I SAT ON THE STRAW AND ATE the bread. Afterward, wanting to give thanks for my safe return, I took Goodwife Peregrines pouch from around my neck, and removed my mother’s cross of lead. With it in my hands, I began to say my prayers in a low voice.
As usual, I prayed for the well-being of my mother’s and my father’s souls. This time I added Bear’s name to those for whom I begged protection.
Prayers done, I lay back on the pallet and thought of all I had seen and done that day. It was hard to grasp.
Then I listened to the rain as it continued to beat down, hoping it would lull me to sleep. My mind kept returning to this man, this John Ball, whom Bear was meeting, wondering if he were part of my puzzle, and why Bear was hiding him from me.
Unable to resist, I got up and crept out the door, then out to the dim hall. When I reached the steps I moved down silently, holding on to the wall for balance. Halfway, I paused and looked into the dimly lit room.
Bear was sitting at a table, his back to me. Standing by his side was Widow Daventry. Seated opposite was a man, who I assumed was John Ball.
Compared to Bear, the man was quite small, though his face, what I could make out of it, was strong, with a large nose, deep-set eyes, and a severe mouth. His brown robes and tonsured hair showed him to be a priest.
That in itself surprised me, because Bear had told me he had little faith in priests.
“… and the city apprentices,” I heard Bear say, “what of them?”
“Of like minds,” said John Ball. “As angry as any other. The constant wars in France, the taxes and harsh fees, these things grind them down as well as any man, peasant or not. They want—need—better wages and an end to the guilds.”
“All that may be true,” Bear said, “but from what I’ve seen and heard in my travels, they won’t rise up now.”
“They will if they can reclaim their ancient freedoms,” said Ball. “And, with the righteous hand of God"—he lifted a fist—"it is my destiny to lead them.”
“Then you had better to wait till King Edward dies,” Bear said.
“How long will that be?” boon.
“Can you be certain?”
“It’s all the talk of London,” Bear said, “as well as the court at Westminster.”
“And who will succeed to the throne?” said John Ball.
“It could be his son, the Duke of Lancaster.”
“The most hated man in England. That would help us.”
“But the true heir,” Bear went on, “is the king’s grandson, Richard of Bordeaux.”
“The child?” said John Ball. “Better yet. That would bring even greater weakness.”
“Why do you think this is the proper time for an uprising in these parts?” I heard Bear ask.
“Lord Furnival is dead,” said John Ball. “There is already much confusion. Lady Furnival has summoned all the authorities from his manors. With no known heirs, she is vulnerable.”
“Now, listen to me, John Ball,” Bear said. “It’s not for me to tell you how to act. But if we are to talk of Furnival’s heirs, in my travels I’ve discovered something of great importance.”
He spoke so low that his words became indistinct.
But I had heard enough. I drew back up the stairs.
That Bear was engaged in rebellion of some sort I could not doubt. In Stromford mere talk of such things was considered a hanging offense. What would happen if Bear were caught? It seemed, moreover, that he was not just a juggler, but some kind of spy.
As I lay on the pallet, I tossed and turned until I finally decided it was air I needed. Getting up, I poked the shuttered window open a little way, then glanced down upon the street. At first I thought it was deserted. Then, across the way, I saw a figure standing in the shadow of an overhanging building.
I thought of going down the steps and telling Bear. Instead, I held back. This time I would stay put as I’d been told.
As I lay back on the hay, I was determined to remain awake until Bear returned so I could tell him what I’d seen.
But the day had been long and tumultuous. Despite my intentions, I fell asleep.