“I am no noble, mistress,” said Stephen, finding his tongue, “but a poor gentleman, owner of a manor there be not villeins enough left to farm. Young Richard is not yet eleven years of age. It suiteth ill the purpose of his uncles and guardians that he and his household should busy themselves in the kingdom. Mayhap, if we could learn our lesson of lips as fair as thine, we 'd prove apt pupils; but the ladies of our household are busied in matters feminine.”
“I am no lady,” said Calote, grown rosy red; “I am a peasant maid. I have no idle gentles to woo me all day long, nor never shall. The poor is my Love.”
“Mayhap I am an idle gentle,” Stephen answered, “yet I woo no lady in Kennington Palace.” He came a step nearer and kneeled on one knee.
“An 't please you, fair sir,” said the voice of Langland, “the time's as fitting now for departure as 't will be an hour hence. Shall we set forth?”
CHAPTER VI
Food for Thought
ANGLAND and the squire made their way to the river by narrow, muddy lanes and unfrequented alleys. The poet, sunk in reverie, sped onward with the free stride of the hill-shepherd, a gait he had not lost in all the five and twenty years of his sojourn in London; and Stephen walked beside him hurriedly, marvelling at himself that he dared not break the silence and ask the many questions that tingled at the tip of his tongue. For this fine young gentleman, who could be pert enough with Sir Simon de Burley, the tutor of Richard's household, or even with his godfather, the Earl of March, yet found himself strangely abashed in the presence of the lank peasant-priest. Although Stephen knew not its name, 't was reverence stirring in him, an emotion little encountered among courtiers. The very silence of this grave, dingy figure seemed to him more pregnant than the speech of other men.
On the middle part of London Bridge, where was the drawbridge, Langland paused and leaned upon the parapet to look in the water.
“'T is the key that unlocketh the city,” he said. “Let the bridge be taken, and London is taken.”