World Without End Page 0,342

kill Ralph, he had known that Ralph, once captured, was likely to be hanged. The last words Ralph had spoken to Merthin, in the jail in the basement of the guild hall at Kingsbridge, were: "You betrayed me."

Ralph came in with Alan, both muddy from the hunt. Merthin was shocked to see that he walked with a limp. Ralph took a moment to recognize Merthin. Then he smiled broadly. "My big brother!" he said heartily. It was an old joke: Merthin was the elder, but had long been smaller.

They embraced. Merthin felt a surge of warmth, despite everything. At least we're both alive, he thought, despite war and plague. When they had parted he had wondered whether they would ever meet again.

Ralph threw himself into the big chair. "Bring some beer, we're thirsty!" he said to Tilly.

There were to be no recriminations, Merthin gathered.

He studied his brother. Ralph had changed since that day in 1339 when he had ridden off to war. He had lost some of the fingers of his left hand, presumably in battle. He had a dissipated look: his face was veined from drink and his skin seemed dry and flaky. "Did you have good hunting?" Merthin asked.

"We brought home a roe deer as fat as a cow," he replied with satisfaction. "You shall have her liver for supper."

Merthin asked him about fighting in the army of the king, and Ralph related some of the highlights of the war. Their father was enthusiastic. "An English knight is worth ten of the French!" he said. "The battle of Crecy proved that."

Ralph's response was surprisingly measured. "An English knight is not much different from a French knight, in my opinion," he said. "But the French haven't yet understood the harrow formation in which we line up, with archers either side of dismounted knights and men-at-arms. They are still charging us suicidally, and long may they continue. But they will figure it out one day, and then they will change their tactics. Meanwhile, we are almost unbeatable in defence. Unfortunately, the harrow formation is irrelevant to attack, so we have ended up winning very little."

Merthin was struck by how his brother had grown up. Warfare had given him a depth and subtlety he had never previously possessed.

In turn, Merthin talked about Florence: the incredible size of the city, the wealth of the merchants, the churches and palaces. Ralph was particularly fascinated by the notion of slave girls.

Darkness fell and the servants brought lamps and candles, then supper. Ralph drank a lot of wine. Merthin noticed that he hardly spoke to Tilly. Perhaps it was not surprising. Ralph was a thirty-one-year-old soldier who had spent half his adult life in an army, and Tilly was a girl of fourteen who had been educated in a nunnery. What would they have to talk about?

Late in the evening, when Gerald and Maud had returned to their own house and Tilly had gone to bed, Merthin broached the subject Caris had asked him to raise. He felt more optimistic than previously. Ralph was showing signs of maturity. He had forgiven Merthin for what had happened in 1339, and his cool analysis of English and French tactics had been impressively free from tribal chauvinism.

Merthin said: "On my way here, I spent a night in Wigleigh."

"I see that fulling mill stays busy."

"The scarlet cloth has become a good business for Kingsbridge."

Ralph shrugged. "Mark Webber pays the rent on time." It was beneath the dignity of noblemen to discuss business.

"I stayed with Gwenda and Wulfric," Merthin went on. "You know that Gwenda has been Caris's friend since childhood."

"I remember the day we all met Sir Thomas Langley in the forest."

Merthin shot a quick glance at Alan Fernhill. They had all kept their childish vows, and had not told anyone about that incident. Merthin wanted the secrecy to continue, for he sensed it was still important to Thomas, though he had no idea why. But Alan showed no reaction: he had drunk a lot of wine, and had no ear for hints.

Merthin moved on quickly. "Caris asked me to speak to you about Wulfric. She thinks you've punished him enough for that fight. And I agree."

"He broke my nose!"

"I was there, remember? You weren't an innocent party." Merthin tried to make light of it. "You did feel up his fiancee. What was her name?"

"Annet."

"If her tits weren't worth a broken nose, you've only got yourself to blame."

Alan laughed, but E.alph was not amused. "Wulfric almost got me hanged,