A March on London | Page 6

Black
Prince matters had been quiet abroad, and unless for those who were
attached to the households of powerful nobles there was, for the present,
no avenue towards distinction.
Edgar had been talking these matters over with the Prior of St. Alwyth,
who had taken a great fancy to him, and with whom he had, since he
had given up his work at the convent, frequently had long
conversations. They were engaged in one of these when this narrative
begins:
"I quite agree with your father," the Prior continued. "Were there a just
and strong government, the mass of the people might bear their present
position. It seems to us as natural that the serfs should be transferred
with the land as if they were herds of cattle, for such is the rule

throughout Europe as well as here, and one sees that there are great
difficulties in the way of making any alteration in this state of things.
See you, were men free to wander as they chose over the land instead
of working at their vocations, the country would be full of vagrants
who, for want of other means for a living, would soon become robbers.
Then, too, very many would flock to the towns, and so far from
bettering their condition, would find themselves worse off than before,
for there would be more people than work could be found for.
[Illustration: EDGAR TALKS MATTERS OVER WITH THE PRIOR
OF ST. ALWYTH.]
"So long as each was called upon only to pay his fifteenth to the king's
treasury they were contented enough, but now they are called upon for
a tenth as well as a fifteenth, and often this is greatly exceeded by the
rapacity of the tax-collectors. Other burdens are put upon them, and
altogether men are becoming desperate. Then, too, the cessation of the
wars with France has brought back to the country numbers of
disbanded soldiers who, having got out of the way of honest work and
lost the habits of labour, are discontented and restless. All this adds to
the danger. We who live in the country see these things, but the king
and nobles either know nothing of them or treat them with contempt,
well knowing that a few hundred men-at-arms can scatter a multitude
of unarmed serfs."
"And would you give freedom to the serfs, good Father?"
"I say not that I would give them absolute freedom, but I would grant
them a charter giving them far greater rights than at present. A fifteenth
of their labour is as much as they should be called upon to pay, and
when the king's necessities render it needful that further money should
be raised, the burden should only be laid upon the backs of those who
can afford to pay it. I hear that there is much wild talk, and that the
doctrines of Wickliffe have done grievous harm. I say not, my son, that
there are not abuses in the Church as well as elsewhere; but these
pestilent doctrines lead men to disregard all authority, and to view their
natural masters as oppressors. I hear that seditious talk is uttered openly
in the villages throughout the country; that there are men who would

fain persuade the ignorant that all above them are drones who live on
the proceeds of their labour--as if indeed every man, however high in
rank, had not his share of labour and care--I fear, then, that if there
should be a rising of the peasantry we may have such scenes as those
that took place during the Jacquerie in France, and that many who
would, were things different, be in favour of giving more extended
rights to the people, will be forced to take a side against them."
"I can hardly think that they would take up arms, Father. They must
know that they could not withstand a charge of armour-clad knights
and men-at- arms."
"Unhappily, my son, the masses do not think. They believe what it
pleases them to believe, and what the men who go about stirring up
sedition tell them. I foresee that in the end they will suffer horribly, but
before the end comes they may commit every sort of outrage. They
may sack monasteries and murder the monks, for we are also looked
upon as drones. They may attack and destroy the houses of the better
class, and even the castles of the smaller nobles. They may even
capture London and lay it in ashes, but the thought that after they had
done these things a terrible vengeance would be taken, and their lot
would be harder than before, would never occur to them. Take your
own house for instance--what resistance could it offer to a fierce mob
of peasants?"
"None," Edgar admitted. "But why should