Read Online The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett - Free Book Online Page B

to the castle drawbridge. On his first sweep Tom had stayed close to the ramparts of the castle. Now he searched the outskirts, zigzagging to the town wall and back into the interior. These were the poorer quarters, with the most ramshackle buildings, the noisiest alehouses and the oldest whores. The edge of the town was downhill from the center, so the refuse from the wealthier neighborhood was washed down the streets to lodge beneath the walls. Something similar seemed to happen to the people, for this district had more than its share of cripples and beggars, hungry children and bruised women and helpless drunks.
    But the man with no lips was nowhere to be seen.
    Twice Tom spotted a man of about the right build and general appearance, and took a closer look, only to see that the man’s face was normal.
    He ended his search at the marketplace, and there was Agnes waiting for him impatiently, her body tense and her eyes gleaming. “I’ve found him!” she hissed.
    Tom felt a surge of excitement mingled with apprehension. “Where?”
    “He went into a cookshop down by the east gate.”
    “Lead me there.”
    They circled the castle to the drawbridge, went down the straight street to the east gate, then turned into a maze of alleys beneath the walls. Tom saw the cookshop a moment later. It was not even a house, just a sloping roof on four posts, up against the town wall, with a huge fire at the back over which a sheep turned on a spit and a cauldron bubbled. It was now about noon and the little place was full of people, mostly men. The smell of the meat made Tom’s stomach rumble. He raked the little crowd with his eyes, fearful that the outlaw might have left in the short time it had taken them to get here. He spotted the man immediately, sitting on a stool a little apart from the crowd, eating a bowl of stew with a spoon, holding his scarf in front of his face to hide his mouth.
    Tom turned away quickly so that the man should not see him. Now he had to decide how to handle this. He was angry enough to knock the outlaw down and take his purse. But the crowd would not let him walk away. He would have to explain himself, not just to bystanders but to the sheriff. Tom was within his rights, and the fact that the thief was an outlaw meant that he would not have anyone to vouch for his honesty; whereas Tom was evidently a respectable man and a mason. But establishing all that would take time, possibly weeks if the sheriff happened to be away in another part of the county; and there might still be an accusation of breaking the king’s peace, if a brawl should result.
    No. It would be wiser to get the thief alone.
    The man could not stay in the town overnight, for he had no home here, and he could not get lodgings without establishing himself as a respectable man somehow. Therefore he had to leave before the gates closed at nightfall.
    And there were only two gates.
    “He’ll probably go back the way he came,” Tom said to Agnes. “I’ll wait outside the east gate. Let Alfred watch the west gate. You stay in the town and see what the thief does. Keep Martha with you, but don’t let him see her. If you need to send a message to me or Alfred, use Martha.”
    “Right,” Agnes said tersely.
    Alfred said: “What should I do if he comes out my way?” He sounded excited.
    “Nothing,” Tom said firmly. “Watch which road he takes, then wait. Martha will fetch me, and we’ll overtake him together.” Alfred looked disappointed, and Tom said: “You do as I say. I don’t want to lose my son as well as my pig.”
    Alfred nodded reluctant assent.
    “Let’s break up, before he notices us huddling together and plotting. Go.”
    Tom left them immediately, not looking back. He could rely on Agnes to carry out the plan. He hurried to the east gate and left the town, crossing the rickety wooden bridge over which he had pushed the ox cart that morning. Directly ahead of him was the Winchester road, going east, dead straight, like