John Standish; or, the Harrowing of London ... With illustrations

Preface

. The characters in this story which are historical, besides those familiar to the reader, are John Stan dish, Dame Langland and Carlotta, the giant-monk of Westminster, Scogan, and the Abbots of West minster and St. Albans. Dean Stanley, in his ' Memorials of Westminster,' relates how the giant-monk was very popular with the citizens of London. He was also brave as well as big, for he obtained leave from his Superior to go down to Winchelsea and help to beat off the French privateers who were ravaging our south coast. Langland, in his poem, calls his daughter Calote. He would have been the last person to imitate the Italians, yet I have ventured to call her Carlotta. Perhaps his dame may have had her way at the christening. The dialogue is interspersed with old proverbs, quaint sayings, and allusions to old customs, all of which have been culled from writings of that age ; for it seems to the Author more important to repro duce the very words and thoughts of the past than

PREFACE.

. VI to rely for a faithful picture on inventories of clothes and furniture. Chaucer has been made to quote once or twice verses which had not then been published. May he not well have written sketches of some of his pilgrims long before he composed the whole ? The events of the three days' Harrowing of London are taken from Walsingham and Froissart, and the dialogue at Smithfield is taken entirely from those authorities. The view of the Tower and old London Bridge is copied from a drawing in an old MS. at the British Museum. LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. pa<;e ALURED AT ELTHAM PALACE - - Front. DAN JOHN RESCUES CARLOTTA - 64 LANGLAND WOULD SELL HIS BOOKS - - 144 WAT TILER ARGUES WITH THE ROYAL MINSTREL 216 CHAUCER SPOILS THE FRIARS' SPORT - - 262 STARTING TO CONFER WITH THE REBELS - 306 THE SAVOY PALACE ON FIRE - - - 322 THE ARCHBISHOP'S LAST MASS - - I John Standish OR THE HARROWING OF LONDON.

Chapter I

' How now, Sibyl ? it is a blush ! I protest it is a blush.' ' Nay, madame, so please you, it is but the summer sun. In sooth, and by my fay,* ye do me a wrong to make so merry over my brown cheek, and yon gay squire but a bow-shot distant.' At this petulant reply there broke a merry ripple of laughter from the bevy of ladies who reclined on the sward within the pleasaunce of Eltham Palace, and from none more heartily than from the Princess Joanna of Kent, the widow of the Black Prince, and the mother of King Richard the Second. It was the month of June, in the year 1380. The Princess and the ladies of her court had been amusing themselves under the shade of a giant elm, which grew on the green slope between the banquet ing-hall and the moat. To them, as they reclined, had come a young squire of honour from the Arch- * Faith. bishop's palace at Lambeth, bringing a letter for the young King.

The sudden sight of these gay damoiselles had dazzled the poor man's eyes, and robbed him of his ready wit. He had stood bowing and stammering his broken message before the whilom beauty of the court, now somewhat advanced in years — ' The Fair Maid of Kent,' as the people had loved to call Princess Joanna — and she had bidden one of her young maids of honour, Sibyl de Feschamp, rise and conduct the abashed and bewildered youth into the King's presence. It was upon her return from this mission that the Princess had bantered her upon her blushing face ; but when Sibyl had put the blame upon the sunshine, they all cried out upon her. ' Hush !' said the Princess, holding up her white hand ; ' let us try her in a Court of Love.' ' Yea, a court — a court !' echoed the laughing maidens. ' And I will be judge,' said the Princess, ' and Mary de Molyneux shall put her roundly to question ; and for the rest, let us fancy we have donned the green kirtle and gold necklace, as the law doth enjoin.

