Passage to Pontefract (28 page)

William Walworth was an energetic man. He originally came from the north of England but in his youth he had been apprenticed to John Lovekyn, a wealthy merchant who dealt in salted fish and who had been very energetic in promoting trade between England and Flanders. William Walworth had learned a great deal from him; and when Lovekyn became first of all an alderman and then a sheriff and finally Lord Mayor of London, William decided to follow in his footsteps.

London had become his city; the affairs of London were his; he was proving to himself and to others that not only could he compete with his master but excel him.

He had acquired a great deal of property and was one of the richest men in the City and that was saying a good deal. There were rumours about him as there would be about all men who had been as successful as he was. It was true that he owned large areas of land in the district of Southwark on the south side of the Bridge and there were many who said that the activities which went on there should have been investigated. It was also said that William Walworth was not eager for such an investigation for there were those streets where prostitution flourished. It was even said that he had brought women from the Low Countries to inhabit his houses and that because they were fair and fleshy they were a great attraction. In any case there was no doubt that Walworth derived profit from his possession in Southwark.

He was not averse to spending some of his money in the interests of the city of which he was the leading citizen, and now he was determined to defend London against the rebels.

Meanwhile Wat Tyler with John Ball had reached Southwark and found the bridge drawn up. So they could not get into the City. But there was Southwark, and there were those prisons – the Marshalsea, the Clink, the King’s Bench and the Compter. They would attack them and release the prisoners which would have the desired effect of adding to their ranks.

But so far the rioters had been led by men of principle. Now it would be a rabble of criminals.

William Walworth considered this. There would be wanton destruction, pillage and murder. But it was sometimes easier to deal with criminals than with men of ideals. There was no doubt that the cause of John Ball which some might have considered worthy, would no longer be called so.

There were traitors within the City walls. The apprentices, ever ready to join any cause which was dedicated to disorder, were already on the banks of the river shouting to the rebels on the other side. Even certain aldermen who were dissatisfied with a great deal in the rule of the country and the heavy taxation to which they had been submitted saw here a chance to reform the laws.

There were many who were ready to lower London Bridge and let the rebels in, and it was not long before they were streaming across it. Meanwhile the Aldgate had been opened and the men of Essex came in to join those of Kent. London was now at the mercy of the rebels.

The army was overseas; the King’s uncles were far away; there was none to defend the King but his immediate circle. Fortunately he was in the Tower and that was a fortress which could not easily be stormed.

In any case the rebels had no quarrel with the King; they did not want to harm him. John Ball had the idea that the King might still lead a country which was given over to equality. He would be a figurehead to follow the guidance of his ministers who would all be men of the people. John Ball would be head of the Church. He did not want anarchy to reign.

But he knew that in that ragged army were men who cared little for principles and were bent on gain. They must be kept in hand. Wat Tyler was a good man. He had a righteous cause and he had only been led to rebellion because of the heavy taxes and the insults levied on his family. Wat Tyler was a man who wanted to restore peace and live in it; but to make a world where men of all ranks could retain their dignity.

That did not seem to be asking an impossibility.

That June day was one which would never be forgotten in English history. The great City of London was the scene of pillage and death. The prisons were all broken into and the convicts streamed out to join the rebels. The Priory of Clerkenwell was in flames; the Inns of Court were ransacked and documents were burned and lawyers killed. The rebels had erected a block in Cheapside and there the heads began to fall.

It was with great glee that coming down to the river’s edge they saw the great palace of the Savoy.

‘John of Gaunt’s treasure house!’ they cried; and the very name of John of Gaunt added a fresh fury in their hearts.

‘To the Savoy!’ they cried. ‘We’ll bring John of Gaunt’s castle tumbling about his ears.’

‘But by the bones of God that head will not be on his shoulders,’ cried another.

They were at the gates of the Savoy. With the trunk of a tree which they used as a battering ram they forced open the doors and burst in.

Such richness made them pause with wonder.

‘We are not thieves,’ cried Wat Tyler. ‘We have not come to steal. We have come to destroy those who would destroy us.’

The Savoy was ablaze. It was going to be the end of John of Gaunt’s magnificence. A curse on fate which had deprived them of him. To have marched through the town with his head would have been the greatest of all triumphs.

Wat saw a man pocketing gold ornaments and thrust his sword through his heart. ‘So will I deal with all thieves. By God’s bones, men, do you not see? We are men with a mission, men with a purpose. Ask John Ball. He is with me in this. We are not here to steal or kill the innocent. We are here to deliver and to win it for us all.’

Fine words but what effect could they have on men who had never before seen such riches, for whom one small trinket could bring as much as they would earn in a lifetime. Moreover they had been to the cellars and there they had refreshed themselves with wine such as they had never tasted before. They who had drunk only the cheapest ale before were bemused by the wine of the rich.

