Page 190 of The Pillars of the Earth

Alfred presented a budget and timetable for the building of the new church. He spoke as if this were all his own work, but Aliena knew that Tom had done most of it. The building would take two years and cost ninety pounds, and Alfred proposed that the guild’s forty members should each pay sixpence a week. It was a little more than some of them had reckoned on, Aliena could tell by their faces. They all agreed to pay it, but Aliena thought the guild could expect one or two to default.

She herself could pay it easily. Looking around the table, she realized she was probably the richest person there. She was in a small minority of women: the only others were a brewster with a reputation for good strong ale, a tailor who employed two seamstresses and some apprentices, and the widow of a shoemaker, who managed the business her husband had left. Aliena was the youngest woman there, and younger than any of the men except Alfred, who was a year or two younger than she.

Aliena missed Jack. She had not yet heard the second installment of the story of the young squire. Today was a holiday, and she would have liked to meet him in the glade. Perhaps she still could, later on.

The talk around the table was of the civil war. Stephen’s wife, Queen Matilda, had put up more of a fight than anyone expected: she had recently taken the city of Winchester and captured Robert of Gloucester. Robert was the brother of the Empress Maud and the commander in chief of her military forces. Some people said Maud was only a figurehead, and Robert was the true leader of the rebellion. In any event, the capture of Robert was almost as bad for Maud as the capture of Stephen had been for the loyalists, and everyone had an opinion on what direction the war would take next.

The drink at this feast was stronger than that provided by Prior Philip, and as the meal progressed, the revelers became quite raucous. The parish priest failed to act as a restraining influence, probably because he was drinking as much as anyone else. Alfred, who was sitting next to Aliena, seemed preoccupied, but even he became flushed. Aliena herself was not fond of strong drink, and she took a cup of apple cider with her dinner.

When most of the food was finished, someone proposed a toast to Alfred and Aliena. Alfred beamed with pleasure as he acknowledged it. After that the singing began, and Aliena started to wonder how soon she could slip away.

Alfred said to her: “We did well, together.”

Aliena smiled. “Let’s see how many of them are still paying sixpence a week this time next year.”

Alfred did not want to hear about misgivings or qualifications today. “We did well,” he repeated. “We’re a good team.” He raised his cup to her and drank. “Don’t you think we’re a good team?”

“We certainly are,” she said, to humor him.

“I’ve enjoyed it,” he went on. “Doing this with you—the guild, I mean.”

“I’ve enjoyed it, too,” she said politely.

“Have you? That makes me very happy.”

She looked at him more carefully. Why was he laboring the point? His speech was clear and precise, and he showed no signs of real drunkenness. “It’s been fine,” she said neutrally.

He put a hand on her shoulder. She hated to be touched, but she had trained herself not to flinch, because men became so offended. “Tell me something,” he said, lowering his voice to an intimate level. “What are you looking for in a husband?”

Surely he’s not going to ask me to marry him, she thought dismally. She gave her standard answer. “I don’t need a husband—my brother is trouble enough.”

“But you need love,” he said.

She groaned inwardly.

She was about to reply when he held up a hand to stop her—a masculine habit she found particularly maddening. “Don’t tell me you don’t need love,” he said. “Everybody needs love.”

She gazed at him steadily. She knew there was something peculiar about her: most women were keen to get married; and if they were still single, as she was, at the age of twenty-two, they were more than keen, they were desperate. What’s wrong with me? she thought. Alfred was young, fit and prosperous: half the girls in Kingsbridge would like to marry him. For a moment she toyed with the idea of saying yes. But the thought of actually living with Alfred, eating supper with him every night and going to church with him and giving birth to his children, was appalling. She would rather be lonely. She shook her head. “Forget it, Alfred,” she said firmly. “I don’t need a husband, for love or anything else.”

He was not to be discouraged. “I love you, Aliena,” he said. “Working with you, I’ve been truly happy. I need you. Will you be my wife?”

He had said it now. She was sorry, for it meant she had to reject him formally. She had learned that there was no point in trying to do this gently, either: they took a kindly refusal as a sign of indecision, and pressed her all the more. “No, I won’t,” she said. “I don’t love you and I haven’t much enjoyed working with you, and I wouldn’t marry you if you were the only man on earth.”

He was hurt. He must have thought his chances were strong. Aliena was sure she had done nothing to encourage him. She had treated him as an equal partner, listened to him when he spoke, talked to him frankly and directly, fulfilled her responsibilities and expected him to fulfill his. But some men took that for encouragement. “How can you say that?” he spluttered.

She sighed. He was wounded, and she felt sorry for him; but in a moment he would be indignant, and act as if she had made an unfair accusation against him; then finally he would convince himself that she had gratuitously insulted him, and he would become offensive. Not all rejected suitors behaved like that, but a certain type did, and Alfred was that type. She was going to have to leave.

She stood up. “I respect your proposal, and I thank you for the honor you do me,” she said. “Please respect my refusal, and don’t ask me again.”

“I suppose you’re running off to see my snotnosed little stepbrother,” he said nastily. “I can’t imagine he gives you much of a ride.”

Aliena flushed with embarrassment. So people were beginning to notice her friendship with Jack. Trust Alfred to put a smutty interpretation on it. Well shewasrunning off to see Jack, and she was not going to let Alfred stop her. She bent down and thrust her face into his. He was startled. Quietly and deliberately she said: “Go. To. Hell.” Then she turned and went out.

Prior Philip held court in the crypt once a month. In the old days it had been once a year, and even then the business rarely took all day. But when the population trebled, law-breaking had increased tenfold.

The nature of crime had changed, too. Formerly, most offenses had to do with land, crops or livestock. A greedy peasant would try surreptitiously to move the boundary of a field so as to extend his land at the expense of a neighbor; a laborer would steal a sack of corn from the widow he worked for; a poor woman with too many children would milk a cow that was not hers. Nowadays most of the cases involved money, Philip thought, as he sat through his court on the first day of December. Apprentices stole money from their masters, a husband took his wife’s mother’s savings, merchants passed dud coinage, and wealthy women underpaid simpleminded servants who could hardly count their weekly wages. There had been no such crimes in Kingsbridge five years ago, because then nobody had much cash.

Philip dealt with nearly all offenses by a fine. He could also have people flogged, or put in the stocks, or imprisoned in the cell beneath the monks’ dormitory, but these punishments were rarer, and reserved mainly for crimes of violence. He had the right to hang thieves, and the priory owned a stout wooden gallows; but he had never used it, not yet, and he cherished a secret hope that he never would. The most serious crimes—murder, killing the king’s deer, and highway robbery—were dealt with by the king’s court at Shiring, presided over by the sheriff, and Sheriff Eustace did more than enough hanging.