So it was that the thought of fellowship grew up out of all these rhymings and prophecies of John Ball and Long Will: and how that one man of himself was well-nigh powerless before unrighteous rule, but if many men were joined together to persuade the King and Parliament, there might be pause and parley; and if all the villeins and artisans and prentices in the wide realm of England were so banded—That was a great thought! 'T was too big for the breast of Wat Tyler and Jack Straw; it must out. Already it spread; it lodged in other breasts. But this was all,—a thought like a thistledown flying from man to man; and one blew it this way, and another blew it that; and if by chance it made as to fall on the earth, there was always Jack Straw, or Wat Tyler, or John Ball, to blow a great breath and set it off again.
“Natheless, in the end, naught will come of 't,” said Long Will, that night.
“Wherefore?” Wat Tyler questioned hotly.
“Who shall lead?” Will asked him.
Wat Tyler looked at Jack Straw and Jack Straw at him, yet neither in the eyes of the other.
“There shall be a many leaders,” said Jack Straw presently. “Of every hundred, and of every shire, a leader.”
“And the grievance of every leader shall differ from the grievance of every other leader; yea,‘ Langland added, ’one only desire shall they have in common,—to lead,—to put themselves in the place of power.”
“For the people's sake,” protested Wat.
“Their leader is God and the king; and wilt thou learn them another lesson?”
“Yea, by”—But Wat Tyler looked on Jack Straw and swore no oath.