World Without End

She touched his shoulder and looked at the door. Her hand went to her mouth, and she drew in her breath. “They seem alive!” she said.

He was thrilled. Her praise was not lightly given. All the same, he felt an impulse to be modest. “It’s only that I’ve made each one individual. On the old door, the virgins were identical.”

“It’s more than that. They look as if they might step forward and talk to us.”

“Thank you.”

“But it’s so different from everything else in the cathedral. What will the monks say?”

“Brother Thomas likes it.”

“What about the sacrist?”

“Godwyn? I don’t know what he’ll think. But if there’s a fuss I’ll appeal to Prior Anthony – who won’t want to commission another door and pay twice.”

“Well,” she said thoughtfully, “the Bible doesn’t say that they were all alike, of course – just that five had the sense to get ready well in advance, and the other five left arrangements until the last minute and ended up missing the party. But what about Elfric?”

“It’s not for him.”

“He’s your master.”

“He only cares about getting the money.”

She was not convinced. “The problem is that you’re a better craftsman than he. That’s been obvious for a couple of years, and everyone knows it. Elfric would never admit it, but that’s why he hates you. He may make you regret this.”

“You always see the black side.”

“Do I?” She was offended. “Well, we’ll see if I’m right. I hope I’m wrong.” She turned to go.

“Elizabeth?”

“Yes.”

“I’m really pleased you think it’s good.”

She did not reply, but she seemed a bit mollified. She waved goodbye and left.

Merthin decided the door was finished. He wrapped it in coarse sacking. He would have to show it to Elfric, and now was as good a time as any: the rain had stopped, for a while at least.

He got one of the labourers to help him carry the door. The builders had a technique for carrying heavy, awkward objects. They laid two stout poles on the ground, parallel, then placed boards crosswise on the poles in the centre to provide a firm base. They manhandled the object on to the boards. Then they stood between the poles, one man at each end, and lifted. The arrangement was called a stretcher, and it was also used for carrying sick people to the hospital.

Even so, the door was very heavy. However, Merthin was used to difficult lifting. Elfric had never allowed him to make an excuse of his slight stature, and the result was that he had become surprisingly strong.

The two men reached Elfric’s house and carried the door inside. Griselda was sitting in the kitchen. She seemed to be getting more voluptuous by the day – her large breasts appeared to be growing even bigger. Merthin hated to be at odds with people, so he tried to be friendly. “Do you want to see my door?” he said as they passed her.

“Why would I want to look at a door?”

“It’s carved. The story of the wise and foolish virgins.”

She gave a humourless laugh. “Don’t tell me about virgins.”

They carried it through to the yard. Merthin did not understand women. Griselda had been cold to him ever since they had made love. If that was how she felt, why had she done it? She was making it clear she did not want to do it again. He could have reassured her that he felt the same way – in fact he loathed the prospect – but that would be insulting, so he said nothing.

They put down the stretcher and Merthin’s helper left. Elfric was in the yard, his brawny body bent over a stack of timber, counting planks, tapping each beam with a piece of square-cut wood a couple of feet long, sticking his tongue into his cheek as he did whenever he faced a mental challenge. He glared at Merthin and carried on, so Merthin said nothing, but unwrapped the door and stood it up against a pile of stone blocks. He was extraordinarily proud of what he had done. He had followed the traditional pattern but at the same time he had done something original that made people gasp. He could hardly wait to see the door installed in the church.

“Forty-seven,” Elfric said, then he turned to Merthin.

“I finished the door,” Merthin said proudly. “What do you think?”

Elfric looked at the door for a moment. He had a big nose, and his nostrils twitched in surprise. Then, without warning, he hit Merthin across the face with the stick he had been using to count. It was a solid piece of wood and the blow was hard. Merthin cried out in sudden agony, staggered back and fell to the ground.

“You piece of filth!” Elfric yelled. “You defiled my daughter!”

Merthin tried to sputter a protest, but his mouth was full of blood.

“How dare you?” Elfric bellowed.

As if at a signal, Alice appeared from inside the house. “Snake!” she screamed. “You slithered into our home and deflowered our little girl!”

They were pretending to be spontaneous, but they must have pla

Elfric lashed out again with his improvised club. Merthin rolled out of the way, but the blow landed painfully on his shoulder.

Alice said: “How could you do this to Caris? My poor sister – when she finds out, it will break her heart.”

Merthin was stung into a response. “And you’ll be sure to tell her, won’t you, you bitch.”

“Well, you’re not going to marry Griselda in secret,” Alice said.

Merthin was astonished. “Marry? I’m not marrying her. She hates me!”

With that, Griselda appeared. “I certainly don’t want to marry you,” she said. “But I’ll have to. I’m pregnant.”

Merthin stared at her. “That’s not possible – we only did it once.”

Elfric laughed harshly. “It only takes once, you young fool.”

“I’m still not marrying her.”

“If you don’t, you’ll be sacked,” Elfric said.

“You can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t care, I’m not going to marry her.”

Elfric dropped the club and picked up an axe.

Merthin said: “Jesus Christ!”

Alice took a step forward. “Elfric, don’t commit murder.”

“Get out of the way, woman.” Elfric lifted the axe.

Merthin, still on the ground, scooted away, in fear of his life.

Elfric brought the axe down, not on Merthin, but on his door.

Merthin shouted: “No!”

The sharp blade sank into the face of the long-haired virgin and split the wood along the grain.

Merthin yelled: “Stop it!”

Elfric lifted the axe again and brought it down even harder. It split the door in two.

Merthin got to his feet. To his horror, he felt his eyes fill with tears. “You have no right!” He was trying to shout, but his voice came out in a whisper.

Elfric lifted the axe and turned towards him. “Stay back, boy – don’t tempt me.”

Merthin saw a mad light in Elfric’s eye, and backed away.

Elfric brought the axe down on the door again.

Merthin stood and watched with tears pouring down his face.