The Pillars of the Earth (131 page)

Next morning he started the meeting before Prior Philip came to the lodge. He wanted to lay the groundwork. Once again he had prepared what he had to say very carefully, to be sure he did not damage his case by tactlessness. Once again he tried to handle things as Philip might have.

All he craftsmen were there early. Their livelihoods were at stake. One or two of the younger ones looked red-eyed: Jack guessed the alehouse had stayed open late last night, and some of them had forgotten their poverty for a while. The youngsters and the summer workers were most likely to prove difficult. The older craftsmen took a more long-term view. The small minority of women craftsmen were always cautious and conservative, and would back any kind of settlement.

“Prior Philip is going to ask us to go back to work, and offer us some kind of compromise,” Jack began. “Before he comes, we ought to discuss what we might be prepared to accept, what we will definitely reject, and where we might be willing to negotiate. We must show Philip a united front. I hope you all agree.”

There were a few nods.

He made himself sound slightly angry, and said: “In my view we should absolutely refuse to accept instant dismissal.” He banged his fist on the workbench to emphasize his inflexibility on this point. Several people voiced their agreement loudly. Jack knew this was one demand Philip was certainly not going to make. He wanted the hotheads to get themselves worked up to defend ancient custom and practice on this point, so that when Philip conceded it, the wind would be taken out of their sails.

“Also, we must guard the lodge’s right to make promotions, for only craftsmen can judge whether a man is skilled or not.” Once again he was being disingenuous. He was focusing their attention on the nonfinancial aspect of promotions, in the hope that when they won that point they would be ready to compromise on payments.

“As for working on saint’s days, I’m in two minds. Holidays are normally a matter for negotiation—there’s no standard custom and practice, as far as I know.” He turned to Edward Twonose and said: “What’s your view on that, Edward?”

“Practice varies from site to site,” Edward said. He was pleased to be consulted. Jack nodded, encouraging him to go on. Edward began to recall variant methods of dealing with saint’s days. The meeting was going just the way Jack wanted. An extended discussion of a point that was not very controversial would bore the men and sap their energy for confrontation.

However, Edward’s monologue was interrupted by a voice from the back which said: “This is all irrelevant.”

Jack looked over and saw that the speaker was Dan Bristol, a summer worker. Jack said: “One at a time, please. Let Edward have his say.”

Dan was not so easily deflected. “Never mind about all that,” he said. “What we want is a raise.”

“A raise?” Jack was irritated by this ludicrous remark.

To his surprise, however, Dan was supported. Pierre said: “That’s right, a raise. Look—a four-pound loaf costs a penny. A hen, which used to be eightpence, is now twenty-four! None of us here has had strong beer for weeks, I bet. Everything is going up, but most of us are still getting the wage we were hired at, which is a twelvepence a week. We’ve got families to feed on that.”

Jack’s heart was sinking. He had had everything moving along nicely, but this interruption had ruined his strategy. He restrained himself from opposing Dan and Pierre, however, for he knew he would have more influence if he appeared open-minded. “I agree with you both,” he said, to their evident surprise. “The question is, what chance have we got of persuading Philip to give us a raise at a time when the priory is running out of money?”

Nobody responded to that. Instead, Dan said: “We need twenty-four pence a week to stay alive, and even then we’ll be worse off than we used to be.”

Jack felt dismayed and bewildered: why was the meeting slipping out of his hands? Pierre said: “Twenty-four pence a week,” and several others nodded their heads.

It occurred to Jack that he might not be the only person who had come to the meeting with a prepared strategy. Giving Dan a hard look, he said: “Have you discussed this previously?”

“Yes, last night, in the alehouse,” Dan said defiantly. “Is there anything wrong with that?”

“Certainly not. But for the benefit of those of us who were not privileged to attend that meeting, would you like to summarize its conclusions?”

“All right.” The men who had not been at the alehouse were looking resentful, but Dan was unrepentant. Just as he opened his mouth, Prior Philip walked in. Jack threw a quick, searching look at Philip. The prior looked happy. He caught Jack’s eye and gave an almost imperceptible nod. Jack felt jubilant: the monks had accepted the compromise. He opened his mouth to prevent Dan from speaking, but he was an instant too late. “We want twenty-four pence a week for craftsmen,” Dan said loudly. “Twelvepence for laborers and forty-eight pence for master craftsmen.”

