Page 295 of The Pillars of the Earth
“Where’s mine?”
“Here, lord.” He pointed to a pile of eight or nine sacks.
“What?” William felt his face flush. “That’s mine? I’ve got two wagons outside, and you offer me that?”
Wulfric’s face became even more doleful. “I’m sorry, lord.”
William counted them. “It’s only nine sacks!”
“That’s all there is,” Wulfric said. He was almost in tears. “You see mine next to yours, and it’s the same—”
“You lying dog,” William said angrily. “You’ve sold it—”
“No, lord,” Wulfric insisted. “That’s all there ever was.”
Maggie came to the doorway with six pottery tumblers of ale on a tray. She offered the tray to each of the knights. They took a mug each and drank thirstily. William ignored her. He was too wound up to drink. She stood waiting with the one remaining tumbler on the tray.
“What’s all this?” William said to Wulfric, pointing to the rest of the sacks, another twenty-five or thirty piled around the walls.
“Awaiting collection, lord—you see the owner’s mark on the sacks. ...”
It was true: each sack was marked with a letter or symbol. That might be a trick, of course, but there was no way William could establish the truth. He found it maddening. But it was not his way to accept this kind of situation. “I don’t believe you,” he said. “You’ve been robbing me.”
Wulfric was respectfully insistent, even though his voice was shaking. “I’m honest, lord.”
“There’s never been an honest miller yet.”
“Lord—” Wulfric swallowed hard. “Lord, I’ve never cheated you by so much as a grain of wheat—”
“I’ll bet you’ve been robbing me blind.”
Sweat ran down Wulfric’s face despite the cold weather. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “I’m ready to swear by Jesus and the saints—”
“Shut your mouth.”
Wulfric was silent.
William was letting himself get madder and madder but he still had not decided what to do. He wanted to give Wulfric a bad scare, perhaps let Walter beat him up with the chain-mail gloves, possibly take some or all of Wulfric’s own flour. ... Then his eye fell on Maggie, holding the tray with one cup of ale on it, her pretty face rigid with fear, her big young breasts swelling under the floury tunic; and he thought of the perfect punishment for Wulfric. “Grab the wife,” he said to Walter out of the corner of his mouth. To Wulfric he said: “I’m going to teach you a lesson.”
Maggie saw Walter moving toward her but she was too late to escape. As she turned away, Walter grabbed her arm and pulled. The tray fell with a crash and beer spilled on the floor as Maggie was jerked back. Walter twisted her arm behind her back and held her. She was shaking with fear.
Wulfric said: “No, leave her, please!” in a panicky voice.
William gave a satisfied nod. Wulfric was going to see his young wife raped by several men and he would be powerless to save her. Another time he would make sure to have enough grain to satisfy his lord.
William said: “Your wife’s getting plump on bread made from stolen flour, Wulfric, while the rest of us are tightening our belts. Let’s see just how fat she is, shall we?” He nodded to Walter.
Walter grasped the neck of Maggie’s tunic and pulled sharply down. The garment ripped and fell away. Underneath she wore a linen shirt that reached her knees. Her ample breasts rose and fell as she panted with fear. William stood in front of her. Walter twisted her arm harder, so that she arched her back in pain, and her breasts stuck out even more. William looked at Wulfric, then put his hands on her breasts and kneaded them. They were soft and heavy in his hands.
Wulfric took a step forward and said: “You devil—”
“Hold him,” William snapped, and Louis grabbed the miller by both arms and held him still.
William ripped off the girl’s undershirt.
His throat went dry as he stared at her voluptuous white body.
Wulfric said: “No, please—”
