The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [536]
Philip pushed past them impatiently. He found himself in the cellarer’s stores. He negotiated the barrels and sacks to reach another door, and passed through that into the open air.
It was getting dark. He was in the south walk of the cloisters. At the far end of the walk he saw, to his immense relief, the door that led into the north transept of Canterbury Cathedral.
They were almost safe.
He had to get Thomas into the cathedral before William and his knights could catch up. The rest of the party emerged from the stores. Philip said: “Into the church, quickly!”
Thomas said: “No, Philip; not quickly. We will enter my cathedral with dignity.”
Philip wanted to scream, but he said: “Of course, my lord.” He could hear the ominous sound of heavy feet in the disused passage: the knights had broken into the bedroom and had found the bolthole. He knew the archbishop’s best protection was his dignity, but there was no harm in getting out of the way of trouble.
“Where is the archbishop’s cross?” Thomas said. “I can’t enter the church without my cross.”
Philip groaned in despair.
Then one of the priests said: “I brought the cross. Here it is.”
Thomas said: “Carry it before me in the usual way, please.”
The priest held it up and walked with restrained haste toward the church door.
Thomas followed him.
The archbishop’s entourage preceded him into the cathedral, as etiquette demanded. Philip went last and held the door for him. Just as Thomas entered, two knights burst out of the cellarer’s stores and sprinted down the south walk.
Philip closed the transept door. There was a bar located in a hole in the wall beside the doorpost. Philip grabbed the bar and pulled it across the door.
He turned around, sagging with relief, and leaned back against the door.
Thomas was crossing the narrow transept toward the steps that led up to the north aisle of the chancel, but when he heard the bar slam into place he stopped suddenly and turned around.
“No, Philip,” he said.
Philip’s heart sank. “My lord archbishop—”
“This is a church, not a castle. Unbar the door.”
The door shook violently as the knights tried to open it. Philip said: “I’m afraid they want to kill you!”
“Then they will probably succeed, whether you bar the door or not. Do you know how many other doors there are to this church? Open it.”
There was a series of loud bangs, as if the knights were attacking the door with axes. “You could hide,” Philip said desperately. “There are dozens of places—the entrance to the crypt is just there—it’s getting dark—”
“Hide, Philip? In my own church? Would you?”
Philip stared at Thomas for a long moment. At last he said: “No, I wouldn’t.”
“Open the door.”
With a heavy heart, Philip slid back the bar.
The knights burst in. There were five of them. Their faces were hidden behind helmets. They carried swords and axes. They looked like emissaries from hell.
Philip knew he should not be afraid, but the sharp edges of their weapons made him shiver with fear.
One of them shouted: “Where is Thomas Becket, a traitor to the king and to the kingdom?”
The others shouted: “Where is the traitor? Where is the archbishop?”
It was quite dark now, and the big church was only dimly lit by candles. All the monks were in black, and the knights’ vision was somewhat limited by their faceplates. Philip had a sudden surge of hope: perhaps they would miss Thomas in the darkness. But Thomas immediately dashed that hope by walking down the steps toward the knights, saying: “Here I am—no traitor to the king, but a priest of God. What do you want?”
As the archbishop stood confronting the five men with their drawn swords, Philip suddenly knew with certainty that Thomas was going to die here today.
The people in the archbishop’s entourage must have had the same feeling, for suddenly most of them fled. Some disappeared into the gloom of the chancel, a few scattered into the nave among the townspeople waiting for the service, and one opened a small door and ran up a spiral staircase. Philip was disgusted. “You should