“Yet he shall give it,” pursued Jack Straw. “Calote shall learn him 's lesson, and ask a token of him, whereby men may know that she is a true and secret messenger.”
“Calote goeth not again to the palace,” cried Langland harshly. “'T is no place for a peasant maid.”
“Men will be persuaded if thou show the King's token; if thou speak to them, Calote; if thine eyes shine, and thy voice ring like a little chapel bell,‘ said Jack Straw, ’'t will work more magic than three sermons o' John Ball.”
“Thou cold-blooded snake, hast thou no bowels?” Long Will asked him, coming close. “Wilt send forth a tender maid to such dangers as thou knowest lie by the road? Nay, I 'll not believe 't!”
“Yet, there 's more danger at the palace, and that thyself knowest,—there 's a certain hot-blood squire”—he glanced upon Calote and turned his speech—“One other audience with the King will do 't: then away in villages and ploughmen's huts where she belongs. Mark you, I purpose not to send her forth to-night. 'T is not this year nor next that the men shall rise; 't will take time to go afoot or in a cart throughout the countryside. Then for our plan, to gather all poor men of England around about London town,—and the young King shall come forth to meet them, and they 'll hail him leader,—sweet pretty lad!—Here 's a Vision for thee, Will!”
“Is 't so, thou Judas?” quoth Wat. “Then where 's thy plot to kill the King and all nobles,—and share every man equal?”
“Methought thou wert sworn mum?” said Jack Straw in his dry voice.
“'T is I shall have last word. She is my daughter,” Langland said. So he took her by the hand and led her away, and his wife followed him. But Jack Straw and Wat Tyler whispered together till dawn; and when Kitte came down to go to Mass, she found them lying on the floor asleep.