Epic Historial Collection (55 page)

They all looked at the corpse on the floor: Walter, William, Aliena and Richard. William was light-headed after his close brush with death. He felt as if he could do anything. He reached out and grabbed the neck of Aliena's tunic. The linen was soft and fine, very expensive. He gave a sharp jerk. The tunic ripped. He kept on pulling, so that it tore all the way down the front. A strip a foot wide came away in his hand. Aliena screamed, then tried to pull the remnants of the garment together over her front. The torn edges would not meet. William's throat went dry. Her sudden vulnerability was thrilling. It was much more exciting than when he had watched her washing, for now she knew he was looking, and she felt ashamed, and her shame inflamed him all the more. She covered her breasts with one arm and her triangle with the other hand. William dropped the strip of linen and grabbed her by the hair. He jerked her toward him, spun her around, and ripped the rest of the tunic from her back.

She had delicate white shoulders, a small waist, and surprisingly full hips. He pulled her to him, pressing himself against her back, grinding his hips against her buttocks. He bent his head and bit her soft neck hard, until he tasted blood and she screamed again. He saw Richard move.

“Hold the boy,” he said to Walter.

Walter grabbed Richard and put him in an armlock.

Holding Aliena hard against him with one arm, William explored her body with the other hand. He felt her breasts, weighing and then squeezing them, and he pinched her small nipples; then he ran his hand over her stomach and into the triangle of hair between her legs, bushy and curly like the hair on her head. He prodded her roughly with his fingers. She began to cry. His prick was so stiff he felt it would burst.

He stepped away from her and jerked her backward over his outstretched leg. She fell on her back with a crash. The fall winded her and she gasped for breath.

William had not planned this, and he was not quite sure how it had happened, but nothing in the world could stop him now.

He lifted his tunic and showed her his prick. She looked horrified: she had probably never seen a stiff one. She was a real virgin. All the better.

“Bring the boy here,” William said to Walter. “I want him to see it all.” For some reason, the thought of doing it in front of Richard's eyes was intensely piquant.

Walter pushed Richard forward and forced him to his knees.

William knelt on the floor and prized Aliena's legs apart. She began to struggle. He fell on top of her, trying to crush her into submission, but still she resisted, and he could not get inside her. He was irritated: this was spoiling everything. He raised himself on one elbow and hit her across the face with his fist. She cried out and her cheek turned an angry red, but as soon as he tried to enter her, she began to resist him again.

Walter could have held her still, but he had the boy.

Suddenly William was inspired. “Cut the boy's ear off, Walter,” he said.

Aliena went still. “No!” she said hoarsely. “Leave him alone—don't hurt him anymore.”

“Open your legs, then,” William said.

She stared at him, wide-eyed with horror at the dreadful choice forced upon her. William enjoyed her anguish. Walter, playing the game perfectly, drew his knife and put it to Richard's right ear. He hesitated, then with a movement that was almost tender, he sliced off the boy's earlobe.

Richard screamed. Blood spurted from the small wound. The piece of flesh fell on Aliena's heaving chest.

“Stop!” she screamed. “All right. I'll do it.” She opened her legs.

William spat on his hand, then rubbed the moisture between her legs. He pushed his fingers inside her. She cried out with pain. That excited him more. He lowered himself on top of her. She lay still, tense. Her eyes were closed. Her body was slick with sweat from the struggle, but she shivered. William adjusted his position, then hesitated, enjoying the anticipation and her dread. He looked at the others. Richard was looking on with horror. Walter was watching greedily.

William said: “Your turn next, Walter.”

Aliena groaned in despair.

Suddenly he shoved inside her roughly, pushing as hard and far as he could. He felt the resistance of her maidenhead—a real virgin!—and he shoved again, brutally. It hurt him but it hurt her more. She screamed. He shoved once more, harder still, and he felt it break. Aliena's face turned white, her head slumped to one side, and she fell into a faint; then at last William spurted his seed inside her, laughing and laughing with triumph and pleasure until he was drained dry.

 

The storm raged for most of the night, then toward dawn it stopped. The sudden quiet woke Tom Builder. As he lay in the dark, listening to the heavy breathing of Alfred beside him and the quieter sound of Martha on his other side, he calculated that it might be a clear morning, which would mean he could see the sun rise for the first time in two or three cloudy weeks. He had been waiting for this.

He got up and opened the door. It was still dark: there was plenty of time. He prodded his son with a foot. “Alfred! Wake up! There's going to be a sunrise.”

Alfred groaned and sat upright. Martha turned over without waking. Tom went to the table and took the lid off a pottery crock. He removed a half-eaten loaf and cut off two thick slices, one for himself and one for Alfred. They sat down on the bench and ate breakfast.

