World Without End by Ken Follett

  Roland was arguing good-naturedly with William's wife, Lady Philippa--one of the few people who could contradict him and get away with it. They were talking about the castle. "I don't think it's changed for a hundred years," Philippa said.

  "That's because it's such a good design," Roland said, speaking out of the left side of his mouth. "The enemy expends most of his strength getting into the lower compound, then he faces a whole new battle to reach the keep."

  "Exactly!" said Philippa. "It was built for defense, not comfort. But when was the last time a castle in this part of England came under attack? Not in my lifetime."

  "Nor in mine." He grinned with the mobile half of his face. "Probably because our defenses are so strong."

  "There was a bishop who scattered acorns on the road wherever he traveled, to protect him from lions," Philippa said. "When they told him there were no lions in all England, he said: 'It's more effective than I thought.'"

  Roland laughed.

  Philippa added: "Most noble families nowadays live in more comfortable homes."

  Ralph did not care for luxury, but he cared for Philippa. He gazed at her voluptuous figure as she talked, unaware of him. He imagined her lying beneath him, twisting her naked body, crying out in pleasure, or pain, or both. If he were a knight, he could have a woman like that.

  "You should knock down this old keep and build a modern house," she was saying to her father-in-law. "One with big windows and lots of fireplaces. You could have the hall at ground level, with the family apartments at one end, so that we could all have somewhere private to sleep when we come to visit you; and the kitchens at the other end, so that the food is still hot when it reaches the table."

  Suddenly Ralph realized he could make a contribution to this conversation. "I know who could design such a house for you," he said.

  They turned to him in surprise. What would a squire know of house design? "Who?" said Philippa.

  "My brother, Merthin."

  She looked thoughtful. "The funny-faced boy who tells me to buy green silk to match my eyes?"

  "He meant no disrespect."

  "I'm not sure what he meant. Is he a builder?"

  "He's the best," Ralph said proudly. "He devised the new ferry at Kingsbridge, then he figured out how to repair the roof of St. Mark's when no one else could, and now he's been commissioned to build the most beautiful bridge in England."

  "Somehow I'm not surprised," she said.

  "What bridge?" said Roland.

  "The new one at Kingsbridge. It will have pointed arches, like a church, and be wide enough for two carts!"

  "I've heard nothing of this," Roland said.

  Ralph realized the earl was displeased. What had annoyed him? "The bridge must be rebuilt, mustn't it?" Ralph said.

  "I'm not so sure," Roland replied. "Nowadays there's hardly enough business for two markets as close together as Kingsbridge and Shiring. But, if we must accept the Kingsbridge market, that doesn't mean we have to countenance a blatant attempt by the priory to steal customers from Shiring." Bishop Richard had come in, and now Roland rounded on him. "You didn't tell me about the new bridge at Kingsbridge."

  "Because I don't know about it," Richard answered.

  "You ought to, you're the bishop."

  Richard flushed at the reproof. "The bishop of Kingsbridge has lived in or near Shiring ever since the civil war between King Stephen and the Empress Maud, two centuries ago. The monks prefer it that way, and so do most bishops."

  "That doesn't prevent you keeping your ear to the ground. You should have some idea of what's happening there."

  "Since I don't, perhaps you'd be kind enough to tell me what you've learned."

  That kind of cool insolence passed over Roland's head. "It's going to be wide enough for two carts. It will take business away from my market at Shiring."

  "There's nothing I can do about it."

  "Why not? You're the abbot, ex officio. The monks are supposed to do what you say."

  "They don't, though."

  "Perhaps they will if we take away their builder. Ralph, can you persuade your brother to give up the project?"

  "I can try."

  "Offer him a better prospect. Tell him I want him to build a new palace for me here at Earlscastle."

  Ralph was excited to get a special commission from the earl, but he was daunted, too. He had never been able to talk Merthin into anything--it was always the other way around. "All right," he said.