Now, Sibyl de Feschamp, stand forth !' Then the accused girl stepped forth in front of the group of white-robed maidens, and, folding her arms demurely across her bosom, made two deep reverences right and left, and awaited the charge. The glancing sunbeams, as they stole between the moving foliage, lit up the gold of her wavy hair, which was enclosed in a dark net, from which streamed the long contoise of purple silk in two falls behind her back. Her wimple had been dis carded for the heat ; therefore, as she stood with a proud smile bending into a bow her pretty, rose-bud mouth, the whole of her face was exposed to her judges — the low, wide forehead, and gray-blue eyes, the ' tip-tilted ' nose and scornful lips, and — what gave most character to her fair young face — the constant shifting of her gaze, with a look in her sidelong glances which seemed to say, ' A pretty piece of womanhood, I am well advised, but I would the admiring world should be conscious of it withal!' But Mary de Molyneux, a laughing, rosy girl of some seventeen years old or more, stood up facing her, and said : ' In the name of our Court of Love, and of all true lovers of minstrelsy and the maistery of song, I adjure thee, Sibyl de Feschamp, to tell our mistress truly what hath passed between thee and this squire.' ' What hath passed between us ?

What but the languor of a sultry air and some foolish motes that frolicked in the golden sunbeam ?' The girls rustled in their white samite, and clapped hands at the ready wit of their companion, while Mary de Molyneux bit her lip in vexation. But, en couraged by the Princess, she returned to the charge. ' What was the matter of your discourse ? How fell it out ?' ' We talked of trifles — no matter worth the telling — a poor smattering of courteous interrogatives — and as yet have we fallen not out.' i — z ' No. that I'll warrant ! but thou hast spread a net for the poor fool, and, boy-like, he hath fallen in.' ' Aye, fathom-deep he lies, drowned in a maiden's eyes, entangled in her silken lashes, crying for a hand that shall bear him up. . . .' ' Hush, idle prattler !' said the Princess, inter rupting her, ' thou answerest not according to usage of the court ; and, were it not that thou earnest to us with the symbol of modesty flaming on thy brow, I should be fain to think that he had asked of thee a salute.' ' Benedicite !

Oh, my gracious lady, fie for the shame thereof!' Sibyl made a reverence deep to the ground, and her fair face and neck blushed again at the imputa tion of such frowardness. 'Silence again, I command!' cried the Princess. ' Did he not offer to be thy troubadour and indite thee sonnets ? Yea or nay ?' ' Nay, sweet lady ; the poor, bashful youth could only glance sideways at me, and stammer, and break short off, and cough, and grow crimson.' The mortified tone in which this was spoken made them laugh merrily : it tickled them the more that they knew Sibyl to be an inconstant damoiselle, more intent on winning favour than on keeping it when wisely and modestly won. ' But tell me, par Charite ! tell me, if this be the case with the timid innocent, how came it that thy cheek was all aflame with blood ?' ' Yea, struck in Mary de Molyneux, ' and have a care thy tongue speak no leasing,* lest thou be chas tised of thy betters.' Sibyl retorted petulantly: ' It was no blush of modesty for soft word uttered, but a hue of indignant shame, that the golden-haired fool should so far mar his pretty face by lenten t answers rudely mouthed.' Thereat a great cry of triumph arose, when these careless minions of the court perceived the discomfi ture of their sister ; but when Princess Joanna saw the tears come into Sibyl's eyes, she held up her hand, saying : ' A truce to further bickering — the jest is ended.

Ye know the proverb, "Sooth bourde is no bourde."J Had it been a case of playful love, where the poet's imagination serves instead of passion, then would we probe this wound to the quick ; but if it be that the silly wench loves in good sooth this springald from Lambeth . . .' ' Madame ! he cometh at hand ! I pray thee lower thy voice.' It was too true. The rest could scarce suppress a titter as they spied a long pair of legs stalking swiftly across the lawn. As the young squire, however, drew nearer, he seemed abashed by the presence of so much beauty, and would have turned had not the Princess made a sign to him to approach. He bowed low before her, until his long yellow hair, slightly curling, fell forward and well-nigh hid his foolish blushes. * Lies. t Stinted. X ' Jesting in earnest is no jest at all.' ' They might be brother and sister,' whispered the Princess. ' Two golden flowers, but unequally mated ; for one hath seen the world, and the other hath not.' There was a silence of some seconds, while the young squire shifted from foot to foot uneasily under scrutiny of those merry, bright eyes.

