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84 pages 2 hours read

Ken Follett

World Without End

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 2007

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Themes

Anarchy and Order

Follett sets World Without End in a tumultuous time in English and European history. From the highest to the lowest ranks of society, characters are forced to determine how best to respond to challenges to the world as they have always known it. The character arc of Ralph Fitzgerald in particular shows that what constitutes anarchy or order is often determined by existing power structures. Either state can create opportunities for good or for ill.

The deposing of Edward II is the first challenge to order, one that creates both opportunities and dangers for the central characters in the moment that they encounter Thomas Langley struggling for his life. Their responses are emblematic of their approaches to anarchy later in life. Merthin stays behind to problem-solve. Gwenda flees. Caris tries to take care of Gwenda by replacing Hop. Ralph responds with violence by shooting one of the queen’s men during the initial confrontation and then runs away with the others. He learns early on that force and violence are appropriate responses when faced with disorder.

As a squire, Ralph relies on an existing political and economic order in which subordinates are powerless to counter their overlords and might makes right. His ideas about order are shaped by training for war and the battlefield, “where strong men were kings and the weak counted for nothing” (49). As an overlord, he works in the king’s interests by supporting the Ordinance of Laborers, which explicitly tries to roll the economic relationship between laborers and lords back to 1347. When Ralph faces down the villagers of Outhenby a second time, this law quells any efforts to counter Ralph because they know that his efforts to reinforce the old order have the weight of the king behind them. Ralph thrives in settings where he has a clear mission and in which that mission is to apply force in the interests of powerful men.

Ralph’s troubles come when he introduces anarchy into the smooth functioning of that power structure. When Ralph rapes Annet, Roland of Shiring tells Ralph, “I don’t want to be bothered, in peacetime, with damned priests whining about serfs’ wives being raped” (35). Ralph’s actions are a disturbance, in other words, because they inconvenience the earl and because Ralph is using violence that Roland only wants deployed in France or in war time. Ralph’s days as an outlaw on the outskirts of Kingsbridge only end because he angers the town by disturbing trade (neither the earl nor the church are willing to intervene).

Still, Roland is willing to overlook Ralph’s chaotic, violent nature as soon as war comes. He rescues Ralph from hanging because he knows there is use for a man like Ralph on the battlefield. After the war, when law and order have broken down as a result of the plague, Ralph applies the skills he learned in war by sacking the nunnery. He gets away with this egregious violation of the church, a place of sanctuary, both because the general sense of lawlessness provides cover for his actions and because Gregory Longfellow needs information. He learns that as a lord and a man working on behalf of royal interests, there is no apparent limit to his actions.

What Ralph doesn’t account for is the anarchy he creates will rebound on him. As a lord, Ralph’s responsibility is to be a good steward of the land, resources, and people in his care. His poor management leaves him almost bankrupt, however. When he is forced to prioritize his lands over his vendetta against Gwenda’s family by giving Davey a copyhold, he cannot resist his impulse to punish Gwenda. Gwenda is only in the lodge where she and Sam kill Ralph because Ralph has forced her to come there, and the same can be said for Sam, who owes his existence to Ralph’s impulse to dominate. When Ralph dies, the existence of outlaw bands—more sign of the anarchy created by the plague—provides cover for Gwenda and Sam’s actions. No one pursues the matter closely because Ralph’s death ends his ability to be a disruptive force for peasants and overlords alike.

Other characters, such as Merthin and Caris, have different responses to anarchy and threats to order. Merthin creates his own order by flouting the guilds, leaving town, and using innovative building techniques that undercut people like Elfric. His disturbance of the power relations in town is allowed to continue so long as the town benefits economically from them. His ability to apply his knowledge of building is his most powerful tool when it comes to disrupting the smooth functioning of the guild and apprenticeship systems in a way that benefits both him and the town.

Caris initially engages in the same kinds of disturbances to order when she creates Kingsbridge scarlet; her near-death experience at her trial for witchcraft changes her approach, however, and the existential threat of the plague pushes her firmly in the camp of maintaining order. She notes closer to the end of the novel the irony of a woman who “despised orthodoxy and flouted convention” reimposing order in the plague-ridden town, while a man like Merthin is one of those who “flourished in an atmosphere of anarchy” (840). Whether others identify Caris’s moves as either anarchic or supporting the status quo is determined largely by how they see women. In the end, anarchy and order are neither inherently good nor bad. The responses of powerful people determine the impact of these states on the communities where anarchy upends order.

Women and Power

Follett presents a rich picture of the lives of women in medieval England. Gwenda, Caris, Cecilia, and Phillipa all attempt to yield power despite the challenge women with power pose to the status quo. Their degree of success is often the result of their economic and political status.

As a member of a family of landless laborers, Gwenda has the least amount of economic and political power. As a girl, Gwenda finds this status means she is forced into thievery, despite the possibility of death as a punishment, on behalf of her poor family. Her father trafficks her to outlaws who seek to rape her, and she later must submit to Ralph to secure her family’s future. Her only resource in these cases is her strength, which she uses to stab one outlaw and drown another after the bridge collapses; when Ralph tries to exploit her one last time, she uses her “field-worker’s strength” (1007) to drive home the knife in Alan and later in Ralph.

In between these two pivotal events, she relies on physical and intellectual resources to survive. She intuits on her return to her family after Joby sells her that she will always be a “commodity to be sold” (213) to people unless she secures land and a free tenancy. She uses her body and labor to support Wulfric before and after their marriage. She uses her powers of persuasion to convince the town to give them land (temporarily) and to sway Wulfric to run away to Outhenby. Her body and mind are not enough to secure the power she needs to have the life she wants, but she knows close to the end of the novel that her grandchildren will be “free and independent, growing what crops they chose, paying their rent and keeping for themselves everything else they earned” (1002).

