They went into the tavern and sat close to the fire. Elizabeth’s mother brought their wine, but she stuck her nose in the air and did not talk to them. Edmund said: “Is Sairy angry with you or me?”

“Never mind that,” said Merthin. “Have you ever stood at the edge of the ocean, with your bare feet on the sand, and felt the sea wash over your toes?”

“Of course. All children play in water. Even I was a boy once.”

“Do you remember how the action of the waves, flowing in and out, seems to scour the sand from under the edges of your feet, making a little channel?”

“Yes. It’s a long time ago, but I think I know what you mean.”

“That’s what happened to the old wooden bridge. The flowing river scoured the earth from under the central pier.”

“How do you know?”

“By the pattern of cracks in the woodwork just before the collapse.”

“What’s your point?”

“The river hasn’t changed. It will undermine the new bridge just as surely as it did the old – unless we prevent it.”

“How?”

“In my drawing, I showed a pile of large, loose stones surrounding each of the piers of the new bridge. They will break up the current and enfeeble its effect. It’s the difference between being tickled by loose thread and being flogged with a tightly woven rope.”

“How do you know?”

“I asked Buonaventura about it, immediately after the bridge collapsed, before he went back to London. He said he had seen such piles of stones around the piers of bridges in Italy, and he had often wondered what they were for.”

“Fascinating. Are you telling me this for general enlightenment, or is there some more specific purpose?”

“People like Godwyn and Elfric don’t understand this, and wouldn’t listen if I told them. Just in case Elfric takes it into his fool head not to follow my design exactly, I want to be sure that at least one person in town knows the reason for the pile of stones.”

“But one person does – you.”

“I’m leaving Kingsbridge.”

That shocked him. “Leaving?” he said. “You?”

At that moment, Caris appeared. “Don’t stay here too long,” she said to her father. “Aunt Petranilla is preparing dinner. Do you want to join us, Merthin?”

Edmund said: “Merthin’s leaving Kingsbridge.”

Caris paled.

Seeing her reaction, Merthin felt a jolt of satisfaction. She had rejected him, but she was dismayed to hear that he was leaving town. He immediately felt ashamed of such an unworthy emotion. He was too fond of her to want her to suffer. All the same, he would have felt worse if she had received the news with equanimity.

“Why?” she said.

“There’s nothing for me here. What am I going to build? I can’t work on the bridge. The town already has a cathedral. I don’t want to do nothing but merchants’ houses for the rest of my life.”

In a quiet voice, she said: “Where will you go?”

“Florence. I’ve always wanted to see the buildings of Italy. I’ll ask Buonaventura Caroli for letters of introduction. I might even be able to travel with one of his consignments.”

“But you own property here in Kingsbridge.”

“I wanted to speak to you about that. Would you manage it for me? You could collect my rents, take a commission and give the balance to Buonaventura. He can transfer money to Florence by letter.”

“I don’t want a damn commission,” she said huffily.

Merthin shrugged. “It’s work, you should be paid.”

“How can you be so cold about it?” she said. Her voice was shrill, and around the parlour of the Bell several people looked up. She took no notice. “You’ll be leaving all your friends!”

“I’m not cold about it. Friends are great. But I’d like to get married.”

Edmund put in: “Plenty of girls in Kingsbridge would marry you. You’re not handsome, but you’re prosperous, and that’s worth more than good looks.”

Merthin smiled wryly. Edmund could be disarmingly blunt. Caris had inherited the trait. “For a while I thought I might marry Elizabeth Clerk,” he said.

Edmund said: “So did I.”

Caris said: “She’s a cold fish.”

“No, she’s not. But when she asked me, I backed off.”

Caris said: “Oh – so that’s why she’s so bad-tempered lately.”

Edmund said: “And why her mother won’t look at Merthin.”

“Why did you refuse her?” Caris asked.

“There’s only one woman in Kingsbridge I could marry – and she doesn’t want to be anyone’s wife.”

“But she doesn’t want to lose you.”

Merthin became angry. “What should I do?” he said. His voice was loud, and people around them stopped their conversations to listen. “Godwyn has fired me, you’ve rejected me and my brother is an outlaw. In God’s name, why should I stay here?”

“I don’t want you to go,” she said.

“That’s not enough!” he shouted.

The room was silent now. Everyone there knew them: the landlord, Paul Bell, and his curvy daughter Bessie; the grey-haired barmaid Sairy, Elizabeth’s mother; Bill Watkin, who had refused to employ Merthin; Edward Butcher, the notorious adulterer; Jake Chepstow, Merthin’s tenant; Friar Murdo, Matthew Barber and Mark Webber. They all knew the history of Merthin and Caris, and they were fascinated by the quarrel.

Merthin did not care. Let them listen. He said furiously: “I’m not going to spend my life hanging around you, like your dog Scrap, waiting for your attention. I’ll be your husband, but I won’t be your pet.”

“All right, then,” she said in a small voice.

Her sudden change of tone surprised him, and he was not sure what she meant. “All right, what?”

“All right, I’ll marry you.”

For a moment, he was too shocked to speak. Then he said suspiciously: “Do you mean it?”

She looked up at him at last and smiled shyly. “Yes, I mean it,” she said. “Just ask me.”

“All right.” He took a deep breath. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes, I will,” she said.

Edmund shouted: “Hoorah!”

Everyone in the tavern cheered and clapped.

Merthin and Caris started laughing. “Will you, really?” he said.

“Yes.”

They kissed, then he put his arms around her and squeezed as hard as he could. When he let her go, he saw that she was crying.

“Some wine for my betrothed,” he called out. “A barrel, in fact – give everyone a cup, so they can all drink our health!”

“Coming right up,” said the landlord, and they all cheered again.

A week later, Elizabeth Clerk became a novice nun.

40

Ralph and Alan were miserable. They were living on venison and cold water, and Ralph found himself dreaming about food he would normally scorn: onions, apples, eggs, milk. They slept in a different place every night, always lighting a fire. They each had a good cloak, but it was not enough out in the open, and they woke shivering every dawn. They robbed any vulnerable people they met on the road, but most of the loot was either paltry or useless: ragged clothes, animal fodder, and money, which would buy nothing in the forest.

Once they stole a big barrel of wine. They rolled it a hundred yards into the woods, drank as much as they could and fell asleep. When they woke up, hung over and ill-tempered, they realized they could not take the three-quarters-full barrel with them, so they just left it there.

Ralph thought nostalgically of his former life: the manor house, the roaring fires, the servants, the dinners. But, in his realistic moments, he knew he did not want that life either. It was too dull. That was probably why he had raped the girl. He needed excitement.

After a month in the forest, Ralph decided they had to get organized. They needed a base where they could build some kind of shelter and store food. And they had to plan their robberies so that they stole items that would be really valuable to them, such as warm clothing and fresh food.