A Dream of John Ball
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William Morris >> A Dream of John Ball
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But as these soldiers made wise by the French war were now
drawing near, and our bowmen were casting down their bows and
drawing their short swords, or handling their axes, as did Will
Green, muttering, "Now must Hob Wright's gear end this play"--
while this was a-doing, lo, on a sudden a flight of arrows from
our right on the flank of the sergeants' array, which stayed them
somewhat; not because it slew many men, but because they began to
bethink them that their foes were many and all around them;
then the road-hedge on the right seemed alive with armed men, for
whatever could hold sword or staff amongst us was there; every
bowman also leapt our orchard-hedge sword or axe in hand, and
with a great shout, billmen, archers, and all, ran in on them;
half-armed, yea, and half-naked some of them; strong and stout
and lithe and light withal, the wrath of battle and the hope of
better times lifting up their hearts till nothing could withstand
them. So was all mingled together, and for a minute or two was a
confused clamour over which rose a clatter like the riveting of
iron plates, or the noise of the street of coppersmiths at
Florence; then the throng burst open and the steel-clad sergeants
and squires and knights ran huddling and shuffling towards their
horses; but some cast down their weapons and threw up their hands
and cried for peace and ransom; and some stood and fought
desperately, and slew some till they were hammered down by
many strokes, and of these were the bailiffs and tipstaves, and
the lawyers and their men, who could not run and hoped for no
mercy.
I looked as on a picture and wondered, and my mind was at strain
to remember something forgotten, which yet had left its mark on
it. I heard the noise of the horse-hoofs of the fleeing men-at-
arms (the archers and arbalestiers had scattered before the last
minutes of the play), I heard the confused sound of laughter and
rejoicing down in the meadow, and close by me the evening wind
lifting the lighter twigs of the trees, and far away the many
noises of the quiet country, till light and sound both began to
fade from me and I saw and heard nothing.
I leapt up to my feet presently and there was Will Green before
me as I had first seen him in the street with coat and hood and
the gear at his girdle and his unstrung bow in his hand; his face
smiling and kind again, but maybe a thought sad.
"Well," quoth I, "what is the tale for the ballad-maker?"
"As Jack Straw said it would be," said he, "`the end of the day
and the end of the fray;'" and he pointed to the brave show of
the sky over the sunken sun; "the knights fled and the sheriff
dead: two of the lawyer kind slain afield, and one hanged: and
cruel was he to make them cruel: and three bailiffs knocked on
the head--stout men, and so witless, that none found their brains
in their skulls; and five arbalestiers and one archer slain, and
a score and a half of others, mostly men come back from the
French wars, men of the Companions there, knowing no other craft
than fighting for gold; and this is the end they are paid for.
Well, brother, saving the lawyers who belike had no souls, but
only parchment deeds and libels of the same, God rest their
souls!"
He fell a-musing; but I said, "And of our Fellowship were any
slain?"
"Two good men of the township," he said, "Hob Horner and
Antony Webber, were slain outright, Hob with a shaft and Antony
in the hand-play, and John Pargetter hurt very sore on the
shoulder with a glaive; and five more men of the Fellowship slain
in the hand-play, and some few hurt, but not sorely. And as to
those slain, if God give their souls rest it is well; for little
rest they had on the earth belike; but for me, I desire rest no
more."
I looked at him and our eyes met with no little love; and I
wondered to see how wrath and grief within him were contending
with the kindness of the man, and how clear the tokens of it were
in his face.
"Come now, old lad," said he, "for I deem that John Ball and Jack
Straw have a word to say to us at the cross yet, since these men
broke off the telling of the tale; there shall we know what we
are to take in hand to-morrow. And afterwards thou shalt eat and
drink in my house this once, if never again "
So we went through the orchard closes again; and others were
about and anigh us, all turned towards the cross as we went over
the dewy grass, whereon the moon was just beginning to throw
shadows.
CHAPTER VII
MORE WORDS AT THE CROSS
I got into my old place again on the steps of the cross, Will
Green beside me, and above me John Ball and Jack Straw again.
The moon was half-way up the heavens now, and the short summer
night had begun, calm and fragrant, with just so much noise
outside our quiet circle as made one feel the world alive and
happy.
We waited silently until we had heard John Ball and the story of
what was to do; and presently he began to speak.
