The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [312]
Goda said: “Dick Shorthouse died last winter.”
Philip remembered the man, a beggar who slept in pigsties and stables. “Dick fell down drunk in the street at midnight and froze to death when it snowed,” he said. “He didn’t starve, and if he’d been sober enough to walk to the priory, he wouldn’t have been cold either. If you’re hungry, don’t try to cheat me—come to me for charity. And if you’re too proud to do that, and you would rather break the law instead, you must take your punishment like everyone else. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, Lord,” the old woman said sulkily.
“Fined a farthing,” Philip said. “Court is over.”
He stood up and went out, climbing the stairs that led up to ground level from the crypt.
Work on the new cathedral had slowed dramatically, as it always did a month or so before Christmas. The exposed edges and tops of the unfinished stonework were covered with straw and dung—the litter from the priory stables—to keep the frost off the new masonry. The masons could not build in the winter, because of the frost, they said. Philip had asked why they could not uncover the walls every morning and cover them again at night: it was not often frosty in the daytime. Tom said that walls built in winter fell down. Philip believed that, but he did not think it was because of the frost. He thought the real reason might be that the mortar took several months to set properly. The winter break allowed it to get really hard before the new year’s masonry was built on top. That would also explain the masons’ superstition that it was bad luck to build more than twenty feet high in a single year: more than that, and the lower courses might become deformed by the weight on them before the mortar could harden.
Philip was surprised to see all the masons out in the open, in what would be the chancel of the church. He went to see what they were doing.
They had made a semicircular wooden arch and stood it upright, propped up with poles on both sides. Philip knew that the wooden arch was a piece of what they called falsework: its purpose was to support the stone arch while it was being built. Now, however, the masons were assembling the stone arch at ground level, without mortar, to make sure the stones fit together perfectly. Apprentices and laborers were lifting the stones onto the falsework while the masons looked on critically.
Philip caught Tom’s eye and said: “What’s this for?”
“It’s an arch for the tribune gallery.”
Philip looked up reflexively. The arcade had been finished last year and the gallery above it would be completed next year. Then only the top level, the clerestory, would remain to be built before the roof went on. Now that the walls had been covered up for the winter, the masons were cutting the stones ready for next year’s work. If this arch was right, the stones for all the others would be cut to the same patterns.
The apprentices, among whom was Tom’s stepson, Jack, built the arch up from either side, with the wedge-shaped stones called voussoirs. Although the arch would eventually be built high up in the church, it would have elaborate decorative moldings; so each stone bore, on the surface that would be visible, a line of large dogtooth carving, another line of small medallions, and a bottom line of simple roll molding. When the stones were put together, the carvings lined up exactly, forming three continuous arcs, one of dogtooth, one of medallions and one of roll molding. This gave the impression that the arch was constructed of several semicircular hoops of stone one on top of another, whereas, in fact, it was made of wedges placed side by side. However, the stones had to fit together precisely, otherwise the carvings would not line up and the illusion would be spoiled.
Philip watched while Jack lowered the central keystone into place. Now the arch was complete. Four masons picked up sledgehammers and knocked out the wedges