Pillars of the Earth, book 2 33 страница

Barley went to the stream and lapped the cold water thirstily. Ralph sat on the bank, resting his back against a tree. Alan sat beside him and handed him a cup of ale and a wedge of cheese. Ralph took the drink and refused the food.

Alan knew his boss in a bad mood, and said nothing while Ralph drank, wordlessly refilling Ralph’s cup from the jug. In the silence they both heard female voices. Alan looked at Ralph with a raised eyebrow. Barley growled. Ralph stood up, shushing the dog, and walked softly in the direction of the sound. Alan followed.

A few yards downstream Ralph stopped, looking through the vegetation. A small group of village women were doing laundry on the near bank of the stream, where the water flowed fast over an outcrop of rocks. It was a damp October day, cool but not cold, and they wore their sleeves rolled up and the skirts of their shifts raised to thigh level to keep them dry.

Ralph studied them one by one. There was Gwenda, all muscular forearms and calves, with her baby – now four months old – strapped to her back. He identified Peg, the wife of Perkin, scrubbing her husband’s underdrawers with a stone. His own housemaid, Vira, was there, a hard-faced woman of about thirty who had looked so stonily at him when he patted her arse that he never touched her again. The voice that he had heard belonged to the widow Huberts, a great talker, no doubt because she lived alone. The widow was standing in midstream, calling out to the others, carrying on a gossipy conversation at a distance.

And there was Annet.

She stood on a rock, washing some small garment, bending to dip it in the stream then standing upright to scrub it. She had long, white legs that disappeared enchantingly into her rucked-up dress. Every time she bent over, her neckline fell open to reveal the pale fruit of her small breasts hanging like temptation on a tree. Her fair hair was wet at the ends, and there was a petulant look on her pretty face, as if she felt she had not been born for this kind of work.

They had been there for some time, Ralph guessed, and their presence might have remained unknown to him, had not Widow Huberts raised her voice to call out. He lowered himself to the ground and knelt behind a bush, peering through the leafless twigs. Alan squatted beside him.

Ralph liked spying on women. He had often done it as an adolescent. They scratched themselves, sprawled on the ground with their legs apart, and talked about things they would never speak of if they knew a man was listening. In fact they acted like men.

He feasted his eyes on the unsuspecting women of his village, and strained to hear what they were saying. He watched Gwenda, looking at her small, strong body, remembering her naked, kneeling on the bed, and reliving how it had felt to hold her hips and pull her to him. He recalled how her attitude had changed. At first she had been coldly passive, struggling to conceal her resentment and distaste for the act she was performing; then he had seen a slow alteration. The skin on her neck had flushed, her chest had betrayed her excited breathing, and she had bent her head and closed her eyes in what seemed to him to be a mixture of shame and pleasure. The memory made him breathe faster and brought out a film of perspiration on his brow, despite the chill October air. He wondered if he would get another chance to lie with Gwenda.

Too soon, the women prepared to depart. They folded the damp washing and packed it into baskets, or wrapped it in bundles to be balanced on their heads, and then began to move away along the pathway beside the stream. Then an argument began between Annet and her mother. Annet had done only half the laundry she had brought. She was proposing to take the dirty half home, and it seemed Peg thought she should stay and finish it. In the end Peg stomped off and Annet stayed, looking sulky.

Ralph could hardly believe his luck.

In a low voice he said to Alan: “We’ll have some fun with her. Sneak around and cut off her retreat.”

Alan disappeared.

Ralph watched as Annet dipped the remaining laundry perfunctorily in the stream, then sat on the bank staring at the water grumpily. When he judged that the other women were out of earshot and Alan must be in place, he stood up and walked forward.

She heard him pushing through the undergrowth and looked up, startled. He enjoyed seeing the expression on her face change from surprise and curiosity to fear as she realized she was alone with him in the forest. She leaped to her feet, but by that time he was next to her, holding her arm in a light but firm grip. “Hello, Annet,” he said. “What are you doing here… all alone?”

She looked over his shoulder – hoping, he guessed, that he might be accompanied by others who would restrain him, and her face registered dismay when she saw only Barley. “I’m going home,” she said. “My mother’s just left.”

“Don’t rush,” he said. “You look so attractive like this, with your hair damp and your knees bare.”

She tried hastily to push the skirt of her dress down. With his free hand, he held the point of her chin and made her look at him. “How about a smile?” he said. “Don’t look so worried. I wouldn’t harm you – I’m your lord.”

