World Without End

He was in high spirits as they walked back into Kingsbridge. He took her to Slaughterhouse Ditch, a street near the river, and they went into a large but dirty tavern called the White Horse. He bought Gwenda a cup of ale to drink while he disappeared into the back of the house with the i

They returned to the main street and found Ma, Philemon and the baby at the Bell i

It was mid-afternoon, and most visitors had left to return to their villages; but it was too late to set out for Wigleigh, so the family would spend the night at the i

Gwenda felt weary. She had got up early and walked a long way. She lay down on a bench and quickly fell asleep.

She was awakened by the i

The older spoke directly to Pa. “You’re Joby from Wigleigh, aren’t you.”

Gwenda instantly felt frightened again. There was a tone of serious menace in the man’s voice. He was not posturing, just determined, but he gave her the impression he would do anything to get his way.

“No,” Pa replied, lying automatically. “You’ve got the wrong man.”

They ignored that. The second man put the bundle on the table and spread it out. It consisted of two yellow-and-green tunics wrapped around two swords and two daggers. He looked at Pa and said: “Where did these come from?”

“I’ve never seen them before, I swear by the Cross.”

He was stupid to deny it, Gwenda thought fearfully: they would get the truth out of him, just as he had got the truth out of her.

The older man-at-arms said: “Davey, the landlord of the White Horse, says he bought these from Joby Wigleigh.” His voice hardened with threat, and the handful of other customers in the room all got up from their seats and quickly slipped out of the i

“Joby left here a while ago,” Pa said desperately.

The man nodded. “With his wife, two children, and a baby.”

“Yes.”

The man moved with sudden speed. He grabbed Pa’s tunic in a strong hand and pushed him up against the wall. Ma screamed, and the baby began to cry. Gwenda saw that the man’s right hand bore a padded glove covered with chain-mail. He drew back his arm and punched Pa in the stomach.

Ma shouted: “Help! Murder!” Philemon began to cry.

Pa’s face turned white with pain, and he went limp, but the man held him up against the wall, preventing him from falling, and punched him again, this time in the face. Blood spurted from Pa’s nose and mouth.

Gwenda wanted to scream, and her mouth was open wide, but no noise would come from her throat. She thought her father was all-powerful – even though he often slyly pretended to be weak, or craven, in order to get sympathy, or turn aside anger – and it terrified her to see him so helpless.

The i

The man-at-arms did not look at him. “You keep out of it,” he said, and he punched Pa in the stomach again.

Pa vomited blood.

“Stop that,” said the i

The man-at-arms said: “Who do you think you are?”

“I’m Paul Bell, and this is my house.”

“Well, then, Paul Bell, you mind your own business, if you know what’s good for you.”

“I suppose you think you can do what you like, wearing that uniform.” There was contempt in Paul’s voice.

“That’s about right.”

“Whose livery is it, anyway?”

“The queen’s.”

Paul spoke over his shoulder. “Bessie, run and fetch John Constable. If a man is going to be murdered in my tavern, I want the constable to witness it.” The little girl disappeared.

“There’ll be no killing here,” the man-at-arms said. “Joby has changed his mind. He’s decided to lead me to the place where he robbed two dead men – haven’t you, Joby?”

Pa could not speak, but he nodded. The man let him go, and he fell to his knees, coughing and retching.

The man looked at the rest of the family. “And the child that witnessed the fight…?”

Gwenda screamed: “No!”

He nodded in satisfaction. “The rat-faced girl, obviously.”

Gwenda ran to her mother. Ma said: “Mary, Mother of God, save my child.”

The man grabbed Gwenda’s arm and roughly pulled her away from her mother. She cried out. He said harshly: “Shut your noise, or you’ll get the same as your miserable father.”

Gwenda clamped her jaws together to stop herself screaming.

“Get up, Joby.” The man dragged Pa to his feet. “Pull yourself together, you’re going for a ride.”

The second man picked up the clothes and the weapons.

As they left the i

The men had horses. Gwenda rode in front of the older man, and Pa was mounted in the same position on the other horse. Pa was helpless, groaning, so Gwenda directed them, remembering the way clearly now that she had followed it twice. They made rapid progress on horseback, but all the same the afternoon was darkening when they reached the clearing.

The younger man held on to Gwenda and Pa while the leader pulled the bodies of their comrades out from under the bush.

“That Thomas must be a rare fighter, to kill Harry and Alfred together,” the older man mused, looking at the corpses. Gwenda realized that these men did not know about the other children. She would have confessed that she had not been alone, and that Ralph had killed one of the men, but she was too terrified to speak. “He’s nearly cut Alfred’s head off,” the man went on. He turned and looked at Gwenda. “Was anything said about a letter?”

“I don’t know!” she said, finding her voice. “I had my eyes shut because I was frightened, and I couldn’t hear what they were saying! It’s true, I’d tell you if I knew!”

“If they got the letter from him in the first place, he would have taken it back after he killed them anyway,” the man said to his comrade. He looked at the trees around the clearing, as if the letter might have been hanging among the dying leaves. “He probably has it now, at the priory where we can’t get at him without violating the sanctity of the monastery.”

The second man said: “At least we can report exactly what happened and take the bodies home for a Christian burial.”

There was a sudden commotion. Pa wrenched himself out of the grasp of the second man and dashed across the clearing. His captor moved to go after him, but was stopped by the older man-at-arms. “Let him go – what’s the point in killing him now?”

Gwenda began to cry quietly.

“What about this child?” said the younger man.

They were going to murder her, Gwenda felt sure. She could see nothing through her tears, and she was sobbing too hard to plead for her life. She would die and go to hell. She waited for the end.

“Let her go,” said the older man. “I wasn’t born to kill little girls.”

The younger man released her and gave her a shove. She stumbled and fell to the ground. She got up, wiped her eyes so that she could see, and stumbled off.

“Go on, run away,” the man called after her. “It’s your lucky day!”