  "Will they be able to go ahead without him?"

  "He got the job because no one else in Kingsbridge knew how to build under water."

  Richard said: "He's not the only man in England who can design a bridge, obviously."

  William said: "Still, taking away their builder would surely delay them. They probably couldn't start for another year."

  "Then it's worth doing," Roland said decisively. A look of hatred came over the animated half of his face, and he added: "That arrogant prior has to be put in his place."

  Things had changed in the life of Gerald and Maud, Ralph discovered. His mother wore a new green dress to church, and his father had leather shoes. Back at home there was a goose stuffed with apples roasting over the fire, filling the little house with a mouthwatering smell, and a loaf of wheat bread, the most expensive kind, standing on the table.

  The money came from Merthin, Ralph soon learned. "He gets paid four pence a day every day he works on St. Mark's," Maud said proudly. "And he's building a new house for Dick Brewer. That's as well as getting ready to build the new bridge."

  Merthin received a lower wage for working on the bridge, he explained while his father carved the goose, because he had been given Leper Island in part payment. The last remaining leper, old and bedridden, had been moved to a small house in the monks' orchard on the far side of the river.

  Ralph found that his mother's evident happiness left a sour taste in his mouth. He had believed, since he was a boy, that the destiny of the family lay in his hands. He had been sent away, at the age of fourteen, to join the household of the earl of Shiring, and he had known even then that it was up to him to wipe out his father's humiliation by becoming a knight, perhaps a baron, even an earl. Merthin, by contrast, had been apprenticed to a carpenter, and set on a road that could only lead farther down the social hill. Builders were never made knights.

  It was some consolation that their father was unimpressed by Merthin's success. He showed signs of impatience when Maud talked about building projects. "My elder son seems to have inherited the blood of Jack Builder, my only low-born ancestor," he said, and his tone was amazed rather than proud. "But, Ralph, tell us how you're getting on at the court of Earl Roland."

  Unfortunately, Ralph had so far mysteriously failed to rise in the nobility, whereas Merthin was buying his parents new clothes and expensive dinners. Ralph knew he should just be grateful that one of them had won success, and that even if his parents remained humble they could at least be comfortable. But, though his mind told him to rejoice, his heart seethed with resentment.

  And now he had to persuade his brother to give up the bridge. The trouble with Merthin was that he would never see anything simply. He was not like the knights and squires with whom Ralph had spent the last seven years. They were fighting men. In their world loyalties were clear, bravery was the virtue, and the issue was life or death. There was never much need for deep thought. But Merthin thought about everything. He could not play a game of checkers without suggesting a change in the rules.

  He was explaining to their parents why he had accepted four acres of barren rock in part payment for his work on the bridge. "Everyone thinks the land is worthless because it's an island," he said. "What they don't realize is that when the bridge is built the island will become part of the city. Townspeople will walk across the bridge just as they walk along the main street. And four acres of city land is very valuable. If I build houses on it, the rents will be worth a fortune."

  Gerald said: "You've a fe
w years to wait before then."

  "I'm getting some income from it already. Jake Chepstow is renting half an acre to use as a timber yard. He's bringing logs from Wales."

  "Why from Wales?" Gerald asked. "The New Forest is nearer--their wood should be cheaper."

  "It should be, but the earl of Shaftesbury charges a toll or a tax at every river ford and bridge in his territory."

  It was a familiar gripe. Many lords found ways to tax goods that passed through their territories.

  As they started to eat, Ralph said to Merthin: "I bring you news of another opportunity. The earl wants to build a new palace at Earlscastle."

  Merthin looked suspicious. "He sent you to ask me to design it?"

  "I suggested you. Lady Philippa was berating him about how old-fashioned the keep is, and I said I knew the right person to talk to."

  Maud was thrilled. "Isn't that wonderful?"

  Merthin remained skeptical. "And the earl said he wanted me?"

  "Yes."

