by Ken Follett
He tied his horse to a rail in front of the church and went closer. The sculpture around the three portals was quite good: lively subjects, precisely chiseled. Jack went in.
Inside there was an immediate change. Before the nave proper, there was a low entryway, or narthex. As Jack looked up at the ceiling he experienced a surge of excitement. The builders had used rib-vaulting and pointed arches in combination here, and Jack saw in a flash that the two techniques went together perfectly: the grace of the pointed arch was accentuated by the ribs that followed its line.
There was more to it. In between the ribs, instead of the usual web of mortar-and-rubble, this builder had put cut stones, as in a wall. Being stronger, the layer of stones could probably be thinner, and therefore lighter, Jack realized.
As he stared up, craning his neck until it ached, he understood a further remarkable feature of this combination. Two pointed arches of different widths could be made to reach the same height, merely by adjusting the curve of the arch. This gave the bay a more regular look. It could not be done with round arches, of course: the height of a semicircular arch was always half its width, so a wide one had to be higher than a narrow one. That meant that in a rectangular bay, the narrow arches had to spring from a point higher up the wall than the springing of the wide ones, so that their tops would be at the same level and the ceiling would be even. The result was always lopsided. This problem had now vanished.
Jack lowered his head and gave his neck a rest. He felt as jubilant as if he had just been crowned king. This, he thought, was how he would build his cathedral.
He looked into the main body of the church. The nave itself was clearly quite old, although relatively long and wide: it had been built many years ago, by someone other than the current master, and it was quite conventional. But then, at the crossing, there seemed to be steps down--no doubt leading to the crypt and the royal tombs--and steps up to the chancel. It looked as if the chancel were floating a little way above the ground. The structure was obscured, from this angle, by dazzling sunlight coming through the east windows, so much that Jack supposed the walls must be unfinished, and the sun shining through the gaps.
He walked along the south aisle to the crossing. As he got nearer to the chancel he sensed that something quite remarkable was ahead of him. There was, indeed, sunlight pouring in, but the vault appeared to be complete and there were no gaps in the walls. When Jack stepped out of the aisle into the crossing he saw that the sun was streaming in through rows of tall windows, some of them made of colored glass, and all this sunshine seemed to fill the vast empty vessel of the church with warmth and light. Jack could not understand how they had got so much window area: there seemed to be more window than wall. He was awestruck. How had this been done, if not by magic?
He felt a frisson of superstitious dread as he mounted the steps that led up to the chancel. He stopped at the top of the stair and peered into the confusion of shafts of colored light and stone that was ahead of him. Slowly the realization came over him that he had seen something like this before, but in his imagination. This was the church he had dreamed of building, with its vast windows and surging vaults, a structure of light and air that seemed held up by enchantment.
A moment later he saw it differently. Everything fell into place quite suddenly, and in a lightning flash of revelation, Jack saw what Abbot Suger and his builder had done.
The principle of rib-vaulting was that a ceiling was made of a few strong ribs, with the gaps between the ribs filled in with light material. They had applied that principle to the whole building. The wall of the chancel consisted of a few strong piers joined by windows. The arcade separating the chancel from its side aisles was not a wall but a row of piers joined by pointed arches, leaving wide spaces through which the light from the windows could fall into the middle of the church. The aisle itself was divided in two by a row of thin columns.
Pointed arches and rib-vaulting had been combined here, as they had in the narthex, but it was now clear that the narthex had been a cautious trial for the new technology. By comparison with this, the narthex was musclebound, its ribs and moldings too heavy, its arches too small. Here everything was thin, light, delicate and airy. The simple roll moldings were all narrow and the colonettes were long and thin.
It would have looked too fragile to stay upright, except that the ribs showed so clearly how the weight of the building was being carried by the piers and columns. Here was a visible demonstration that a big building did not need thick walls with tiny windows and massive piers. Provided the weight was distributed precisely on a load-bearing skeleton, the rest of the building could be light stonework, glass, or empty space. Jack was spellbound. It was almost like falling in love. Euclid had been a revelation, but this was more than a revelation, for it was beautiful too. He had had visions of a church like this, and now he was actually looking at it, touching it, standing under its sky-high vault.
He walked around the curved east end in a daze, staring at the vaulting of the double aisle. The ribs arched over his head like branches in a forest of perfect stone trees. Here, as in the narthex, the filling between the ceiling ribs was cut stone jointed with mortar, instead of the easier, but heavier, rubble-and-mortar. The outer wall of the aisle had pairs of big windows with pointed tops to match the pointed arches. The revolutionary architecture was perfectly complemented by the colored windows. Jack had never seen colored glass in England, but he had come across several examples in France: however, in the small windows of an old-style church it could not achieve its full potential. Here, the effect of the morning sun pouring through the rich many-colored windows was more than beautiful, it was spellbinding.
Because the church was round-ended, the side aisles curved around to meet at the east end, forming a semicircular ambulatory or walkway. Jack walked all the way around the half circle, then turned and came back, still marveling. He returned to his starting point.
There he saw a woman.
He recognized her.
She smiled.
His heart stood still.
