Page 242 of The Pillars of the Earth
She wiped her eyes and sniffed. “I followed you.”
“How?”
“I asked people if they had seen you. Masons, mostly, but some monks and lodging-house keepers.”
His eyes widened. “You mean—you’ve been to Spain?”
She nodded. “Compostela, then Salamanca, then Toledo.”
“How long have you been traveling?”
“Three fourths of a year.”
“But why?”
“Because I love you.”
He seemed overwhelmed. His eyes filled with tears. He whispered: “I love you, too.”
“Do you? Do you, still?”
“Oh, yes.”
She could tell he meant it. She tilted her face up. He leaned forward, over the baby, and kissed her softly. The touch of his mouth on hers made her feel dizzy.
The baby cried.
She broke the kiss and rocked him a little, and he quieted.
Jack said: “What’s the baby called?”
“I haven’t named him yet.”
“Why not? He must be a year old!”
“I wanted to consult you.”
“Me?” Jack frowned. “What about Alfred? It’s up to the father. ...” He tailed off. “Why ... is he ... is he mine?”
“Look at him,” she said.
Jack looked. “Red hair ... It must be a year and three quarters since ...”
Aliena nodded.
“Good God,” Jack said. He seemed awestruck. “My son.” He swallowed hard.
She watched his face anxiously as he tried to take in the news. Would he see this as the termination of his youth and freedom? His expression became solemn. Normally a man had nine months to get used to the idea of being a father. Jack had to do it all at once. He looked again at the baby, and at last he smiled. “Our son,” he said. “I’m so glad.”
Aliena sighed happily. Everything was all right at last.
Another thought struck Jack. “What about Alfred? Does he know ...?”
“Of course. He only had to look at the child. Besides ...” She felt embarrassed. “Besides, your mother cursed the marriage, and Alfred was never able to, you know, do anything.”
Jack laughed harshly. “There’s true justice,” he said.
Aliena did not like the relish with which he said it. “It was very hard for me,” she said, in a tone of mild reproof.
