ompany, and their
faces turned hitherward; forsooth, I got to my horse, and led him out
of the wood on the other side, and so to saddle and away along the
green roads; neither was I seen or chased. So look ye to it, my
masters, for these men will be coming to speak with us; nor is there
need for haste, but rather for good speed; for in some twenty or thirty
minutes will be more tidings to hand."

By this time one of our best-armed men had got through the throng and
was standing on the cross beside John Ball. When the long man had
done, there was confused noise of talk for a while, and the throng
spread itself out more and more, but not in a disorderly manner; the
bowmen drawing together toward the outside, and the billmen forming
behind them. Will Green was still standing beside me and had hold of
my arm, as though he knew both where he and I were to go.

"Fellows," quoth the captain from the cross, "belike this stour shall
not live to be older than the day, if ye get not into a plump together
for their arbalestiers to shoot bolts into, and their men-at-arms to
thrust spears into. Get you to the edge of the crofts and spread out
there six feet between man and man, and shoot, ye bowmen, from the
hedges, and ye with the staves keep your heads below the level of the
hedges, or else for all they be thick a bolt may win its way in."

He grinned as he said this, and there was laughter enough in the throng
to have done honour to a better joke.

Then he sung out, "Hob Wright, Rafe Wood, John Pargetter, and thou Will
Green, bestir ye and marshal the bowshot; and thou Nicholas Woodyer
shall be under me Jack Straw in ordering of the staves. Gregory Tailor
and John Clerk, fair and fine are ye clad in the arms of the Canterbury
bailiffs; ye shall shine from afar; go ye with the banner into the
highway, and the bows on either side shall ward you; yet jump, lads,
and over the hedge with you when the bolts begin to fly your way! Take
heed, good fellows all, that our business is to bestride the highway,
and not let them get in on our flank the while; so half to the right,
half to the left of the highway. Shoot straight and strong, and waste
no breath with noise; let the loose of the bowstring cry for you! and
look you! think it no loss of manhood to cover your bodies with tree
and bush; for one of us who know is worth a hundred of those proud
fools. To it, lads, and let them see what the grey goose bears between
his wings!