The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [284]
A young man in armor came down the street, running for his life, with three or four Welshmen in pursuit. They caught him just as he drew level with Philip. The foremost pursuer swung with his sword and touched the fugitive’s calf. It did not seem to Philip like a deep wound but it was enough to make the young man stumble and fall to the ground. Another pursuer reached the fallen man and hefted a battle-ax.
With his heart in his mouth, Philip stepped forward and shouted: “Stop!”
The man raised his ax.
Philip rushed at him.
The man swung the ax, but Philip pushed him at the last minute. The blade of the ax clanged on the stone pavement a foot from the victim’s head. The attacker recovered his balance and stared at Philip in amazement. Philip stared back at him, trying not to tremble, wishing he could remember a word or two of Welsh. Before either of them moved, the other two pursuers caught up, and one of them cannoned into Philip, sending him sprawling. That probably saved his life, he realized a moment later. When he recovered, everyone had forgotten him. They were butchering the poor young man on the ground with unbelievable savagery. Philip scrambled to his feet, but he was already too late: their hammers and axes were thudding into a corpse. He looked up at the sky and shouted angrily: “If I can’t save anyone, why did you send me here?”
As if in reply, he heard a scream from a nearby house. It was a one-story building of stone and wood, not as costly as those around it. The door stood open. Philip ran inside. There were two rooms with an arch between, and straw on the floor. A woman with two small children huddled in a corner, terrified. Three men-at-arms were in the middle of the house, confronting one small, bald man. A young woman of about eighteen years was on the floor. Her dress was ripped and one of the three men-at-arms was kneeling on her chest, holding her thighs apart. The bald man was clearly trying to stop them from raping his daughter. As Philip came in, the father flung himself at one of the men-at-arms. The soldier threw him off. The father staggered back. The soldier plunged his sword into the father’s abdomen. The woman in the corner screamed like a lost soul.
Philip yelled: “Stop!”
They all looked at him as if he were mad.
In his most authoritative voice he said: “You’ll all go to hell if you do this!”
The one who had killed the father raised his sword to strike Philip.
“Just a minute,” said the man on the ground, still holding the girl’s legs. “Who are you, monk?”
“I am Philip of Gwynedd, prior of Kingsbridge, and I command you in God’s name to leave that girl alone, if you care for your immortal souls.”
“A prior—I thought so,” said the man on the ground. “He’s worth a ransom.”
The first man sheathed his sword and said: “Get over in the corner with the woman, where you belong.”
Philip said: “Don’t lay hands on a monk’s robes.” He was trying to sound dangerous but he could hear the note of desperation in his voice.
“Take him to the castle, John,” said the man on the ground, who was still sitting on the girl. He seemed to be the leader.
“Go to hell,” said John. “I want to fuck her first.” He grabbed Philip’s arms and, before Philip could resist, flung him into the corner. Philip tumbled onto the floor beside the mother.
The man called John lifted the front of his tunic and fell on the girl.
The mother turned her head aside and began to sob.
Philip said: “I will not watch this!” He stood up and grabbed the rapist by the hair, pulling him off the girl. The rapist roared with pain.
The third man raised a club. Philip saw the blow coming, but he was too late. The club landed on his head. He felt a moment of agonizing pain, then everything went black and he lost consciousness before he hit the ground.
The prisoners were taken to the castle and locked in cages. These were stout wooden structures like miniature houses, six feet long and three feet wide, and only a little higher than