by Ken Follett
"I need money," he said, with a mixture of pleading and defiance in his voice.
"Then work."
"Building has stopped at Shiring. I can't get a job here at Kingsbridge."
"Then go to London--go to Paris!"
He persisted with ox-like stubbornness. "I thought you would help me out."
"There's nothing for you here. You'd better go away."
"Have you no pity?" he said, and now the defiance was gone and the tone was all pleading.
She leaned on the table to steady herself. "Alfred, don't you understand that I hate you?"
"Why?" he said. He looked injured, as if it came as a surprise to him.
Dear God, he's stupid, she thought; it's the nearest he's got to an excuse. "Go to the monastery if you want charity," she said wearily. "Prior Philip's capacity for forgiveness is superhuman. Mine isn't."
"But you're my wife," Alfred said.
That was rich. "I'm not your wife," she hissed. "You're not my husband. You never were. Now get out of this house."
To her surprise he grabbed her by the hair. "You are my wife," he said. He pulled her to him over the table, and with his free hand he grasped her breast and squeezed hard.
Aliena was taken completely by surprise. This was the last thing she had expected from a man who had slept in the same room as her for nine months without ever managing to perform the sexual act. Automatically she screamed and pulled away from him, but he had a firm grip on her hair and he jerked her back. "There's nobody to hear you scream," he said. "They're all across the river."
She was suddenly terribly afraid. They were alone, and he was very strong. After all the miles she had covered on the roads, all the years she had risked her neck traveling, she was being attacked at home by the man she had married!
He saw the fear in her eyes and said: "Scared, are you? Perhaps you'd better be nice." Then he kissed her mouth. She bit his lip as hard as she could. He gave a roar of pain.
She did not see the punch coming. It exploded on her cheek with such force that she had the terrified thought that he must have smashed her bones. For a moment she lost her vision and her balance. She reeled away from the table and felt herself falling. The rushes on the floor softened the impact as she hit the ground. She shook her head to clear it and reached for the knife strapped to her left arm. Before she could draw it, both her wrists were seized, and she heard Alfred say: "I know about that little dagger. I've seen you undress, remember?" He released her hands, punched her face again, and grabbed the dagger himself.
Aliena tried to wriggle away. He sat on her legs and put his left hand to her throat. She thrashed her arms. Suddenly the point of the dagger was an inch from her eyeball. "Be still, or I'll put out your eyes," he said.
She froze. The idea of being blind terrified her. She had seen men who had been blinded as a punishment. They walked the streets begging, their empty sockets staring horribly at passersby. Small boys tormented them, pinching them and tripping them until they gave in to rage and tried in vain to catch hold of their tormentors, which made the game even better. They generally died within a year or two.
"I thought that would calm you down," Alfred said. Why was he doing this? He had never had any lust for her. Was it just that he was defeated and angry, and she was vulnerable? Did she stand for the world that had rejected him?
He leaned forward, straddling her, with his knees either side of her hips, keeping the knife at her eye. Once again he put his face close to hers. "Now," he said. "Be nice." He kissed her again.
His unshaven face scratched her skin. His breath smelled of beer and onions. She kept her mouth closed tight.
"That's not nice," he said. "Kiss me back."
He kissed her again, and brought the knife point even closer. When it touched her eyelid she moved her lips. The taste of his mouth sickened her. He thrust his rough tongue between her lips. She felt as if she might throw up, and tried desperately to suppress the feeling, for fear he would kill her.
He pulled away from her again, but kept the knife at her face. "Now," he said. "Feel this." He took her hand and pulled it under the skirt of his tunic. She touched his organ. "Hold it," he said. She grasped it. "Now rub it gently."
She obeyed him. It occurred to her that if she could pleasure him this way she might avoid being penetrated. She looked fearfully at his face. He was flushed and his eyes were hooded. She stroked him all the way down to the root, remembering that Jack was driven wild by that.
She was afraid she would never be able to enjoy this again, and tears came to her eyes.