  "Amazing. A few months ago I couldn't get a job. Now I've got too much to do. And Earlscastle is two days away. I don't see how I could build a palace there and a bridge here at the same time."

  "Oh, you'll have to give up the bridge," Ralph said.

  "What?"

  "Work for the earl has to take precedence over everything else, naturally."

  "I'm not sure that's right."

  "Take it from me."

  "Did he say that?"

  "Yes, as a matter of fact, he did."

  Their father joined in. "This is a marvelous opportunity, Merthin," he said. "To build a palace for an earl!"

  "Of course it is," Merthin replied. "But a bridge for this town is at least as important."

  "Don't be stupid," his father said.

  "I do my best not to be," Merthin said sarcastically.

  "The earl of Shiring is one of the great men of the land. The prior of Kingsbridge is a nobody, by comparison."

  Ralph cut a slice of goose thigh and put it in his mouth, but he could hardly swallow. He had been afraid of this. Merthin was going to be difficult. He would not take orders from their father, either. He had never been obedient, even as a child.

  Ralph felt desperate. "Listen," he said. "The earl doesn't want the new bridge to be built. He thinks it will take business away from Shiring."

  "Aha," said Gerald. "You don't want to go up against the earl, Merthin."

  "Is that what's behind this, Ralph?" Merthin asked. "Is Roland offering me this job just to prevent the building of the bridge?"

  "Not just for that reason."

  "But it's a condition. If I want to build his palace, I must abandon the bridge."

  Gerald said with exasperation: "You don't have a choice, Merthin! The earl doesn't request, he commands."

  Ralph could have told him that an argument based on authority was not the way to persuade Merthin.

  Merthin said: "I don't think he can command the prior of Kingsbridge, who has commissioned me to build this bridge."

  "But he can command you."

  "Can he? He's not my lord."

  "Don't be foolish, son. You can't win a fight with an earl."

  "I don't think Roland's quarrel is with me, Father. This is between the earl and the prior. Roland wants to use me, as a hunter uses a dog, but I think I'd do better to stay out of the fight."

  "I think you should do what the earl says. Don't forget, he's your kinsman, too."

  Merthin tried a different argument. "Has it occurred to you what a betrayal this would be of Prior Godwyn?"

  Gerald made a disgusted noise. "What loyalty do we owe the priory? It was the monks who forced us into penury."

  "And your neighbors? The people of Kingsbridge, among whom you've lived for ten years? They need the bridge--it's their lifeline."

  "We are of the nobility," his father said. "We're not required to take into account the needs of mere merchants."

  Merthin nodded. "You may feel that way, but as a mere carpenter I can't share your view."

  "This isn't just about you!" Ralph burst out. He had to come clean, he realized. "The earl has given me a mission. If I succeed, he may make me a knight, or at least a minor lord. If I fail, I could remain a squire."

  Maud said: "It's very important that we all try to please the earl."

  Merthin looked troubled. He was always willing to go head-to-head with their father, but he did not like to argue with Mother. "I've agreed to build the bridge," he said. "The town is counting on me. I can't give it up."

  "Of course you can," Maud said.

  "I don't want to get a reputation for unreliability."

  "Everyone would understand if you gave the earl precedence."

  "They might understand, but they wouldn't respect me for it."

  "You should put your family first."

  "I fought for this bridge, Mother," Merthin said stubbornly. "I made a beautiful design, and I persuaded the whole town to have faith in me. No one else can build it--not the way it should be done."

  "If you defy the earl, it will affect Ralph's whole life!" she said. "Don't you see that?"

  "His whole life shouldn't depend on something like this."

  "But it does. Are you willing to sacrifice your brother, just for the sake of a bridge?"

  Merthin said: "I suppose it's a bit like my asking him to save men's lives by not going to war."

  Gerald said: "Come, now, you can't compare a carpenter to a soldier."

