Epic Historial Collection (105 page)

She was too exhausted to speak or move, but she could feel Jack's weight slumped on top of her, his bony hips on hers, his flat chest squashing her soft breasts, his mouth close to her ear, his fingers entwined in her hair. A part of her mind thought vaguely: That's what it's supposed to be like, between men and women; that's why everyone makes so much fuss about it; that's why husbands and wives love one another so much.

Jack's breathing became light and regular, and his body relaxed until it was completely limp. He was asleep.

She turned her head and kissed his face. He was not too heavy. She wanted him to stay there, asleep on top of her, forever.

That thought made her remember.

Today was her wedding day.

Dear God, she thought, what have I done?

She began to cry.

After a moment, Jack woke up.

He kissed the tears on her cheeks with unbearable tenderness.

She said: “Oh, Jack, I want to marry you.”

“Then that's what we'll do,” he said in a voice of profound satisfaction.

He had misunderstood her, and that made it even worse. “But we can't,” she said, and her tears flowed faster.

“But after this—”

“I know—”

“After this, you must marry me!”

“We can't marry,” she said. “I've lost all my money, and you've got nothing.”

He raised himself on his elbows. “I've got my hands,” he said fiercely. “I'm the best stone carver for miles around.”

“You were dismissed—”

“It makes no difference. I could get work on any building site in the world.”

She shook her head miserably. “It's not enough. I have to think about Richard.”

“Why?” he said indignantly. “What has all this got to do with Richard? He can take care of himself.”

Suddenly Jack looked boyish, and Aliena felt the difference in their ages: he was five years younger than she, and he still thought he had a right to be happy. She said: “I swore an oath to my father, when he was dying, that I would look after Richard until he becomes earl of Shiring.”

“But that could be never!”

“But an oath is an oath.”

Jack looked nonplussed. He rolled off her. His soft penis slipped out of her and she experienced a sense of loss like a pain. I will never feel him inside me again, she thought sorrowfully.

He said: “You can't mean this. An oath is just words! It's nothing by comparison with
this
. This is real, this is you and me.” He looked at her breasts, then he reached out and stroked the curly hair between her legs. It was so poignant that she felt his touch like a whiplash. He saw her wince, and stopped.

For a moment she was on the edge of saying
Yes, all right, let's run away together now
, and perhaps if he had carried on stroking her like that she would have; but reason returned, and she said: “I'm going to marry Alfred.”

“Don't be ridiculous.”

“It's the only way.”

He stared at her. “I just don't believe you,” he said.

“It's true.”

“I can't give you up. I can't, I can't.” His voice cracked, and he stifled a sob.

She tried reason, arguing with herself as much as with him. “What's the point of breaking my vow to my father, in order to make a marriage vow to you? If I break the first vow, the second is worthless.”

“I don't care. I don't want your vows. I just want us to be together all the time and make love whenever we feel like it.”

It was an eighteen-year-old view of marriage, she thought, but she did not say so. She would have accepted it gladly if she had been free. “I can't do what I want,” she said sadly. “It's not my destiny.”

“What you're doing is wrong,” he said. “I mean
evil
. To give up happiness like this is like throwing jewels into the ocean. It's far worse than any sin.”

She was unexpectedly struck by the thought that her mother would have agreed with that. She was not sure how she knew. She dismissed the idea. “I could never be happy, even with you, if I had to live with the knowledge that I had broken my promise to my father.”

“You care more for your father and your brother than you do for me,” he said, sounding faintly petulant for the first time.

“No…”

“What, then?”

He was just being argumentative, but she considered the question seriously. “I suppose it means that my oath to my father is more important to me than my love for you.”

“Is it?” he said incredulously. “Is it really?”

“Yes, it is,” she said with a heavy heart, and her words sounded to her like a funeral bell.

“Then there's nothing more to be said.”

“Only…that I'm sorry.”

He got to his feet. He turned his back to her and picked up his undershirt. She looked at his long, slender body. There was a lot of curly red-gold hair on his legs. He put on his shirt and tunic quickly, then pulled up his socks and stepped into his boots. It all happened much too quickly.

“You're going to be fearfully unhappy,” he said.

He was trying to be nasty to her, but the attempt was a failure, for she could hear compassion in his voice.

“Yes, I am,” she said. “Would you at least…at least say you respect me for my decision?”

“No,” he said without hesitation. “I don't. I despise you for it.”

She sat there naked, looking at him, and she began to weep.

“I might as well go,” he said, and his voice cracked on the last word.

“Yes, go,” she sobbed.

He went to the door.

“Jack!”

He turned at the door.

She said: “Wish me luck, Jack?”

He lifted the bar. “Good—” He stopped, unable to speak. He looked down at the floor, then up at her again. This time his voice came out in a whisper. “Good luck,” he said.

Then he went out.

 

The house that had been Tom's house was now Ellen's, but it was also Alfred's home, so this morning it was full of people preparing a wedding feast, organized by Martha, Alfred's thirteen-year-old sister, with Jack's mother looking on disconsolately. Alfred was there with a towel in his hand, about to go down to the river—women bathed once a month, and men at Easter and Michaelmas, but it was traditional to bathe on your wedding morning. The place went quiet when Jack walked in.

