The Pillars of the Earth

by Ken Follett

  He rolled over blindly and struggled to his feet. But Alfred was not yet satisfied. As Jack came upright he felt himself grabbed. He began to wriggle. He was frightened now. Alfred would have no mercy. Jack would be beaten to a pulp if he could not escape. For a moment Alfred's grip was too strong and Jack could not get free, but then Alfred drew back one massive fist for a blow, and in that instant Jack slipped out of his grasp.

  He darted away and Alfred lunged after him. Jack dodged around a lime barrel, pulling it over so that it fell in Alfred's path, spilling lime on the ground. Alfred jumped over the barrel but cannoned into a water butt and that, too, was upset. When the water came into contact with the lime it boiled and hissed fiercely. Some of the builders, seeing the waste of costly material, shouted protests, but Alfred was deaf to them, and Jack could think of nothing but trying to get away from Alfred. He ran, still doubled up with pain and half blind from the kick in the head.

  Hard on his heels, Alfred stuck out a foot and tripped him. Jack fell headlong. I'm going to die, he thought as he rolled over; Alfred will kill me now. He fetched up under a ladder that was leaning against the scaffolding high up on the building. Alfred bore down on him. Jack felt like a cornered rabbit. The ladder saved him. As Alfred ducked behind it, Jack dodged around to the front and catapulted himself up the rungs. He went up the ladder like a rat up a gutter.

  He felt the ladder shake as Alfred came up behind him. Normally he could outrun Alfred, but he was still dazed and winded. He reached the top and lurched onto the scaffolding. He stumbled and fell against the wall. The stonework had been laid that morning and the mortar was still wet. As Jack careered into it, a whole section of the wall shifted, and three or four stones slipped sideways and fell over the side. Jack thought he was going with them. He teetered at the edge, and as he looked down he saw the big stones tumbling over and over as they fell eighty feet and landed on the roofs of the lean-to lodges at the foot of the wall. He righted himself and hoped no one was in the lodges. Alfred came up over the top of the ladder and advanced toward him on the flimsy scaffolding.

  Alfred was red and panting, and his eyes were full of hate. Jack had no doubt that in this state Alfred could kill. If he gets hold of me, Jack thought, he'll throw me over the side. As Alfred advanced, Jack retreated. He trod in something soft and realized it was a pile of mortar. Inspired, he stooped quickly, picked up a handful, and threw it accurately into Alfred's eyes.

  Blinded, Alfred stopped advancing and shook his head, trying to get rid of the mortar. At last Jack had a chance to escape. He ran to the far end of the scaffolding platform, intending to descend, run out of the priory close, and spend the rest of the day hiding in the forest. But to his horror there was no ladder at the other end of the platform. He could not climb down the scaffolding, for it did not reach to the ground--it was built on joists stuck into putlog holes in the wall. He was trapped.

  He looked back. Alfred had got his eyesight back and was coming toward him.

  There was one other way down.

  At the unfinished end of the wall, where the chancel would join on to the transept, each course of masonry was half a stone's length shorter than the one below, creating a steep flight of narrow steps, which was sometimes used by the more daring laborers as an alternative way up to the platform. With his heart in his mouth Jack got on top of the wall and walked along, carefully but quickly, trying not to see how far he would fall if he slipped. He reached the top of the stepped section, paused at the edge, and looked down. He felt faintly sick. He glanced back over his shoulder: Alfred was on the wall behind him. He went down.

  Jack could not understand why Alfred was so unafraid: he had never been brave. It was as if hatred had dulled his sense of danger. As they ran down the dizzily steep steps, Alfred was gaining on Jack. They were still more than twelve feet off the ground when Jack realized Alfred was very nearly on him. In desperation he jumped off the side of the wall onto the thatched roof of the carpenters' lodge. He bounced off the roof onto the ground, but he landed badly, twisting his ankle, and he fell to the ground.

  He staggered upright. The seconds he lost by falling had enabled Alfred to reach the ground and run to the lodge. For a split second Jack stood with his back to the wall, and Alfred paused, waiting to see which way he would jump. Jack suffered a moment of terrified indecision; then, inspired, he stepped to one side and backed into the lodge.