He jerked the knife dangerously. "Not so hard!" he said.
She concentrated.
Then the door opened.
Her heart leaped with hope. A wedge of bright sunlight fell across the room and shone dazzingly through her tears. Alfred froze. She pulled her hand away.
They both looked toward the door. Who was it? Aliena could not see. Not one of the children, please, God, she prayed; I would feel so ashamed. She heard a roar of rage. It was a man's voice. She blinked away her tears and recognized her brother Richard.
Poor Richard: it was almost worse than if it had been Tommy. Richard, who had a scar instead of a lobe on his left ear to remind him of the terrible scene he had witnessed when he was fourteen years old. Now he was witnessing another. How would he ever bear it?
Alfred started to get to his feet, but Richard was too quick for him. Aliena saw Richard cross the little room in a blur and lash out with his booted foot, catching Alfred full on the jaw. Alfred crashed back against the table. Richard went after him, trampling on Aliena without noticing, lashing out at Alfred with his feet and fists. Aliena scrambled out of the way. Richard's face was a mask of ungovernable fury. He did not look at Aliena. He did not care about her, she understood. He was enraged, not about what Alfred had done to Aliena today, but because of what William and Walter had done to him, Richard, eighteen years ago. He had been young and weak and helpless then, but now he was a big strong man and a seasoned fighter, and he had at last found a target for the mad rage he had nursed inside for all those years. He hit Alfred again and again, with both fists. Alfred staggered back around the table, trying feebly to defend himself with his raised arms. Richard caught him on the chin with a powerful swing, and Alfred fell backward.
He lay on the rushes, looking up, terrified. Aliena was frightened by her brother's violence, and said: "That's enough, Richard!" Richard ignored her and stepped forward to kick Alfred. Then Alfred suddenly realized that he still had Aliena's knife in his hand. He dodged, came swiftly to his feet and lashed out with the knife. Taken by surprise, Richard jumped back. Alfred lunged at him again, driving him back across the room. The two men were the same height and build, Aliena saw. Richard was a fighting man but Alfred was armed: they were now unnervingly well matched. Aliena was suddenly afraid for her brother. What would happen if Alfred overcame him? She would have to fight Alfred herself, then.
She looked around for a weapon. Her eyes lit on the pile of firewood beside the hearth. She snatched up a heavy log.
Alfred lunged at Richard again. Richard dodged; then, when Alfred's arm was at full stretch, Richard grabbed his wrist and pulled. Alfred staggered forward, off balance. Richard hit him several times, very fast, with both fists, punching his face and body. There was a savage grin on Richard's face, the smile of a man who is taking revenge. Alfred began to whimper, and raised his arms to protect himself again.
Richard hesitated, breathing hard. Aliena thought it would end then. But suddenly Alfred struck again, with surprising speed, and this time the point of the knife grazed Richard's cheek. Richard jumped back, stung. Alfred moved in with the knife raised high. Aliena saw that Alfred would kill Richard. She ran at Alfred, swinging the log with all her might. She missed his head but struck his right elbow. She heard the crack as wood connected with bone. The blow numbed Alfred's hand and the knife fell from his fingers.
The way it ended was dreadfully quick.
Richard bent, swept up Aliena's knife, and with the same motion brought it up under Alfred's guard and stabbed him in the chest with terrific force.
The dagger sank in up to the hilt.
Aliena stared, horrified. It was a terrible blow. Alfred screamed like a stuck pig. Richard pulled the knife out, and Alfred's blood squirted out of the hole in his chest. Alfred opened his mouth to scream again, but no sound came. His face turned white and then gray, his eyes closed, and he fell to the ground. Blood soaked into the rushes.
Aliena knelt beside him. His eyelids fluttered. He was still breathing, but his life was draining from him. She looked up at Richard, standing over them both, breathing hard. "He's dying," she said.
Richard nodded. He was not much moved. "I've seen better men die," he said. "I've killed men who deserved it less."