"Good people, it is begun, but not ended. Which of you is hardy
enough to wend the road to London to-morrow?"
"All! All!" they shouted.
"Yea," said he, "even so I deemed of you. Yet forsooth
hearken! London is a great and grievous city; and mayhappen when
ye come thither it shall seem to you overgreat to deal with, when
ye remember the little townships and the cots ye came from.
"Moreover, when ye dwell here in Kent ye think forsooth of your
brethren in Essex or Suffolk, and there belike an end. But from
London ye may have an inkling of all the world, and over-
burdensome maybe shall that seem to you, a few and a feeble
people.
"Nevertheless I say to you, remember the Fellowship, in the hope
of which ye have this day conquered; and when ye come to London
be wise and wary; and that is as much as to say, be bold and
hardy; for in these days are ye building a house which shall not
be overthrown, and the world shall not be too great or too little
to hold it: for indeed it shall be the world itself, set free
from evil-doers for friends to dwell in."
He ceased awhile, but they hearkened still, as if something
more was coming. Then he said:
"To-morrow we shall take the road for Rochester; and most like it
were well to see what Sir John Newton in the castle may say to
us: for the man is no ill man, and hath a tongue well-shapen for
words; and it were well that we had him out of the castle and
away with us, and that we put a word in his mouth to say to the
King. And wot ye well, good fellows, that by then we come to
Rochester we shall be a goodly company, and ere we come to
Blackheath a very great company; and at London Bridge who shall
stay our host?
"Therefore there is nought that can undo us except our own selves
and our hearkening to soft words from those who would slay us.
They shall bid us go home and abide peacefully with our wives and
children while they, the lords and councillors and lawyers,
imagine counsel and remedy for us; and even so shall our own
folly bid us; and if we hearken thereto we are undone indeed;
for they shall fall upon our peace with war, and our wives and
children they shall take from us, and some of us they shall hang,
and some they shall scourge, and the others shall be their yoke-
beasts--yea, and worse, for they shall lack meat more.
"To fools hearken not, whether they be yourselves or your foemen,
for either shall lead you astray.
"With the lords parley not, for ye know already what they would
say to you, and that is, `Churl, let me bridle thee and saddle
thee, and eat thy livelihood that thou winnest, and call thee
hard names because I eat thee up; and for thee, speak not and do
not, save as I bid thee.'
"All that is the end of their parleying.
"Therefore be ye bold, and again bold, and thrice bold! Grip the
bow, handle the staff, draw the sword, and set on in the name of
the Fellowship!"
He ended amid loud shouts; but straight-way answering shouts
were heard, and a great noise of the winding of horns, and I
misdoubted a new onslaught; and some of those in the throng began
to string their bows and handle their bills; but Will Green
pulled me by the sleeve and said:
"Friends are these by the winding of their horns; thou art quit
for this night, old lad." And then Jack Straw cried out from the
cross: "Fair and softly, my masters! These be men of our
Fellowship, and are for your guests this night; they are from the
bents this side of Medway, and are with us here because of the
pilgrimage road, and that is the best in these parts, and so the
shortest to Rochester. And doubt ye nothing of our being taken
unawares this night; for I have bidden and sent out watchers of
the ways, and neither a man's son nor a mare's son may come in on
us without espial. Now make we our friends welcome. Forsooth, I
looked for them an hour later; and had they come an hour
earlier yet, some heads would now lie on the cold grass which
shall lie on a feather bed to-night. But let be, since all is
well!
"Now get we home to our houses, and eat and drink and slumber
this night, if never once again, amid the multitude of friends
and fellows; and yet soberly and without riot, since so much work
is to hand. Moreover the priest saith, bear ye the dead men,
both friends and foes, into the chancel of the church, and there
this night he will wake them: but after to-morrow let the dead
abide to bury their dead!"
Therewith he leapt down from the cross, and Will and I bestirred
ourselves and mingled with the new-comers. They were some three
hundred strong, clad and armed in all ways like the people of our
township, except some half-dozen whose armour shone cold like ice
under the moonbeams. Will Green soon had a dozen of them by the
sleeve to come home with him to board and bed, and then I lost
him for some minutes, and turning about saw John Ball
standing behind me, looking pensively on all the stir and merry
humours of the joyous uplanders.
"Brother from Essex," said he, "shall I see thee again to-night?