There was ale in the jug. Tom took a long swallow and passed it to Alfred. Agnes would have made them use cups, and so would Ellen, but there was no woman in the house now. When Alfred had drunk his fill from the jug they left the house.

The sky was turning from black to gray as they crossed the priory close. Tom had intended to go to the prior's house and wake Philip. However, Philip's thoughts had followed the same lines as Tom's, and he was already there in the ruins of the cathedral, wearing a heavy cloak, kneeling on the wet ground, saying prayers.

Their task was to establish an accurate east-west line, which would form the axis around which the new cathedral would be built.

Tom had prepared everything some time ago. In the ground at the east end he had planted an iron spike with a small loop in its top like the eye of a needle. The spike was almost as tall as Tom, so that its “eye” was at the level of Tom's eyes. He had fixed it in place with a mixture of rubble and mortar, so that it could not be shifted accidentally. This morning he would plant another such spike, dead west of the first one, at the opposite end of the site.

“Mix up some mortar, Alfred,” he said.

Alfred went to fetch sand and lime. Tom went to his tool shed near the cloisters and got a small mallet and the second spike. Then he went to the west end of the site and stood waiting for the sun to rise. Philip finished his prayers and joined him, while Alfred mixed sand and lime with water on a mortarboard.

The sky grew brighter. The three men became tense. They were all watching the east wall of the priory close. At last the red disk of the sun showed over the top of the wall.

Tom shifted his position until he could see the edge of the sun through the small loop in the spike at the far end. Then, as Philip began to pray aloud in Latin, Tom held the second spike in front of him so that it blocked his view of the sun. Steadily, he lowered it to the ground and pressed its pointed end into the damp earth, always keeping it precisely between his eye and the sun. He drew the mallet from his belt and carefully tapped the spike into the ground until its “eye” was level with his eyes. Now, if he had done the job properly, and if his hands had not trembled, the sun should shine through the eyes of both spikes.

He closed one eye and looked through the near spike at the far one. The sun still shone into his eye through the two loops. The two spikes lay on a perfect east-west line. That line would provide the orientation of the new cathedral.

He had explained this to Philip, and he now stood aside and let the prior look through the loops himself, to check.

“Perfect,” Philip said.

Tom nodded. “It is.”

“Do you know what day it is?” Philip said.

“Friday.”

“It's also the day of the martyrdom of Saint Adolphus. God sent us a sunrise so that we could orient the church on our patron's day. Isn't that a good sign?”

Tom smiled. In his experience good workmanship was more important than good omens in the building industry. But he was happy for Philip. “Yes, indeed,” he said. “It's a very good sign.”

A
LIENA WAS DETERMINED
not to think about it.

She sat all night on the cold stone floor of the chapel, with her back to the wall, staring into the darkness. At first she could think of nothing but the hellish scene she had been through, but gradually the pain eased a little, and she was able to concentrate her mind on the sounds of the storm, the rain falling on the roof of the chapel and the wind howling around the ramparts of the deserted castle.

She had been naked at first. After the two men had…When they had finished, they had gone back to the table, leaving her lying on the floor, and Richard bleeding beside her. The men had begun eating and drinking as if they had forgotten about her, and then she and Richard had taken their chance and fled from the room. The storm had started by then, and they had run across the bridge in torrential rain and taken refuge in the chapel. But Richard had gone back to the keep almost immediately. He must have gone into the room where the men were, and snatched his cloak and Aliena's from the hook by the door, and run away again before William and his groom had time to react.

But still he would not speak to her. He gave her her cloak, and wrapped his own around him; then he sat on the floor a yard away from her, with his back to the same wall. She longed for someone who loved her to put his arms around her and comfort her, but Richard acted as if she had done something terribly shameful; and the worst of it was that she felt the same way. She felt as guilty as if
she
had committed a sin. She quite understood his not comforting her, his not wanting to touch her.

She was glad it was cold. It helped her to feel withdrawn from the world, isolated; and it seemed to dull the pain. She did not sleep, but at some point in the night they both went into a kind of trance, and sat as still as death for a long time.

The sudden ending of the storm broke the spell. Aliena realized she could see the chapel windows, small gray patches in what had previously been unrelieved blankness. Richard stood up and went to the door. She watched him, feeling annoyed by the disturbance: she wanted to sit there against the wall until she froze to death or starved, for she could think of nothing more appealing than to slip peacefully into permanent unconsciousness. Then he opened the door, and the faint light of dawn illuminated his face.