  It was empty of craftsmen, for they were all standing around Enid's barrel. On the benches were the hammers and saws and chisels of the carpenters, and the pieces of wood they had been working on. In the middle of the floor was a large piece of new falsework, to be used in building an arch; and at the back, up against the church wall, was a blazing fire, fed by shavings and off-cuts from the carpenters' raw material.

  There was no way out.

  Jack turned to face Alfred. He was cornered. For a moment he was paralyzed with fright. Then his fear gave way to anger. I don't care if I get killed, he thought, so long as I make Alfred bleed before I die. He did not wait for Alfred to hit him. He lowered his head and charged. He was too maddened even to use his fists. He simply ran into Alfred full tilt.

  It was the last thing Alfred expected. Jack's forehead smashed into his mouth. Jack was two or three inches shorter and a lot lighter, but all the same his charge threw Alfred back. As Jack recovered his balance he saw blood on Alfred's lips, and he was satisfied.

  For a moment Alfred was too surprised to react. In that instant, Jack's eye lit on a big wooden sledgehammer leaning against a bench. As Alfred recovered his wits and came at Jack, Jack lifted the hammer and swung it wildly. Alfred dodged back and the hammer missed him. Suddenly Jack had the upper hand. Encouraged, he went after Alfred, already relishing the sensation of solid wood crunching Alfred's bones. This time he put all his strength into the blow. Once again it missed Alfred; but it connected with the pole supporting the roof of the lodge.

  The lodge was not solidly constructed. Nobody lived in it. Its only function was to enable the carpenters to work in the rain. When Jack hit the pole with the hammer, the pole moved. The walls were flimsy hurdles of interwoven twigs, and gave no support at all. The thatched roof sagged. Alfred looked up fearfully. Jack hefted the hammer. Alfred backed through the door. Jack swung at him again. Alfred dodged back, tripped over a low stack of timber, and sat down heavily. Jack raised the hammer high for the coup de grace. His arms were seized in a strong grasp. He looked around and saw Prior Philip, with a face like thunder. Philip wrenched the hammer from Jack's grip.

  Behind the prior, the roof of the lodge fell in. Jack and Philip looked. As it fell into the fire, the dry thatch caught alight instantly, and a moment later there was a fierce blaze.

  Tom appeared and pointed at the three workmen nearest to him. "You, you and you--bring that water butt from outside the smithy." He turned to three others. "Peter, Rolf, Daniel, fetch buckets. You apprentices, shovel earth over the flames--all of you, and quick about it!"

  For the next few minutes everyone concentrated on the fire, and Alfred and Jack were forgotten. Jack got out of the way and stood watching, feeling stunned and helpless. Alfred stood some distance away. Was I really about to smash Alfred's head with a hammer? Jack though incredulously. The whole thing seemed unreal. He was still in a state of dazed shock when the combination of water and earth put out the flames.

  Prior Philip stood looking at the mess, breathing hard after his exertions. "Look at that," he said to Tom. He was furious. "A lodge wrecked. Carpenters' work ruined. A barrel of lime wasted and a whole section of new masonry destroyed."

  Jack realized that Tom was in trouble: it was his job to keep order on the site and Philip blamed him for the damage. The fact that the culprits were Tom's sons made it even worse.

  Tom put his hand on Philip's arm and spoke softly. "The lodge will deal with it," he said.

  Philip was not to be mollified. "I will deal with it," he snapped. "I'm the prior and you all work for me."
/>   "Then allow the masons to deliberate before you make any decisions," Tom said in a quiet and reasonable voice. "We may come up with a proposal that will recommend itself to you. If not, you're still free to do what you will."

  Philip was visibly reluctant to let the initiative pass from his hands, but tradition was on Tom's side: the masons disciplined themselves. After a pause Philip said: "Very well. But whatever you decide, I will not have both your sons working on this site. One of them must go." Still fuming, he strode away.

  With a black look at Jack and Alfred, Tom turned away and went into the largest of the masons' lodges.