I were fain of speech with thee; for thou seemest like one that
has seen more than most."
"Yea," said I, "if ye come to Will Green's house, for thither am
I bidden."
"Thither shall I come," said he, smiling kindly, "or no man I
know in field. Lo you, Will Green looking for something, and
that is me. But in his house will be song and the talk of many
friends; and forsooth I have words in me that crave to come out
in a quiet place where they may have each one his own answer. If
thou art not afraid of dead men who were alive and wicked this
morning, come thou to the church when supper is done, and there
we may talk all we will."
Will Green was standing beside us before he had done, with
his hand laid on the priest's shoulder, waiting till he had
spoken out; and as I nodded Yea to John Ball he said:
"Now, master priest, thou hast spoken enough this two or three
hours, and this my new brother must tell and talk in my house;
and there my maid will hear his wisdom which lay still under the
hedge e'en now when the bolts were abroad. So come ye, and ye
good fellows, come!"
So we turned away together into the little street. But while
John Ball had been speaking to me I felt strangely, as though I
had more things to say than the words I knew could make clear: as
if I wanted to get from other people a new set of words.
Moreover, as we passed up the street again I was once again
smitten with the great beauty of the scene; the houses, the
church with its new chancel and tower, snow-white in the
moonbeams now; the dresses and arms of the people, men and women
(for the latter were now mixed up with the men); their grave
sonorous language, and the quaint and measured forms of speech,
were again become a wonder to me and affected me almost to tears.
CHAPTER VIII
SUPPER AT WILL GREEN'S
I walked along with the others musing as if I did not belong to
them, till we came to Will Green's house. He was one of the
wealthier of the yeomen, and his house was one of those I told
you of, the lower story of which was built of stone. It had not
been built long, and was very trim and neat. The fit of wonder
had worn off me again by then I reached it, or perhaps I should
give you a closer description of it, for it was a handsome
yeoman's dwelling of that day, which is as much as saying it was
very beautiful. The house on the other side of it, the last
house in the village, was old or even ancient; all built of
stone, and except for a newer piece built on to it--a
hall, it seemed--had round arches, some of them handsomely
carved. I knew that this was the parson's house; but he was
another sort of priest than John Ball, and what for fear, what
for hatred, had gone back to his monastery with the two other
chantrey priests who dwelt in that house; so that the men of the
township, and more especially the women, were thinking gladly how
John Ball should say mass in their new chancel on the morrow.
Will Green's daughter was waiting for him at the door and gave
him a close and eager hug, and had a kiss to spare for each of us
withal: a strong girl she was, as I have said, and sweet and
wholesome also. She made merry with her father; yet it was easy
to see that her heart was in her mouth all along. There was a
younger girl some twelve summers old, and a lad of ten, who were
easily to be known for his children; an old woman also, who had
her livelihood there, and helped the household; and moreover
three long young men, who came into the house after we had sat
down, to whom Will nodded kindly. They were brisk lads and
smart, but had been afield after the beasts that evening, and had
not seen the fray.
The room we came into was indeed the house, for there was nothing
but it on the ground floor, but a stair in the corner went up to
the chamber or loft above. It was much like the room at the
Rose, but bigger; the cupboard better wrought, and with more
vessels on it, and handsomer. Also the walls, instead of being
panelled, were hung with a coarse loosely-woven stuff of green
worsted with birds and trees woven into it. There were flowers
in plenty stuck about the room, mostly of the yellow blossoming
flag or flower-de-luce, of which I had seen plenty in all the
ditches, but in the window near the door was a pot full of those
same white poppies I had seen when I first woke up; and the table
was all set forth with meat and drink, a big salt-cellar of
pewter in the middle, covered with a white cloth.
We sat down, the priest blessed the meat in the name of the
Trinity, and we crossed ourselves and fell to. The victual was
plentiful of broth and flesh-meat, and bread and cherries, so we
ate and drank, and talked lightly together when we were full.
Yet was not the feast so gay as might have been. Will Green had
me to sit next to him, and on the other side sat John Ball; but
the priest had grown somewhat distraught, and sat as one thinking
of somewhat that was like to escape his thought. Will Green
looked at his daughter from time to time, and whiles his eyes
glanced round the fair chamber as one who loved it, and his kind
face grew sad, yet never sullen. When the herdsmen came into the
hall they fell straightway to asking questions concerning those
of the Fellowship who had been slain in the fray, and of their
wives and children; so that for a while thereafter no man
cared to jest, for they were a neighbourly and kind folk, and
were sorry both for the dead, and also for the living that should
suffer from that day's work.
