But before Green's year of mayoralty was past, the corporation found that they would still have to reckon with Laurence Saunders. It was on Lammas day, 1494, in the presence—so the mayor and council were "credibly informed"—of forty persons, that he spoke these words: "Sirs, her me! we shall never have our rights till we have striken of the heads of III or IIII of thes Churles heds that rulen us, and if thereafter hit be asked who did that dede, hit shalbe seid, me and they, and they and me." "He shuld constreyn," Laurence went on, "William Boteler to drive his Cart laden with Ots into the Croschepyng, and ther to unlade the seid cart." Now, William Boteler was probably either a forestaller and regrater, who intercepted, in defiance of all manner of ordinances to the contrary, the grain intended to be sold openly in the market, or he had encroached upon the common land. Laurence, it appears, fulfilled his threat, and cried out to the crowd assembled in the Cross Cheaping or market place: "Come, Sirs, and take the corn who so wyll, as your owne."[438] The whole proceeding utterly scandalised the mayor and his worshipful brethren. On the "Wednesday after the Exaltation of the Holy Cross" they committed Laurence to prison, and fixed his fine at £40. For months he lay there, while two friends, whose names were Alexander Horsley and Robert Barlow,[439] were surety for the payment of this great sum. But this amount meant ruin, and drove Laurence's party to fury. The mayor and council had treated a fellow-citizen no better than one of those hated Scots. And this was not enough. They also bound over this sower of strife "to good bearing," and the next year, whether for the sake of old offences or for the commission of new ones, wiped out his name from among the number of the rulers of the city. Laurence Saunders was "discharged," the order ran, "from the mayor's council, the common council, and all other councils ... taken and kept within this city for the welfare of the same," and forbidden under the penalty of £40 ever to ride out with the chamberlains on Lammas day.[440]
It was an old custom in Coventry to nail up all announcements, which for obvious reasons no crier would consent to proclaim, on the church door, where all might read them. It was in this manner that friar John Bredon, on the occasion of a dispute between his order and the monks, some forty years back, appealed to the citizens to throw off the dominion of the prior, as "the thraldom of Pharaoh." So within eight days after Lammas, 1495, some unknown rhymester of the "commonalty" nailed up some verses of his making on the north door of S. Michael's church; forgetting in them neither the oppressive acts which had been lately passed nor the punishment visited on Laurence for the tumult of the preceding year.[441]
"Be it knowen & understand,
This Cite shuld be free & nowe is bonde,
Dame goode Eve made hit free,
& now the custome for woll & the draperie.
Also hit is made that no prentes shalbe
But xiii penyes pay shuld he;
That act did Robert Grene,
Therfor he had many a Curse, I wene.
And nowe a nother rule ye do make
That none shall ride at Lammas but they that ye take
When our ale is Tunned
ye shall have drynk to your cake."
The final lines recall the heavy fine to be paid by Saunders:—
"Ye have put on man like a Scot to raunsome,
That wol be remembered when ye have all forgoten 'Caviat.'"[442]
It may be that, in the face of this wrathful discontent—it was just at this time that the ill-behaviour of John Smith and John Duddesbury to "men of worship" caused the offenders to be watched so closely—the corporation felt some anxiety. At least they thought it prudent to relieve Laurence of the payment of half of the fine they had laid upon him. Of the remaining sum half was paid by the sureties, but £10 was yet due, and in 1496 Saunders appealed to the King. The fruit of his solicitings was a privy seal, addressed to the mayor and sheriffs asking them in charity to take £10 and remit the rest of the fine, as Laurence was now old and fallen into poverty.[443] There was one sentence in the letter very little to the recipients' liking. The King ordered the mayor "to do right" in a variance concerning a common pasture which Laurence had informed his grace to be in the city; "where," as the "men of worship" declared with righteous anger, "no such variance was." It would be folly indeed to smooth the lot of Laurence Saunders or release his friends from their bond. So the great culprit having paid £10 and his sureties a like sum, matters must be set right at Court, and the appeals of Laurence and his party made of no effect. So a "writing of the great and many offences of the said Laurence" was sent to Master Richard Empson, who was then in London, to be laid before the King. The mayor and his fellows awaited meanwhile the issue of the recorder's mediation.
Laurence Saunders, too, had his hopes of Court. "As for Mr Recorder," he said confidently a little later, "I have reckoned with him before the King, and he shall be easy enough." Meanwhile Lammas time was approaching, and he looked for some great movement against the corporation, which that season should bring forth. So he went into the house of the mayor, John Dove, and said: "Master mair, I advise yewe to loke wisely on your self, for on Lammasse day ye shall her other tythyngs, & ffor many of these catifes that loke so hy nowe shall be brought lower; and ye knowe wele amongist yowe ye have of myn x li: of money, which I dought not I shall have ayen on Lamasse day, or elles III or IIII of the best of yowe shall smart. Therfor I advise yowe, ber upright the swerd at your perill, for ye shall knowe mor shortly."
That allusion to the mayor's sword carried a sting. A century ago, Richard II. had ordered it to be borne behind John Deister, the mayor, rather than before him as the custom was, "because he did not do justice." It may be John Dove was secretly afraid. Had he done justice continually? What if the King should visit Laurence with his favour now? Though this man made so light of the mayor's dignity, he was not punished; but all waited for the news from London.
On July 20 Laurence determined to justify his position by putting in his petition of grievances for the third time. He laid before the mayor a list of the enclosed common lands, drawn up from inquiries made among old men of the city the year of his chamberlainship. He asked that the bill might be read aloud in open court, for the sessions of the peace were then proceeding. John Dove was not prepared to do this. It was not a matter to be determined in that court, and besides, he understood that it required no haste. Saunders might come and have his answer on the morrow by nine of the clock. On hearing this the old taunt sprang to Laurence's lips, "Maister meir," he said aloud in the assembly, "hold upright your swerde"; and after expressing his hope of "reckoning with Mr Recorder," he left John Dove to recover his dignity.
As far as we can tell, Saunders' hour of triumph never came, for there was no rising at Lammas; but soon after the scandal at the sessions came a letter from the King, giving the mayor and council full permission to deal with the rebel "after the good and laudable custom of the city." This permission must have afforded them untold relief. As Laurence refused to give any pledge as to his future conduct, they committed him to prison. But he never rested, nor did his friends give up the battle. They interceded at Court, this time with Thomas Savage, the Bishop of Rochester,[444] and it seemed that their intercession was likely to bear fruit, for letters arrived to the effect that Laurence should be set free to plead his cause before the King at Woodstock. But the mayor and council would not let him go, for he offered, to their thinking, insufficient surety, letting fall also many seditious words, which are recorded in the Book of Council, and saying, "he wold fynd no other what so ever fell theruppon." Wherefore, the Leet Book says, he remained in prison.