Aliena was shocked at his harshness, but she did not say anything. She had just remembered the first time Richard killed a man. It was after William had taken over the castle, and she and Richard had been on the road to Winchester, and two thieves had attacked them. Aliena had stabbed one of the thieves, but she had forced Richard, who was only fifteen, to deliver the coup de grace. If he's heartless, she thought guiltily, who made him so?
She looked at Alfred again. He opened his eyes and looked back at her. She almost felt ashamed of how little compassion she had for this dying man. She thought, as she looked into his eyes, that he had never been compassionate himself, nor forgiving, nor generous. He had nursed his resentments and hatreds all his life, and had taken his pleasure from acts of malice and revenge. Your life could have been different, Alfred, she thought. You could have been kind to your sister, and forgiven your stepbrother for being cleverer than you. You could have married for love instead of for revenge. You could have been loyal to Prior Philip. You could have been happy.
His eyes widened suddenly and he said: "God, it hurts."
She wished he would just hurry up and die.
His eyes closed.
"That's it," Richard said.
Alfred stopped breathing.
Aliena stood up. "I'm a widow," she said.
Alfred was buried in the graveyard at Kingsbridge Priory. It was his sister Martha's wish, and she was the only surviving blood relative. She was also the only person who was sad. Alfred had never been good to her, and she had always turned to Jack, her stepbrother, for love and protection; but nevertheless she wanted him buried somewhere close so that she could visit the grave. When they lowered the coffin into the ground, only Martha cried.
Jack looked grimly relieved that Alfred was no more. Tommy, standing with Aliena, was keenly interested in everything--this was his first family funeral and the rituals of death were all new to him. Sally was white-faced and frightened, holding Martha's hand.
Richard was there. He told Aliena, during the service, that he had come to ask God's forgiveness for killing his brother-in-law. Not that he felt he had done wrong, he hastened to add: he just wanted to be safe.
Aliena, whose face was still bruised and swollen from Alfred's last punch, recalled the dead man as he had been when she first met him. He had come to Earlscastle with his father, Tom Builder, and Martha and Ellen and Jack. Already Alfred had been the bully of the family, big and strong and bovine, with a sly cunning and a streak of nastiness. If Aliena had thought then that she would end up married to him she would have been tempted to throw herself off the battlements. She had not imagined she would ever see the family again after they left the castle; but both she and they had ended up living in Kingsbridge. She and Alfred had started the parish guild which was now such an important institution in the life of the town. That was when Alfred had proposed to her. She had not dreamed that he might be motivated more by rivalry with his stepbrother than by desire for her. She had refused him then, but later he had discovered how to manipulate her, and had persuaded her to marry him by promising support for her brother. Looking back on that, she felt that Alfred had deserved the frustration and humiliation of their marriage. His motives had been heartless and his reward had been lovelessness.
Aliena could not help feeling happy. There was no question of her leaving and going to live in Winchester now, of course: she and Jack would be married immediately. She was putting on a solemn face for the funeral, and even thinking some solemn thoughts, but her heart was bursting for joy.
Philip, with his apparently limitless capacity for pardoning people who had betrayed him, consented to bury Alfred.
As the five adults and two children were standing around the open grave, Ellen arrived.
Philip was cross. Ellen had cursed a Christian wedding, and she was not welcome in the priory close; but he could hardly turn her away from her stepson's funeral. The rites were over, anyway, so Philip just walked away.
Aliena was sorry. Philip and Ellen were both good people, and it was a shame they were enemies. But they were good in different ways, and they were both intolerant of rival ethics.
Ellen was looking older, with extra lines on her face and more gray in her hair, but her golden eyes were still beautiful. She was wearing a rough-sewn leather tunic and nothing else, not even shoes. Her arms and legs were tanned and muscular. Tommy and Sally ran to kiss her. Jack followed and embraced her, hugging her hard.
Ellen lifted her cheek for Richard to kiss her, and said: "You did the right thing. Don't feel guilty."
She stood at the edge of the grave, looking in, and said: "I was his stepmother. I wish I had known how to make him happy."
