The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [362]
They were coming to the vows. On the priest’s cue, Aliena said: “Alfred the son of Tom Builder, I take you as my husband, and swear to be faithful always.” When she had said that she wanted to cry.
Alfred made his vow next. There was a ripple of noise on the outskirts of the crowd as he spoke, and one or two people looked behind. Aliena caught Martha’s eye, and Martha whispered: “It’s Ellen.”
The priest frowned crossly and said: “Alfred and Aliena are now married in the eyes of God, and may the blessing—”
He never finished the sentence. A loud voice rang out from behind Aliena: “I curse this wedding!”
It was Ellen.
A gasp of horror went up from the congregation.
The priest tried to continue. “And may the blessing—” Then he stopped, paled, and made the sign of the cross.
Aliena turned around. Ellen was standing behind her. The crowd had shrunk back from her. She was holding a live cockerel in one hand and a long knife in the other. There was blood on the knife, and blood spurting from the severed neck of the bird. “I curse this marriage with sorrow,” she said, and her words chilled Aliena’s heart. “I curse this marriage with barrenness,” she said. “I curse it with bitterness, and hatred, and bereavement, and regret. I curse it with impotence.” As she said the word impotence she threw the bloody cockerel up into the air. Several people screamed and cowered back. Aliena stood rooted to the spot. The cock flew through the air, spraying blood, and landed on Alfred. He jumped back, terrified. The grisly object flopped on the ground, still bleeding.
When everyone looked up, Ellen was gone.
Martha had put clean linen sheets and a new wool blanket on the bed, the great feather bed that had belonged to Ellen and Tom and was now to be Alfred’s and Aliena’s. Ellen had not been seen since the wedding. The feast had been a subdued affair, like a picnic on a cold day, with everyone grimly going through the motions of eating and drinking because there was nothing else to do. The guests had all left at sundown, without any of the usual coarse jokes about the newlyweds’ first night. Martha was now in her own little bed in the other room. Richard had returned to Aliena’s little house, which would now be his.
Alfred was talking of building a stone house for them next summer. He had been boasting about it to Richard during the feast. “It will have a bedchamber, and a hall, and an undercroft,” he had said. “When John Silversmith’s wife sees it she’ll want one just like it. Pretty soon all the prosperous men in town will want a stone house.”
“Have you done a design?” Richard had asked, and Aliena had heard a hint of skepticism, although nobody else seemed to notice.
“I’ve got some old drawings of my father’s, done in ink on vellum. One of them is the house we were building for Aliena and William Hamleigh, all those years ago. I’ll base it on that.”
Aliena had turned away from them in disgust. How could anyone be so crass as to mention that on her wedding day? Alfred had been full of bluster all afternoon, pouring wine and telling jokes and exchanging sly winks with his workmates. He seemed happy.
Now he was sitting on the edge of the bed taking off his boots. Aliena took the ribbons out of her hair. She did not know what to think about Ellen’s curse. It had shocked her, and she had no idea what was going on in Ellen’s mind, but somehow she was not frightened by it the way most people were.
This could not be said of Alfred. When the slaughtered cock landed on him he had practically gibbered. Richard had shaken him out of it, literally, holding him by the front of his tunic and jerking him back and forth. He had recovered his wits quickly enough, however, and since then the only sign of his fright had been the relentlessness of his backslapping, beer-swilling good cheer.
Aliena felt oddly calm. She did not relish what she was about to do, but at least she was not being forced to it, and while it might be a little distasteful, it would not be humiliating. There was only one man, and no one else would