The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [413]
He wondered how much his mother had changed in the two years he had been away. He was looking forward eagerly to seeing her again. He had coped perfectly well on his own, of course, but it was very reassuring to have someone in your life who was always ready to fight for you, and he had missed that comforting feeling.
It had taken him all day to reach the part of the forest where he and she used to live. Now the short winter afternoon was darkening rapidly. Soon he would have to give up the search for their old cave, and concentrate on finding a sheltered place in which to spend the night. It would be cold. Why am I worried? he thought. I used to spend every night in the forest.
In the end she found him.
He was on the point of giving up. A narrow, almost invisible track through the vegetation, probably used only by badgers and foxes, petered out in a thicket. There was nothing to do but retrace his steps. He turned his horse around and almost walked into her.
“You’ve forgotten how to move quietly in the forest,” she said. “I could hear you crashing around a mile away.”
Jack smiled. She had not changed. “Hello, Mother,” he said. He kissed her cheek, then, in a rush of affection, he hugged her.
She touched his face. “You’re thinner than ever.”
He looked at her. She was brown and healthy, her hair still thick and dark, without any gray. Her eyes were the same golden color, and they still seemed to see right through Jack. He said: “You’re just the same.”
“Where did you go?” she said.
“All the way to Compostela, and even farther, to Toledo.”
“Aliena went after you—”
“She found me. Thanks to you.”
“I’m glad.” She closed her eyes as if sending up a prayer of thanks. “I’m so glad.”
She led him through the forest to the cave, which was less than a mile away: his memory had not been so bad after all. She had a blazing log fire and three sputtering rushlights. She gave him a mug of the cider she made with crab apples and wild honey, and they roasted some chestnuts. Jack could remember the items that a forest dweller could not make for herself, and he had brought his mother knives, cord, soap and salt. She began to skin a coney for the cooking pot. He said: “How are you, Mother?”
“Fine,” she said; then she looked at him and realized the question was serious. “I grieve for Tom Builder,” she said. “But he’s dead and I don’t care to take another husband.”
“And are you happy here, otherwise?”
“Yes and no. I’m used to living in the forest. I like being alone. I never did get used to busybody priests telling me how to behave. But I miss you, and Martha, and Aliena; and I wish I could see more of my grandson.” She smiled. “But I can never go back to live in Kingsbridge, not after cursing a Christian wedding. Prior Philip will never forgive me for that. However, it’s all worth it if I’ve brought you and Aliena together at last.” She looked up from her work with a pleased smile. “So how do you like married life?”
“Well,” he said hesitantly, “we’re not married. In the eyes of the Church, Aliena is still married to Alfred.”
“Don’t be stupid. What does the Church know about it?”
“Well, they know who they’ve married, and they wouldn’t let me build the new cathedral while I was living with another man’s wife.”
Her eyes flashed anger. “So you’ve left her?”
“Yes. Until she can get an annulment.”
Mother put the rabbit’s skin to one side. With a sharp knife in her bloody hands she began to joint the carcass, dropping the pieces into the cooking pot bubbling on the fire. “Prior Philip did that to me, once, when I was with Tom,” she said, slicing the raw meat with swift strokes. “I know why he gets so frantic about people making love. It’s because he’s not allowed to do it himself, and he resents other people’s freedom to enjoy what is forbidden to him. Of course, there’s nothing he can do about it when they’re married by the Church. But if they’re not, he gets the chance to spoil things for them, and that makes him feel better.” She cut off the rabbit’s feet and threw them into a wooden bucket full