So then we sat silent awhile. The unseen moon was bright over
the roof of the house, so that outside all was gleaming bright
save the black shadows, though the moon came not into the room,
and the white wall of the tower was the whitest and the brightest
thing we could see.
Wide open were the windows, and the scents of the fragrant night
floated in upon us, and the sounds of the men at their meat or
making merry about the township; and whiles we heard the gibber
of an owl from the trees westward of the church, and the sharp
cry of a blackbird made fearful by the prowling stoat, or the
far-off lowing of a cow from the upland pastures; or the hoofs of
a horse trotting on the pilgrimage road (and one of our watchers
would that be).
Thus we sat awhile, and once again came that feeling over me of
wonder and pleasure at the strange and beautiful sights, mingled.
with the sights and sounds and scents beautiful indeed, yet not
strange, but rather long familiar to me.
But now Will Green started in his seat where he sat with his
daughter hanging over his chair, her hand amidst his thick black
curls, and she weeping softly, I thought; and his rough strong
voice broke the silence.
"Why, lads and neighbours, what ails us? If the knights who fled
from us this eve were to creep back hither and look in at the
window, they would deem that they had slain us after all, and
that we were but the ghosts of the men who fought them. Yet,
forsooth, fair it is at whiles to sit with friends and let the
summer night speak for us and tell us its tales. But now,
sweetling, fetch the mazer and the wine."
"Forsooth," said John Ball, "if ye laugh not over-much now, ye
shall laugh the more on the morrow of to-morrow, as ye draw
nearer to the play of point and edge."
"That is sooth," said one of the upland guests. "So it was seen
in France when we fought there; and the eve of fight was sober
and the morn was merry."
"Yea," said another, "but there, forsooth, it was for nothing ye
fought; and to-morrow it shall be for a fair reward."
"It was for life we fought," said the first.
"Yea," said the second, "for life; and leave to go home and find
the lawyers at their fell game. Ho, Will Green, call a health
over the cup!"
For now Will Green had a bowl of wine in his hand. He stood up
and said: "Here, now, I call a health to the wrights of Kent who
be turning our plough-shares into swords and our pruning-hooks
into spears! Drink around, my masters!"
Then he drank, and his daughter filled the bowl brimming again
and he passed it to me. As I took it I saw that it was of
light polished wood curiously speckled, with a band of silver
round it, on which was cut the legend, "In the name of the
Trinity fill the cup and drink to me." And before I drank, it
came upon me to say, "To-morrow, and the fair days afterwards!"
Then I drank a great draught of the strong red wine, and passed
it on; and every man said something over it, as "The road to
London Bridge!" "Hob Carter and his mate!" and so on, till last
of all John Ball drank, saying:
"Ten years hence, and the freedom of the Fellowship!" Then he
said to Will Green: "Now, Will, must I needs depart to go and
wake the dead, both friend and foe in the church yonder; and
whoso of you will be shriven let him come to me thither in the
morn, nor spare for as little after sunrise as it may be. And
this our friend and brother from over the water of Thames, he
hath will to talk with me and I with him; so now will I take
him by the hand: and so God keep you, fellows!"
I rose to meet him as he came round the head of the table, and
took his hand. Will Green turned round to me and said:
"Thou wilt come back again timely, old lad; for betimes on the
morrow must we rise if we shall dine at Rochester."
I stammered as I yea-said him; for John Ball was looking
strangely at me with a half-smile, and my heart beat anxiously
and fearfully: but we went quietly to the door and so out into
the bright moonlight.
I lingered a little when we had passed the threshold, and looked
back at the yellow-lighted window and the shapes of the men that
I saw therein with a grief and longing that I could not give
myself a reason for, since I was to come back so soon. John Ball
did not press me to move forward, but held up his hand as if to
bid me hearken. The folk and guests there had already shaken
themselves down since our departure, and were gotten to be
reasonably merry it seemed; for one of the guests, he who had
spoken of France before, had fallen to singing a ballad of the
war to a wild and melancholy tune. I remember the first rhymes
of it, which I heard as I turned away my head and we moved on
toward the church:
"On a fair field of France
We fought on a morning
So lovely as it lieth
Along by the water.
