The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [403]
“How did he die?” Reynold asked.
“Drowned.”
“Did you see the body?”
There was a silence. Finally the gray-bearded man said: “No, I never saw his body.”
“Did anyone see it?” Reynold said, his voice rising as he scented victory.
Nobody spoke.
Reynold turned to Jack. “Is your father alive?”
“He died before I was born.”
“What was he?”
“A jongleur.”
A gasp went up from the crowd, and the white-haired woman said: “My Jack was a jongleur.”
“But this Jack is a stonemason,” Reynold said. “I’ve seen his work. However, he could be the son of Jack the jongleur.” He turned to Jack. “What was your father called? Jack Jongleur, I suppose?”
“No. They called him Jack Shareburg.”
The priest repeated the name, pronouncing it slightly differently. “Jacques Cherbourg?”
Jack was stunned. He had never understood his father’s name, but now it was clear. Like many traveling men, he was called by the name of the town he came from. “Yes,” Jack said wonderingly. “Of course. Jacques Cherbourg.” He had found traces of his father at last, long after he had given up looking. He had gone all the way to Spain, but what he wanted had been here, on the coast of Normandy. He had fulfilled his quest. He felt wearily satisfied, as if he had put down a heavy burden after carrying it a long way.
“Then everything is clear,” Reynold said, looking around triumphantly at the crowd. “Jacques Cherbourg did not drown, he survived. He went to England, lived there a while, made a girl pregnant, and died. The girl gave birth to a boy and named him after the father. Jack here is now twenty, and looks exactly like his father did twenty-four years ago.” Reynold looked at the priest. “No need for exorcism here, father. It’s just a family reunion.”
Aliena put her arm through Jack’s and squeezed his hand. He felt stupefied. There were a hundred questions he wanted to ask and he did not know where to start. He blurted one out at random. “Why were you so sure he died?”
“Everyone on the White Ship died,” said the gray-bearded man.
“The White Ship?”
“I remember the White Ship,” said Edward. “That was a famous disaster. The heir to the throne was drowned. Then Maud became the heir, and that’s why we’ve got Stephen.”
Jack said: “But why was he on such a ship?”
The old woman who had spoken earlier answered. “He was to entertain the nobles on the voyage.” She looked at Jack. “You must be his boy, then. My grandson. I’m sorry I thought you were a ghost. You look so like him.”
“Your father was my brother,” said the gray-bearded man. “I’m your Uncle Guillaume.”
Jack realized with a glow of pleasure that this was the family he had longed for, his father’s relations. He was no longer alone in the world. He had found his roots at last.
“Well, this is my son, Tommy,” he said. “Look at his red hair.”
The white-haired woman looked fondly at the baby, then said in a shocked voice: “Oh, my soul, I’m a greatgrandmother!”
Everyone laughed.
Jack said: “I wonder how my father got to England?”
Chapter 13
“SO GOD SAID TO SATAN, ‘Look at my man Job. Look at him. There’s a good man, if ever I saw one.’ ” Philip paused for effect. This was not a translation, of course: this was a freestyle retelling of the story. “ ‘Tell me if that isn’t a perfect and upright man, who fears God and does no evil.’ So Satan said: ‘Of course he worships you. You’ve given him everything. Just look at him. Seven sons and three daughters. Seven thousand sheep, and three thousand camels, and five hundred pairs of oxen, and five hundred asses. That’s why he’s a good man.’ So God said: ‘All right. Take it all away from him, and see what happens.’ And that’s what Satan did.”
While Philip was preaching, his mind kept wandering to a mystifying letter he had received that morning from the archbishop of Canterbury. It began by congratulating him on obtaining the miraculous Weeping Madonna. Philip did not know what a weeping madonna was but he was quite sure he did not have one. The archbishop was glad to hear that Philip was recommencing the building of the new cathedral. Philip was doing no such