Epic Historial Collection (110 page)

As Philip helped to carry the groaning wounded and the unresisting dead out of the ruins of his cathedral, he resolved that in the future he would leave it to God to be ambitious and pushing: he, Philip, would passively accept whatever happened. If God wanted a cathedral, God would provide a quarry; if the town was burned, it should be taken as a sign that God did not want a fleece fair; and now that the church had fallen down, Philip would not rebuild it.

As he reached that decision, he saw William Hamleigh.

The new earl of Shiring was sitting on the floor in the third bay, near the north aisle, ashen-faced and trembling with pain, with his foot trapped under a big stone. Philip wondered, as he helped roll the stone away, why God had chosen to let so many good people die but had spared an animal such as William.

William was making a great fuss about the pain in his foot but was otherwise all right. They helped him to his feet. He leaned on the shoulder of a big man about his own size and began to hop away. Then a baby cried.

Everyone heard it. There were no babies in sight. They all looked around, mystified. The crying came again, and Philip realized it was coming from beneath a massive pile of stones in the aisle. “Over here!” he called. He caught Alfred's eye and beckoned him. “There's a baby alive under all that,” he said.

They all listened to the crying. It sounded like a very small baby, not yet a month old. “You're right,” Alfred said. “Let's shift some of those big stones.” He and his helpers began to move rubble from a pile that completely blocked the arch of the third bay. Philip joined in. He could not think which of the townswomen had given birth in the last few weeks. Of course, a birth might not have come to his attention: although the town had got smaller in the past year, it was still big enough for him to miss such a commonplace event.

The crying stopped suddenly. Everyone stood still and listened, but it did not begin again. Grimly, they recommenced moving the stones. It was a perilous business, for removing one stone might cause others to fall. This was why Philip had put Alfred in charge. However, Alfred was not as cautious as Philip would have wished, and he seemed to be letting everyone do as they pleased, pulling stones away without any overall plan. At one point the whole pile shifted dangerously, and Philip called out: “Wait!”

They all stopped. Alfred was too shocked to organize people properly, Philip realized. He would have to do it himself. He said: “If there is someone alive under there, something must have protected them; and if we let the pile shift, they could lose their protection, and be killed by our efforts. Let's do this carefully.” He pointed to a group of stonemasons standing together. “You three, climb the heap and take stones from the top. Instead of carrying them away yourselves, just pass each stone to one of us and we'll take them away.”

They restarted work according to Philip's plan. It seemed quicker as well as safer.

Now that the baby had stopped crying they were not sure exactly where they were heading, so they cleared across a broad area, most of the width of the bay. Some of the rubble was what had fallen from the vault, but the roof of the aisle had partly collapsed, so there were timber and roof slates as well as stones and mortar.

Philip worked tirelessly. He wanted that baby to survive. Even though he knew there were dozens of people dead, somehow the baby seemed more important. If it could be rescued, he felt, there was still hope for the future. As he hefted the stones, coughing and half blind from the dust, he prayed fervently that the baby would be found alive.

Eventually he could see, above the heaped rubble, the outer wall of the aisle and part of one deep-set window. There seemed to be a space behind the pile. Perhaps someone was alive in there. A mason climbed gingerly up the pile and looked down into the space. “Jesus!” he exclaimed.

For once Philip ignored the blasphemy. “Is the babe all right?” he said.

“I can't tell,” said the mason.

Philip wanted to ask what the mason had seen, or, better still, take a look for himself, but the man recommenced clearing stones with renewed vigor, and there was nothing for it but to continue to help, in a fever of curiosity.

The level of the pile came down rapidly. There was a large stone near ground level that required three men to move it. As it was rolled aside, Philip saw the baby.

It was naked, and newborn. Its white skin was smeared with blood and building dust, but he could see that it had a head of startling carrot-colored hair. Looking more closely, Philip saw that it was a boy. It was lying on a woman's bosom and sucking at her breast. The child was alive, he saw, and his heart leaped for joy. He looked at the woman. She was alive, too. She caught his eye and gave him a weary, happy smile.

It was Aliena.

 

Aliena never went back to Alfred's house.

He told everyone that the baby was not his, and as proof pointed to the child's red hair, exactly the same color as Jack's; but he did not try to do any harm either to the baby or Aliena, apart from saying he would not have them in his house.

Aliena moved back into the one-room house in the poor quarter with her brother, Richard. She was relieved that Alfred's revenge was so mild. She was glad that she would no longer have to sleep on the floor at the foot of his bed like a dog. But mainly she was thrilled and proud about her lovely baby. He had red hair and blue eyes and perfect white skin, and he reminded her vividly of Jack.

No one knew why the church had fallen down. There were plenty of theories, however. Some said Alfred was not capable of being master builder. Others blamed Philip, for rushing to get the vault finished by Whitsun. Some of the masons said the falsework had been taken down before the mortar was properly dry. One old mason said the walls had never been intended to bear the weight of a stone vault.

Seventy-nine people had been killed, including those who died of their injuries later. Everyone said it would have been more if Prior Philip had not herded so many people to the east end. The priory graveyard was already full because of the fire at the fleece fair the previous year, and most of the dead were buried at the parish church. A lot of people said the cathedral was under a curse.

Alfred took all his masons off to Shiring, where he was building stone houses for the wealthy townspeople. The other craftsmen drifted away from Kingsbridge. No one was actually dismissed, and Philip continued to pay wages, but there was nothing for the men to do but tidy up the rubble, and after a few weeks they had all gone. No volunteers came to work on Sundays, the market was reduced to a few dispirited stalls, and Malachi packed his family and his possessions onto a huge cart pulled by four oxen and left town, searching for greener pastures.

