The Bondman: A Story of the Times of Wat Tyler

by Mrs. O'Neill

There was no need to repeat the order—the door was smashed to splinters, and, in the rush to get at the cellars, several were thrown down, and trampled on. A large can, filled with wine, was handed to Tyler, and another to the galleyman, who, each quaffing a long draught, permitted the like indulgence to their followers; and then the word to march on was shouted by the chief. But now the smith perceived evidence of the folly he had been guilty of: the wine was too tempting to be left so soon—the vintner's house rang with execrations and tumult—and even among those who kept their station in the street, the dangerous liquid continued to circulate.

"This comes," said Tyler, enraged at such sudden disorder, "of letting folks taste of what they're not used to; but let them tipple on. By St. Nicholas! they may: I will wait for no man;" and snatching the banner of St. George from its half-stupified bearer, and waving it in the air, he applied a small bugle to his lips, and at the blast, all whose reason was not entirely lost in their thirst, followed the smith from the scene of inebriety.

Their next halt was at the beginning of the Strand, opposite the princely mansion of the bishop of Chester. The gates were forced in, and the garden encircling the building filled with the commons, who, hissing and shouting, bade John Fordham come forth. When it was discovered that the bishop was not within its walls, the house was presently glowing in one bright sheet of flame. It was told to Tyler, while this was going on, that a body of the Essex men had marched on from Mile-end, and taking a northerly direction, had pillaged and destroyed many dwellings, and among others, that of the prior of Saint John of Jerusalem, at Highbury; while another division was rapidly advancing by the way of Holborn, to attack the palace of John of Gaunt at the Savoy.

"By St. Nicholas!" said Tyler, "they shan't have it all their own way there;" and the Kentish men made all haste to be first to commence the work of destruction; but ere they had left the burning house, the dark body of the division of the Essex men was seen pouring into the Strand by the wall of the Convent garden.

Tyler and the other leaders, followed by hundreds, now rushed on to the palace;—the massive gates yielded to their blows, and the assailants, pouring in through the arched passages, ran along gallery and window, and through seemingly countless apartments. Yet, even amidst their eagerness to capture Lancaster, they paused a moment, casting glances of astonishment and pleasure at the beautifully inlaid cabinets, rich tapestries, and embroidered cushions, which every where met their gaze. The galleyman, however, was perhaps the only one among all the gazers who knew the value of the things he looked upon; and he could not repress a feeling of regret, as he glanced at the damask hangings, and the gold cords and fringes, and remembered that all these would be speedily feeding the flames. As he was thus occupied, and thinking what a fortune these articles would be to a pedling merchant, he saw Jack Straw in the act of whispering in Harvey's ear (who, by some strange sort of moral attraction, was standing by his side), and he noticed them linger until the group they had accompanied passed on to the inspection of other apartments. Oakley then opened a door in a recess in the corridor, which, when they entered, they closed hastily after them.

"Master Tyler," said Wells, springing up to the chief, "they are boarding a prize yonder;" and he pointed to the half-concealed door.

"Have they got John of Gaunt?" vociferated the smith; but as he turned his eyes from the spot to which his attention had been directed, to his informant, the galleyman could not be distinguished among the group—for, in truth, he was rather solicitous to avoid any kind of contact with his old associates.

"Confound the unmannerly carl," muttered Tyler, as he rushed forward with his men to seek an explanation in the room itself. The door, however, resisted all their efforts; and this only strengthening their hasty suspicions respecting Lancaster, the stout polished oak was presently split asunder by their axes, and they forced an entrance into a small light apartment, furnished in a style of eastern luxury. From the carved ceiling were hanging the broken links of a gold chain; and on the soft crimson cushions of an ebony couch, and on the floor, were scattered the miscellaneous contents of an exquisite ivory cabinet.

"He has escaped us!" shouted Tyler and the others, as, after casting a rapid glance around the empty apartment, they darted through an open door on the other side. This led into a luxurious dressing room, and this again into a sumptuous dormitory. If there were any outlet from this room, it was concealed by the splendid hangings, and the pursuers, after assuring themselves that no human being was within, returned to the dressing-room. The door of egress from this apartment was secured on the outside, and so, without a moment's delay, they had recourse to their former expedient, and the door was instantly hewn to splinters. On creeping through the aperture, and passing through a short passage, they found themselves in the gallery that ran round the hall. Here, chafing with disappointment, the pursuers had only to hope that they might, by chance, take the right scent, and were rushing along the gallery, when Tyler, casting his eyes below, and observing the galleyman cross the hall, hallooed to him; and then springing along the gallery, and down the spiral stairs, seized Wells rather unceremoniously, and upbraided him with conniving at the escape of Lancaster.

"Avast there! Master Tyler," said Wells, shaking off the grip of the smith; "I know no more of Lancaster than yourself: I told you this morning he was on the borders—and so, how, in the name of all the saints, could he be here?—but I tell ye, there are some here who would rather lay hand upon John of Gaunt's gold than upon John of Gaunt's body!"