Page 94 of The Pillars of the Earth
But he could not bear the thought of losing Ellen.
“Don’t tear yourself apart,” she said. “I won’t tramp the roads with you again. That’s no solution—we’d be worse off than we are now, in every way. I’m going back to the forest, and you’re not coming with me.”
He stared at her. He wanted to believe that she did not mean it, but the look on her face told him she did. He could not think of anything more to say to stop her. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. He felt helpless. She was breathing hard, her bosom rising and falling with emotion. He wanted to touch her, but he felt she did not want him to. I may never embrace her again, he thought. It was hard to believe. For weeks he had lain with her every night, and touched her as familiarly as he would touch himself; and now suddenly it was forbidden, and she was like a stranger.
“Don’t look so sad,” she said. Her eyes were full of tears.
“I can’t help it,” he said. “I am sad.”
“I’m sorry I’ve made you so unhappy.”
“Don’t be sorry for that. Be sorry that you made me so happy. That’s what hurts, woman. That you made me so happy.”
A sob escaped from her lips. She turned away and left without another word.
Jack and Martha went out after her. Alfred hesitated, looking awkward, then followed them.
Tom stood staring at the chair she had left. No, he thought, it can’t be true, she isn’t leaving me.
He sat down in the chair. It was still warm from her body, the body he loved so much. He stiffened his face to stop the tears.
He knew she would not change her mind now. She never vacillated: she was a person who made a decision and then carried it through.
She might regret it eventually, though.
He seized on that shred of hope. He knew she loved him. That had not changed. Only last night she had made love frantically, like someone slaking a terrible thirst; and after he was satisfied she had rolled on top of him and carried on, kissing him hungrily, gasping into his beard as she came time and time again, until she was too exhausted with pleasure to go on. And it was not just the fucking that she liked. They enjoyed being together all the time. They talked constantly, much more than he and Agnes had talked even in the early days. She’s going to miss me as much as I’ll miss her, he thought. After a while, when her anger has died down, and she has settled into a new routine, she’ll hanker for someone to talk to, a hard body to touch, a bearded face to kiss. Then she’ll think of me.
But she was proud. She might be too proud to come back even if she wanted to.
He sprang out of his chair. He had to tell her what was on his mind. He left the house. She was at the priory gate, saying goodbye to Martha. Tom ran past the stable and caught up with her.
She gave him a sad smile. “Goodbye, Tom.”
He took her hands. “Will you come back, one day? Just to see us? If I know you’re not going away forever, that I will see you again sometime, if only for a little while—if I know that I can bear it.”
She hesitated.
“Please?”
“All right,” she said.
“Swear it.”
“I don’t believe in oaths.”
“But I do.”
“All right. I swear it.”
“Thank you.” He pulled her gently to him. She did not resist him. He hugged her, and his control broke. Tears poured down his face. At last she drew away. Reluctantly he let her go. She turned toward the gate.
At that moment there was a noise from the stable, the sound of a spirited horse being disobedient, stamping and snorting. Automatically, they all looked round. The horse was Waleran Bigod’s black stallion, and the bishop was about to mount. His eyes met Ellen’s, and he froze.
At that moment she started to sing.
Tom did hot know the song, although he had heard her sing often. The melody was terribly sad. The words were French, but he could understand them well enough.
A lark, caught in a hunter’s net