  Jack realized he was in serious trouble as he followed Tom into the lodge. When the masons disciplined one of their number it was usually for offenses such as drunkenness at work and theft of building materials, and the commonest punishment was a fine. Fighting between apprentices generally resulted in both combatants being put in the stocks for a day, but of course Alfred was not an apprentice, and anyway, fights did not normally do so much damage. The lodge could expel a member who worked for less than the agreed minimum wage. It could also punish a member who committed adultery with another mason's wife, although Jack had never known this. Theoretically, apprentices could be flogged, but although this punishment was sometimes threatened he had never seen it carried out.

  The master masons crowded into the wooden lodge, sitting on the benches and leaning against the back wall, which was in fact the side of the cathedral. When they were all inside, Tom said: "Our employer is angry, and with justification. This incident has done a lot of costly damage. Worse, it has brought disgrace on us masons. We must deal firmly with those who are to blame. This is the only way to regain our good reputation as proud and disciplined builders, men who are masters of ourselves as well as masters of our craft."

  "Well said," Jack Blacksmith called out, and there was a murmur of agreement.

  "I only saw the end of this fight," Tom went on. "Did anyone see it start?"

  "Alfred went for the lad," said Peter Carpenter, the one who had advised Jack to be obedient and fetch Alfred's ale.

  A young mason called Dan, who worked for Alfred, said: "Jack threw beer in Alfred's face."

  "The lad was provoked, though," said Peter. "Alfred insulted Jack's natural father."

  Tom looked at Alfred. "Did you?"

  "I said his father was a thief," Alfred replied. "It's true. He was hanged for it at Shiring. Sheriff Eustace told me yesterday."

  Jack Blacksmith said: "It's a poor thing if a master craftsman has to hold his tongue in case an apprentice doesn't like what he says."

  There was a murmur of approval. Jack realized despondently that, whatever happened, he was not going to get off lightly. Perhaps I'm doomed to be a criminal, like my father, he thought; perhaps I'll end up on the gallows too.

  Peter Carpenter, who was emerging as Jack's defender, said: "I still say it makes a difference if the craftsman went out of his way to anger the apprentice."

  "The apprentice still has to be punished," said Jack Blacksmith.

  "I don't deny that," said Peter. "I just think the craftsman ought to be disciplined too. Master craftsmen should use the wisdom of their years to bring about peace and harmony on a building site. If they provoke fights they fail in their duty."

  There appeared to be some agreement with that, but Dan, Alfred's supporter, said: "It's a dangerous principle, to forgive the apprentice because the craftsman was unkind. Apprentices always think masters are unkind. If you start arguing that way you'll end up with masters never speaking to their apprentices for fear the apprentices will strike them for discourtesy."

  That speech drew warm support, to Jack's disgust. It just showed that the masters' authority had to be bolstered, regardless of the rights and wrongs of the case. He wondered what his punishment would be. He had no money to pay a fine. He hated the thought of being put in the stocks: what would Aliena think of him? But it would be worse to be flogged. He thought he would knife anyone who tried to flog him.

  Tom said: "We mustn't forget that our employer also has a strong view about this. He says he will not have both Alfred and Jack working on the site. One of them must go."

  "Might he be talked out of that?" said Peter.

  Tom looked thoughtful, but after a pause he said: "No."

  Jack was shocked. He had not taken Prior Philip's ultimatum seriously. But Tom had.

  Dan said: "If one of them has to go, I trust there's no argument about which it will be." Dan was one of the masons working for Alfred, rather than directly for the priory, and if Alfred went Dan would probably have to go too.

  Once again Tom looked thoughtful, and once again he said: "No, no argument." He looked at Jack. "Jack must be the one to go."

  Jack realized he had fatally underestimated the consequences of the fight. But he could hardly believe they were going to throw him out. What would life be like if he did not work on Kingsbridge Cathedral? Since Aliena had withdrawn into her shell, the cathedral was all he cared about. How could he leave?

  Peter Carpenter said: "The priory might accept a compromise. Jack could be suspended for a month."

  Yes, please, thought Jack.

  "Too weak," said Tom. "We must be seen to act decisively. Prior Philip will not accept anything less."

