“You’ve forgotten how to move quietly in the forest,” she said. “I could hear you crashing around a mile away.”

Jack smiled. She had not changed. “Hello, Mother,” he said. He kissed her cheek, then, in a rush of affection, he hugged her.

She touched his face. “You’re thinner than ever.”

He looked at her. She was brown and healthy, her hair still thick and dark, without any gray. Her eyes were the same golden color, and they still seemed to see right through Jack. He said: “You’re just the same.”

“Where did you go?” she said.

“All the way to Compostela, and even farther, to Toledo.”

“Aliena went after you-”

“She found me. Thanks to you.”

“I’m glad.” She closed her eyes as if sending up a prayer of thanks. “I’m so glad.”

She led him through the forest to the cave, which was less than a mile away: his memory had not been so bad after all. She had a blazing log fire and three sputtering rushlights. She gave him a mug of the cider she made with crab apples and wild honey, and they roasted some chestnuts. Jack could remember the items that a forest dweller could not make for herself, and he had brought his mother knives, cord, soap and salt. She began to skin a coney for the cooking pot. He said: “How are you, Mother?”

“Fine,” she said; then she looked at him and realized the question was serious. “I grieve for Tom Builder,” she said. “But he’s dead and I don’t care to take another husband.”

“And are you happy here, otherwise?”

“Yes and no. I’m used to living in the forest. I like being alone. I never did get used to busybody priests telling me how to behave. But I miss you, and Martha, and Aliena; and I wish I could see more of my grandson.” She smiled. “But I can never go back to live in Kingsbridge, not after cursing a Christian wedding. Prior Philip will never forgive me for that. However, it’s all worth it if I’ve brought you and Aliena together at last.” She looked up from her work with a pleased smile. “So how do you like married life?”

“Well,” he said hesitantly, “we’re not married. In the eyes of the Church, Aliena is still married to Alfred.”

“Don’t be stupid. What does the Church know about it?”

“Well, they know who they’ve married, and they wouldn’t let me build the new cathedral while I was living with another man’s wife.”

Her eyes flashed anger. “So you’ve left her?”

“Yes. Until she can get an annulment.”

Mother put the rabbit’s skin to one side. With a sharp knife in her bloody hands she began to joint the carcass, dropping the pieces into the cooking pot bubbling on the fire. “Prior Philip did that to me, once, when I was with Tom,” she said, slicing the raw meat with swift strokes. “I know why he gets so frantic about people making love. It’s because he’s not allowed to do it himself, and he resents other people’s freedom to enjoy what is forbidden to him. Of course, there’s nothing he can do about it when they’re married by the Church. But if they’re not, he gets the chance to spoil things for them, and that makes him feel better.” She cut off the rabbit’s feet and threw them into a wooden bucket full of rubbish.

Jack nodded. He had accepted the inevitable, but every time he said good night to Aliena and walked away from her door he felt angry with Philip, and he understood his mother’s persistent resentment. “It’s not forever, though,” he said.

“How does Aliena feel about it?”

Jack grimaced. “Not good. But she thinks it’s her fault, for marrying Alfred in the first place.”

“So it is. And it’s your fault for being determined to build churches.”

He was sorry that she could not share his vision. “Mother, it’s not worth building anything else. Churches are bigger and higher and more beautiful and more difficult to build, and they have more decoration and sculpture than any other kind of building.”

“And you won’t be satisfied with anything less.”

“Right.”

She shook her head in perplexity. “I’ll never know where you got the idea that you were destined for greatness.” She dropped the rest of the rabbit in the pot and began to clean the underside of its skin. She would use the fur. “You certainly didn’t inherit it from your forebears.”

That was the cue he had been waiting for. “Mother, when I was overseas I learned some more about my forebears.”

She stopped scraping and looked at him. “What on earth do you mean?”

“I found my father’s family.”

“Good God!” She dropped the rabbit skin. “How did you do that? Where are they? What are they like?”

“There’s a town in Normandy called Cherbourg. That’s where he came from.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I look so much like him, they thought I was a ghost.”

Mother sat down heavily on a stool. Jack felt guilty about having shocked her so badly, but he had not expected her to be so shaken by the news. She said: “What… what are his people like?”

“His father’s dead, but his mother’s still alive. She was kind, once she was convinced I wasn’t the ghost of my father. His older brother is a carpenter with a wife and three children. My cousins.” He smiled. “Isn’t that nice? We’ve got relations.”

The thought seemed to upset her, and she looked distressed. “Oh, Jack, I’m so sorry I didn’t give you a normal upbringing.”

“I’m not,” he said lightly. He was embarrassed when his mother showed remorse: it was so out of character for her. “But I’m glad I met my cousins. Even if I never see them again, it’s good to know they’re there.”

She nodded sadly. “I understand.”

Jack took a deep breath. “They thought my father had drowned in a shipwreck twenty-four years ago. He was aboard a vessel called the White Ship which went down just out of Barfleur. Everyone was thought to have drowned. Obviously my father survived. But somehow they never knew that, because he never went back to Cherbourg.”

“He went to Kingsbridge,” she said.

“But why?”

She sighed. “He clung to a barrel and was washed ashore near a castle,” she said. “He went to the castle to report the shipwreck. There were several powerful barons at the castle, and they showed great consternation when he turned up. They took him prisoner and brought him to England. After some weeks or months-he got rather confused-he ended up in Kingsbridge.”

“Did he say anything else about the wreck?”

“Only that the ship went down very fast, as if it had been holed.”

“It sounds as if they needed to keep him out of the way.”

She nodded. “And then, when they realized they couldn’t hold him prisoner forever, they killed him.”

Jack knelt in front of her and forced her to look at him. In a voice shaking with emotion he said: “But who were they, Mother?”

“You’ve asked me that before.”

“And you’ve never told me.”

“Because I don’t want you to spend your life trying to avenge the death of your father!”

She was still treating him like a child, withholding information that might not be good for him, he felt. He tried to be calm and adult. “I’m going to spend my life building Kingsbridge Cathedral and making babies with Aliena. But I want to know why they hanged my father. And the only people who have the answer are the men who gave false testimony against him. So I have to know who they were.”

“At the time I didn’t know their names.”

He knew she was being evasive and it made him angry. “But you know now!”

“Yes, I do,” she said tearfully, and he realized that this was as painful for her as it was for him. “And I’ll tell you, because I can see you’ll never stop asking.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes.

He waited in suspense.

“There were three of them: a monk, a priest and a knight.”

Jack looked at her hard. “Their names.”

“You’re going to ask them why they lied under oath?”

“Yes.”

“And you expect them to tell you?”

“Perhaps not. I’ll look into their eyes when I ask them, and that may tell me all I need to know.”