Jack looked again at Philip. The pleased look had gone, and his face had once again set in the hard, angry lines of confrontation. “Just a moment,” Jack said. “This is not the view of the lodge. It’s a foolish demand cooked up by a drunken faction in the alehouse.”

“No, it’s not,” said a new voice. It was Alfred. “I think you’ll find most of the craftsmen support the demand for double pay.”

Jack stared at him in fury. “A few months ago you begged me to give you a job,” he said. “Now you’re demanding double pay. I should have let you starve!”

Prior Philip said: “And that’s what will happen to all of you if you don’t see sense!”

Jack had wanted desperately to avoid such challenging remarks, but now he saw no alternative: his own strategy had collapsed.

Dan said: “We won’t go back to work for less than twenty-four pence, and that’s that.”

Prior Philip said angrily: “It’s out of the question. It’s a foolish dream. I’m not even going to discuss it.”

“We aren’t going to discuss anything else,” said Dan. “We won’t work for less, under any circumstances.”

Jack said: “This is stupid! How can you sit there and say you won’t work for less? You won’t work at all, you fool. You’ve got nowhere else to go!”

“Haven’t we?” said Dan.

The lodge went quiet.

Oh, God, Jack thought in despair; this is it—they’ve got an alternative.

“We have got somewhere else to go,” Dan said. He stood up. “And as for me, I’m going there now.”

“What are you talking about?” Jack said.

Dan looked triumphant. “I’ve been offered work on a new site, in Shiring. Building the new church. At twenty-four pence a week for craftsmen.”

Jack looked around. “Has anyone else been offered the same?”

The whole lodge looked shamefaced.

Dan said: “We all have.”

Jack was devastated. This whole thing had been organized. He had been betrayed. He felt foolish as well as wronged. He had completely misread the situation. Hurt turned to anger, and he cast about for someone to blame. “Which of you?” he yelled. “Which of you is the traitor?” He looked around at all of them. Few were able to meet his eye. Their shame gave him no consolation. He felt like a spurned lover. “Who brought you this offer from Shiring?” he shouted. “Who is to be the master builder at Shiring?” His eye raked the assembled company and came to rest on Alfred. Of course. He felt sick with disgust. “Alfred?” he said scornfully. “You’re leaving me to work for
Alfred
?”

There was silence. Finally Dan said: “Yes, we are.”

Jack saw that he had been defeated. “So be it,” he said bitterly. “You know me, and you know my brother; and you’ve chosen Alfred. You know Prior Philip, and you know Earl William; and you’ve chosen William. All I have left to say to you is that you deserve everything you’re going to get.”

“TELL ME A STORY,” Aliena said. You never tell me stories anymore. Remember how you used to?”

“I remember,” Jack said.

They were in their secret glade in the forest. It was late autumn, so instead of sitting in the shade by the stream they had built a fire in the shelter of a rocky outcrop. It was a gray, cold, dark afternoon, but lovemaking had warmed them and the fire crackled cheerfully. They were both naked under their cloaks.

Jack opened Aliena’s cloak and touched her breast. She thought her breasts were too big, and she was sad that they were not as high and firm as they had been before she had the children, but he seemed to love them just as much, which was a great relief. He said: “A story about a princess who lived at the top of a high castle.” He touched her nipple gently. “And a prince, who lived at the top of another high castle.” He touched her other breast. “Every day they gazed at one another from the windows of their prisons, and yearned to cross the valley between.” His hand rested in the cleft between her breasts, then suddenly moved down. “But every Sunday afternoon they met in the forest!” She squealed, startled, then laughed at herself.

These Sunday afternoons were the golden moments in a life that was rapidly falling apart.

The bad harvest and the slump in the wool price had brought economic devastation. Merchants were ruined, townspeople were unemployed and peasants were starving. Jack was still earning a wage, fortunately: with a handful of craftsmen he was slowly erecting the first bay of the nave. But Aliena had almost completely closed down her cloth manufacturing enterprise. And things were worse here than in the rest of southern England because of the way William was responding to the famine.