Aliena was shocked out of her trance. Richard was barely recognizable. His face was swollen out of shape and covered with dried blood and bruises. It made Aliena want to cry. Richard had always been full of empty bravado. As a small boy he had dashed around the castle on an imaginary horse, pretending to stab people with an imaginary lance. Father's knights would always encourage him by pretending to be frightened of his wooden sword. In reality Richard could be scared off by a hissing cat. But he had done his best, last night, and he had been badly beaten for it. Now she would have to take care of him.

Slowly she got to her feet. Her body ached, but the pain was not as bad as it had been last night. She considered what might be happening in the keep. William and his groom would have finished the jug of wine at some point during the night and then they would have fallen asleep. They would probably wake at sunrise.

By then she and Richard must be gone.

She went to the other end of the chapel, to the altar. It was a simple wooden box, painted white, bare of ornament. She leaned against it and then, with a sudden shove, pushed it over.

“What are you doing?” said Richard in a frightened voice.

“This was Father's secret hiding place,” she said. “He told me about it before he went away.” On the floor where the altar had been was a cloth bundle. Aliena unwrapped it to reveal a full-size sword, complete with scabbard and belt, and a vicious-looking dagger a foot long.

Richard came over to look. He had little skill with a sword. He had been taking lessons for a year but he was still clumsy. However, Aliena certainly could not wield it, so she handed it to him. He buckled the belt around his waist.

Aliena looked at the dagger. She had never carried a weapon. All her life she had had someone to protect her. Realizing that she needed the deadly knife for her own protection, she felt utterly abandoned. She was not sure she could ever use it. I've stuck a wooden lance into a wild pig, she thought; why couldn't I stick this into a man—someone like William Hamleigh? She recoiled from the thought.

The dagger had a leather sheath with a loop for attaching it to a belt. The loop was big enough to go around Aliena's slim wrist like a bracelet. She eased it over her left hand and pushed the knife up her sleeve. It was long—it reached past her elbow. Even if she could not stab someone, perhaps she could use it to frighten people.

Richard said: “Let's get away, quickly.”

Aliena nodded, but as she was making for the door, she stopped. The day was rapidly becoming lighter, and she could see on the chapel floor two shadowy objects she had not noticed before. Looking closely, she saw that they were saddles, one of average size and one truly enormous. She visualized William and his groom, arriving here last night, flushed with their triumph at Winchester and wearied by their journey, carelessly lifting the saddles from their horses and dumping them in here before hurrying to the keep. They would not imagine that anyone would dare steal from them. But desperate people find courage.

Aliena went to the door and looked out. The light was clear but weak, and there were no colors. The wind had dropped and the sky was cloudless. Several wooden shingles had fallen from the roof of the chapel in the night. The compound was empty except for the two horses grazing the wet grass. They both looked up at Aliena, then put their heads down again. One of them was a huge war-horse: that explained the oversized saddle. The other was a dappled stallion, not good-looking but compact and solid. Aliena stared at them, then at the saddles, then back at the horses.

“What are we waiting for?” Richard said anxiously.

Aliena made up her mind. “Let's take their horses,” she said decisively.

Richard looked scared. “They'll kill us.”

“They won't be able to catch us. If we
don't
take their horses they might come after us and kill us.”

“What if they catch us before we get away?”

“We'll just have to be quick.” She was not as confident as she pretended, but she had to encourage Richard. “Let's saddle the courser first—he looks more friendly. Bring the regular saddle.”

She hurried across the compound. Both horses were tied by long ropes to the stumps of burned buildings. Aliena picked up the courser's rope and pulled gently. This would be the groom's horse, of course. Aliena would have preferred something smaller and more timid, but she thought she could handle this one. Richard would have to take the war-horse.

The courser looked suspiciously at Aliena and laid back its ears. She was desperately impatient, but she forced herself to talk softly and pull gently on the rope, and the horse calmed down. She held its head and stroked its nose; then Richard slipped the bridle on and pushed the bit into its mouth. Aliena was relieved. Richard lifted the smaller of the two saddles onto its back and secured it with rapid, sure movements. Both of them had been used to horses from an early age.

There were bags attached to both sides of the groom's saddle. Aliena hoped they might contain something useful—a flint, some food, or a little horse grain—but there was no time to investigate now. She glanced nervously across the compound toward the bridge that led to the keep. There was nobody there.

The war-horse had watched the courser being saddled, and knew what was coming, but it was not keen to cooperate with total strangers. It snorted and resisted the pull of the rope. “Hush!” Aliena said. She held the rope tightly, pulling steadily, and the horse came to her reluctantly. But it was very strong, and if it made a determined effort to resist, there would be trouble. Aliena wondered whether the courser could carry her and Richard. But then William would be able to come after them on the war-horse.

