“No fear!”
“And do not ye desire that he shall grant these requests?” asked Calote.
“Whether the King grant them or no, we shall take them,” snarled Jack Straw. “Are we not here to take them? What is the will of a weakling boy in face of thousands?”
“Wat,” Calote said, tugging at his sleeve, “what is 't thou 'rt minded to do to the King? He is anointed of High God. Oh, Wat, what is 't thou hast in thy heart to do this day?”
“Pshaw!” he groaned, jerking his arm away and clapping both hands to his ears,—“I know not!—I know not! How shall I know till the time come? Leave me in peace!”