He had placed some roses in the breast of his short tunic to grace the occasion ; he had donned his gayest tunic of green silk, embroidered front and back with white and red flowers, as the fashion -was, and his finely proportioned legs were set off by tightly-fitting stock ings of pale blue silk ; his sleeves, which were long and wide, were parti-coloured of vair and black, while his long shoes, pointed and curling upwards at the toe, were slashed after the manner then known as ' Paul's windows.' The ladies took in these gracious features at a glance, but they did not less admire the elegant figure of the young man than his gay attire. For he had thrown back his hood upon his shoulders, and they could gaze upon the fair face and light mous tache, the waving line of hair drawn from the brow, aud the head circled by a tiny thread of gold to keep all the tresses neat and orderly.

It was a pretty, girlish face, not strong enough to please a woman. The nose was too small, the mouth weak and apt to smile where no smile was. But it made a pretty picture ; and the fair Maid of Kent sighed as she thought of her own son, Richard, now but fifteen years old, just so pretty and waxen and doll-like, just so vain of his attire as this youth seemed to be — and she prayed to herself (for she had her serious moments now) that the young King might grow in moral stature and prove himself a worthy son of her loved and lamented lord, the Black Prince. ' So ! thou hast seen the King, Master Squire — what name shall I say ?' 'Alured of Dene, my gracious lady. I have given his Highness the packet entrusted to me by my master.' ' Ah ! thou hast seen my son,' resumed the Princess, abstractedly gazing on the shifting colours that played upon the cheek of the youth. ' Madame, shall we stay him further ?' at last whispered Mary de Molyneux, as the moments passed and the young squire did not know whether to go or stay. ' I crave thy pardon, Master Alured of Dene ; in sooth thou favourest* so the King, my son, that it set me dreaming on far-off matters.

But thou hast seen him ? With what affairs was he employed ?' The squire hesitated and murmured : ' His Highness was engaged with Sir Alberic de Vere, as I trow.' ' Oh ! then the affair was of no high statecraft, I wis. What did they ?' ' Methinks they were reckoning up moneys, madame.' ' With cards on the table ?' ' With some such toys of fashion, madame, if I mistake not.' ' It likes me not to find my son's friends thus leading his trustful innocence into a path that too oft * Resemblest. leadeth to unthrift. Mark me, Sir Squire, 'twere well that they who come to court should see as though they saw not, for when trivial slips of the tongue get blown about in the rude world yonder, they grow to a head and work evil to those in power. Dost thou take me,* or must I speak more plainly ?' ' I were a fool to mistake it, madame.' ' Well — let us to our mirth anon ; chance it we can get from the squire what we could not get from the maid.

My minion here, the Lady Sibyl de Fes champ, came back from escorting thee with her cheek aflame. She would have us believe thou art more wanton than thy looks would argue. Now, any license in this our palace of Eltham . . .' ' Oh ! my most gracious lady, the Lady Sibyl must wrong me ; for all that passed between us was . . .' Sibyl hereupon coughed and essayed to interrupt the squire. Howbeit she was caught in the act, and put to penance by being ordered to stand up with her back to the company. ' And now, say on, Master Squire,' said Princess Joanna, with a merry glance of meaning at her maids of honour. But Alured hesitated and played nervously with the hatched knife that hung from his neck, for he had sense enough to see that it were an unknightly thing to wound the girl's feelings. ' Well, the saints help thee to a readier wit, Master Squire !' said the Princess, when she had waited in vain for a reply. ' Amen !' said Sibyl in a deep contralto, and with Comprehend. such unction of fervour that even Alured joined in the laugh against himself. ' I shall put my minion to some penance for this superfluity of naughtiness.

Sibyl, thou wilt take it upon thee to bring this goodly youth unto the outer barbican beyond the moat, for by the coming and going of his colour 1 gather that it is now high summer in his veins and pale winter in the brain of him. Go ! Sir Squire, back to thy master, the good Archbishop, whom thou servest so modestly and even bashfully. The Lady Sibyl shall show thee forth out of the pleasaunce, and — to make propriety the more secure for thy blushing innocence — Mary de Molyneux and Editha of Andover shall haunt somewhere at call not far from thy steps. Now go !' The tone of sarcasm completed the discomfiture of the poor youth, who turned sadly on his heel and walked silently by Sibyl's side towards the bridge. ' Come, come ! Sir Squire, be not cast down,' said Sibyl encouragingly ; ' we all have to endure these gusts of temper from our mistress ; and, in sooth, I owe thee much for not revealing my fond and foolish request.' ' You owe me nothing, lady.

