World Without End Page 0,14

turned into the cathedral close, Ralph still carrying the bow and the dead hare. The place was quiet.

The guest house was empty but for a few sick people. A nun said to them: "Your father is in the church, with the earl of Shiring."

They went into the great cathedral. Their parents were in the vestibule. Mother was sitting at the foot of a pillar, on the outjutting corner where the round column met the square base. In the cold light that came through the tall windows, her face was still and serene, almost as if she were carved of the same grey stone as the pillar against which she leaned her head. Father stood beside her, his broad shoulders slumped in an attitude of resignation. Earl Roland faced them. He was older than Father, but with his black hair and vigorous manner he seemed more youthful. Prior Anthony stood beside the earl.

The two boys hung back at the door, but Mother beckoned them. "Come here," she said. "Earl Roland has helped us come to an arrangement with Prior Anthony that solves all our problems."

Father grunted, as if he was not as grateful as she for what the earl had done. "And the priory gets my lands," he said. "There'll be nothing for you two to inherit."

"We're going to live here, in Kingsbridge," Mother went on brightly. "We'll be corrodiaries of the priory."

Merthin said: "What's a corrodiary?"

"It means the monks will provide us with a house to live in and two meals a day, for the rest of our lives. Isn't that wonderful?"

Merthin could tell that she did not really think it was wonderful. She was pretending to be pleased. Father was clearly ashamed to have lost his lands. There was more than a hint of disgrace in this, Merthin realized.

Father addressed the earl. "What about my boys?"

Earl Roland turned and looked at them. "The big one looks promising," he said. "Did you kill that hare, lad?"

"Yes, lord," Ralph said proudly. "Shot it with an arrow."

"He can come to me as a squire in a few years' time," the earl said briskly. "We'll teach him to be a knight."

Father looked pleased.

Merthin felt bewildered. Big decisions were being made too quickly. He was outraged that his younger brother should be so favoured while no mention was made of himself. "That's not fair!" he burst out. "I want to be a knight, too!"

His mother said: "No!"

"But I made the bow!"

Father gave a sigh of exasperation and looked disgusted.

"You made the bow, did you, little one?" the earl said, and his face showed disdain. "In that case, you shall be apprenticed to a carpenter."

Chapter 3

Caris's home was a luxurious wood-frame building with stone floors and a stone chimney. There were three separate rooms on the ground floor: the hall with the big dining table, the small parlour where Papa could discuss business privately, and the kitchen at the back. When Caris and Gwenda walked in, the house was full of the mouth-watering smell of a ham boiling.

Caris led Gwenda through the hall and up the internal staircase.

"Where are the puppies?" said Gwenda.

"I want to see my mother first," Caris replied. "She's ill."

They went into the front bedroom, where Mama lay on the carved wooden bedstead. She was small and frail: Caris was already the same height. Mama looked paler than usual, and her hair was not yet dressed, so it stuck to her damp cheeks. "How are you feeling?" Caris said.

"A little weak, today." The effort of speaking made Mama breathless.

Caris felt a familiar, painful jumble of anxiety and helplessness. Her mother had been ill for a year. It had started with pains in her joints. Soon she had ulcers inside her mouth and unaccountable bruises on her body. She had felt too weak to do anything. Last week she had caught a cold. Now she was running a fever, and had trouble in catching her breath.

"Is there anything you need?" Caris asked.

"No, thank you."

It was the usual answer, but Caris felt maddened by powerlessness each time she heard it. "Should I fetch Mother Cecilia?" The prioress of Kingsbridge was the only person able to bring Mama some comfort. She had an extract of poppies that she mixed with honey and warm wine that eased the pain for a while. Caris regarded Cecilia as better than an angel.

"No need, dear," Mama said. "How was the All Hallows service?"

Caris noticed how pale her mother's lips were. "Scary," she said.

Mama paused, resting, then said: "What