John Ball's eyes, kindly, keen, smiling, drew her to him, also he held out his hand. She came and stood beside his knee as he sat withdrawn from the table a little way. So they looked each on other, she most solemn, he tenderly amused.

"Long Will's daughter," he said; and after a little, "So thou hast journeyed in England, south and north, to bring the message of fellowship to the poor?"

"Yea, brother," she answered him.

"And thou sayest this people is not ready to rise up?"

"Yea, brother, I say so."

"Wherefore?"

"Two year is not long enough, John Ball."

"Two year!" quoth he, and smiled. "'T is twenty year I have not ceased to preach this message. Thou wert not born, yet the people had heard these things."

She flushed very hot and her lip quivered: "Though 't were forty year,--the people is not ready," she made answer steadfast.

"They say there 's a woman of Siena learns Pope Urban his lesson,"

mused the priest, always his eyes fixed smiling on the maid; "G.o.d forbid I should be behind Pope Urban in humilite."

"I am a peasant maid only," cried Calote, "but I say poor folk is not yet a fellowship. They dream of vengeance. More than they love one another they hate the n.o.bles and bailiffs and the men-of-law, and"--

"And all them that have brought us to this pa.s.s," said Wat Tyler fiercely.

John Ball turned to look at him, and there fell silence.

When the priest spoke again he spoke to Wat, and said: "'T would seem the maid saith soth." Then, turning back to Calote, the smile went out of his eyes: "I am not so patient as thy father," he exclaimed, "I am not content to prophesy only; there 's some men must do deeds. A little while we 'll delay. Natheless, 't shall come in my time!--Thou hast warned them in Ess.e.x and Suffolk, 't is not yet, Wat?"

"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."

"Thomas de Gyssing."

"Anon."

"Sir Roger Bacon."

"Nay, I had his name long since."

"Then thou hast all others," Wat ended.

Calote, standing by the table, listened.

"Of Bury, now, what new citizens since I was prisoned last?" the priest questioned.

"Thomas Halesworth, John Clakke, Robert Westbron."

"And these be fit to lead?"

"Yea."

"And who is messenger to run westward?"

"John Smyth, parson,--hath a horse."

"Ah! And for the north?"

"John Reynolds of Bawdsey, and Walter Coselere; good runners, both."

"Where is Jack Straw?"

"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?"

"The King?" said John Ball, staring.

"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."

The people stared at him in wonder, and at her. Then he stepped down and left her alone.