  That was tactless, Ralph thought. It showed Gerald's preference for the younger son. Merthin felt the sting, Ralph could tell. His brother's face reddened and he bit his lip as if to restrain himself from a combative reply.

  After a pause, Merthin spoke in a quiet voice that Ralph knew to be a sign that he had made up his mind irrevocably. "I didn't ask to be a carpenter," he said. "Like Ralph, I wanted to be a knight. A foolish aspiration for me, I know that now. All the same, it was your decision that I should be what I am. As things have turned out, I'm good at it. I'm going to make a success of what you forced me into. One day I'd like to build the tallest building in England. This is what you made me--so you'd better learn to live with it."

  Before Ralph went back to Earlscastle with the bad news, he racked his brains for a way to turn defeat into victory. If he could not talk his brother into abandoning the bridge, was there some other way he could get the project canceled or delayed?

  There was no point talking to Prior Godwyn or Edmund Wooler, he was sure. They would be more committed to the bridge even than Merthin, and anyway they would not be persuaded by a mere squire. What could the earl do? He might send a troop of knights to kill the construction workers, but that could cause more problems than it solved.

  It was Merthin who gave him the idea. He had said that Jake Chepstow, the timber merchant who was using Leper Island as a store yard, was buying trees from Wales to avoid the taxes charged by the earl of Shaftesbury.

  "My brother feels he must accept the authority of the prior of Kingsbridge," Ralph said to Earl Roland on his return. Before the earl had time to get angry, he added: "But there may be a better way to delay the building of the bridge. The priory's quarry is in the heart of your earldom, between Shiring and Earlscastle."

  "But it belongs to the monks," Roland growled. "The king gave it to them centuries ago. We can't stop them taking stone."

  "You could tax them, though," Ralph said. He felt guilty: he was sabotaging a project dear to his brother's heart. But it had to be done, and he quelled his conscience. "They will be transporting their stone through your earldom. Their heavy carts will wear away your roads and churn up your river fords. They ought to pay."

  "They'll squeal like pigs. They'll go to the king."

  "Let them," Ralph said, sounding more confident than he felt. "It will take time. There are only two months left of this year's building season--they have to stop work before the first frost. With luck, you could delay the start of the bridge until next year."

 
Roland gave Ralph a hard look. "I may have underestimated you," he said. "Perhaps you're good for more than pulling drowning earls out of rivers."

  Ralph concealed a triumphant smile. "Thank you, my lord."

  "But how shall we enforce this tax? Usually there's a crossroads, a ford in a river, some place every cart has to pass through."

  "Since we're only interested in blocks of stone, we could simply camp a troop of men outside the quarry."

  "Excellent," said the earl. "And you can lead them."

  Two days later Ralph was approaching the quarry with four men-at-arms on horseback and two boys leading a string of packhorses carrying tents and food for a week. He was pleased with himself, so far. He had been given an impossible task and turned it around. The earl thought he was good for more than river rescue work. Things were looking up.

  He was deeply uncomfortable about what he was doing to Merthin. He had lain awake much of the night recalling their childhood together. He had always revered his clever older brother. They had often fought, and Ralph had felt worse when he won than when he lost. They had always made friends afterward, in those days. But grown-up fights were harder to forget.

  He was not very anxious about the coming confrontation with the monks' quarrymen. It should not prove too challenging for a group of military men. He had no knights with him--such work was beneath their dignity--but he had Joseph Woodstock, whom he knew to be a hard man, and three others. All the same, he would be glad when it was over and he had achieved his aim.

  It was just after dawn. They had camped the night before in the forest a few miles from the quarry. Ralph planned to get there in time to challenge the first cart that attempted to leave this morning.

  The horses stepped daintily along a road muddied by the hooves of oxen and deeply rutted by the wheels of heavy carts. The sun rose into a sky of rain clouds broken by scraps of blue. Ralph's group were in a good mood, looking forward to exercising their power over unarmed men, with no serious risk to themselves.