Aliena shaded her eyes. The sunlight coming through the windows at the east end of the church dazzled her. Like a vision, a figure walked toward her out of the blaze of colored sunshine. He looked as if his hair was on fire. He came closer. It was Jack.
Aliena felt faint.
He came to her and stood in front of her. He was thin, terribly thin, but his eyes shone with an intensity of emotion. They stared at one another in silence for a moment.
When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. "Is it really you?" "Yes," she said. Her voice came out in a whisper. "Yes, Jack. It's really me."
The tension was too much, and she began to cry. He put his arms around her and hugged her, with the baby in her arms between them, and patted her back, saying "There, there," as if she were a child. She leaned against him, breathing his familiar dusty smell, hearing his dear voice as he soothed her, letting her tears fall on his bony shoulder.
Eventually he looked at her face and said: "What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you," she said.
"Looking for me?" he said incredulously. "Then ... how did you find me?"
She wiped her eyes and sniffed. "I followed you."
"How?"
"I asked people if they had seen you. Masons, mostly, but some monks and lodging-house keepers."
His eyes widened. "You mean--you've been to Spain?"
She nodded. "Compostela, then Salamanca, then Toledo."
"How long have you been traveling?"
"Three fourths of a year."
"But why?"
"Because I love you."
He seemed overwhelmed. His eyes filled with tears. He whispered: "I love you, too."
"Do you? Do you, still?"
"Oh, yes."
She could tell he meant it. She tilted her face up. He leaned forward, over the baby, and kissed her softly. The touch of his mouth on hers made her feel dizzy.
The baby cried.
She broke the kiss and rocked him a little, and he quieted.
Jack said: "What's the baby called?"
"I haven't named him yet."
"Why not? He must be a year old!"
"I wanted to consult you."
"Me?" Jack frowned. "What about Alfred? It's up to the father...." He tailed off. "Why...Is he ...is he mine?"
"Look at him," she said.
Jack looked. "Red hair ... It must be a year and three quarters since... "
Aliena nodded.
"Good God," Jack said. He seemed awestruck. "My son." He swallowed hard.
She watched his face anxiously as he tried to take in the news. Would he see this as the termination of his youth and freedom? His expression became solemn. Normally a man had nine months to get used to the idea of being a father. Jack had to do it all at once. He looked again at the baby, and at last he smiled. "Our son," he said. "I'm so glad."
Aliena sighed happily. Everything was all right at last.
Another thought struck Jack. "What about Alfred? Does he know...?"
"Of course. He only had to look at the child. Besides..." She felt embarrassed. "Besides, your mother cursed the marriage, and Alfred was never able to, you know, do anything."
Jack laughed harshly. "There's true justice," he said.
Aliena did not like the relish with which he said it. "It was very hard for me," she said, in a tone of mild reproof.
His face changed quickly. "I'm sorry," he said. "What did Alfred do?"
"When he saw the baby, he threw me out."
Jack looked angry. "Did he hurt you?"
"No."
"He's a pig, all the same."
"I'm glad he threw us out. It was because of that that I came looking for you. And now I've found you. I'm so happy I don't know what to do."
"You were very brave," Jack said. "I still can't take it in. You followed me all that way!"
"I'd do it all again," she said fervently.
He kissed her again. A voice said in French: "If you insist on behaving lewdly in church, please remain in the nave."
It was a young monk. Jack said: "I'm sorry, Father." He took Aliena's arm. They went down the steps and across the south transept. Jack said: "I was a monk for a while--I know how hard it is for them to look at happy lovers kissing."
Happy lovers, Aliena thought. That's what we are.
They walked the length of the church and stepped out into the busy market square. Aliena could hardly believe that she was standing in the sunshine with Jack by her side. It was almost too much happiness to bear.
"Well," he said, "what shall we do?"
"I don't know," she said, smiling.
"Let's get a loaf of bread and a flask of wine, and ride out into the fields to eat our dinner."
"It sounds like paradise."
They went to the baker and the vintner, and then they got a wedge of cheese from a dairywoman in the marketplace. In no time at all they were riding out of the village into the fields. Aliena had to keep looking at Jack to make sure he really was there, riding along beside her, breathing and smiling.
He said: "How is Alfred managing the building site?"
"Oh! I haven't told you!" Aliena had forgotten how long he had been away. "There was a terrible disaster. The roof fell in."
"What!" Jack's loud exclamation startled his horse, and it did a skittish little dance. He calmed it. "How did that happen?"
"Nobody knows. They had three bays vaulted in time for Whitsunday, and then it all fell down during the service. It was dreadful--seventy--nine people were killed."
"That's terrible." Jack was shaken. "How did Prior Philip take it?"
"Badly. He's given up building altogether. He seems to have lost all his energy. He does nothing nowadays."
Jack found it hard to imagine Philip in that state--he had always seemed so full of enthusiasm and determination. "So what happened to the craftsmen?"
"They all drifted away. Alfred lives in Shiring now, and builds houses."
"Kingsbridge must be half empty."
"It's turning back into a village, like it used to be."
"I wonder what Alfred did wrong?" Jack said half to himself. "That stone vault was never in Tom's original plans; but Alfred made the buttresses bigger to take the weight, so it should have been all right."