When she had the horse close, she looped the rope around the stump so that it could not move away. But when Richard tried to put the bridle on, the horse tossed its head and evaded it.

“Try putting the saddle on first,” Aliena said. She talked to the beast and patted its mighty neck while Richard hefted the massive saddle and tied it on. The horse began to look somewhat defeated. “Now, you be good,” Aliena said in a firm voice, but the horse was not fooled: it sensed the panic just beneath the surface. Richard approached with the bridle and the horse snorted and tried to move away. “I've got something for you,” Aliena said, and reached into the empty pocket of her cloak. The horse was deceived. She brought out a handful of nothing, but the horse dipped his head and nuzzled her hand, looking for food. She felt the rough skin of its tongue on her palm. While its head was down and its mouth was open, Richard slipped the bridle on.

Aliena shot another fearful glance toward the keep. All was quiet.

“Get on,” she said to Richard.

He put one foot in a high stirrup—not without difficulty—and swung himself up onto the huge horse. Aliena untied the rope from the stump.

The horse neighed loudly.

Aliena's heart raced. That sound might have carried to the keep. A man such as William would know the voice of his own horse, especially a horse as expensive as this one. He might have woken up.

She hurried to untie the other horse. Her cold fingers fumbled with the knot. The thought of William waking up had made her lose her nerve. He would open his eyes, sit up, look around him, remember where he was, and wonder why his horse had called. He was sure to come. She felt she could not face him again. The shameful, brutal, agonizing thing he had done to her came back in all its horror.

Richard said urgently: “Come on, Allie!” His horse was jittery and impatient now. He was working hard to make it stay still. He needed to gallop it for a mile or two, to tire it; then it would be more tractable. It neighed again, and started moving sideways.

At last Aliena got the knot undone. She was tempted to drop the rope, but then she would have had no way to tie the horse up again, so she coiled it hastily and messily and tied it to a saddle strap. She needed to adjust the stirrups: they were the right length for William's groom, who was several inches taller than she was, so they would be too low for her to reach when she was in the saddle. But she could picture William coming down the stairs, crossing the hall, coming out into the air—

“I can't hold this horse much longer,” Richard said in a strained voice.

Aliena was as jittery as the war-horse. She swung herself up on the stallion. Sitting on the saddle hurt her, inside, and it was all she could do to stay on. Richard moved his horse toward the gate, and Aliena's horse followed without any prompting from her. The stirrups were out of reach, as she had expected, and she had to grip with her knees. As they moved off she heard a shout from somewhere behind her, and she groaned aloud: “Oh, no.” She saw Richard kick his horse. The huge beast lumbered into a trot. Her own followed suit. She was grateful that it always did what the war-horse did, for she was in no state to control it herself. Richard kicked the war-horse again and it picked up speed as they passed under the arch of the gatehouse. Aliena heard another shout, much closer. She looked over her shoulder to see William and his groom pounding across the compound after her.

Richard's horse was nervous, and as soon as it saw open fields in front of it, it put its head down and broke into a gallop. They thundered across the wooden drawbridge. Aliena felt something tug at her thigh, and saw, out of the corner of her eye, a man's hand reaching for her saddle straps; but an instant later it was gone, and she knew they had escaped. Relief flooded her; but then she felt the pain again. As the horse galloped across the field she felt stabbed inside, as she had when the foul William had penetrated her; and there was a warm trickle on her thigh. She gave the horse its head and shut her eyes tight against the pain. But the horror of the night before came back to her, and she saw it all behind her closed eyelids. As they raced across the field she chanted in time with the horse's hoofbeats: “I can't
remember
I can't
remember
I
can't
I
can't
I
can't
.”

Her horse angled to the right and she sensed that it was going up a slight slope. She opened her eyes and saw that Richard had turned off the mud path and was taking a long route to the woods. She thought he probably wanted to make sure the war-horse was good and tired before letting it slow down. Both beasts would be easier to manage after being ridden hard. Soon she felt her own mount starting to flag. She sat back in the saddle. The horse slowed to a canter, then a trot, then a walk. Richard's horse still had energy to burn, and it pulled away.

Aliena looked back across the fields. The castle was a mile away, and she was not sure whether or not she could see two figures standing on the drawbridge looking toward her. They would have to walk a long way to find replacement horses, she thought. She felt safe for a while.

Her hands and feet tingled as they warmed up. Heat rose from the horse as from a fire, and wrapped her in a hot-air cocoon. Richard let his horse slow down at last, and turned back toward her, his horse walking and blowing hard. They turned into the trees. They both knew these woods well, for they had lived here most of their lives.