“They shout for the joy of seeing you.”
Salisbury spoke sharply to the steersman, and the barge ran on, the crowd along the bank unfolding itself like a grotesque tapestry upon a wall. Every sort of face seemed there—hairy, smooth, red, sallow, old, young, round, lean, some like screaming birds, others like neighing horses, all hooting, bellowing, and howling so that each open mouth was a red hole spouting sound. The uproar made the ears sing. Some of the men had stripped off their clothes, and danced with a kind of obscene bravado. Caps were waved, fists shaken at the nobles.
Salisbury, who was standing up, very white and fierce and calm, signed to the rowers to rest on their oars and let the barge glide along about thirty yards from the bank. A storm of cries swept across the water.
“Land—land.”
“Come ashore!”
“Death to the lords!”
“Come ashore, King Dick; we honest men would speak with you.”
“Wow, wow, wow!”
“Father Adam’s come to court.”
“Sit you down, big belly. Up with the King.”