He was sobered by the news, and they rode on in silence. A mile or so out of Saint-Denis they tied up the horses in the shade of an elm tree and sat down in a corner of a field of green wheat, beside a little brook, to eat their dinner. Jack took a draft of the wine and smacked his lips. "England has nothing to compare with French wine," he said. He broke the loaf and gave Aliena some.
Aliena shyly undid the laced front of her dress and gave her nipple to the baby. She caught Jack looking at her and flushed. She cleared her throat and spoke to cover her embarrassment. "Do you know what you'd like to call him?" she said awkwardly. "Jack, perhaps?"
"I don't know." He looked thoughtful. "Jack was the father I never knew. It might be bad luck to give our son the same name. The nearest I ever had to a real father was Tom Builder."
"Would you like to call him Tom?"
"I think I would."
"Tom was such a big man. How about Tommy?"
Jack nodded. "Tommy it is."
Oblivious of the significance of the moment, Tommy had fallen asleep, having sucked his fill. Aliena put him down on the ground with a kerchief folded under his head for a pillow. Then she looked at Jack. She felt awkward. She wanted him to make love to her, right here on the grass, but she felt sure he would be shocked if she asked him, so she just looked at him and hoped.
He said: "If I tell you something, will you promise not to think badly of me?"
"All right."
He looked embarrassed, and said: "Ever since I saw you, I can hardly think of anything but the naked body under your dress."
She smiled. "I don't think badly of you," she said. "I'm glad."
He stared at her hungrily.
She said: "I love it when you look at me like that."
He swallowed drily.
She held out her arms, and he came to her and embraced her.
It was almost two years since the one and only time they had made love. That morning they had both been swept away by desire and regret. Now they were just two lovers in a field. Aliena suddenly felt anxious. Would it be all right? How terrible if something went wrong, after all this time.
They lay down on the grass side by side and kissed. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth. She felt his eager hand on her body, exploring urgently. There was a quickening in her loins. He kissed her eyelids and the end of her nose, and said: "All this time, I ached for you, every day."
She hugged him hard. "I'm so glad I found you," she said.
They made gentle, happy love in the open air, with the sun beating down on them and the stream burbling beside them; and Tommy slept through it all, and woke up when it was over.
The wooden statue of the lady had not wept since it left Spain. Jack did not understand how it worked, so he could not be sure why it would not weep outside its own country. However, he had an idea that the tears that came at nightfall were caused by the sudden cooling of the air, and he had noticed that sunsets were more gradual in northern territories, so he suspected that the problem had to do with the slower nightfall. He still kept the statue, however. It was rather bulky to carry around, but it was a souvenir of Toledo, and it reminded him of Raschid, and (although he did not tell Aliena this) of Aysha as well. But when a stonemason at Saint-Denis wanted a model for a statue of the Virgin, Jack brought the wooden lady to the masons' lodge, and left it there.
He had been hired by the abbey to work on the rebuilding of the church. The new chancel, which had so devastated him, was not quite complete, and had to be finished in time for the dedication ceremony at midsummer; but the energetic abbot was already preparing to rebuild the nave in the same revolutionary style, and Jack was hired
to carve stones in advance for that.
The abbey rented him a house in the village, and he moved in, along with Aliena and Tommy. During the first night they spent in the house they made love five times. Living together as man and wife seemed the most natural thing in the world. After a few days Jack felt as if they had always lived together. Nobody asked whether their union had been blessed by the church.
The master builder at Saint-Denis was the greatest mason Jack had ever met, easily. As they finished the new chancel and prepared to rebuild the nave, Jack watched the master and absorbed everything he did. The technical advances here were his, not the abbot's. Suger was in favor of new ideas, in a general way, but he was more interested in ornament than structure. His pet project was the new tomb for the remains of Saint Denis and his two companions, Rusticus and Eleutherius. The relics were kept in the crypt, but Suger planned to bring them up into the new chancel, so the whole world could see them. The three caskets would rest in a stone tomb veneered with black marble. The top of the tomb was a miniature church made of gilded wood; and in the nave and side aisles of the miniature were three empty coffins, one for each of the martyrs. The tomb would stand in the middle of the new chancel, attached to the back of the new high altar. Both the altar and the base of the tomb were already in place, and the miniature church was in the carpenters' lodge, where a painstaking craftsman was carefully gilding the wood with priceless gold paint. Suger was not a man to do things by halves.
The abbot was a formidable organizer, Jack observed as preparations for the dedication ceremony accelerated. Suger invited everybody who was anybody, and most of them accepted, notably the king and queen of France, and nineteen archbishops and bishops including the archbishop of Canterbury. Such morsels of news were picked up by the craftsmen as they worked in and on the church. Jack often saw Suger himself, in his homespun habit, striding around the monastery giving instructions to a flock of monks who followed him like ducklings. He reminded Jack of Philip of Kingsbridge. Like Philip, Suger came from a poor background and had been brought up in the monastery. Like Philip, he had reorganized the finances and tightened up the management of the monastery's property so that it produced much more income; and like Philip he was spending the extra money on building. Like Philip, he was busy, energetic and decisive.