There was many a lord there
Mowed men in the medley,
'Midst the banners of the barons
And bold men of the knighthood,
And spearmen and sergeants
And shooters of the shaft."
CHAPTER IX
BETWIXT THE LIVING AND THE DEAD
We entered the church through the south porch under a round-
arched door carved very richly, and with a sculpture over the
doorway and under the arch, which, as far as I could see by the
moonlight, figured St. Michael and the Dragon. As I came into
the rich gloom of the nave I noticed for the first time that I
had one of those white poppies in my hand; I must have taken it
out of the pot by the window as I passed out of Will Green's
house.
The nave was not very large, but it looked spacious too; it was
somewhat old, but well-built and handsome; the roof of curved
wooden rafters with great tie-beams going from wall to wall.
There was no light in it but that of the moon streaming
through the windows, which were by no means large, and were
glazed with white fretwork, with here and there a little figure
in very deep rich colours. Two larger windows near the east end
of each aisle had just been made so that the church grew lighter
toward the east, and I could see all the work on the great screen
between the nave and chancel which glittered bright in new paint
and gilding: a candle glimmered in the loft above it, before the
huge rood that filled up the whole space between the loft and the
chancel arch. There was an altar at the east end of each aisle,
the one on the south side standing against the outside wall, the
one on the north against a traceried gaily-painted screen, for
that aisle ran on along the chancel. There were a few oak
benches near this second altar, seemingly just made, and well
carved and moulded; otherwise the floor of the nave, which was
paved with a quaint pavement of glazed tiles like the crocks
I had seen outside as to ware, was quite clear, and the shafts of
the arches rose out of it white and beautiful under the moon as
though out of a sea, dark but with gleams struck over it.
The priest let me linger and look round, when he had crossed
himself and given me the holy water; and then I saw that the
walls were figured all over with stories, a huge St. Christopher
with his black beard looking like Will Green, being close to the
porch by which we entered, and above the chancel arch the Doom of
the last Day, in which the painter had not spared either kings or
bishops, and in which a lawyer with his blue coif was one of the
chief figures in the group which the Devil was hauling off to
hell.
"Yea," said John Ball, "'tis a goodly church and fair as you may
see 'twixt Canterbury and London as for its kind; and yet do I
misdoubt me where those who are dead are housed, and where those
shall house them after they are dead, who built this house
for God to dwell in. God grant they be cleansed at last;
forsooth one of them who is now alive is a foul swine and a cruel
wolf. Art thou all so sure, scholar, that all such have souls?
and if it be so, was it well done of God to make them? I speak
to thee thus, for I think thou art no delator; and if thou be,
why should I heed it, since I think not to come back from this
journey."
I looked at him and, as it were, had some ado to answer him; but
I said at last, "Friend, I never saw a soul, save in the body; I
cannot tell."
He crossed himself and said, "Yet do I intend that ere many days
are gone by my soul shall be in bliss among the fellowship of the
saints, and merry shall it be, even before my body rises from the
dead; for wisely I have wrought in the world, and I wot well of
friends that are long ago gone from the world, as St. Martin, and
St. Francis, and St. Thomas of Canterbury, who shall speak
well of me to the heavenly Fellowship, and I shall in no wise
lose my reward."
I looked shyly at him as he spoke; his face looked sweet and calm
and happy, and I would have said no word to grieve him; and yet
belike my eyes looked wonder on him: he seemed to note it and his
face grew puzzled. "How deemest thou of these things?" said he:
"why do men die else, if it be otherwise than this?"
I smiled: "Why then do they live?" said I.
Even in the white moonlight I saw his face flush, and he cried
out in a great voice, "To do great deeds or to repent them that
they ever were born."
"Yea," said I, "they live to live because the world liveth." He
stretched out his hand to me and grasped mine, but said no more;
and went on till we came to the door in the rood-screen; then he
turned to me with his hand on the ring-latch, and said, "Hast
thou seen many dead men?"
"Nay, but few," said I.
"And I a many," said he; "but come now and look on these, our
friends first and then our foes, so that ye may not look to see
them while we sit and talk of the days that are to be on the
earth before the Day of Doom cometh."
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