The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [332]
He felt a moment of panic. He wanted to yell Don’t move, you’ll fall! but his words would have been lost in the noise of the fair. He pushed through the crowd toward the cathedral. Jonathan was running along the scaffolding, absorbed in some imaginary game, heedless of the danger that he might slip and fall over the edge and tumble eighty feet to his death—
Tom quenched the terror rising like bile in his throat.
The scaffolding did not rest on the ground, but on heavy timbers inserted into purpose-built holes high up in the walls. These timbers jutted out six feet or so. Stout poles were laid across them and roped to them, and then trestles made of flexible saplings and woven reeds were laid on the poles. The scaffolding was normally reached via the spiral stone staircases built into the thickness of the walls. But those staircases had been closed off today. So how had Jonathan climbed up? There were no ladders—Tom had seen to that, and Jack had double-checked. The child must have climbed up the stepped end of the unfinished wall. The ends had been built up with wood, so that they no longer provided easy access; but Jonathan could have clambered over the blocks. The child was full of self-confidence-but all the same he fell over at least once a day.
Tom reached the foot of the wall and looked up fearfully. Jonathan was playing happily eighty feet above. Fear gripped Tom’s heart with a cold hand. He shouted at the top of his voice: “Jonathan!”
The people around him were startled, and looked up to see what he was shouting at. As they spotted the child on the scaffolding they pointed him out to their friends. A small crowd gathered.
Jonathan had not heard. Tom cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted again. “Jonathan! Jonathan!”
This time the boy heard. He looked down, saw Tom, and waved.
Tom shouted: “Come down!”
Jonathan seemed about to obey, then he looked at the wall along which he would have to walk, and the steep flight of steps he would have to descend, and he changed his mind. “I can’t!” he called back, and his high voice floated down to the people on the ground.
Tom realized he was going to have to go up and get him. “Just stay where you are until I reach you!” he shouted. He pushed the blocks of wood off the lower steps and mounted the wall.
It was four feet wide at the foot, but it narrowed as it went up. Tom climbed steadily. He was tempted to rush, but he forced himself to be calm. When he glanced up he saw Jonathan sitting on the edge of the scaffolding, dangling his short legs over the sheer drop.
At the very top the wall was only two feet thick. Even so, it was plenty wide enough to walk on, provided you had strong nerves, and Tom did. He made his way along the wall, jumped down onto the scaffolding, and took Jonathan in his arms. He was swamped with relief. “You foolish boy,” he said, but his voice was full of love, and Jonathan hugged him.
After a moment Tom looked down again. He saw a sea of upturned faces: a hundred or more people were watching. They probably thought it was another show, like the bearbaiting. Tom said to Jonathan: “All right, let’s go down now.” He set the boy on the wall, and said: “I’ll be right behind you, so don’t worry.”
Jonathan was not convinced. “I’m scared,” he said. He held out his arms to be picked up, and when Tom hesitated he burst into tears.
“Never mind, I’ll carry you,” Tom said. He was not very happy about it, but Jonathan was now too upset to be trusted at this height. Tom clambered onto the wall, knelt beside Jonathan, picked him up, and stood upright.
Jonathan held on tight.
Tom stepped forward. Because he had the child in his arms he could not see the stones immediately beneath his feet. That could not be helped. With his heart in his mouth, he walked gingerly along the wall, placing his feet cautiously. He had no fear for himself, but with the child