Epic Historial Collection (126 page)

“Have they gone for good?” Jack said.

“Oh, yes,” Richard replied. “They won't come back, now that they've discovered we're determined to defend the walls. William knows that you can't take a walled town if the people are resolved to resist you; not without a vast army and a six-month siege.”

“So it's over,” Jack said stupidly.

Aliena came pushing through the crowd with Tommy in her arms. Jack embraced her gratefully. They were alive and they were together, and he was thankful.

He suddenly felt the effect of his two days without sleep, and he wanted to lie down. But it was not to be. Two young masons grabbed him and lifted him on to their shoulders. A cheer went up. They moved off, taking the crowd with them. Jack wanted to tell them that it was not
he
who had saved them, they had done it themselves; but he knew they would not listen, for they wanted a hero. As the news spread, and the whole town realized they had won, the cheering became thunderous. They've been living in fear of William for years, Jack thought, but today they've won their freedom. He was carried around the town in a triumphal procession, waving and smiling, and longing for the moment when he could lay his head down and close his eyes in blissful sleep.

III

The Shiring Fleece Fair was bigger and better than ever. The square in front of the parish church, where they held markets and executions as well as the annual fair, was crammed with stalls and people. Wool was the main commodity, but there were also displays of everything else that could be bought and sold in England: gleaming new swords, decoratively carved saddles, fat piglets, red boots, ginger cakes and straw hats. As William strolled around the square with Bishop Waleran, he calculated that the market was going to make more money for him than ever before. Yet it gave him no pleasure.

He was still sick with humiliation after his defeat at Kingsbridge. He had expected to charge in unopposed and burn the town, but in the event he had lost men and horses and had been turned back without achieving anything. Worst of all, he knew that the building of the wall had been organized by Jack Jackson, the lover of Aliena, the very man he had wanted to kill.

He had failed to kill Jack, but was still determined to take his revenge.

Waleran was also thinking about Kingsbridge, and he said: “I still don't know how they built the wall so quickly.”

“It probably wasn't much of a wall,” William said.

Waleran nodded. “But I'm sure Prior Philip is already busy improving it. If I were he, I'd make the wall stronger and higher, build a barbican, and appoint a night watchman. Your days of raiding Kingsbridge are over.”

William agreed, but he pretended not to. “I can still besiege the town.”

“That's a different affair. A quick raid may be overlooked by the king. A prolonged siege, during which the townspeople can send a message to the king begging him to protect them…It can be awkward.”

“Stephen won't move against me,” William said. “He needs me.” He was not arguing out of conviction, however. In the end he planned to concede the bishop's point. But he wanted to make Waleran work hard for it, so that he would feel under a small obligation to William. Then William would make the request that was so heavily on his mind.

A thin, ugly woman stepped out, pushing in front of her a pretty girl of about thirteen years, presumably her daughter. The mother pulled aside the top of the girl's flimsy dress to show her small, immature breasts. “Sixty pence,” the mother hissed. William felt a stirring in his loins, but he shook his head in refusal and brushed past.

The child-whore made him think of Aliena. She had been little more than a child when he had ravished her. That was almost a decade ago, but he could not forget her. Perhaps he would never have her for himself now; but he could still stop anyone else from having her.

Waleran was thoughtful. He hardly seemed to look where he was going, but people shrank back out of his way, as if they were afraid even to be touched by the skirts of his black robe. After a moment he said: “Did you hear that the king took Faringdon?”

“I was there.” It had been the most decisive victory of the entire long civil war. Stephen had captured hundreds of knights and a great armory, and driven Robert of Gloucester all the way back to the west country. So crucial was the victory that Ranulf of Chester, Stephen's old enemy in the north, had laid down his arms and sworn allegiance to the king.

Waleran said: “Now that Stephen is more secure, he won't be so tolerant of his barons waging their own private wars.”

“Perhaps,” William said. He wondered if this was the moment to agree with Waleran and make his request. He hesitated: he was embarrassed. In making the request he was going to reveal something of his soul, and he hated to do that to a man as ruthless as Bishop Waleran.

“You should leave Kingsbridge alone, at least for a while,” Waleran went on. “You've got the fleece fair. You still have a weekly market, albeit smaller than it once was. You have the wool business. And you've got all the most fertile land in the county, either directly under your control or farmed by your tenants. My situation is also better than it used to be. I've improved my property and rationalized my holdings. I've built my castle. It's becoming less necessary to fight with Prior Philip—at the very moment when it's becoming politically dangerous.”

All over the market square people were making and selling food, and the air was full of smells: spicy soup, new bread, sugar confections, boiled ham, frying bacon, apple pie. William felt nauseated. “Let's go to the castle,” he said.

The two men left the market square and walked up the hill. The sheriff was going to give them dinner. At the castle gate William stopped.

“Perhaps you're right about Kingsbridge,” he said.

“I'm glad you see it.”

“But I still want my revenge on Jack Jackson, and you can give it to me, if you will.”

Waleran raised an eloquent eyebrow. His expression said he was fascinated to listen but did not consider himself under any obligation.

William plowed on: “Aliena has applied to have her marriage annulled.”

“Yes, I know.”

“What do you think will be the outcome?”

“Apparently the marriage was never consummated.”

“Is that all there is to it?”