It is I who owe you something for teaching me court manners, which his Grace of Canterbury hath omitted in me.' Sibyl laughed a merry laugh. She might snake like wriggle out of the false position into which she had before betrayed herself. And now they had come to the centre of the bridge which spanned the moat. A few paces more, and they must needs part. Sibyl lingered with one arm on the stone balustrade, and, looking down into the clear water that lay far below and mirrored waving tree and the blue sky and the pointed arches of the bridge and the pigeons that flew swiftly over the moat, she cried : 'Look ! Master Alured of Dene ; there is a current saying here that whoso gazeth from this bridge with a clean heart shall read his future in the mirror of yon glassy wave.' Alured laughed uneasily and approached the side of the bridge.

The water lay sleeping below in a breathless calm, the steep banks were covered with trees and bushes, while verdant interspaces of smooth sward lent a brighter colour here and there. Apple blossom still hung upon the boughs and relieved the sombre tints of foliage in shade. ' Well ! seest thou aught in the mirror ?' said Sibyl, leaning over the parapet and peering down. ' Yea— but— but— but ' Three buttes ? Then must thou be a bad marks man, an thou drive not thy shaft home into the prickes,* good sir. But soothly, why dost thou hesitate ? What hast thou seen, or failed of seeing ?' ' St. Denis ! I would rather not speak of it. But to speak pertf and open, I did not see the face I looked for !' ' Bencite !'J murmured Sibyl, as she bit her lip with vexation. ' But tell me : of what fashion was the face thou didst seek ?' * Target. j- Pert or aperte, openly.

X Short for Benedicite. A young face, full of dignity and grace — some thing statue-like.' 'And didst thou not see such a maiden's face below?' ' I saw none but thine, Mistress Sibyl ; which made me uneasy, for I am half promised to a young maid in the City yonder.' Sibyl laughed, but there was mischief in the gleam of her eyes. ' A maid in the City ! But, Sir Squire, such a minion can be no equal match for one who shall be knight in his Grace's guard.' ' So my friends say,' replied Alured, smiling weakly at the empty compliment. ' But the young maid passeth all the maids in London for form and comeliness. You should see her — you should . . .' The enthusiastic but simple lover suddenly paused as he saw the angry flush again mount into the brow of the court beauty. ' Oh yes, certes ! I should see this paragon of charms — no doubt of it.

For, perchance, thou wilt go hence and tell her how the Lady Sibyl of Fes champ proposed to her betrothed that he should be her troubadour, and praise her loveliness in ballad and sonnet. And did I not explain to this City wench that such trifling had no meaning beyond the poetic fashion of the day, she also might think Sibyl of Feschamp was a froward wanton, and scorn me for my light behaviour.' 'Oh ! Mistress Sibyl, I never thought on such wise. Howbeit, when thou didst ask me with such witching smile and a glance of thy blue eyes that ran through my heart like the blue blade of a misericorde* if I Dagger of pity, that puts hurt things out of their pain. would care to be thy troubadour, I confess that I, in my ignorance, was for thinking that troubadour was but " lover " writ large.' ' And so thy honest heart, being indignant at the suggestion of treason, sent forth a grim, uncourtly defiance to poor me, making me hie back to my com panions with a flaming cheek, for the very shame.' At this moment a merry laugh sounded from beneath the bridge, and a punt shot through the archway into the sunlight. ' We could not help hearing you, for you spake so loud,' cried Mary de Molyneux from her cushions, while Editha of Andover went on laughing so merrily that the pigeons flew up from the elms, and circled twice round the gate-tower ere they alighted again. 'Gramercy!' muttered Sibyl; 'as old Adam the gardener saith, "Words breeden bale;"* they will make a fine story of all this, and I shall get well laughed at — and all because I took pity on thy bash ful face.

