Epic Historial Collection (146 page)

Tommy was hovering near the barrel, and Jack called out: “Go on, Tommy—have a go!”

“Not just yet,” he replied.

At the age of eleven Tommy knew he was smarter than his sister and he thought he was ahead of most other people too. He watched for a while, studying the technique of those who were successful at apple bobbing. Aliena watched him watching. She loved him specially. Jack had been about this age when she had first met him, and Tommy was so like Jack as a boy. Looking at him made her nostalgic for childhood. Jack wanted Tommy to be a builder, but Tommy had not yet shown any interest in construction. However, there was plenty of time.

Eventually he stepped up to the barrel. He bent over it and put his head down slowly, mouth wide open. He pushed his chosen apple under the surface, submerging his whole face, and then came up triumphantly with the apple between his teeth.

Tommy would be successful at whatever he put his mind to. There was a little of his grandfather, Earl Bartholomew, in his makeup. He had a very strong will and a somewhat inflexible sense of right and wrong.

It was Sally who had inherited Jack's easygoing nature and contempt for man-made rules. When Jack told the children stories, Sally always sympathized with the underdog, whereas Tommy was more likely to pronounce judgment on him. Each child had the personality of one parent and the appearance of the other: happy-go-lucky Sally had Aliena's regular features and dark tangled curls, and determined Tommy had Jack's carrot-colored hair, white skin and blue eyes.

Now Tommy cried: “Here comes Uncle Richard!”

Aliena spun around and followed his gaze. Sure enough, her brother the earl was riding into the meadow with a handful of knights and squires. Aliena was horrified. How did he have the nerve to show his face here after what he had done to Philip over the quarry?

He came over to the barrel, smiling at everyone and shaking hands. “Try to bob an apple, Uncle Richard,” said Tommy. “You could do it!”

Richard dipped his head into the barrel and came up with an apple in his strong white teeth and his blond beard soaking wet. He had always been better at games than at real life, Aliena thought.

She was not going to let him carry on as if he had done nothing wrong. Others might be afraid to say anything because he was the earl, but to her he was just her foolish little brother. He came over to kiss her, but she pushed him away and said: “How could you steal the quarry from the priory?”

Jack, seeing a quarrel coming, took the children's hands and moved away.

Richard looked stung. “All property has reverted to those who possessed it—”

“Don't give me that, Aliena interrupted. “After all Philip has done for you!”

“The quarry is part of my birthright,” he said. He took her aside and began to speak in low tones so that no one else could hear. “Besides, I need the money I get by selling the stones, Allie.”

“That's because you go hunting and hawking all the time!”

“But what should I do?”

“You should make the land produce wealth! There's so much to be done—repairing the damage caused by the war and the famine, bringing in new farming methods, clearing woodland and draining swamps—that's how to increase your wealth! Not by stealing the quarry that King Stephen gave to Kingsbridge Priory.”

“I've never taken anything that wasn't mine.”

“You've never done anything else!” Aliena flared. She was angry enough now to say things that were better left unsaid. “You've never worked for anything. You took my money for your stupid weapons, you took the job Philip gave you, you took the earldom when it was handed to you on a plate by me. Now you can't even run it without
taking
things that don't belong to you!” She turned away and stormed off.

Richard came after her, but someone waylaid him, bowing and asking him how he was. Aliena heard him make a polite reply, then get embroiled in a conversation. So much the better: she had said her piece and did not want to argue with him any further. She reached the bridge and looked back. Someone else was talking to him now. He waved at her, indicating that he still wanted to speak to her, but he was stuck. She saw Jack, Tommy and Sally beginning a game with a stick and a ball. She stared at them, playing together in the sunshine, and she felt she could not bear to separate them. But how else, she thought, can I lead a normal life?

She crossed the bridge and entered the town. She wanted to be alone for a while.

She had taken a house in Winchester, a big place with a shop on the ground floor, a living room upstairs, a separate bedchamber, and a large storeroom at the end of the yard for her cloth. But the closer she got to moving, the less she wanted to do it.

The streets of Kingsbridge were hot and dusty, and the air was full of the flies that bred on the innumerable dunghills. All the shops were closed and the houses were locked up. The town was deserted. Everyone was in the meadow.

She went to Jack's house. That was where the others would come when the apple bobbing was over. The door of the house stood open. She frowned in annoyance. Who had left it like that? Too many people had keys: herself, Jack, Richard and Martha. There was nothing much to steal. Aliena certainly did not have her money there: for years now Philip had let her keep it in the priory treasury. But the place would be full of flies.

She stepped inside. It was dark and cool. Flies danced in the air in the middle of the room, bluebottles crawled over the linen and a pair of wasps disputed angrily around the stopper of the honeypot.

And Alfred was sitting at the table.

Aliena gave a small scream of fright, then recovered herself and said: “How did you get in?”

“I've got a key.”

He had kept it a long time, Aliena thought. She looked at him. His broad shoulders were bony and his face had a shrunken look. She said: “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.”

She found she was trembling, not from fear but from anger. “I don't want to see you, now or ever again,” she spat. “You treated me like a dog, and then when Jack took pity on you and hired you, you betrayed his trust and took all his craftsmen to Shiring.”

“I need money,” he said, with a mixture of pleading and defiance in his voice.

“Then work.”

“Building has stopped at Shiring. I can't get a job here at Kingsbridge.”

“Then go to London—go to Paris!”

He persisted with ox-like stubbornness. “I thought you would help me out.”

“There's nothing for you here. You'd better go away.”

“Have you no pity?” he said, and now the defiance was gone and the tone was all pleading.

She leaned on the table to steady herself. “Alfred, don't you understand that I
hate
you?”