“Probably. According to Gratian—a learned man whom I have met myself, actually—what constitutes a marriage is the mutual consent of the two parties; but he also maintains that the act of physical union ‘completes' or ‘perfects' the marriage. He specifically says that if a man marries a woman but does not copulate with her, then marries a second woman with whom he does copulate, then it is the second of the two marriages that is valid, that is to say, the consummated one. The fascinating Aliena will no doubt have mentioned this in her application, if she had sound advice, which I imagine she got from Prior Philip.”

William was impatient of all this theory. “So they will get the annulment.”

“Unless someone brings up the argument against Gratian. In fact there are two: one theological and one practical. The theological argument is that Gratian's definition denigrates the marriage of Joseph and Mary, since it was unconsummated. The practical argument is that for political reasons, or to amalgamate two properties, marriages are quite commonly arranged between two children who are physically incapable of consummation. If either bride or groom should die before puberty, the marriage would be invalidated, under Gratian's definition, and that could have very awkward consequences.”

William could never follow these convoluted clerical wrangles, but he had a pretty good idea of how they were settled. “What you mean is, it could go either way.”

“Yes.”

“And which way it goes depends upon who is putting pressure on.”

“Yes. In this case, there's nothing hanging on the outcome—no property, no question of allegiance, no military alliance. But if there were more at stake, and someone—an archdeacon, for example—were to put the argument against Gratian forcefully, they would probably refuse the annulment.” Waleran gave William a knowing look that made William want to squirm. “I think I can guess what you're going to ask me next.”

“I want you to oppose the annulment.”

Waleran narrowed his eyes. “I can't make out whether you love that wretched woman or hate her.”

“No,” William said. “Nor can I.”

 

Aliena sat on the grass, in the green gloom beneath the mighty beech tree. The waterfall cast droplets like tears onto the rocks at her feet. This was the glade where Jack had told her all those stories. This was where he had given her that first kiss, so casually and quickly that she had pretended that it had never happened. This was where she had fallen in love with him, and refused to admit it, even to herself. Now she wished with all her heart that she had given herself to him then, and married him and had his babies, so that now, whatever else intervened, she would be his wife.

She lay down to rest her aching back. It was the height of summer, and the air was hot and still. This pregnancy was so heavy, and she still had at least six weeks to go. She thought she might be carrying twins, except that she felt kicking in only one place, and when Martha, Jack's stepsister, had listened with her ear right up against Aliena's belly she had heard only one heartbeat.

Martha was looking after Tommy this Sunday afternoon, so that Aliena and Jack could meet in the woods and be alone for a while to talk about their future. The archbishop had refused the annulment, apparently because Bishop Waleran had objected. Philip said they could apply again, but they must live apart meanwhile. Philip agreed that it was unjust, but he said it must be God's will. It seemed more like ill will to Aliena.

The bitterness of regret was a weight she carried around with her, like the pregnancy. Sometimes she was more aware of it, sometimes she almost forgot about it, but it was always there. Often it hurt, but it was a familiar pain. She regretted hurting Jack, she regretted what she had done to herself, she even regretted the sufferings of the contemptible Alfred, who now lived in Shiring and never showed his face in Kingsbridge. She had married Alfred for one reason only, to support Richard in his attempt to win the earldom. She had failed to achieve her purpose and her true love for Jack had been blighted. She was twenty-six years old, her life was ruined, and it was her own fault.

She thought nostalgically of those early days with Jack. When she first met him he had been just a little boy, albeit an unusual one. After he grew up she had continued to think of him as a boy. That was why he had got under her guard. She had turned away every suitor, but she had not thought of Jack as a suitor, and so she had let him get to know her. She wondered why she had been so resistant to love. She adored Jack and there was no pleasure in life like the joy of lying with him; yet once upon a time she had deliberately closed her eyes to such happiness.

When she looked back, her life before Jack seemed empty. She had been frantically busy, building up her wool business, but now those busy days appeared joyless, like an empty palace, or a table laden with silver plates and gold cups but no food.

She heard footsteps and sat up quickly. It was Jack. He was thin and graceful, like a scrawny cat. He sat beside her and kissed her mouth softly. He smelled of perspiration and stone dust. “It's so hot,” he said. “Let's bathe in the stream.”

The temptation was irresistible.

Jack pulled off his clothes. She watched, staring at him hungrily. She had not seen his naked body for months. He had a lot of red hair on his legs but none on his chest. He looked at her, waiting for her to strip. She felt shy: he had never seen her body when she was pregnant. She unlaced the neck of her linen dress slowly, then pulled it off over her head. She watched his expression anxiously, afraid he would hate her swollen body, but he showed no revulsion: on the contrary, the look that came over his face was one of fondness. I should have known better, she thought; I should have known he would love me just as much.

With a swift movement he knelt on the ground in front of her and kissed the taut skin of her distended belly. She gave an embarrassed laugh. He touched her navel. “Your belly button sticks out,” he said.

“I knew you were going to say that!”

“It used to be like a dimple—now it's like a nipple.”

She felt shy. “Let's bathe,” she said. She would feel less self-conscious in the water.

The pool by the waterfall was about three feet deep. Aliena slid into the water. It was deliciously cool on her hot skin, and she shivered with delight. Jack got in beside her. There was no room to swim—the pool was only a few feet across. He put his head under the waterfall and washed the stone dust out of his hair. Aliena felt good in the water: it relieved the weight of her pregnancy. She ducked her head under the surface to wash her hair.

When she came up for air, Jack kissed her.

She spluttered and laughed, breathless, rubbing the water out of her eyes. He kissed her again. She put out her arms to hold herself steady, and her hand closed on the hard rod standing upright between Jack's loins like a flagpole. She gasped with pleasure.