Go, Sir Squire, and make my devoir to thy pretty City wench ; but — but, an thou wilt not be my troubadour, yet think not lightly of one who has braved the scorn of the court for thy sake.' ' Lady,' said Alured, bowing low, ' I am all too unworthy of this high condescension ; yet if thou wilt choose me for thy troubadour . . .' ' By no means ; that chance hath gone by, par ma foi ! Farewell, Sir Squire.' Sibyl tripped away, leaving Alured confused and blushing, and a little vainer than he had been before. * Breed mischief.

Chapter II

Whilst Alured of Dene was riding with his two body-servants along the Blackheath Road from Eltham to Lambeth, two gossips, in an upper room in Cornhill, were discussing his merits. The two women so engaged were Mistress Kit Langland, wife of the now famous author of ' The Vision of Piers Ploughman,' and Marjorie, her friend and gossip, or sponsor, to Carlotta, the only daughter of Will Langland. They were sitting on stools in the embrasure of the great open window, which bulged out over the street of Cornhill. Between them was a small table, on which were parchments, ink and pumice ; the room was barely furnished forth with a couple of large chests, bookshelves, stools, and trestles for a portable table ; the interior was somewhat dark, as the sides of the recess in which the window was set were so deep that much of the daylight was intercepted.

Outside there was a hum of voices arising from the busy throng below, who were clearing away their booths from the Cornhill Market, while the young girls on their way to the fountain were stopping to bandy light words with the apprentices, and holding their pitchers with one hand uplifted to their head, while with the other they gesticulated and emphasized the merry quip or shout of scorn. All this the two gossips were intently watching from the window, but at last Dame Langland withdrew into the corner of the embrasure and sighed. Dame Langland had been a beauty in her day, dark and deadly with her piercing black eyes ; but just now her bloom had faded with the worry of life, the olive cheek had turned just a trifle sallow, and the beautiful raven hair was faintly tinged with streaks of gray.

She sighed, then, and sighed ever more fervently, yet still Dame Marjorie's plump, waxen head remained thrust forth of the window ; so from sighing Dame Langland fell to sniffing — sniffing in all its modulated cadences, from the pensive, through the surprised and vexed, up to the sharp, short sniff that spoke of an irritability which it would be a parlous* thing to overlook. And when her nasal organ reached this scale, Dame Marjorie turned her round and sat her down, saying : ' Sonties ! what a time your Carlotta is gone ! If I were you, I would lets her from walking the streets at eventide. The young men are so froward.' 'Ah!' sighed the other, 'an we were rich, it might be done ; but " Long Will," as they call my William, hath little to spare for food and lodging, tho' he hath the finest bass voice in London, and kens Westminster law as well as the best of them.

Ah ! Marjorie, your man is a mercer, and of great credit in the City, but mine is a poor losel, who wastes Perilous. \ Prevent. half his time at the ale,* a-singing of burdens and catches and glees.' ' Nay, gossip ; thou wrongest thy good man ; for I have heard John of Canterbury — that giant, you know, among the Westminster monks . . .' ' Dant John ! Aye, I ken him well enough, for he cometh here not seldom.' ' Well, sweetheart, I've heard him tell how thy " Long Will " hath writ a poem will make no small stir in the world ; in sooth, 'tis much talked of in the town.' 'Ah!' sighed Mistress Langland, lifting her fine eyes mournfully to heaven, ' 'tis the making and the com posing and the copying and the bettering which makes my life so hard. Now, there's Lottie yonder — he keeps her at this table copying and drawing, and drawing and copying all daylight, I do protest and vow !

The poor girl waxes whiter and whiter, and still her pen must go. And such stuff, Dame Marjorie ! Such parlous ribaldry about poor men being starved, and about bishops and abbots thinking on surfeit and luxury ; and such ribald heresies, too, such as " To do well is better than a sackful of pardons all hot from Rome." Why ! 'tis enough to send him to the pillory, and poor Lottie and me to the thewes.'J ' Come, come ! thou didst ever sit hard on Will. But if Dan John is not good enough for thee, let me tell thee that Master Geoffrey Chaucer, the friend of John of Gaunt — or King of Castille, if it like thee * Ale-house. t Short for Dominus. X Stool of repentance for women. better — even he, who hath no mean skill in the making of verse . . .' ' Oh ! I have no opinion of Master Geoffrey's verse.

