Tyler, in his haste to seize the archbishop, stumbled over a lance which one of those who had fled with the prelate had dropped.
"Confound the hand that dropped thee!" muttered the smith, as he sprang on his feet. "John Kirkby, is not that Sudbury yonder? It is he, by St. Nicholas! Seize that babbling old man!—he with the mitre!" They had now arrived at the altar.
"Not one step further, kern!" cried the treasurer, seizing his sword, and placing himself in front of Sudbury.
A shriek from the women who had clustered around the treasurer, made matters worse; for, attracted by the noise, the chapel was instantly filled with armed men.
"Sir Treasurer, think you to scare him who leads the Kentish men? Kirkby, drag the antichrist from the altar!"
Kirkby advanced a few paces, but a glance from Sudbury seemed to unnerve him, and he stood for a moment irresolute.
"There, chicken-hearted carle!" cried the smith, felling Kirkby to the ground with his mailed hand—"there, dog!—Wat Tyler must be obeyed! And now, Simon Sudbury, take off that blessed mitre, which ill befits thee, and come forth; for, by my faith and the blessed St. Nicholas! in one hour hence, thy head shall be stuck on London bridge, wrapped up in the hood of thy own mantle!" And with this, Tyler placed his foot on the first step of the altar.
Another shriek from the terrified females but seemed to augment his fury; and the treasurer, after a few vain parries, fell stunned and bleeding by a powerful blow of the smith's axe.
"Lie there, dog!—there goes one of the accursed council!" and, springing up the step with a giant grasp, he seized the mitred chancellor by the neck, and dragged him forth into the centre of the church.
"Hold, impious man!" said the undaunted prelate; "the noblest and gentlest heart in England lies bleeding and gasping on the high altar in defence of the Lord's anointed; but even the blood of the anointed shall stain the sanctuary ere He quail before man in his master's temple!"