When she turned from the grave, Aliena hugged her.
They all walked slowly away. Aliena said to Ellen: "Will you stay a while, and have dinner?"
"Gladly." She ruffled Tommy's red hair. "I'd like to talk to my grandchildren. They grow so fast. When I first met Tom Builder, Jack was the age Tommy is now." They were approaching the priory gate. "As you get older the years seem to go faster. I believe--" She broke off in midsentence and stopped walking.
"What is it?" said Aliena.
Ellen was staring at the priory gateway. The wooden gates were open. The street outside was empty but for a handful of small children on the far side, standing in a knot, staring at something out of sight.
"Richard!" Ellen said sharply. "Don't go out!"
Everyone stopped. Aliena could see what had alarmed Ellen. The children looked as if they might be watching something or someone who wars waiting just outside the gate, concealed by the wall.
Richard reacted fast. "It's a trap!" he said, and without further ado he turned around and ran.
A moment later a helmeted head looked around the gate-post. It belonged to a large man-at-arms. The man saw Richard running toward the church, shouted in alarm, and dashed into the close. He was followed by three, four, five more men.
The funeral party scattered. The men-at-arms ignored them and went after Richard. Aliena was scared and mystified: who would dare to attack the earl of Shiring openly and in a priory? She held her breath as she watched them chase Richard across the close. He leaped over the low wall that the masons were building. His pursuers jumped over it behind him, unmindful that they were entering a church. The craftsmen froze in position, trowels and hammers raised, as first Richard, then his pursuers, charged by. One of the younger and more quick-thinking apprentices stuck out a shovel and tripped a man-at-arms, who went flying; but no one else intervened. Richard reached the door that led to the cloisters. The man closest behind him raised his sword above his head. For a terrible moment Aliena thought the door was locked and Richard could not get in. The man-at-arms struck at Richard with his sword. Richard got the door open and slipped inside, and the sword bit into the wood as the door slammed.
Aliena breathed again.
The men-at-arms gathered around the cloister door, then began to look about uncertainly. They seemed to realize, all of a sudden, where they were. The craftsmen gave them hostile stares and hefted their hammers and axes. There were close to a hundred builders and only five me
n-at-arms.
Jack said angrily: "Who the hell are those people?"
He was answered by a voice from behind. "They are the sheriffs men."
Aliena turned around, aghast. She knew that voice horribly well. There at the gate, on a nervous black stallion, armed and wearing chain mail, was William Hamleigh. The sight of him sent a chill through her.
Jack said: "Get out of here, you loathsome insect."
William flushed at the insult, but he did not move. "I've come to make an arrest."
"Go ahead. Richard's men will tear you apart."
"He won't have any men when he's in jail."
"Who do you think you are? A sheriff can't put an earl in jail!"
"He can for murder."
Aliena gasped. She saw immediately how William's devious mind was working. "There was no murder!" she burst out.
"There was," William said. "Earl Richard murdered Alfred Builder. And now I must explain to Prior Philip that he is harboring a killer."
William kicked his horse and rode past them, across the west end of the unbuilt nave, to the kitchen courtyard which was where laymen were received. Aliena watched him with incredulity. He was so evil it was hard to believe. Poor Alfred, whom they had just buried, had done much wrong through small-mindedness and weakness of character: his badness was more tragic than anything else. But William was a real servant of the devil. Aliena thought: When will we be rid of this monster?
The men-at-arms joined William in the kitchen courtyard and one of them hammered on the kitchen door with the hilt of his sword. The builders left the site and stood in a crowd, glaring at the intruders, looking dangerous with their heavy hammers and sharp chisels. Aliena told Martha to take the children home; then she and Jack stood with the builders.
Prior Philip came to the kitchen door. He was shorter than William, and in his light summer habit he appeared very small by comparison with the beefy man on horseback in chain mail; but there was a look of righteous anger on Philip's face that made him seem more formidable than William.
William said: "You are harboring a fugitive--"
Philip interrupted him with a roar. "Leave this place!"