She attempted a smile. “I’m just a bit flustered,” she said. “You startled me.” She mustered a trace of her habitual coquetry. “Perhaps you would escort me home,” she said with a simper. “A girl needs protection in the forest.”

“Oh, I’ll protect you. I’ll look after you much better than that fool Wulfric, or your husband.” He took his hand from her chin and grasped her breast. It was as he remembered, small and firm. He released her arm so that he could use both hands, one on each breast.

But as soon as he let go of her, she fled. He laughed as she ran along the path and into the trees. A moment later he heard her give a cry of shock. He stayed where he was, and Alan brought her to him, her arm twisted behind her back so that her chest stuck out invitingly.

Ralph drew his knife, a sharp dagger with a blade a foot long. “Take off your dress,” he said.

Alan let her go, but she did not immediately comply. “Please, lord,” she said. “I’ve always shown you respect-”

“Take off your dress, or I’ll cut your cheeks and scar you for ever.”

It was a well-chosen threat for a vain woman, and she gave in immediately. She began to cry as she lifted the plain brown wool shift over her head. At first she held the crumpled garment in front of her, covering her nakedness, but Alan snatched it from her and threw it aside.

Ralph stared at her naked body. She stood with her eyes down, tears on her face. She had slim hips with a prominent bush of dark-blonde hair. “Wulfric never saw you like this, did he?” Ralph said.

She shook her head in negation without raising her eyes.

He thrust his hand between her legs. “Did he ever touch you here?”

She said: “Please, lord, I’m a married woman-”

“All the better – you’ve no virginity to lose, nothing to worry about. Lie down.”

She tried to back away from him, and bumped into Alan, who expertly tripped her, so that she fell on her back. Ralph grabbed her ankles, so that she could not get up, but she wriggled desperately. “Hold her down,” Ralph said to Alan.

Alan forced her head down then put his knees on her upper arms and his hands on her shoulders.

Ralph got his cock out and rubbed it to make it harder. Then he knelt between Annet’s thighs.

She began to scream, but no one heard her.

Fortunately, Gwenda was one of the first people to see Annet after the incident.

Gwenda and Peg brought home the laundry and hung it to dry around the fire in the kitchen of Perkin’s house. Gwenda was still working as a labourer for Perkin but now, in autumn, when there was less to do in the fields, she helped Peg with her domestic chores. When they had dealt with the laundry they began to prepare the midday meal for Perkin, Rob, Billy Howard and Wulfric. After an hour Peg said: “What can have happened to Annet?”

“I’ll go and see.” Gwenda first checked on her baby. Sammy was lying in a basketwork crib, wrapped in an old bit of brown blanket, his alert dark eyes watching the smoke from the fire gathering in curls under the ceiling. Gwenda kissed his forehead then went to look for Annet.

She retraced her steps across the windy fields. Lord Ralph and Alan Fernhill galloped past her, heading up to the village, their day’s hunting apparently cut short. Gwenda entered the forest and followed the short path that led to the spot where the woman did laundry. Before she got there she met Annet coming the other way.

“Are you all right?” Gwenda said. “Your mother is worried.”

“I’m fine,” Annet replied.

Gwenda could tell something was wrong. “What has happened?”

“Nothing.” Annet would not meet her eye. “Nothing happened, leave me alone.”

Gwenda stood squarely in front of Annet and looked her up and down. Her face told Gwenda unmistakably that there had been some calamity. At first glance she did not appear to be physically hurt – though most of her body was covered by the long wool shift – but then Gwenda saw dark smears on her dress that looked like bloodstains.

Gwenda recalled Ralph and Alan galloping past. “Did Lord Ralph do something to you?”

“I’m going home.” Annet tried to push past Gwenda. Gwenda grabbed her arm to stop her. She did not squeeze hard, but nevertheless Annet cried out in pain, her hand flying to her upper arm.

“You’re hurt!” Gwenda exclaimed.

Annet burst into tears.

Gwenda put her arm around Annet’s shoulders. “Come home,” she said. “Tell your mother about it.”

Annet shook her head. “I’m not telling anyone,” she said.

Too late for that, Gwenda thought.

Walking Annet back to Perkin’s house, Gwenda ran over the possibilities in her mind. Clearly Annet had suffered some kind of assault. She might have been attacked by one or more travellers, though there was no road nearby. Outlaws were always a possibility, but it was a long time since any had been seen near Wigleigh. No, the likeliest suspects were Ralph and Alan.

