The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [531]
William’s legs hurt like fire after the long journey. He hoped this was the last military operation he would ever do. He would be fifty-five soon, if his calculations were right, and he was getting too old for it.
Despite his weariness, and the heartening influence of Ranulf, he still could not sleep. The idea of killing an archbishop was too terrifying, even though he had already been absolved of his sin. He was afraid that if he went to sleep he would have nightmares.
They had figured out a good plan of attack. It would go wrong, of course: there was always something that went wrong. The important thing was to be flexible enough to cope with the unexpected. But whatever happened, it would not be very difficult for a group of professional fighting men to overpower a handful of effeminate monks.
The dim light of a gray winter morning leaked into the room through the arrow-slit windows. After a while William got up. He tried to say his prayers, but he could not.
The others were up early too. They had breakfast together in the hall. As well as William and Ranulf, there were Reginald Fitzurse, whom William had made leader of the attack group; Richard le Bret, the youngster of the group; William Tracy, the oldest; and Hugh Morville, the highest-ranking.
They put on their armor and set out on Ranulf’s horses. It was a bitterly cold day, and the sky was dark with low gray clouds, as if it might snow. They followed the old road called Stone Street. On the two-and-a-half-hour journey they picked up several more knights.
Their main rendezvous was at Saint Augustine’s Abbey, outside the city. The abbot was an old enemy of Thomas’s, Ranulf had assured William, but nevertheless William decided to tell him that they had come to arrest Thomas, not to kill him. That was a pretense they would keep up until the last moment: no one was to know the true aim of the operation except for William himself, Ranulf, and the four knights who had crossed from France.
They reached the abbey at noon. The men Ranulf had summoned were waiting. The abbot gave them dinner. His wine was very good and they all drank plenty. Ranulf briefed the men-at-arms who would surround the cathedral close and prevent anyone from escaping.
William kept shivering, even when he stood beside the fire in the guesthouse. It should be a simple operation, but the penalty for failure would probably be death. The king would find a way to justify the murder of Thomas, but he could never support the attempted murder: he would have to deny all knowledge of it and hang the perpetrators. William had hanged many people, as sheriff of Shiring, but the thought of his own body dangling at the end of a rope still made him shake.
He turned his mind to the thought of the earldom he could expect as a reward for success. It would be nice to be an earl again in his old age, respected and deferred to and obeyed without question. Perhaps Aliena’s brother, Richard, would die in the Holy Land and King Henry would give William his old estates again. The thought warmed him more than the fire.
When they left the abbey they were a small army. Nevertheless they had no trouble getting into Canterbury. Ranulf had controlled this part of the country for six years and he had not yet relinquished his authority. He held more sway than Thomas, which was no doubt why Thomas had complained so bitterly to the pope. As soon as they were inside, the men-at-arms spread out around the cathedral close and blocked all the exits.
The operation had begun. Until this moment it had been theoretically possible to call