The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [435]
“We’re not hiring, anyway,” Jack said, equally casually. “We’ve got a full complement.”
“But you can always use a good mason, can’t you?”
Jack heard a faint pleading note and realized that Alfred was desperate. He decided to be honest. “After the life we’ve had, Alfred, I’m the last person you should come to for help.”
“You are the last,” Alfred said candidly. “I’ve tried everywhere. Nobody’s hiring. It’s the famine.”
Jack thought of all the times Alfred had mistreated him, tormented him, and beaten him. Alfred had driven him into the monastery and then had driven him away from his home and family. He had no reason to help Alfred: indeed, he had cause to gloat over Alfred’s misfortune. He said: “I wouldn’t take you on even if I was needing men.”
“I thought you might,” Alfred said with bullheaded persistence. “After all, my father taught you everything you know. It’s because of him that you’re a master builder. Won’t you help me for his sake?”
For Tom. Suddenly Jack felt a twinge of conscience. In his own way, Tom had tried to be a good stepfather. He had not been gentle or understanding, but he had treated his own children much the same as Jack, and he had been patient and generous in passing on his knowledge and skills. He had also made Jack’s mother happy, most of the time. And after all, Jack thought, here I am, a successful and prosperous master builder, well on the way to achieving my ambition of building the most beautiful cathedral in the world, and there’s Alfred, poor and hungry and out of work. Isn’t that revenge enough?
No, it’s not, he thought.
Then he relented.
“All right,” he said. “For Tom’s sake, you’re hired.”
“Thank you,” Alfred said. His expression was unreadable. “Shall I start right away?”
Jack nodded. “We’re laying foundations in the nave. Just join in.”
Alfred held out his hand. Jack hesitated momentarily, then shook it. Alfred’s grip was as strong as ever.
Alfred disappeared. Jack stood staring down at his drawing of a nave plinth. It was life-size, so that when it was finished a master carpenter could make a wooden template directly from the drawing. The template would then be used by the masons to mark the stones for carving.
Had he made the right decision? He recalled that Alfred’s vault had collapsed. However, he would not use Alfred on difficult work such as vaulting or arches: straightforward walls and floors were his metier.
While Jack was still pondering, the noon bell rang for dinner. He put down his sharpened-wire drawing instrument and went down the turret staircase to ground level.
The married masons went home to dinner and the single ones ate in the lodge. On some building sites dinner was provided, as a way of preventing afternoon lateness, absenteeism and drunkenness; but monks’ fare was often Spartan and most building workers preferred to provide their own. Jack was living in Tom Builder’s old house with Martha, his stepsister, who acted as his housekeeper. Martha also minded Tommy and Jack’s second child, a girl whom they had named Sally, while Aliena was busy. Martha usually made dinner for Jack and the children, and Aliena sometimes joined them.
He left the priory close and walked briskly home. On the way a thought struck him. Would Alfred expect to move back into the house with Martha? She was his natural sister, after all. Jack had not thought of that when he gave Alfred the job.
It was a foolish fear, he decided a moment later. The days when Alfred could bully him were long past. He was the master builder of Kingsbridge, and if he said Alfred could not move into the house, then Alfred would not move into the house.
He half expected to find Alfred at the kitchen table, and was relieved to find he was not. Aliena was watching the children eat, while Martha stirred a pot on the fire. The smell of lamb stew was mouth-watering.
He kissed Aliena’s forehead briefly. She was thirty-three years old now, but she looked as she had ten years ago: her hair was still a rich dark-brown mass of curls, and she had the same