The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [274]
Philip listened to it all in grim silence. He was sure he had been on the point of getting Stephen’s agreement. Now the king’s mind was elsewhere. But Philip was not ready to give up. He was still wearing the king’s purple robe. He slipped it off his shoulders and held it out, saying: “Perhaps we should both revert to type, my lord king.”
Stephen nodded absently. A courtier stepped behind the king and helped him take off the monkish habit. Philip handed over the royal robe and said: “Lord, you seemed well disposed to my request.”
Stephen looked irritated to be reminded. He shrugged on his robe and was about to speak when a new voice was heard.
“My lord king!”
Philip recognized the voice. His heart sank. He turned and saw William Hamleigh.
“William, my boy!” said the king, in the hearty voice he used with fighting men. “You’ve arrived just in time!”
William bowed and said: “My lord, I’ve brought fifty knights and two hundred men from my earldom.”
Philip’s hopes turned to dust.
Stephen was visibly delighted. “What a good man you are!” he said warmly. “That gives us the advantage over the enemy!” He put his arm around William’s shoulders and walked with him into the cathedral.
Philip stood where he was and watched them go. He had been agonizingly close to success, but in the end William’s army had counted for more than justice, he thought bitterly. The courtier who had helped the king take off the monk’s habit now held the robe out to Philip. Philip took it. The courtier followed the king and his entourage into the cathedral. Philip put on his monastic robe. He was deeply disappointed. He looked at the three huge arched doorways of the cathedral. He had hoped to build archways like that at Kingsbridge. But King Stephen had taken the side of William Hamleigh. The king had been faced with a straight choice: the justice of Philip’s case against the advantage of William’s army. He had failed his test.
Philip was left with only one hope: that King Stephen would be defeated in the forthcoming battle.
II
The bishop said mass in the cathedral when the sky was beginning to change from black to gray. By then the horses were saddled, the knights were wearing their chain mail, the men-at-arms had been fed, and a measure of strong wine had been served to give them all heart.
William Hamleigh knelt in the nave with the other knights and earls, while the war-horses stamped and snorted in the aisles, and was forgiven in advance for the killing he would do that day.
Fear and excitement made William light-headed. If the king won a victory today, William’s name would forever be associated with it, for men would say that he had brought the reinforcements that tipped the balance. If the king should lose ... anything could happen. He shivered on the cold stone floor.
The king was at the front, in a fresh white robe, with a candle in his hand. As the Host was elevated, the candle broke, and the flame went out. William trembled with dread: it was a bad omen. A priest brought a new candle and took away the broken one, and Stephen smiled nonchalantly, but the feeling of supernatural horror stayed with William, and when he looked around he could tell that others felt the same.
After the service the king put on his armor, helped by a valet. He had a knee-length mail coat made of leather with iron rings sewn to it. The coat was slit up to the waist in front and behind so that he could ride in it. The valet laced it tightly at the throat. He then put on a close-fitting cap with a long mail hood attached, covering his tawny hair and protecting his neck. Over the cap he wore an iron helmet with a nosepiece. His leather boots had mail trimmings and pointed spurs.
As he put on his armor, the earls gathered around him. William followed his mother’s advice and acted as if he were already one of them, pushing through the crowd to join the group around the king. After listening for a moment he