They were maddened by the sight of such wealth; they were intoxicated not only with malmsey wine but with power.

Was this the end? Joan asked herself. Was the mob going to take the crown, the throne?

If only the Black Prince had lived. She could imagine how he would have dealt with these men. But it would never have happened had he lived. He would have seen revolt coming; he would never have allowed the situation to go so far. What will become of us all? she asked herself.

There they were, besieged in the Tower. Her little son who was a King. And there were only one or two brave men with them. She had great faith in Walworth, who was frantic with fury to see his city being destroyed, and he was a strong man, faithful to the King and the restoration of law and order.

But what could they do?

Poor Simon of Sudbury, he had the look of a man who knows his days are numbered. Temporarily he was safe in the Tower but unless the rebels were quickly subdued he had no hope.

The King and his mother, Salisbury, Simon of Sudbury, John Hales and a few others of the King’s ministers, conferred together.

Some action had to be taken promptly and there was only one way of dealing with the situation. The rebels must be dispersed before they could be brought to order.

‘How disperse them?’ asked Joan.

‘With promises,’ said Walworth.

‘What promises?’

‘That what they call their wrongs shall be righted, that they shall be freed from their serfdom; that the taxes will be lifted. That is what the rebellion is about.’

‘You think they will listen?’

‘Men such as Ball and Wat the Tyler will. They are the leaders.’

‘Then how shall we convey these promises to them?’

‘I can see only one way of doing so,’ said Walworth. ‘There is only one to whom they will listen. The King must speak to them.’

‘I will do it,’ cried Richard. ‘I will speak to them.’

‘My lord, my lord,’ said the Earl of Salisbury, ‘forgive me but this is a very dangerous situation.’

‘I know it well,’ retorted Richard haughtily. ‘I am not afraid. I am their King. It is for me to speak to them, to send them back to their homes.’

‘It is too dangerous,’ said Joan.

‘My lady, it is a suggestion,’ said Walworth. ‘I can think of no other. The alternative is that we stay here besieged and how long will it take the besiegers to overrun the Tower?’

‘It is a strong fortress.’

‘They have broken into the prisons.’

‘I
will
go,’ said Richard. ‘I insist. Have you forgotten I am your King? I will hear no more. I will speak to the rebels myself.’

‘My lord,’ said Walworth, ‘your bravery moves me deeply. You are indeed the true son of your father.’

‘I want to show them that I am,’ said Richard.

‘You understand, my son,’ said Joan, ‘that they could kill you. One rebel out of hand …’

‘I know it well,’ replied Richard. ‘But my father faced death many times and was not deterred.’

There was no doubt that the entire company was deeply moved by this beautiful boy who showed himself to be without fear.

At length it was agreed that a messenger should be sent to Wat Tyler. The King himself was willing to see them. If they would retire to Mile End, a large field where the people gathered on holidays to enjoy open-air sports, the King would meet them there. He would listen to their grievances and would promise to consider them.

The King was excited. He would show them all that he was a boy no longer. The people had always loved him. He had enjoyed riding through this very City and they had always cheered him. It was the same in the country. They loved him. He was grandson of Great Edward, the son of the Black Prince, their King, Richard of Bordeaux as they still sometimes affectionately called him.

They would love him all the more when he promised to give them what they asked.

He said he wanted to go to his apartments. He wanted to prepare himself. He was going to pray that his mission should succeed.

When he had gone, the Queen Mother said: ‘There is only one thing which will send them home and that is if he promises to give them what they want.’

‘That is what the King must do,’ said William Walworth.

‘And how can he? Give them their freedom! Who will till the fields? Who will do the menial work of the country? What must we do? Give over our manors to them!’

William Walworth faced them all smiling. He was no nobleman but he was more shrewd than any of them.

‘These promises can never be carried out,’ he said. ‘They are quite impossible.’

‘But the King is going to give them that promise.’

‘He must. Indeed he must. It is the only way to bring an end to this rebellion. But remember these are only peasants, villeins. What are promises made to them?’

‘I like it not,’ said Joan.

‘My lady, it is a matter of liking it, or an end to all that we have known in the past. It is goodbye to the wealth which men such as I have earned and which none of these rioters would have known how to earn. It is the end of your inheritance. It would doubtless be the end of your lives. This is the only way.’

‘The King will speak in good faith.’

‘That must be so. He is too young, too innocent, to understand. He must play his part well and he will only do so if he believes in what he is saying.’

There was a deep silence.

‘My lords,’ went on Walworth, addressing the Archbishop and the Treasurer, ‘you must make your escape while the King is at Mile End. It is your only chance. If you can slip down the river you may be able to find a ship to take you out of the country. Whatever we are able to achieve I fear they are going to demand your lives.’

Simon of Sudbury and John Hales nodded gravely. They knew that Walworth was speaking the truth.