The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [530]
To William those three statements sounded orchestrated. He looked at Waleran. At that moment Waleran spoke. “There is certainly no point in appealing to Thomas’s sense of decency—”
“Be quiet, the lot of you!” the king roared. “I’ve heard enough! All you do is complain—when will you get off your backsides and do something about it?” He took a gulp of ale from his goblet. “This beer tastes like piss!” he shouted furiously. He pushed back his chair and, as everyone hastened to stand, he got up and stormed out of the room.
In the anxious silence that followed, Waleran said: “The message could hardly be clearer, my lords. We are to get up off our seats and do something about Thomas.”
William Mandeville, the earl of Essex, said: “I think a delegation of us should go to see Thomas and set him straight.”
“And what will you do if he refuses to listen to reason?” said Waleran.
“I think we should then arrest him in the name of the king.”
Several people started to speak at once. The assembly broke up into smaller groups. Those around the earl of Essex began to plan their deputation to Canterbury. William saw Waleran talking to two or three younger knights. Waleran caught his eye and beckoned him over.
Waleran said: “William Mandeville’s delegation will do no good. Thomas can handle them with one hand tied behind his back.”
Reginald Fitzurse gave William a hard look and said: “Some of us think the time has come for sterner measures.”
“What do you mean?” William said.
“You heard what Enjuger said.”
Richard le Bret, a boy of about eighteen, blurted out: “Execution. ”
The word chilled William’s heart. It was serious, then. He stared at Waleran. “Will you ask for the king’s blessing?”
Reginald answered. “Impossible. He can’t sanction something like this in advance.” He grinned evilly. “But he can reward his faithful servants afterward.”
Young Richard said: “Well, William—are you with us?”
“I’m not sure,” William said. He felt both excited and scared. “I’ll have to think about it.”
Reginald said: “There’s no time to think. We’ll have to go now. We must get to Canterbury before William Mandeville, otherwise his lot will get in the way.”
Waleran addressed William. “They need an older man with them, to guide them and plan the operation.”
William was desperately keen to agree. Not only would this solve all his problems: the king would probably give him an earldom for it. “But to kill an archbishop must be a terrible sin!” he said.
“Don’t worry about that,” Waleran said. “I’ll give you absolution.”
The enormity of what they were going to do hung over William like a thundercloud as the group of assassins traveled to England. He could think of nothing else; he could neither eat nor sleep; he acted confused and spoke distractedly. By the time the ship reached Dover he was ready to abandon the project.
They reached Saltwood Castle, in Kent, three days after Christmas, on a Monday evening. The castle belonged to the archbishop of Canterbury, but during the exile it had been occupied by Ranulf de Broc, who had refused to give it back. Indeed, one of Thomas’s complaints to the pope was that King Henry had failed to restore the castle to him.
Ranulf put new heart into William.
Ranulf had ravaged Kent in the absence of the archbishop, relishing the lack of authority rather in the way William had in years gone by, and he was willing to do anything to retain the freedom to do as he pleased. He was enthusiastic about the assassination plan and welcomed the chance of taking part, and he immediately began to discuss the details with gusto. His matter-of-fact approach dispelled the fog of superstitious dread that had clouded William’s vision. William began once again to imagine how it would be if he were an earl again, with no one to tell him what to do.
They stayed up most of the night planning the operation. Ranulf drew a plan of the cathedral close and the archbishop’s palace, scratching it on the table with a knife.