The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [534]
The man was terrified. He said: “Yes, if you’re with the king!”
He was too frightened to be any danger, whatever side he was on, William decided. He said to Richard: “Keep an eye on him. Let no one leave the building. Keep the porch door closed.”
With the others he ran across the courtyard to the mulberry tree. Hastily they began to put on their helmets and swords. We’re going to do it now, William thought fearfully; we’re going to go back in there and kill the archbishop of Canterbury, oh my God. It was a long time since William had worn a helmet, and the fringe of chain mail that protected the neck and shoulders kept getting in the way. He cursed his clumsy fingers. He did not have time to fumble anything just now. He spotted a boy watching him openmouthed and shouted to him: “Hey! You! What’s your name?”
The boy looked back toward the kitchen, unsure whether to answer William or flee. “Robert, lord,” he said after a moment. “They call me Robert Pipe.”
“Come here, Robert Pipe, and help me with this.”
The boy hesitated again.
William’s patience ran out. “Come here, or I swear by the blood of Jesus I’ll chop off your hand with this sword!”
Reluctantly the boy came forward. William showed him how to hold up the chain mail while he put on the helmet. He got it on at last, and Robert Pipe fled. He’ll tell his grandchildren about this, William thought fleetingly.
The helmet had a ventail, a mouth flap that could be pulled across and fastened with a strap. The others had closed theirs, so that their faces were hidden and they could no longer be recognized. William left his open a moment longer. Each of them had a sword in one hand and an ax in the other.
“Ready?” William said.
They all nodded.
There would be little talk from now on. No more orders were necessary, no further decisions had to be made. They were simply going to go back in there and kill Thomas.
William put two fingers in his mouth and gave a shrill whistle.
Then he fastened his ventail.
A man-at-arms came running out of the gatehouse and threw open the main gate.
The knights William had stationed in the house across the road came out and poured into the courtyard, shouting, as they had been instructed, “King’s men! King’s men!”
William ran back to the palace.
The knight Richard and the steward William Fitzneal threw open the porch door for him.
As he entered, two of the archbishop’s servants took advantage of the fact that Richard and William Fitzneal were distracted, and slammed the door between the porch and the hall.
William threw his weight against the door but he was too late: they had secured it with a bar. He cursed. A setback, and so soon! The knights began to hack at the door with their axes, but they made little headway: it had been made to withstand attack. William felt control slipping away from him. Fighting back the beginnings of a panic, he ran out of the porch and looked around for another door. Reginald went with him.
There was nothing on this side of the building. They ran around the west end of the palace, past the detached kitchen, into the orchard on the south side. William grunted with satisfaction: there on the south wall of the palace was a staircase leading to the upper floor. It looked like a private entrance to the archbishop’s chambers. The feeling of panic went away.
William and Reginald ran to the foot of the staircase. It was damaged halfway up, and there were a few workmen’s tools and a ladder nearby, as if the stairs were being repaired. Reginald leaned the ladder against the side of the staircase and climbed up, bypassing the broken steps. He reached the top. There was a door leading to an oriel, a little enclosed balcony. William watched him try the door. It was locked. Beside it was a shuttered window. Reginald smashed the shutter with one blow of his ax. He reached inside, fumbled, then opened the door and went in.
William started to climb the ladder.
Philip was scared from the moment he saw