The Pillars Of The Earth Page 0,254

backward over the body of his horse. He landed in a puddle of warm blood but managed to keep hold of his sword. Otto stood over him with his ax raised. As the weapon came down, William rolled frantically sideways. He felt the wind as the blade sliced the air next to his face; then he sprang to his feet and thrust at the stonecutter with his sword.

A soldier would have moved sideways before pulling his weapon out of the ground, knowing that a man is at his most vulnerable when he has just struck a blow and missed; but Otto was no soldier, just a brave fool, and he was standing with one hand on the haft of the ax and the other arm stretched out for balance, leaving the whole of his body an easy target. William's hasty thrust was almost blind, but nevertheless it connected. The point of the sword pierced Otto's chest. William pushed harder and the blade slid between the man's ribs. Otto released his hold on the ax, and over his face came an expression William knew well. His eyes showed surprise, his mouth opened as if to scream, although no sound came, and his skin suddenly looked gray. It was the look of a man who has received a mortal wound. William thrust the blade home harder, just to make sure, then pulled it out. Otto's eyes rolled up in his head, a bright red stain appeared on his shirt front and instantly grew large, and he fell.

William spun round, scanning the whole scene. He saw two stonecutters running away, presumably having seen their leader killed. As they ran they shouted to the others. The fight turned into a retreat. The knights chased the runaways.

William stood still, breathing hard. The damned quarrymen had fought back! He looked at Gilbert. He lay still, in a pool of blood, with his eyes closed. William put a hand on his chest: there was no heartbeat. Gilbert was dead.

William walked around the still-burning houses, counting bodies. Three stonecutters lay dead, plus a woman and a child who both looked as if they had been trampled by horses. Three of William's men-at-arms were wounded, and four horses were dead or crippled.

When he had completed his count he stood by the corpse of his war-horse. He had liked that horse better than he liked most people. After a battle he usually felt exhilarated, but now he was depressed. It was a shambles. This should have been a simple operation to chase off a group of helpless workmen, and it had turned into a pitched battle with high casualties.

The knights chased the stonecutters as far as the woods, but there the horses could not catch the men, so they turned back. Walter rode up to where William stood and saw Gilbert dead on the ground. He crossed himself and said: "Gilbert has killed more men than I have."

"There aren't so many like him, that I can afford to lose one in a squabble with a damned monk," William said bitterly. "To say nothing of the horses."

"What a turnup," Walter said. "These people put up more of a fight than Robert of Gloucester's rebels!"

William shook his head in disgust. "I don't know," he said, looking around at the bodies. "What the devil did they think they were fighting for?"

Chapter 9

I

JUST AFTER DAWN, when most of the brothers were in the crypt for the service of prime, there were only two people in the dormitory: Johnny Eightpence, sweeping the floor at one end of the long room, and Jonathan, playing school at the other.

Prior Philip paused in the doorway and watched Jonathan. He was. almost five years old, an alert, confident boy with a childish gravity that charmed everyone. Johnny still dressed him in a miniature monk's habit. Today Jonathan was pretending to be the novice-master, giving lessons to an imaginary row of pupils. "That's wrong, Godfrey!" he said sternly to the empty bench. "No dinner for you if you don't learn your berves!" He meant verbs. Philip smiled fondly. He could not have loved a son more deeply. Jonathan was the one thing in life that gave him sheer unadulterated joy.

The child ran around the priory like a puppy, petted and spoiled by all the monks. To most of them he was just like a pet, an amusing plaything; but to Philip and Johnny he was something more. Johnny loved him like a mother; and Philip, though he tried to