An expression of terror came over Matthew’s face. William saw the point of Walter’s dagger emerge from Matthew’s chest, tearing a slit in his tunic. Matthew’s own knife fell from his hand and bounced on the floorboards. He tried to draw breath in a gasp, but a gurgling noise came from his throat and he seemed unable to breathe. He sagged; blood came from his mouth; his eyes closed; and he fell. Walter withdrew the long dagger as the body sank to the floor. For a moment blood spurted from the wound, but almost immediately the flow slowed to a trickle.

They all looked at the corpse on the floor: Walter, William, Aliena and Richard. William was light-headed after his close brush with death. He felt as if he could do anything. He reached out and grabbed the neck of Aliena’s tunic. The linen was soft and fine, very expensive. He gave a sharp jerk. The tunic ripped. He kept on pulling, so that it tore all the way down the front. A strip a foot wide came away in his hand. Aliena screamed, then tried to pull the remnants of the garment together over her front. The torn edges would not meet. William’s throat went dry. Her sudden vulnerability was thrilling. It was much more exciting than when he had watched her washing, for now she knew he was looking, and she felt ashamed, and her shame inflamed him all the more. She covered her breasts with one arm and her triangle with the other hand. William dropped the strip of linen and grabbed her by the hair. He jerked her toward him, spun her around, and ripped the rest of the tunic from her back.

She had delicate white shoulders, a small waist, and surprisingly full hips. He pulled her to him, pressing himself against her back, grinding his hips against her buttocks. He bent his head and bit her soft neck hard, until he tasted blood and she screamed again. He saw Richard move.

“Hold the boy,” he said to Walter.

Walter grabbed Richard and put him in an armlock.

Holding Aliena hard against him with one arm, William explored her body with the other hand. He felt her breasts, weighing and then squeezing them, and he pinched her small nipples; then he ran his hand over her stomach and into the triangle of hair between her legs, bushy and curly like the hair on her head: He prodded her roughly with his fingers. She began to cry. His prick was so stiff he felt it would burst.

He stepped away from her and jerked her backward over his outstretched leg. She fell on her back with a crash. The fall winded her and she gasped for breath.

William had not planned this, and he was not quite sure how it had happened, but nothing in the world could stop him now.

He lifted his tunic and showed her his prick. She looked horrified: she had probably never seen a stiff one. She was a real virgin. All the better.

“Bring the boy here,” William said to Walter.”! want him to see it all.” For some reason, the thought of doing it in front of Richard’s eyes was intensely piquant.

Walter pushed Richard forward and forced him to his knees.

William knelt on the floor and prised Aliena’s legs apart. She began to struggle. He fell on top of her, trying to crush her into submission, but still she resisted, and he could not get inside her. He was irritated: this was spoiling everything. He raised himself on one elbow and hit her across the face with his fist. She cried out and her cheek turned an angry red, but as soon as he tried to enter her, she began to resist him again.

Walter could have held her still, but he had the boy.

Suddenly William was inspired. “Cut the boy’s ear off, Walter,” he said.

Aliena went still. “No!” she said hoarsely. “Leave him alone-don’t hurt him anymore.”

“Open your legs, then,” William said.

She stared at him, wide-eyed with horror at the dreadful choice forced upon her. William enjoyed her anguish. Walter, playing the game perfectly, drew his knife and put it to Richard’s right ear. He hesitated, then with a movement that was almost tender, he sliced off the boy’s earlobe.

Richard screamed. Blood spurted from the small wound. The piece of flesh fell on Aliena’s heaving chest.

“Stop!” she screamed. “All right. I’ll do it.” She opened her legs.

William spat on his hand, then rubbed the moisture between her legs. He pushed his fingers inside her. She cried out with pain. That excited him more. He lowered himself on top of her. She lay still, tense. Her eyes were closed. Her body was slick with sweat from the struggle, but she shivered. William adjusted his position, then hesitated, enjoying the anticipation and her dread. He looked at the others. Richard was looking on with horror. Walter was watching greedily.

William said: “Your turn next, Walter.”

Aliena groaned in despair.

Suddenly he shoved inside her roughly, pushing as hard and far as he could. He felt the resistance of her maidenhead-a real virgin!-and he shoved again, brutally. It hurt him but it hurt her more. She screamed. He shoved once more, harder still, and he felt it break. Aliena’s face turned white, her head slumped to one side, and she fell into a faint; then at last William spurted his seed inside her, laughing and laughing with triumph and pleasure until he was drained dry.

The storm raged for most of the night, then toward dawn it stopped. The sudden quiet woke Tom Builder. As he lay in the dark, listening to the heavy breathing of Alfred beside him and the quieter sound of Martha on his other side, he calculated that it might be a clear morning, which would mean he could see the sun rise for the first time in two or three cloudy weeks. He had been waiting for this.

He got up and opened the door. It was still dark: there was plenty of time. He prodded his son with a foot. “Alfred! Wake up! There’s going to be a sunrise.”

Alfred groaned and sat upright. Martha turned over without waking. Tom went to the table and took the lid off a pottery crock. He removed a half-eaten loaf and cut off two thick slices, one for himself and one for Alfred. They sat down on the bench and ate breakfast.

There was ale in the jug. Tom took a long swallow and passed it to Alfred. Agnes would have made them use cups, and so would Ellen, but there was no woman in the house now. When Alfred had drunk his fill from the jug they left the house.

The sky was turning from black to gray as they crossed the priory close. Tom had intended to go to the prior’s house and wake Philip. However, Philip’s thoughts had followed the same lines as Tom’s, and he was already there in the ruins of the cathedral, wearing a heavy cloak, kneeling on the wet ground, saying prayers.

Their task was to establish an accurate east-west line, which would form the axis around which the new cathedral would be built.

Tom had prepared everything some time ago. In the ground at the east end he had planted an iron spike with a small loop in its top like the eye of a needle. The spike was almost as tall as Tom, so that its “eye” was at the level of Tom’s eyes. He had fixed it in place with a mixture of rubble and mortar, so that it could not be shifted accidentally. This morning he would plant another such spike, dead west of the first one, at the opposite end of the site.

“Mix up some mortar, Alfred,” he said.

Alfred went to fetch sand and lime. Tom went to his tool shed near the cloisters and got a small mallet and the second spike. Then he went to the west end of the site and stood waiting for the sun to rise. Philip finished his prayers and joined him, while Alfred mixed sand and lime with water on a mortarboard.

The sky grew brighter. The three men became tense. They were all watching the east wall of the priory close. At last the red disk of the sun showed over the top of the wall.

Tom shifted his position until he could see the edge of the sun through the small loop in the spike at the far end. Then, as Philip began to pray aloud in Latin, Tom held the second spike in front of him so that it blocked his view of the sun. Steadily, he lowered it to the ground and pressed its pointed end into the damp earth, always keeping it precisely between his eye and the sun. He drew the mallet from his belt and carefully tapped the spike into the ground until its “eye” was level with his eyes. Now, if he had done the job properly, and if his hands had not trembled, the sun should shine through the eyes of both spikes.