A Play of Heresy Read Free Page B

for themselves was “the True Men”—that they must do more than try to argue into the ground anyone who disagreed with them. More than once and not just seven years ago, hotter heads among them had wanted that “into the ground” to be literal, and they had risen in armed rebellion, meaning to put into graves those who refused to agree with them.
    Joliffe granted that was a sure way to have the final word in an argument, but he objected to the arrogance that spawned such certainty of the right to kill because of beliefs that could never be proved, only be believed. Lollards called the Communion bread “Christ in a cake” and said there was no proof that the bread and wine changed to the actual body and blood of Christ in the Mass. Some of them had staked their lives and died for their right to refuse that belief. Joliffe, for his part, reckoned whether the bread and wine changed or not was a matter of faith, and without evidence weighted more heavily one way or another by more than pride-filled, quarreling men’s words, he would make no trouble over it himself, thank you. To his mind, either way to take the sacrament of the Eucharist was a blessing and honor and therefore he took it gladly the one time of each year it was allowed to folk at large.
    He did wish, though, that he knew why Sebastian had such great and apparently personal quarrel at Lollards.
    Church spires let Joliffe see that he was coming to Coventry well before he was in sight of the town itself. With smaller places it was their church’s tower that almost always showed first, tall above hedgerows and bends in roads. Larger, richer places often had spires atop their churches, and above Coventry two great spires thrust up against an afternoon sky no longer gray but blue and adrift with white fluffs of clouds. There was a third spire halfway built, its present stunted shape against the sky suggesting it might grow to be the tallest of them all but even now declaring with the other two that this was a town whose citizens readily used their wealth to the greater glory of God.
    Undoubtedly a wise thing to declare and go on declaring after the mess and scandal of the Lollards seven years ago.
    He had to wait outside the towered, stone-built gateway for a broad wain to rumble out over the cobbles, then rode through, into the wide street beyond. Tall, shoulder-to-shoulder houses lined both sides, their upper stories overhanging shops fronted along the street. Signs thrust out over the street from upper floors, well above the heads of riders passing by, telling what the shops had to offer, but Joliffe gave the shops no heed and only looked at signs until he saw the one painted with a rearing red horse that meant he had found the hire-stable where he was to leave the horse he had hired at the other end of his ride. Whatever the sign showed, his own particular mount had never showed even the slightest tendency to rearing, which assuredly suited Joliffe very well. He liked a peaceable horse and hoped, as he slung his bag over his shoulder and gave the gelding a final pat before walking away, that it had been as pleased to have a peaceful rider.
    The day being well worn toward suppertime, many of the shops’ keepers were swinging up the boards that served for displaying their goods in front of their open shop fronts during the day and as a stout shutter to close them for the night. Not being in need of anything at present except finding his fellows and being done with the day, Joliffe wove his way steadily along the street among a scattering of people homeward bound or on late errands, until he came to the wide meeting between his street and another. Satisfied he was well into the town, he looked around, saw the nearest tavern had a hanging sign of a canvas-wrapped, rope-strapped woolsack crossed by a pair of shears, and guessed that would be as good a place as any to ask his way.
    The choice proved sound. In this supper-while before folk would gather in for the