He but copies the Frenchmen, and he were better employed minding his work at the Customs.' ' Well, but there is more ; for I have heard tell that his Grace of Canterbury hath been seen to laugh over the quaint thoughts in " Piers Ploughman." ' Ah ! it will be time to laugh when Will sees the gold come in ; but for my part, I don't hold to such goings on. Carlotta should be mending shifts, not copying her father's verses and law parchments. Ah ! we should be well-to-do folk if I had my way ; but thou kenst the ways of men, Marjorie. It is, " How now, sweetheart ! art aweary ? What should women know of such matters ?" And then if one should go to be round with them, it is " By Saint Mango ! stint thy clappe,"* or " Get thee gone, Kit, and blabber over thy beads;" so that we poor women get only flouted for our pains.' Dame Marjorie shook her flaxen curls reprovingly, and setting her wimple, said : ' There's one thing, neighbour — all this coil about " Piers Ploughman " fetches many a brave young gallant up this ladder, I ween, eh ?' ' A truce !

Marjorie, if thou thinkest they come here to prattle with Lottie, thou art muckle mista'en. Never was there such a pair of innocents as Will and his daughter. She is cold as the fountain yonder.' ' I dare avow it ; but they do say that the young squire from Lambeth, who hauntethf here, hath less skill in letters than in love.' * Stop your chattering. f Cometh often. ' Then they speak leasing, I tell thee. When I am in the chamber, not a word of folly passeth his lips.' ' That I can believe ; but — well ! 'tis like enough he may learn some smattering of letters that way, and, by St. Loy ! if he is not taking a lesson from her now. Look forth, neighbour ; look forth and see for thyself.' Dame Langland leaned forth and saw the Arch bishop's livery, the two body-servants, and one led horse richly caparisoned ; and there, quietly pacing down the street towards the fountain, was her own Carlotta, tall and graceful, while the gay young squire walked by her side and was evidently making mirth over some story which he was recounting.

The apprentices doffed cap, or made a leg ;* for the beautiful Carlotta was the pride of Cornhill, and her sweet, pensive face, with its witching smile, had charmed the rudest heart in London town. But there were some faces that wore a look of envy, and some old heads nodded too wisely, and some broad shoulders were shrugged mysteriously, as the gallant and the soberly-clad maid paced slowly to the fountain. Carlotta seemed unconscious of the stir in the market, for her face was lifted in a rapt attention and her eyes were fixed upon the spire of St. Paul's Cathedral, as she pictured to herself the scene at Eltham, which Alured had been describing for her amusement. ' But I have not told thee how I put my foot into it with the pretty maid-of-honour.' * Bowed, scraping the foot backward. ' Yea ?

Was that she who brought thee to the young King ?' ' The same, Carlotta : she was observing me with more than maidenly observance, as I thought — and thou knowest how I hate to be made up to, as though I were a child under the yerde.* Well ! I made as though I saw not her simperings and her oglings until she fairly besought me would I be her troubadour, and make her some songs of amour !' ' Oh ! Master Alured, it was not meet to be so unchastised of tongue.' ' That is what I thought, and so I made bold to give her a sharp retort ; for I said brusquely, " Nay, lady, that can I never do ; for the sweet maid whom I court liveth hard by in the City yonder. I pray thee, have me excused." ' ' Saidst thou indeed so ?' asked Carlotta, flushing from cheek to brow. ' Aye, in good sooth did I — and thou shouldst have seen how this misproud Sibyl de Feschamp turned haughtily on her heel : it was as good as a scene in a miracle play on Corpus Christi day.' But Alured did not tell Carlotta how he had craved pardon on the bridge, pleaded ignorance of courtly usages, and offered to be her troubadour, and how she had waived him away incontinently.