World Without End Page 0,183

I would think again. But I made no promise."

She was powerless to make him keep his word. She wanted to kill him. "Yes, you did!" she said.

"Lords don't bargain with peasants."

She stared at him, lost for words. It had all been for nothing: the long walk to Kingsbridge, the humiliation of appearing naked in front of him and Alan, the shameful act she had performed on Ralph's bed. She had betrayed Wulfric, and he still would not inherit. She pointed a finger at Ralph and said bitterly: "God damn you to hell, Ralph Fitzgerald."

He went pale. The curse of a genuinely wronged woman was known to be powerful. "Watch what you say," he replied. "We have a punishment for a witch who casts spells."

Gwenda drew back. No woman could take such a threat lightly. The accusation of witchcraft was easy to make and hard to refute. Still she could not resist saying: "Those who escape justice in this life will find it in the next."

Ralph ignored that and turned to Perkin. "Where is the money?"

Perkin had not got rich by telling people where he kept his cash. "I'll letch it right away, lord," he said.

Wulfric said: "Come on, Gwenda. There's no mercy for us here."

Gwenda fought back tears. Anger had been replaced by grief. They had lost the battle, after all they had done. She turned away, head lowered to hide her emotions.

Perkin said: "Wait, Wulfric. You need employment - and I need help. Work for me. I'll pay you a penny a day."

Wulfric flushed with the shame of being offered a job as a labourer on lands his family had owned.

Perkin added: "Gwenda, too. You're both young and willing."

He did not intend to be malicious, Gwenda saw. He was single-minded in the pursuit of his own interests, and he was eager to hire two strong young labourers to help him farm his amalgamated holding. He did not care, or perhaps did not even know, that for Wulfric this was the final humiliation.

Perkin said: "That's a shilling a week between you. You'll have plenty."

Wulfric looked bitter. "Work for a wage, on lands that my family has owned for decades?" he said. "Never." He turned away and left the house.

Gwenda followed, thinking: What are we going to do now?

Chapter 29

Westminster Hall was huge, bigger than the inside of some cathedrals. It was dauntingly long and wide, and its distant ceiling was supported by a double row of tall pillars. It was the most important room in the Palace of Westminster.

Earl Roland was perfectly at home here, Godwyn thought resentfully. The earl and his son William swaggered about in their fashionable clothes, with one leg of their hose red and the other black. Every earl knew all the others, and most of the barons too, and they clapped their friends on the shoulders, mocked each other facetiously and hooted with laughter at their own humour. Godwyn wanted to remind them that the courts held in this room had the power to sentence any one of them to death, even if they were the nobility.

He and his entourage were quiet, speaking only to one another, and then in hushed tones. This was not out of reverence, he had to admit, but nervousness. Godwyn, Edmund and Caris were ill at ease here. None of them had been to London before. The only person they knew was Buenaventura Caroli, and he was out of town. They did not know their way around, their clothes looked old-fashioned, and the money they had brought - which they had thought would be plenty - was running out.

Edmund was not cowed by anything, and Caris seemed distracted - as if she had something more important on her mind, though it hardly seemed possible - but Godwyn was tormented by anxiety. He was a newly elected prior, challenging one of the greatest noblemen in the land. The issue was the future of the town. Without the bridge, Kingsbridge would die. The priory, currently the beating heart of one of England's great cities, would dwindle to a lonely outpost in a small village, where a few monks did their devotions in the echoing emptiness of a crumbling cathedral. Godwyn had not fought to be prior only to see his prize turn to dust.

With so much at stake, he wanted to be in control of events, confident that he was cleverer than almost everyone else, as he was in Kingsbridge. But