Long Will Part 7

There were no smiles now.

"Will Langland louteth not to such as thou."

"Spy!"

"Spill 's brains!"

"Hath none, to come o' such errand."

"To the river!"

"Ay, take him down Cornhill an he will!"

A brawny smith that had pushed his way inward at mention of Langland stood now in the forefront of the mob, eyeing Etienne.

"So ho!" he said, bracing his back for the nonce against them that would have rushed upon the lad; "so ho! Is 't thou, green meadow?

Methought I knew thee."

Then he set his fingers in the corners of his mouth and eyes, and leered; and the mob, not comprehending, yet laughed.

"Thou wilt see Will Langland, wilt thou?" he resumed. "Yea, I trow thou art a-dying to see Will Langland. He hath long yellow hair, hath he not, and"--

"Sc.u.m!" cried Etienne, and drew his sword; and even as he drew it, there went a thrill down his spine; for Etienne had never drawn his sword in wrath before; 't was a maiden blade, had drunk no blood.

At the s.h.i.+ne of it the crowd fell a-muttering. Every eye darkened; mockery died; there was naught left but black hatred.

"My way lies on Cornhill," said Etienne. "Let him bar who dare!"

Then some one laid a hand on his shoulder, and a voice said:--

"Sheathe thy weapon, my lord!"

The squire turned to see a tall man standing at his side, clad in a dingy ca.s.sock and carrying a breviary. Long Will was come from saying ma.s.s for the soul of a wool merchant.

"What then? Wilt have me soil my hands with such as these?" cried Etienne.

"Nay, my lord, nor thy spirit neither," answered Langland.

"Let be, Will!" said one in the crowd. "'T is a spy that prisoneth honest men. Is 't not enough that Peter de la Mare is cast in chains, but puppets like to this must play the sentinel on Cornhill?"

"If I mistake not, this gentleman weareth the badge of the Earl of March," interrupted Langland; "wherefore our grievance is his likewise; for Peter is seneschal to the Earl."

Heads were thrust forward eagerly, and one and another cried:--

"'T is true!"

"Let me set mine eye o' the badge!"

"Methought one said 't was John o' Gaunt's man."

"The badge!"

And the six-foot prentice, craning his neck, questioned:--

"Art thou for the Earl o' March, friend? If so be, speak and make an end on 't. I be not one to bear malice."

The mob roared with laughter, and Etienne, slipping his sword within its scabbard, answered in excellent good temper:--

"I am indeed G.o.dson to that most n.o.ble earl, and gentleman of the bedchamber to son altesse the Prince Richard, heir to the throne of England and son to our lamented Edward, Prince of Wales, of beloved memory." And Etienne uncovered his head, as did all them that had caps in that a.s.sembly.

"So!" said Langland, looking on him with approval. "'T is spoke in a spirit most prudent, wise, and Christian. And does your way lie o'

Cornhill, sir? With your good-will I 'll bear you company."

The crowd dispersed to right and left, but Hobbe the smith lingered yet a moment to say:--

"'T was with thee the gentleman had business, Will. Zeal to look upo'

thy countenance hath brought him hither."

And after, albeit the squire and Langland paid him no heed, this Hobbe followed on behind, ever and anon voicing some pleasantry, as:--

"That I should live to hear thee sweeten thy tongue to tickle a lording, Will!"

Or:--

"Look out at window, good neighbours, afore the sky fall. Here 's Will Langland, that never lifted his eye to do lords.h.i.+ps and rich men a courtesy, walketh London streets to-day with a flowering sprig o'

green from the court."

Or he sang from Long Will's Vision:--

"'By Christ, quoth the knight then, thou learnest us the best!

Save o' time truly, thus taught was I never!

But teach me, quoth the knight, and I shall know how to plough; I will help thee to labour while my life lasteth.'"

As Langland opened his house-door, Stephen saw Calote laying trenchers of black bread on a bare table; a pot bubbled on the hearth, and the room was full of smoke. Calote stood still and rubbed her eyes and stared.

"Sir," said Langland, "you were seeking me? Wherefore?"

It was a simple question, yet the squire, looking on Calote, found not his answer ready; so Langland waited, glancing from the youth to the maid, until Stephen stammered in a weak, small voice, greatly differing from those bold tones in which he had defied the prentices:--

"I have read thy Vision concerning Piers"--

"I must commend you for an ardent disciple," said the poet. "'T is not every n.o.ble in England would brave the London mob solus for a sight o'

me."

"'T is he that rebuked the yeoman in the churchyard, father,"

interposed Calote, "and after praised thee for a poet."

"Is 't so?" a.s.sented Langland. There was a cloud on his brow, but he spoke in kindly fas.h.i.+on. "'T would appear that my daughter and I are alike beholden to you for courtesy, wherefore, I would beseech you, fair sir, since you are come so far and have so manfully encountered perils, will you bide and dine with us,--if a pot o' beans be hight dinner?"