“Why?” he said. He looked injured, as if it came as a surprise to him.

Dear God, he's stupid, she thought; it's the nearest he's got to an excuse. “Go to the monastery if you want charity,” she said wearily. “Prior Philip's capacity for forgiveness is superhuman. Mine isn't.”

“But you're my
wife
,” Alfred said.

That was rich. “I'm not your wife,” she hissed. “You're not my husband. You never were. Now get out of this house.”

To her surprise he grabbed her by the hair. “You are my wife,” he said. He pulled her to him over the table, and with his free hand he grasped her breast and squeezed hard.

Aliena was taken completely by surprise. This was the last thing she had expected from a man who had slept in the same room as her for nine months without ever managing to perform the sexual act. Automatically she screamed and pulled away from him, but he had a firm grip on her hair and he jerked her back. “There's nobody to hear you scream,” he said. “They're all across the river.”

She was suddenly terribly afraid. They were alone, and he was very strong. After all the miles she had covered on the roads, all the years she had risked her neck traveling, she was being attacked at home by the man she had married!

He saw the fear in her eyes and said: “Scared, are you? Perhaps you'd better be nice.” Then he kissed her mouth. She bit his lip as hard as she could. He gave a roar of pain.

She did not see the punch coming. It exploded on her cheek with such force that she had the terrified thought that he must have smashed her bones. For a moment she lost her vision and her balance. She reeled away from the table and felt herself falling. The rushes on the floor softened the impact as she hit the ground. She shook her head to clear it and reached for the knife strapped to her left arm. Before she could draw it, both her wrists were seized, and she heard Alfred say: “I know about that little dagger. I've seen you undress, remember?” He released her hands, punched her face again, and grabbed the dagger himself.

Aliena tried to wriggle away. He sat on her legs and put his left hand to her throat. She thrashed her arms. Suddenly the point of the dagger was an inch from her eyeball. “Be still, or I'll put out your eyes,” he said.

She froze. The idea of being blind terrified her. She had seen men who had been blinded as a punishment. They walked the streets begging, their empty sockets staring horribly at passersby. Small boys tormented them, pinching them and tripping them until they gave in to rage and tried in vain to catch hold of their tormentors, which made the game even better. They generally died within a year or two.

“I thought that would calm you down,” Alfred said.

Why was he doing this? He had never had any lust for her. Was it just that he was defeated and angry, and she was vulnerable? Did she stand for the world that had rejected him?

He leaned forward, straddling her, with his knees either side of her hips, keeping the knife at her eye. Once again he put his face close to hers. “Now,” he said. “Be nice.” He kissed her again.

His unshaven face scratched her skin. His breath smelled of beer and onions. She kept her mouth closed tight.

“That's not nice,” he said. “Kiss me back.”

He kissed her again, and brought the knife point even closer. When it touched her eyelid she moved her lips. The taste of his mouth sickened her. He thrust his rough tongue between her lips. She felt as if she might throw up, and tried desperately to suppress the feeling, for fear he would kill her.

He pulled away from her again, but kept the knife at her face. “Now,” he said. “Feel this.” He took her hand and pulled it under the skirt of his tunic. She touched his organ. “Hold it,” he said. She grasped it. “Now rub it gently.”

She obeyed him. It occurred to her that if she could pleasure him this way she might avoid being penetrated. She looked fearfully at his face. He was flushed and his eyes were hooded. She stroked him all the way down to the root, remembering that Jack was driven wild by that.

She was afraid she would never be able to enjoy this again, and tears came to her eyes.

He jerked the knife dangerously. “Not so hard!” he said.

She concentrated.

Then the door opened.

Her heart leaped with hope. A wedge of bright sunlight fell across the room and shone dazzingly through her tears. Alfred froze. She pulled her hand away.

They both looked toward the door. Who was it? Aliena could not see. Not one of the children, please, God, she prayed; I would feel so ashamed. She heard a roar of rage. It was a man's voice. She blinked away her tears and recognized her brother Richard.

Poor Richard: it was almost worse than if it had been Tommy. Richard, who had a scar instead of a lobe on his left ear to remind him of the terrible scene he had witnessed when he was fourteen years old. Now he was witnessing another. How would he ever bear it?

Alfred started to get to his feet, but Richard was too quick for him. Aliena saw Richard cross the little room in a blur and lash out with his booted foot, catching Alfred full on the jaw. Alfred crashed back against the table. Richard went after him, trampling on Aliena without noticing, lashing out at Alfred with his feet and fists. Aliena scrambled out of the way. Richard's face was a mask of ungovernable fury. He did not look at Aliena. He did not care about her, she understood. He was enraged, not about what Alfred had done to Aliena today, but because of what William and Walter had done to him, Richard, eighteen years ago. He had been young and weak and helpless then, but now he was a big strong man and a seasoned fighter, and he had at last found a target for the mad rage he had nursed inside for all those years. He hit Alfred again and again, with both fists. Alfred staggered back around the table, trying feebly to defend himself with his raised arms. Richard caught him on the chin with a powerful swing, and Alfred fell backward.

He lay on the rushes, looking up, terrified. Aliena was frightened by her brother's violence, and said: “That's enough, Richard!” Richard ignored her and stepped forward to kick Alfred. Then Alfred suddenly realized that he still had Aliena's knife in his hand. He dodged, came swiftly to his feet and lashed out with the knife. Taken by surprise, Richard jumped back. Alfred lunged at him again, driving him back across the room. The two men were the same height and build, Aliena saw. Richard was a fighting man but Alfred was armed: they were now unnervingly well matched. Aliena was suddenly afraid for her brother. What would happen if Alfred overcame him? She would have to fight Alfred herself, then.