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.


* * *

It was night. The King had climbed to the topmost turret that he might look down on the City.

He could see the flares, and the people massed on the banks of the river. He could hear their roistering. Many of them were drunk on the wine from the cellars of his uncle’s palace of the Savoy.

A ragged army they were indeed. All the scum of the country, some of them men who had been in prison with no hope of release until the mob came – desperate men, seeking blood and revenge.

These were the men whom he would face tomorrow at Mile End. He thought what he would say to them.

‘I am your King …’

He would not be afraid. The only thing he feared was fear. They could kill him if they would but he must not show fear. He wanted them to say: He is the true son of his father.

He looked away from that tattered army to the dark sky.

‘Fathers,’ he said. ‘My heavenly and earthly fathers, both watch over me this coming day. Let me conduct myself like a King.’


* * *

Early on Friday morning the King was up and ready. From the turret he looked out on the rebels and could see that although some of them were making their way to Mile End others remained.

He sent a message to them, telling them that all must go to Mile End for he was about to set out to meet them there.

Then he went down and summoned the Archbishop and John Hales to him.

‘My friends,’ he said, ‘you must take this opportunity to get away while I am at Mile End. I command you to do this.’

The Archbishop embraced him and wept because of his youth and innocence and his belief that he could with a few words put everything right.

‘We shall attempt to do so, my lord,’ said John Hales.

‘Go, my good friends. I trust we shall meet again.’

The Archbishop murmured: ‘Methinks it will not be until we meet in Heaven.’

Richard rode out. He was exultant. He felt brave and noble. There were thousands of rebels whom he had to face and he was just one boy with a carefully selected band of nobles, those who had not incurred the wrath of the people and who would be unknown to them. Sir Aubrey de Vere, the uncle of his greatest friend Robert, had volunteered for the dangerous post of sword-bearer.

And so they set out for Mile End.

There were gathered some sixty thousand of the peasant army, the head of whom were Wat the Tyler and John Ball.

Richard rode right into the midst of them, his handsome face smiling, his voice low and musical.

‘My good people,’ he addressed them, ‘I am your King, and your lord. What is it you want? What do you wish to say to me?’

Wat Tyler answered him. ‘We want freedom for ourselves, our heirs and our land. We want no longer to be called slaves and held in bondage.’

‘Your wish is granted,’ replied the King. ‘Now will you return to your homes and the place from whence you came?’

‘Ah, my lord, we want surety for what you’ve said. We want it signed and sealed that you will keep your word.’

‘Then leave behind two or three men from each village and they shall have letters sealed with my seal, showing that the demands you have made have been granted. And in order that you may be more satisfied I will command that my banners shall be sent to every stewardship, castlewick and corporation. You, my good people of Kent, shall have one of my banners and you also men of Essex, Sussex, Bedford, Suffolk, Cambridge, Stafford and Lincoln. I pardon you for what you have hitherto done. But you must follow my banners and return to your homes on the terms I have mentioned. Will you do this, my friends?’