For Aliena this was the most painful aspect of the situation. William was greedy for cash to build his new church in Shiring, the church dedicated to the memory of his vicious, half-mad mother. He had evicted so many of his tenants for rent arrears that some of the best land in the county was now uncultivated, which made the shortage of grain worse. However, he had been stockpiling grain to drive the price up even farther. He had few employees and nobody to feed, so he actually profited from the famine in the short term. But in the long run he was doing irreparable damage to the estate and its ability to feed its people. Aliena remembered the earldom under her father’s rule, a rich county of fertile fields and prosperous towns, and it broke her heart.

For a few years she had almost forgotten about the vows she and her brother had made to their dying father. Since William Hamleigh had been made earl, and she had started a family, the idea of Richard winning back the earldom had come to seem a remote fantasy. Richard himself had settled down as Head of the Watch. He had even married a local girl, the daughter of a carpenter; although sadly the poor girl had turned out to have bad health, and had died last year without giving him any children.

Since the famine had started, Aliena had begun to think again about the earldom. She knew that if Richard was earl, with her help he could do a lot to alleviate the suffering caused by the famine. But it was all a dream: William was well favored by King Stephen, who had gained the upper hand in the civil war, and there was no prospect of a change.

However, all these sorry wishes faded away in the secret glade, when Aliena and Jack lay down on the turf to make love. Right from the start they had been greedy for one another’s bodies—Aliena would never forget how shocked She had been at her own lust, in the beginning—and even now, when she was thirty-three years old, and childbirth had broadened her rear and made her formerly flat belly sag, still Jack was so consumed with desire for her that they would make love three or four times over every Sunday.

Now his joke about the forest began to turn into a delicious caress, and Aliena pulled his face to hers to kiss him; then she heard a voice.

They both froze. Their glade was some distance from the road, and concealed in a thicket: they were never interrupted except by the occasional unwary deer or bold fox. They held their breaths and listened. The voice came again, and was followed by a different one. As they strained their hearing they picked up an undertone of rustling, as if a large group of men was moving through the forest.

Jack found his boots, which were lying on the ground. Moving silently, he stepped smartly to the stream a few paces away, filled a boot with water, and emptied it on the fire. The flames went out with a hiss and a wisp of smoke. Jack moved noiselessly into the undergrowth, crouching low, and disappeared.

Aliena put on her undershirt, tunic and boots, then wrapped her cloak around her again.

Jack returned as silently as he had left. “Outlaws,” he said.

“How many?” she whispered.

“A lot. I couldn’t see them all.”

“Where are they going?”

“Kingsbridge.” He held up a hand. “Listen.”

Aliena cocked her head. In the far distance she could hear the bell of Kingsbridge Priory tolling fast and incessantly, warning of danger. Her heart missed a beat. “Oh, Jack—the children!”

“We can get back ahead of the outlaws if we cross Muddy Bottom and wade the river by the chestnut wood.”

“Let’s go quickly, then!”

Jack put a restraining hand on her arm and listened for a moment. He could always hear things she could not, in the forest. It came of having been brought up in the wild. She waited. At last he said: “I think they’ve all gone by.”

They left the glade. After a few moments they came to the road. There was no one in sight. They crossed the road and cut through the woods, following a barely perceptible track. Aliena had left Tommy and Sally with Martha, playing nine-men’s morris in front of a cheerful fire. She was not quite sure what the danger was but she was terrified that something might happen before she reached her children. They ran when they could, but to Aliena’s frustration the ground was too rough for most of the way, and the best she could do was jog-trot, while Jack walked with a long-legged stride. This route was harder going than the road, which was why they did not normally use it, but it was much quicker.

They slithered down the steep slope that led to Muddy Bottom. Unwary strangers were occasionally killed in this bog, but there was no danger to those who knew their way across. Nevertheless the waterlogged mud seemed to grasp Aliena’s feet, slowing her down, keeping her from Tommy and Sally. At the far side of Muddy Bottom was a ford across the river. The cold water came up to Aliena’s knees and washed the mud from her feet.