The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [540]
“Soon every man, woman and child in Canterbury will know that the king’s men murdered Archbishop Thomas in the cathedral. But that’s just the start. The news will spread all over England, and then all over Christendom.”
He was losing them, he could tell. There was dissatisfaction and disappointment on some of the faces. A man called out: “But what shall we do?”
Philip realized they needed to take some kind of concrete action immediately. It was not possible to call for a crusade and then send people to bed.
A crusade, he thought. That was an idea.
He said: “Tomorrow, I will take this sword to Rochester. The day after tomorrow, London. Will you come with me?”
Most of them looked blank, but someone at the back called out: “Yes!” Then one or two others voiced their agreement.
Philip raised his voice a little. “We’ll tell our story in every town and village in England. We’ll show people the sword that killed Saint Thomas. We’ll let them see the bloodstains on his priestly garments.” He warmed to his theme, and let his anger show a little. “We’ll raise an outcry that will spread throughout Christendom, yes, even as far as Rome. We’ll turn the whole of the civilized world against the savages who perpetrated this horrible, blasphemous crime!”
This time most of them called out their assent. They had been waiting for some way of expressing their emotions, and now he was giving it to them.
“This crime,” he said slowly, his voice rising to a shout, “will never—never—be—forgotten!”
They roared their approval.
Suddenly he knew where to go from here. “Let us begin our crusade now!” he said.
“Yes!”
“We’ll carry this sword along every street in Canterbury!”
“Yes!”
“And we’ll tell every citizen within the walls what we have witnessed here tonight!”
“Yes!”
“Bring candles, and follow me!”
Holding the sword high, he marched straight down the middle of the cathedral.
They followed him.
Feeling exultant, he went through the chancel, over the crossing, and down the nave. Some of the monks and priests walked beside him. He did not need to look back: he could hear the footsteps of a hundred people marching behind him. He went out of the main door.
There he had a moment of anxiety. Across the dark orchard he could see men-at-arms ransacking the archbishop’s palace. If his followers confronted them, the crusade might turn into a brawl when it had hardly got started. Suddenly afraid, he turned sharply away and led the crowd through the nearest gate into the street.
One of the monks started a hymn. There were lamps and firelight behind the shutters of the houses, but as the procession passed by, people opened their doors to see what was going on. Some of them questioned the marchers. Some joined in.
Philip turned a corner and saw William Hamleigh.
William was standing outside a stable, and looked as if he had just taken off his chain mail prior to mounting a horse and leaving the city. He had a handful of men with him. They were all looking up expectantly, presumably having heard the singing and wondered what was going on.
As the candlelit procession approached, William at first looked mystified. Then he saw the broken sword in Philip’s hand, and comprehension dawned. He stared in awestruck silence for a moment more, then he spoke. “Stop this!” he shouted. “I command you to disperse!”
Nobody took any notice. The men with William looked anxious: even with their swords they were vulnerable to a mob of more than a hundred fervent mourners.
William addressed Philip directly. “In the name of the king, I order you to stop this!”
Philip swept past him, borne forward by the press