Page 61 of The Pillars of the Earth
Alfred laughed and dropped the bird on the ground.
Jack picked it up. “Dead,” he said.
Ellen said: “What iswrongwith you, Alfred?”
Torn said: “Nothing’s wrong with him. The bird was going to die.”
He walked on, and the others followed. Ellen was angry with Alfred again, and it made Tom cross. Why make a fuss about a damned wren? Tom remembered what it was like to be fourteen years old, a boy with the body of a man: life was frustrating. Ellen had saidWhere Alfred is concerned,you’re just blind,but she did not understand.
The wooden bridge that led over the moat to the gatehouse was flimsy and ramshackle, but that was probably how the earl liked it: a bridge was a means of access for attackers, and the more readily it fell down, the safer the castle was. The perimeter walls were of earth with stone towers at intervals. Ahead of them as they crossed the bridge was a stone gatehouse, like two towers with a connecting walkway. Plenty of stonework here, Torn thought; not one of these castles that are all mud and wood. Tomorrow I could be working. He remembered the feel of good tools in his hands, the scrape of the chisel across a block of stone as he squared its sides and smoothed its face, the dry feel of the dust in his nostrils. Tomorrow night my belly may be full—with food I’ve earned, not begged.
Coming closer, he noticed with his mason’s eye that the battlements on top of the gatehouse were in bad condition. Some of the big stones had fallen, leaving the parapet quite level in parts. There were also loose stones in the arch of the gateway.
There were two sentries at the gate, and both looked alert. Perhaps they were expecting trouble. One of them asked Tom his business.
“Stonemason, hoping to be hired to work in the earl’s quarry,” he replied.
“Look for the earl’s steward,” the sentry said helpfully. “His name is Matthew. You’ll probably find him in the great hall.”
“Thanks,” Tom said. “What kind of a man is he?”
The guard grinned at his colleague and said: “Not much of a man at all,” and they both laughed.
Tom supposed he would soon find out what that meant. He went in, and Ellen and the children followed. The buildings within the walls were mostly wooden, though some were raised on stone skirtings, and there was one built all of stone that was probably the chapel. As they crossed the compound Tom noticed that the towers around the perimeter all had loose stones and damaged battlements. They crossed the second moat to the upper circle, and stopped at the second gatehouse. Tom told the guard he was looking for Matthew Steward. They all went on into the upper compound and approached the square stone keep. The wooden door at ground level clearly opened into the undercroft. They went up the wooden steps to the hall.
Tom saw both the steward and the earl as soon as he went in. He knew who they were by their clothes. Earl Bartholomew wore a long tunic with flared cuffs on the sleeves and embroidery on the hem. Matthew Steward wore a short tunic, in the same style as the one Tom was wearing, but made of a softer cloth, and he had a little round cap. They were near the fireplace, the earl sitting and the steward standing. Tom approached the two men and stood just out of earshot, waiting for them to notice him. Earl Bartholomew was a tall man of over fifty, with white hair and a pale, thin, haughty face. He did not look like a man of generous spirit. The steward was younger. He stood in a way that reminded Tom of the guard’s remark: it looked feminine. Tom was not sure what to make of him.
There were several other people in the hall, but none of them took any notice of Tom. He waited, feeling hopeful and fearful by turns. The earl’s conversation with his steward seemed to take forever. At last it ended, and the steward bowed and turned aside. Tom stepped forward with his heart in his mouth. “Are you Matthew?” he said.
“Yes.”
“My name is Tom. Master mason. I’m a good craftsman, and my children are starving. I hear you have a quarry.” He held his breath.
“We have a quarry, but I don’t think we need any more quarrymen,” Matthew said. He glanced back at the earl, who shook his head almost imperceptibly. “No,” Matthew said. “We can’t hire you.”
It was the speed of the decision that broke Tom’s heart. If people were solemn, and thought hard about it, and rejected him regretfully, he could bear it more easily. Matthew was not a cruel man, Tom could tell, but he was busy, and Tom and his starving family were just another item to be disposed of as quickly as possible.
Tom said desperately: “I could do some repairs here at the castle.”
“We have a wright who does all that kind of work for us,” Matthew said.
A wright was a jack-of-all-trades, usually trained as a carpenter. “I’m a mason,” Tom said. “My walls are strong.”
Matthew was annoyed with him for arguing, and seemed about to say something angry; then he looked at the children and his face softened again. “I’d like to give you work, but we don’t need you.”
Tom nodded. He should now humbly accept what the steward had said, put on a pitiful look, and beg for a meal and a place to sleep for one night. But Ellen was with him, and he was afraid she would leave, so he gave it one more try. He said in a voice loud enough for the earl to hear: “I just hope you’re not expecting to do battle soon.”
The effect was much more dramatic than he had expected. Matthew gave a start, and the earl got to his feet and said sharply: “Why do you say that?”
Tom perceived he had touched a nerve. “Because your defenses are in bad repair,” he said.
“In what way?” the earl said. “Be specific, man!”
Tom took a deep breath. The earl was irritated but attentive. Tom would not get another chance after this. “The mortar in the gatehouse walls has come away in places. This leaves an opening for a crowbar. An enemy could easily pry out a stone or two; and once there’s a hole it’s easy to pull the wall down. Also”—he hurried on breathlessly, before anyone could comment or argue—“also, all your battlements are damaged. They’re level in places. This leaves your archers and knights unprotected from—”
“I know what battlements are for,” the earl interrupted tetchily. “Anything else?”
“Yes. The keep has an undercroft with a wooden door. If I were attacking the keep I’d go through that door and start a fire in the stores.”