Caris’s path to power is also constrained by her gender, but less so because of her class. As a prosperous merchant’s daughter in a family where the women are valued for their business sense, Caris learns how to use the levers of power as she works alongside her father in the parish guild. When she is forced to enter the convent, she watches as Cecilia uses her power. Cecilia uses this same kind of business sense and an intricate knowledge of how things really work in terms of the finances of Kingsbridge (the monastery and nunnery) to nudge things in a more positive direction for the sisters and the town. Caris also witnesses the limits of Cecilia’s power after Godwyn steals the nuns’ money and charters, however. The difficulties Cecilia has in containing abuse by church leaders who are men foreshadow what happens to Caris’s own efforts later.

When Caris finally achieves some power as prioress and acting prior, she employs these same skills to achieve some good as the town faces the plague. Mentoring by other women proves crucial to Caris’s ability to exercise power effectively. Her greatest obstacle, one she cannot overcome, is that the church as an institution sees woman “as an incarnation of the devil” (490) despite the church’s adoration of the Virgin Mary. While there is a place for the likes of Betty Baxter and Madge Webber in secular centers of power like the guild, people like Godwyn will always see women in power as an affront to the natural order espoused by the church. Godwyn and later Philemon are allowed to undercut Caris’s efforts, despite their obvious unfitness for leadership, in large part because even men like Bishop Henri find it unseemly that a woman would exercise power over men.

The more powerful women in the story are Phillipa and the queen, who never directly appears in the novel. As a lord’s wife, Phillipa counters Ralph’s abuse of Annet and Wulfric several times because of her status. She fends off Ralph’s initial pressure to marry because a “widow’s right to refuse marriage is actually guaranteed by Magna Carta” (854). Despite her status, however, Phillipa is vulnerable to coercion and violence because she is a woman. In her class, marriage is a political tool that moves women around to secure advantages, so marrying Ralph is the only power she has to prevent her daughter from marrying a brutal man. She must submit to physical and sexual violence to avoid death after her affair with Merthin results in pregnancy. While she has the means and power to retreat to the nunnery, her freedom in the end is constrained by the expectations for women of her class and the legal rights of men over women in marriage.

The events of the novel are all largely driven by the actions of an extremely powerful woman, Queen Isabella, but as Caris notes, “the result had been that her lover, Roger Mortimer, had effectively ruled England until her son grew old enough and confident enough to oust him” (286). In such a world, there is little hope of the likes of Gwenda, Mattie Wise, or the many other women lower on the socioeconomic ladder maintaining power over their own lives.

The Nature of Power

The difficulties women have in exercising power are a part of a larger discussion about power. The events of the novel occur well before the publication of Niccolò Machiavelli’s The Prince (1532), but the way power works in the novel shows that figures like Godwyn and Philemon gain power because they reject traditional notions of virtue. They are Machiavellian figures who use and justify any means to their ends. They are only reined in once they run afoul of powerful interests.

During her struggle to stop Godwyn from stealing from the nuns, Caris wonders why, despite his “malign influence,” Godwyn’s “power never ceased to grow” (688). She finally concludes that was “because he was an ambitious man with no conscience—a potent combination” (688). Godwyn’s rise from acolyte to prior comes because he has no qualms about violating his own vows for the sake of power. He is particularly willing to reject the church’s definition of virtue if he can do so without appearing to do so. When he sets in motion the plot to destroy Caris or even to convince the monks to abandon Kingsbridge to the plague, he covers his actions by making appeals to faith and the Bible.

Even when others know Godwyn is deeply hypocritical, they advance his schemes because such maneuvering is seen as an asset in a setting in which the duties of bishops were “political as much as religious” (85). Being good but naïve like Prior Anthony or Saul Whitehead is a liability in a cutthroat world like England in the 1300s. Caris learns this lesson when, after her arduous journey through France to get the nunnery’s funds and contracts back from Godwyn, the king refuses to help her. Edward tells her she knows “nothing of politics” (582) because she assumed the king would get involved in church disputes when he needed the church’s political support.

Philemon learns this lesson well as he goes from being the poor son of Gwenda’s landless family to becoming an ambassador to the pope by the end of the novel. Philemon uses lies, theft, and blackmail because he ultimately believes any means are justified to achieve power over Kingsbridge. All along the way, others are aware of his actions, but at each stage of his progress, his interests align so well with those in power that they allow him to continue despite his unfitness to exercise power. Philemon manages to secure the bishopric of Shiring because he promises to accept taxation of the clergy, for example; it takes bribing him for higher office to get him to leave. This intervention only comes because Gregory Longfellow sees him as a threat to order: his election will lead to “constant strife in Kingsbridge” (961), an important source of tax revenues for the crown by this point.

Follett uses characters like Caris, Merthin, and Gwenda—people mostly motivated by love for others and a commitment to bettering their communities—as protagonists. His choice to make them sympathetic characters makes it easy for readers to see virtue and honesty as prerequisites for exercising power. Looking over both the novel and the historical setting, however, one can see that their effectiveness as leaders increases the more willing they are to depart from their notions of fairness and virtue. Caris and Merthin collude with Gregory, using as leverage a letter sure to embarrass the royal family, to remove Philemon. To achieve good ends for themselves and others, they appeal to the self-interest of the powerful.

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