"Yea, they know, and they grumble. Norfolk knoweth, and Cambridgeshire; and when we came through Dartford I sent messengers westward to stay the folk in those parts. Here they know it not yet. They will not tamely wait. I fear these Kentish men; and if they slip leash the rest will follow, whether we will or no."
"Ah, well, if they will, they will! Give me now the names of the Norfolk gentry would cast in their lot o' our side." He spread a parchment on the table and drew pen and ink from his penner.
"John de Montenay de Bokenham," said Wat.
"Is 't so?" John Ball murmured, writing. "Methought he 'd come at t' last."
"Of Bury, now, what new citizens since I was prisoned last?" the priest questioned.
"Thomas Halesworth, John Clakke, Robert Westbron."
"John Reynolds of Bawdsey, and Walter Coselere; good runners, both."
"In Northampton, hanging at the heels o' Parliament."
But now came Calote with a question: "Shall the King be warned anew afore the people rise?"
"Yea; I give my message in the name of the King; I have his token." She drew forth the horn.
Wat Tyler was admonishing the priest, with nod of head and uplift of eyebrow.
"Oh, ay," John Ball said hastily; "I had forgot. Nay, we 'll wait and let the people rise and seek him out. 'T will be time enough."
"What was 't thou hadst forgot?" Calote queried. But she got no answer, for the door burst open, and men and women came in and crowded about John Ball and kissed his garment's hem. And in the same moment the church-bell began to ring.
"Ho, my brothers!" laughed the priest, "let be! I have not rung your bell. The Archbishop hath long ears. 'T is not safe."
"There be espiers set in every lane and the highway," said the alewife. "They 'll give warning."
So they carried him, protesting, laughing, up the village street to the cross.
That was a November day, gray, misty, chill. The trees were bare. The earth was wet with the rain of yesternight. Weatherwise folk saw snow in the clouds.
"Come up hither!" said John Ball to Calote, and drew her after him to the top step of the cross. "Have a care, the stone 's slippery."
So, when she was steadied at his side, he turned to the waiting villagers with:--
"Hark ye, good folk; I have no new thing to say. Hear this maid! 'T is Long Will's daughter of London; hath journeyed far and wide throughout England to learn men of fellowship. She shall speak."