The men pressed on through the night wearilessly. In the hearts of
all was the joy of living a moment which had lit up the horizon for
two-score years and more. Of a large body of men some there were
whose throats craved the rare wines that were stored in my lord's
cellars, whose stomachs hungered for the grain of the well-filled
garner-houses, whose fingers longed for the contents of the great
oaken chests, bursting with precious stuffs. Yet the large majority of
them scorned such base motives. These were idealists, throwing away
the small advantage of the moment for the greater advantage of the
morrow. Many, strong in the faith of their leaders, had flung hand
from the plough which at least had kept starvation from their bodies.
Surely the moon looking down that night witnessed a strange sight--a
deeply significant, portentous sight--the laborers, ill clad, with
the marks of their toil yet upon them, armed only with cracked bows,
broken swords, rusty staves, axes, scythes, whips, and even stout
sticks, going forth fearlessly to meet trained armies. And the moon,
looking down that night, found not only the highroad between Ely and
Sudbury alive with marching men, but also the highroad that lay between
Canterbury and Mile End, and that between Peterborough and St. Alban's,
and that which led from Lincoln to Huntington, and the one from
Southampton to Maidstone. From the north, from the east, and from the
south, wherever the moon turned its face, the roads were black with the
men, for the signal had been given, and the great Uprising had begun.
On the way, small wonder that some bodies of men, grown sullen by the
long wait, broke the bounds their leaders would have put upon them, and
satisfied their private enmities. Some set fire to all the homes of
lawyers that they came upon, for too long had the lawyers lived off the
slavery of the people; others cut off the heads of all the clerks they
encountered, because the land was lumbered with them; others attacked
monasteries and burned the records, that their bondage could not be
proven to the future, doing their work so thoroughly as to toss on the
flaming pile every book and bit of writing they could lay their hands
on; still more waylaid teachers of grammar, and made them take great
oaths that they would henceforth cease teaching youngsters to read and
write,--for what was the good of clerkliness save to gain a mysterious
and unjust power over the workers of the fields?
The great god Demos, after centuries of dreamless sleep, throwing
off his sluggishness with effort, only partially articulate as yet,
staggering on awkwardly, aimlessly, blindly,--drunk with the sudden
revelation of his own huge strength, a tragic picture enough with his
great heart reaching out toward some Ideal, but not quite knowing
what it was, nor how to get it. When at last this great monster, in
the shape of ten thousand laborers on the banks of the Thames, was to
appear before the King--what was the welcome that would be tendered?
Demos was politely informed by a noble earl that he was not costumed
fitly to meet the King. The giant, tamed by the very insolence and
unexpectedness of the weapon used, the one weapon perchance before
which he would have quailed--acknowledged a temporary defeat. Not
dressed to appear before the King! And who, forsooth, had made the laws
that poor men may not go abroad save in russet cloth? Why had they not
made that answer?
When the men of Cambridgeshire reached the Manor of the Baron de
Leaufort, he awoke and sent his bailiff down to them. The bailiff was a
man who trusted in the stability of the feudal structure of society as
few trust in the permanence of heaven.
"What would ye," he cried; "wot ye no better than to disturb his
Lordship at this time o' night? Disperse instanter, and if it be that
ye have aught to say on the morrow when ye are sober, my Lord bids me
say he will hold a love-day, and listen to your complaints."
"We want no love-day," sang out one, surlily.
"Who are we?" cried another, "we are those who want no bailiff to tell
us what to do. We want to see the Baron. Order him to come straightway."
The bailiff gasped. "_Order_ the Baron!" The heavens could tremble,
after all! "Varlets! Idle churls! How dare ye talk so insolently? By my
two ears some of ye will hang for this night's work."
"Now thou hast but one ear to swear by," cried a great fellow,
approaching the bailiff and slicing off one ear with a stroke of his
knife.
The bailiff screamed and clapped his hand to his bleeding head. "The
land is full enough of bailiffs," shouted some.
"Seize him, seize him," cried others.
The heavens had fallen. His fat cheeks were chalky and hung flabbily
under his eyes. He saw his mistake. He should have been more
conciliatory. "Hold, fellows, what would ye, drink?"
But his trembling voice was lost in the babble that arose as two or
three took hold of him and bore him along, shrieking pitifully. As
those that carried him seemed not to know what to do with their burden,
a man solved the problem by reaching forth a rusty sword and severing
the head from the body. In a trice half a dozen fellows were after the
rolling head, and had raised it, dripping, upon a lance. The lance they
stuck into the ground with the head lifted on high, that all might see.
Several others busied themselves with picking up twigs and branches,
and in a few minutes they had a roaring bonfire in a wide circle about
the lance, so that the curling flames lit up its hideous, ghastly
burden.
The men danced about the fire in glee.
"Ha, ha, Sir Bailiff," they mocked, "who are we, indeed? Do you know us
now, Master Bailiff?"