The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [532]
He left Ranulf in charge of the blockade, keeping a small group of knights and men for himself. He installed most of the knights in a house opposite the main gateway to the cathedral close. Then he went through the gate with the remainder. Reginald Fitzurse and the other three conspirators rode into the kitchen courtyard as if they were official visitors, rather than armed intruders. But William ran into the gatehouse and held the terrified porter at sword point.
The attack was under way.
With his heart in his mouth, William ordered a man-at-arms to tie up the porter, then summoned the rest of his men into the gatehouse and closed the gate. Now no one could enter or leave. He had taken armed control of a monastery.
He followed the four conspirators into the kitchen courtyard. There were stables to the north of the yard, but the four had tied their horses to a mulberry tree in the middle. They took off their sword belts and helmets: they would keep up the facade of a peaceful visit a little longer.
William caught up with them and dropped his weapons under the tree. Reginald looked inquiringly at him. “All’s well,” William said. “The place is isolated.”
They crossed the courtyard to the palace and went into the porch. William assigned a local knight called Richard to stay in the porch on guard. The others entered the great hall.
The palace servants were sitting down to dinner. That meant they had already served Thomas and the priests and monks who were with him. One of the servants stood up. Reginald said: “We are the king’s men.”
The room went quiet, but the servant who had stood up said: “Welcome, my lords. I’m the steward of the hall, William Fitzneal. Please come in. Would you like some dinner?”
He was remarkably friendly, William thought, considering that his master was at loggerheads with the king. He could probably be suborned.
“No dinner, thank you,” said Reginald.
“A cup of wine, after your journey?”
“We have a message for your master from the king,” Reginald said impatiently. “Please announce us right away.”
“Very good.” The steward bowed. They were unarmed, so he had no reason to refuse them. He left the table and walked to the far end of the hall.
William and the four knights followed. The eyes of the silent servants went with them. William was trembling the way he used to before a battle, and he wished the fighting would start, for he knew he would be all right then.
They all went up a staircase to the upper floor.
They emerged in a roomy attendance chamber with benches around the sides. There was a large throne in the middle of one wall. Several black-robed priests and monks were sitting on the benches, but the throne was empty.
The steward crossed the room to an open door. “Messengers from the king, my lord archbishop,” he said in a loud voice.
There was no audible reply, but the archbishop must have nodded, for the steward waved them in.
The monks and priests stared wide-eyed as the knights marched across the room and went into the inner chamber.
Thomas Becket was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in his archbishop’s robes. There was only one other person in the room: a monk, sitting at Thomas’s feet, listening. William caught the monk’s eye, and was jolted to recognize Prior Philip of Kingsbridge. What was he doing here? Currying favor, no doubt. Philip had been elected bishop of Kingsbridge, but had not yet been confirmed. Now, William thought with savage glee, he never would be.
Philip was equally startled to see William. However, Thomas carried on speaking, pretending not to notice the knights. This was a piece of calculated discourtesy, William thought. The knights sat down on the low stools and benches around the bed. William wished they had not: it made the visit seem social, and he felt they had lost impetus somehow. Perhaps that was what Thomas had intended.
Finally Thomas looked at them. He did not rise to greet them. He knew them all, except William, and his eye came