  "So be it," Peter said, giving in. "This cathedral loses the most talented young stone carver most of us have ever seen, all because Alfred can't keep his damn mouth shut." Several masons voiced their approval of that sentiment. Encouraged, Peter went on: "I respect you, Tom Builder, more than I've ever respected any master builder I've worked for, but it must be said that you've got a blind spot about your pigheaded son Alfred."

  "No abuse, please," Tom said. "Let's stick to the facts of the case."

  "All right," Peter said. "I say Alfred must be punished."

  "I agree," Tom said, to everyone's surprise. Jack thought the remark about his blind spot had got to him. "Alfred should be disciplined."

  "Why?" Alfred said indignantly. "For beating an apprentice?"

  "He's not your apprentice, he's mine," Tom said. "And you did more than beat him. You chased him all over the site. If you had let him run away the lime wouldn't have spilled, the masonry wouldn't have been damaged and the carpenters' lodge wouldn't have burned down; and you could have dealt with him as soon as he came back. There was no need for what you did."

  The masons agreed.

  Dan, who seemed to have become the spokesman for Alfred's masons, said: "I hope you're not proposing we expel Alfred from the lodge. I for one will fight against that."

  "No," Tom said. "It's bad enough to lose a talented apprentice. I don't also want to lose a sound mason who runs a reliable gang. Alfred must stay--but I think he should be fined."

  Alfred's men looked relieved.

  "A heavy fine," said Peter.

  "A week's wages," Dan proposed.

  "A month's," said Tom. "I doubt whether Prior Philip will be satisfied with less."

  Several men said: "Aye."

  "Are we of one mind on this, brother masons?" Tom said, using a customary form of words.

  "Aye," they all said.

  "Then I will tell the prior our decision. The rest of you had better go back to work."

  Jack watched miserably as they all filed out. Alfred shot him a look of smug triumph. Tom waited until they had all gone, then said to Jack: "I did my best for you--I hope your mother will see that."

  "You've never done anything for me!" Jack burst out. "You couldn't feed me or clothe me or house me. We were happy until you came along, and then we starved!"

  "But in the end--"

  "You won't even protect me from that mindless brute you call your son!"

  "I tried--"

  "You wouldn't even have this job if I hadn't burned the old cathedral down!"

  "What did you say?"

  "Yes, I burned the old cathedral."

  Tom went pale. "That was lightning--"

  "Th
ere was no lightning. It was a fine night. And no one had made a fire in the church, either. I set light to the roof."

  "But why?"

  "So that you would have work. Otherwise my mother would have died in the forest."

  "She wouldn't--"

  "Your first wife did, though, didn't she?"

  Tom turned white. Suddenly he looked older. Jack realized that he had wounded Tom profoundly. He had won the argument, but he had probably lost a friend. He felt sour and sad.

  Tom whispered: "Get out of here."

  Jack left.

  He walked away from the towering walls of the cathedral, close to tears. His life had been devastated in a few moments. It was incredible that he was going away from this church forever. He turned at the priory gate and looked back. There were so many things he had been planning. He wanted to carve a whole doorway all by himself; he wanted to persuade Tom to have stone angels in the clerestory; he had an innovative design for blind arcading in the transepts which he had not even shown to anyone yet. Now he would never do any of these things. It was so unfair. His eyes filled with tears.

  He made his way home, seeing through a blur. Mother and Martha were sitting at the kitchen table. Mother was teaching Martha to write with a sharp stone and a slate. They were surprised to see him. Martha said: "It can't be dinnertime already."

  Mother read Jack's face. "What is it?" she said anxiously. "I had a fight with Alfred and got expelled from the site," he said grimly.

  "Wasn't Alfred expelled?" said Martha.

  Jack shook his head.

  "That's not fair!" Martha said.

  Mother said wearily: "What did you fight about this time?"

  Jack said: "Was my father hanged at Shiring for thieving?"

  Martha gasped.

  Mother looked sad. "He wasn't a thief," she said. "But yes, he was hanged at Shiring."

  Jack was fed up with enigmatic statements about his father. He said brutally: "Why will you never tell me the truth?"