WHAT REALLY HAPPENED AT SMITHFIELD? by Janice Johnson

This is a creative non-fiction, historical piece I submitted to Writing Magazine’s ‘In the Spotlight’ section for subscribers. I was delighted when I saw my name (I used my single/married name – Janice Tyler-Johnson – as it was about Wat Tyler) in the Highly Commended shortlist of the August 2024 issue.

I witnessed it all on that fateful day at Smithfield when Wat Tyler was taken from us. But who will listen to me? People are already saying he had gone prepared to kill the King if he didn’t meet the peasants’ demands. Now he’s gone and they won’t tell us if he died outright or lies dying in a pauper’s hospital. Someone told me he’d been executed. I don’t know who to believe anymore.

I first saw Wat speak at Rochester and slowly, by always being there, earned his trust. I remember the first time he really confided in me; it nearly made me change my mind.

“Peter, if I tell you this, you must promise never to repeat it.”

I nodded.

“The main reason I’m here is my daughter. She was assaulted by an evil tax collector when he was checking if she was old enough to pay the poll tax. She was fourteen. I broke his skull and joined the rebels. I had no choice.” This powerful man who’d fought in the Hundred Years’ War, collapsed to his knees, sobbing.

I’d heard the collectors were encouraged to use force, but this was appalling, and my heart bled a little of its resolve. It took me all my strength not to confess there and then, but I had a duty.

The rebels got John Ball, the priest, out of prison and now the plan was to march to London and ask the young King to resolve the problems caused by his advisers.

I remember that day so well. Wat stood up in front of us all and said, “We come seeking social justice”. The priest gave us a sermon on the need for freedom and equality. They were a powerful combination, a strong military man in cahoots with a religious agitator. I had to forget my feelings for Wat. This situation was too dangerous.

Eventually, the King met the rebels and agreed to their demands. Some left, satisfied, but not Wat. I tried to convince him that the King would be true to his word, but he didn’t believe it and that’s when I saw doubt creep into his eyes. From that moment, he distanced himself from me.

The rebellion continued, and another meeting was arranged at Smithfield on 15th June. On that day, Wat asked me to help him get ready in a bid to bring me around. He talked again about his daughter and the unfairness of the maximum wage and poll tax. As we left, he slapped me on the back. “I hope I’ve convinced you, Peter. We are on the side of justice.” And, although I really wanted to trust him, I saw the large knife at his side. Whilst I still don’t believe he’d have used it unless provoked, I had to tell my employer.

The rest, as they say, is history, but it is doubtful the full truth of what happened to Wat Tyler that day will ever be told.