Page 261 of The Pillars of the Earth

“William Hamleigh is going to burn the town again on Sunday.”

“No!” Aliena cried.

Jack went cold. He saw again the scene three years ago, when William’s horsemen had invaded the fleece fair, with their blazing torches and brutal clubs. He recalled the panic, the screaming, and the smell of burning flesh. He saw again the corpse of his stepfather, with his forehead smashed. He felt sick at heart.

“How do you know?” he asked Richard.

“I was in Shiring, and I saw some of William’s men buying weapons at the armorer’s shop.”

“That doesn’t mean—”

“There’s more. I followed them into an alehouse and listened to their talk. One of them asked what defenses Kingsbridge had, and another said none.”

Aliena said: “Oh, God, it’s true.” She looked at Tommy, and her hand went to her stomach, where the new baby was growing. She looked up, and Jack met her eye. They were both thinking the same.

Richard went on: “Later I got talking to some of the younger ones, who don’t know me. I told them about the battle of Lincoln, and so on, and said I was looking for a fight. They told me to go to Earlscastle, but it would have to be today, for they were to leave tomorrow, and the fight would be on Sunday.”

“Sunday,” Jack whispered fearfully.

“I rode out to Earlscastle, to double-check.”

Aliena said: “Richard, that was dangerous.”

“All the signs are there: messengers coming and going, weapons being sharpened, horses exercised, tack cleaned. ... There’s no doubt of it.” In a voice full of hatred, Richard finished: “No amount of evildoing will satisfy that devil William—he always wants more.” His hand went to his right ear, and he touched the angry scar there with an unconscious nervous gesture.

Jack studied Richard for a moment. He was an idler and a wastrel, but in one area his judgment was trustworthy: the military. If he said William was planning a raid he was probably right. “This is a catastrophe,” Jack said, half to himself. Kingsbridge was just beginning to recover from the slump. Three years ago the fleece fair had burned, two years ago the cathedral had fallen on the congregation, and now this. People would say the bad luck of Kingsbridge had come back. Even if they managed to avoid bloodshed by fleeing, Kingsbridge would be ruined. No one would want to live here, come to the market or work here. It could even stop the building of the cathedral.

Aliena said: “We must tell Prior Philip—right away.”

Jack nodded. “The monks will be at supper. Let’s go.”

Aliena picked up Tommy and they all hurried up the hill toward the monastery in the dusk.

Richard said: “When the cathedral is finished, they can hold the market inside it. That will protect it from raids.”

Jack said: “But meanwhile we need the income from the market to pay for the cathedral.”

Richard, Aliena and Tommy waited outside while Jack went into the monks’ refectory. A young monk was reading aloud in Latin while the others ate in silence. Jack recognized an apocalyptic passage from the Book of Revelation. He stood in the doorway and caught Philip’s eye. Philip was surprised to see him, but got up from the table and came out straightaway.

“Bad news,” Jack said grimly. “I’ll let Richard tell you.”

They talked in the cavernous gloom of the repaired chancel. Richard gave Philip the details in a few sentences. When he had finished, Philip said: “But we aren’t holding a fleece fair—just a little market!”

Aliena said: “At least we’ve got the chance to evacuate the town tomorrow. Nobody need get hurt. And we can rebuild our houses, as we did last time.”

“Unless William decides to hunt down the evacuees,” Richard said grimly. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“Even if we all escape, I think it means the end of the market,” Philip said gloomily. “People will be afraid to set up stalls in Kingsbridge after this.”

Jack said: “It may mean the end of the cathedral. In the last ten years the church has burned down once and fallen down once, and a lot of masons were killed when the town burned. Another disaster would be the last, I think. People would say it’s bad luck.”

Philip looked stricken. He was not yet forty years old, Jack reckoned, but his face was becoming lined, and his fringe of hair was now more gray than black. Nevertheless, there was a dangerous light in his clear blue eyes as he said: “I’m not going to accept this. I don’t think it’s the will of God.”

Jack wondered what on earth he was talking about. How could he “not accept” it? The chickens might as well say they refused to accept the fox, for all the difference it would make to their fate. “So what are you going to do?” Jack said skeptically. “Pray that William will fall out of bed tonight and break his neck?”

Richard was excited by the idea of resistance. “Let’s fight,” he said. “Why not? There are hundreds of us. William will bring fifty men, a hundred at most—we could win by sheer weight of numbers.”

Aliena protested: “And how many of our people will be killed?”