The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [333]
He looked out, past the priory close, over Kingsbridge, to the fields beyond, and there he saw something that puzzled him. There was a cloud of dust on the road leading to Kingsbridge, about half a mile away. After a moment he realized that he was looking at a large troop of men on horseback, approaching the town at a smart trot. He peered into the distance, trying to figure out who they were. At first he thought it must be a very wealthy merchant, or a group of merchants, with a large entourage, but there were too many of them, and somehow they did not look like commercial people. He tried to put his finger on what it was about them that made him think they were something other than merchants. As they came closer he saw that some of them were riding war-horses, most had helmets, and they were armed to the teeth.
Suddenly he felt scared.
“Jesus Christ, who are those people?” he said aloud.
“Don’t say ‘Christ,’ ” Jonathan reprimanded him.
Whoever they were, they meant trouble.
Tom hurried down the steps. The crowd cheered as he jumped down to the ground. He ignored them. Where were Ellen and the children? He looked all around, but he could not see them.
Jonathan tried to wriggle out of his arms. Tom held him tight. As he had his youngest child right here, the first thing to do was to put him somewhere safe. Then he could find the others. He pushed through the crowd to the door that led into the cloisters. It was locked from the inside, to preserve the privacy of the monastery during the fair. Tom banged on it and yelled: “Open up! Open up!”
Nothing happened.
Tom was not even sure there was anyone in the cloisters. There was no time to speculate. He stepped back, put Jonathan down, lifted his large booted right foot and kicked at the door. The wood around the lock splintered. He kicked it again, harder. The door flew open. Just the other side of it was an elderly monk, looking astonished. Tom lifted Jonathan and put him inside. “Keep him in there,” he said to the old monk. “There’s going to be trouble.”
The monk nodded dumbly and took Jonathan’s hand.
Tom closed the door.
Now he had to find the rest of his family in a crowd of a thousand or more.
The near impossibility of the task scared him. He could not see a single familiar face. He climbed onto an empty beer barrel to get a better view. It was midday, and the fair was at its height. The crowd moved like a slow river along the aisles between the stalls, and there were eddies around the vendors of food and drink as people queued to buy dinner. Tom raked the crowds but he could not see any of his family. He despaired. He looked over the roofs of the houses. The riders were almost at the bridge, and had increased their pace to a gallop. They were men-at-arms, all of them, and they carried firebrands. Tom was horrified. There would be mayhem.
Suddenly he saw Jack right beside him, looking up at him with an expression of amusement. “Why are you standing on a barrel?” he said.
“There’s going to be trouble!” Tom said urgently. “Where’s your mother?”
“At Aliena’s stall. What sort of trouble?”
“Bad. Where are Alfred and Martha?”
“Martha’s with Mother. Alfred’s watching the cockfighting. What is it?”
“See for yourself.” Tom gave Jack a hand up. Jack stood precariously on the rim of the barrel in front of Tom. The riders were pounding across the bridge into the village. Jack said: “Christ Jesus, who are they?”
Tom peered at the leader, a big man on a war-horse. He recognized the yellow hair and heavy build. “It’s William Hamleigh,” he said.
As the riders reached the houses they touched their torches to the roofs, setting fire to the thatch. “They’re burning the town!” Jack exploded.
“It’s going to be even worse