Richard rented his fine black stallion to a farmer and he and Aliena lived on the proceeds. Without Alfred's support he could not go on as a knight, and in any case there was no point now that William had been made earl. Aliena still felt bound by her vow to her father, but just now there seemed nothing she could do to fulfill it. Richard sank into lethargy. He got up late, sat in the sun most of the day, and spent his evenings in the alehouse.

Martha still lived in the big house, alone except for an elderly woman servant. However, she spent most of her time with Aliena: she loved to help with the baby, especially as he looked so much like her adored Jack. She wanted Aliena to call him Jack, but Aliena was reluctant to name him, for reasons she herself did not quite understand.

For Aliena the summer went by in a maternal glow. But when the harvest was in, and the weather cooled a little, and the evenings became shorter, she grew discontented.

Whenever she thought about her future, Jack came into her mind. He had gone, she had no idea where, and he would probably never come back, but he was still with her, dominating her thoughts, full of life and energy, as clear and vivid to her as if she had seen him only yesterday. She considered moving to another town and pretending she was a widow; she thought of trying to persuade Richard to earn a living somehow; she contemplated doing some weaving, or taking in washing, or becoming a servant to one of the few townspeople who were still wealthy enough to hire help; and each new scheme was greeted with scornful laughter by the imaginary Jack in her head, who said: “Nothing will be any good without me.” Making love to Jack on the morning of her marriage to Alfred had been the greatest sin she had ever committed, and she had no doubt that now she was being punished for it; but still there were times when she felt it was the only good thing she had done in her entire life; and when she looked at her baby, she could not bring herself to regret it. Nevertheless she was restless. A baby was not enough. She felt incomplete, unfulfilled. Her house seemed too small, Kingsbridge seemed half dead, life was too uneventful. She became impatient with the baby and snappish with Martha.

At the end of the summer, the farmer brought the horse back: it was no longer needed, and suddenly Richard and Aliena had no income. One day in early autumn Richard went to Shiring to sell his armor. While he was away, and Aliena was eating apples for dinner to save money, Jack's mother walked into the house.

“Ellen!” Aliena said. She was more than startled. There was consternation in her voice, for Ellen had cursed a church wedding, and Prior Philip might yet have her punished for it.

“I came to see my grandson,” Ellen said calmly.

“But how did you know…?”

“You hear things, even in the forest.” She went over to the cradle in the corner and looked at the sleeping child. Her face softened. “Well, well. There's no doubt about whose son he is. Does he keep well?”

“Never had anything wrong with him—he's small but tough,” Aliena said proudly. She added: “Like his grandmother.” She studied Ellen. She was leaner than when she had left, and brown-skinned, and she wore a short leather tunic that revealed her tanned calves. Her feet were bare. She looked young and fit: forest life seemed to suit her. Aliena calculated that she must be thirty-five years old. “You seem very well,” she said.

“I miss you all,” Ellen said. “I miss you, and Martha, and even your brother Richard. I miss my Jack. And I miss Tom.” She looked sad.

Aliena was still worried for her safety. “Did anyone see you coming here? The monks might still want to punish you.”

“There isn't a monk in Kingsbridge who's got the guts to arrest me,” she said with a grin. “But I was careful anyway—no one saw me.” There was a pause. Ellen looked hard at Aliena. Aliena became slightly uncomfortable under the penetrating stare of Ellen's curious honey-colored eyes. At last Ellen said: “You're wasting your life.”

“What do you mean?” Aliena said, though Ellen's words had struck a chord instantly.

“You should go and find Jack.”

Aliena felt a pang of delicious hope. “But I can't,” she said.

“Why not?”

“I don't know where he is, for one thing.”

“I do.”

Aliena's heart beat faster. She had thought nobody knew where Jack had gone. It was as if he had vanished off the face of the earth. But now she would be able to imagine him in a specific, real place. It changed everything. He might be somewhere nearby. She could show him his baby.

Ellen said: “At least, I know where he was headed.”

“Where?” Aliena said urgently.

“Santiago de Compostela.”

“Oh, God.” Her heart sank. She was desperately disappointed. Compostela was the town in Spain where the Apostle James was buried. It was a journey of several months. Jack might as well have been on the far side of the world.

Ellen said: “He was hoping to speak to the jongleurs on the road and find out something about his father.”

Aliena nodded disconsolately. That made sense. Jack had always resented knowing so little about his father. But he might well never return. On such a long journey he was almost certain to find a cathedral he wanted to work on, and then he might settle down. In going to seek his father he had probably lost his son.

“It's so far away,” Aliena said. “I wish I could go after him.”

“Why not?” Ellen said. “Thousands of people go there on pilgrimage. Why shouldn't you?”

“I made a vow to my father to take care of Richard until he becomes the earl,” she told Ellen. “I couldn't leave him.”

Ellen looked skeptical. “Just how do you imagine you're helping him at the moment?” she said. “You're penniless and William is the new earl. Richard has lost any chance he might have had of regaining the earldom. You're no more use to him here in Kingsbridge than you would be in Compostela. You dedicated your life to that wretched vow. But now there's nothing more you can do. I don't see how your father could reproach you. If you ask me, the greatest favor you could do Richard would be to abandon him for a while, and give him a chance to learn independence.”

It was true, Aliena thought, that she was no use to Richard at the moment, whether she stayed in Kingsbridge or not. Could it be possible that she was now free—free to go and find Jack? The mere idea made her heart race. “But I haven't any money to go on pilgrimage,” she said.

“What happened to that great big horse?”