World Without End (Kingsbridge, #2)

by Ken Follett

It was said that pilgrims should not spend too much time planning their journey, for they might learn of so many hazards that they would decide not to go.

And they would be off on a speculative voyage, competing to come up with the most outlandish notions.

“My father hated people who preached about morality. We’re all good when it suits us, he used to say: that doesn’t count. It’s when you want so badly to do something wrong—when you’re about to make a fortune from a dishonest deal, or kiss the lovely lips of your neighbor’s wife, or tell a lie to get yourself out of terrible trouble—that’s when you need the rules. ‘Your integrity is like a sword,’ he would say. ‘You shouldn’t wave it until you’re about to put it to the test.’ Not that he knew anything about swords.”

She could not identify with the English, who had murdered peasants and burned their crops, and it made no difference to her that they had committed these atrocities in Normandy. Of course, they would say the French deserved what they got because they had burned Portsmouth, but that was a stupid way to think—so stupid that it led to scenes of horror such as this.