Alfred said: “What do you want?”

“I want you to call off the wedding,” Jack replied.

“Piss off,” Alfred said.

Jack realized he had started badly. He should try not to make a confrontation out of this. What he was proposing was in Alfred's interest, too, if only he could be made to see it. “Alfred, she doesn't love you,” he said as gently as he could.

“You don't know anything about it, laddie.”

“I do,” Jack persisted. “She doesn't love you. She's marrying you for Richard's sake. He's the only one who will be made happy by this marriage.”

“Go back to the monastery,” Alfred said contemptuously. “Where's your habit, anyway?”

Jack took a deep breath. There was nothing else for it but to tell him the real truth. “Alfred. She loves
me
.”

He expected Alfred to be enraged, but instead the shadow of a sly grin appeared on Alfred's face. Jack was nonplussed. What did it mean? Gradually the explanation dawned on him. “You know that already,” he said unbelievingly. “You know she loves me, and you don't care! You want her anyway, whether she loves you or not. You just want to have her.”

Alfred's furtive smile became more visible and more malicious, and Jack knew that everything he was saying was true; but there was something else, something more to be read in Alfred's face. An incredible suspicion arose in Jack's mind. “Why do you want her?” he said. “Is it…Could it be that you only want to marry her to take her away from me?” His voice rose in anger. “That you're marrying her out of
spite
?” A look of cunning triumph spread across Alfred's stupid face, and Jack knew that he was right again. He was devastated. The idea that Alfred was doing all this not out of an understandable lust for Aliena but out of pure malice was too much to bear. “Damn you, you'd better treat her right!” he yelled.

Alfred laughed.

The ultimate malignity of Alfred's purpose struck Jack like a blow. Alfred was not going to treat her well. That would be his final revenge on Jack. Alfred was going to marry Aliena and make her miserable. “You filth,” Jack said bitterly. “You slime. You shit. You ugly, stupid, evil,
loathsome
slug.”

His contempt finally got to Alfred, who dropped his towel and came at Jack with his hand balled into a fist. Jack was ready for him, and stepped forward to hit him first. Then Jack's mother was between them, and despite being smaller than either of them she stopped them with a word.

“Alfred. Go and bathe.”

Alfred calmed down quickly. He realized he had won the day without needing to fight Jack, and his thoughts revealed themselves in a smug look. He left the house.

Mother said: “What are you going to do, Jack?”

Jack found that he was shaking with rage. He breathed in and out several times before he could speak. He could not stop the wedding, he realized. But he could not watch it either. “I have to leave Kingsbridge.”

He saw sorrow cross her face, but she nodded. “I was afraid you'd say that. But I think you're right.”

A bell began to ring in the priory. Jack said: “Any moment now they'll discover that I've escaped.”

She lowered her voice. “Go quickly, but hide down by the river, within sight of the bridge. I'll bring you some things.”

“All right.” He turned away.

Martha stood between him and the door with tears pouring down her face. He hugged her. She squeezed him hard. Her girlish body was flat and bony, like a boy's. “Come back one day,” she said fiercely.

He kissed her once, quickly, and went out.

There were plenty of people about now, fetching water and enjoying the mild autumn morning. Most people knew he had become a novice monk—the town was still small enough for everyone to know everyone else's business—and his layman's clothing drew surprised looks, although nobody actually questioned him. He went quickly down the hill, crossed the bridge, and walked along the bank of the river until he came to a clump of reeds. He crouched down beside the reeds and watched the bridge, waiting for his mother.

He had no idea where he was going to go. Perhaps he would walk in a straight line until he came to a town where they were building a cathedral, and stop there. He had meant what he said to Aliena about finding work: he knew he was good enough to be employed anywhere. Even if the site had a full complement, he would only have to show the master builder how he could carve, and he would get taken on. But there seemed no point to it anymore. He would never love another woman after Aliena, and he felt much the same about Kingsbridge Cathedral. He wanted to build
here
, not just anywhere.

Perhaps he would just walk into the forest and lie down and die. That seemed to him a nice idea. It was mild weather, the trees were green-and-gold; he could make a peaceful end. His only regret would be that he had not found out more about his father before he died.

He was picturing himself lying on a bed of autumn leaves and passing gently into death, when he saw Mother cross the bridge. She was leading a horse.

He got to his feet and ran to her. The horse was the chestnut mare she always rode. “I want you to take my mare,” she said.

He took her hand and squeezed it by way of thanks.

Tears came to her eyes. “I never did look after you very well,” she said. “First I brought you up wild, in the forest. Then I let you nearly starve with Tom. Then I made you live with Alfred.”

“You looked after me fine, Mother,” he said. “I made love to Aliena this morning. Now I can die happy.”

“You foolish boy,” she said. “You're just like me. If you can't have the lover you want, you won't have anyone else.”

“Is that how you are?” he said.

She nodded. “After your father died, I lived alone rather than take second best. I never wanted another man until I saw Tom. That was eleven years later.” She detached her hand from his. “I'm telling you this for a reason. It may take eleven years, but you
will
love someone else one day; I promise you.”

He shook his head. “It doesn't seem possible.”

“I know.” She looked nervously back over her shoulder at the town. “You'd better go.”