Peg was brisk. She sat Annet down on a stool and pulled her dress down over her shoulders. Both upper arms showed swollen red bruises. “Someone held you down,” Peg said angrily.

Annet made no reply.

Peg persisted. “Am I right? Answer me, child, or you’ll be in worse trouble. Did someone hold you down?”

Annet nodded.

“How many men? Come on, out with it.”

Annet did not speak, but held up two fingers.

Peg reddened with fury. “Did they fuck you?”

Annet nodded.

“Who were they?”

Annet shook her head.

Gwenda knew why she did not want to say. It was dangerous for a serf to accuse a lord of a crime. She said to Peg: “I saw Ralph and Alan riding away.”

Peg said to Annet: “Was it them – Ralph and Alan?”

Annet nodded.

Peg’s voice fell almost to a whisper. “I suppose Alan held you down while Ralph did it.”

Annet nodded again.

Peg softened, now that she had got the truth. She put her arms around her daughter and hugged her. “You poor child,” she said. “My Poor baby.”

Annet began to sob.

Gwenda left the house.

The men would be home soon for their midday dinner, and they would quickly find out that Ralph had raped Annet. Annet’s father, her brother, her husband and her former lover would be mad with rage. Perkin was too old to do anything foolish, Rob would do what Perkin told him and Billy Howard probably was not brave enough to make trouble – but Wulfric would be incandescent. He would kill Ralph.

And then he would be hanged.

Gwenda had to turn the course of events, otherwise she would lose her husband. She hurried through the village, speaking to no one, and went to the manor house. There, she hoped to be told that Ralph and Alan had finished their dinner and gone out again; but it was a little too early and, to her dismay, they were still at home.

She found them in the stable behind the house, looking at a horse with an infected hoof. Normally she was uncomfortable in the presence of Ralph or Alan, for she felt sure that whenever they looked at her they remembered the sight of her kneeling naked on the bed at the Bell in Kingsbridge. But today the thought hardly entered her head. Somehow she had to make them leave the village – now, before Wulfric found out what they had done. What was she going to say?

For a moment she was struck dumb. Then in desperation she said: “Lord, there was a messenger here from Earl Roland.”

Ralph was surprised. “When was this?”

“An hour ago.”

Ralph looked at the groom who was holding the horse’s foot up for inspection. The man said: “No one came here.”

Naturally, a messenger would have come to the manor house and spoken to the lord’s servants. Ralph said to Gwenda: “Why did he give this message to you?”

She improvised desperately. “I met him on the road just outside the village. He asked for Lord Ralph, and I told him you were out hunting and you would be back for dinner – but he wouldn’t stay.”

This was unusual behaviour for a messenger, who would normally stop to eat and drink and rest his horse. Ralph said: “Why was he in such a hurry?”

Inventing excuses extempore, Gwenda said: “He had to get to Cowford by sundown… I didn’t make so bold as to question him.”

Ralph grunted. The last part was plausible: a messenger from Earl Roland was not likely to subject himself to cross-examination by a peasant woman. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

“I came across the fields to meet you, but you didn’t see me and galloped past.”

“Oh. I think I did see you. No matter – what’s the message?”

“Earl Roland summons you to Earlscastle as soon as possible.” She took a breath and added another layer of implausibiiity. “The messenger said to tell you not to wait to eat your dinner, but take fresh horses and leave at once.” It was barely credible, but she had to get Ralph away before Wulfric showed up.

“Really? Did he say why he needs me in such a terrible hurry?”

“No.”

“Hm.” Ralph looked thoughtful and said nothing for a few moments.

Gwenda said anxiously: “So, will you go now?”

He glared at her. “That’s no concern of yours.”

“It’s just that I wouldn’t want it to be said that I hadn’t made the urgency clear enough.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you? Well, I don’t care what you would or wouldn’t want. Be off.”

Gwenda had to go.

She returned to Perkin’s house. She arrived just as the men were coming in from the fields. Sam was quiet and happy in his crib. Annet was sitting in the same place, with her dress pulled down to show the bruises on her arms. Peg said accusingly: “Where have you been?”

Gwenda did not answer, and Peg was distracted by Perkin coming in and saying: “What’s this? What’s the matter with Annet?”

Peg said: “She had the misfortune to meet Ralph and Alan when she was alone in the forest.”

Perkin’s face darkened with anger. “Why was she alone?”

“It’s my fault,” Peg said, and she began to cry. “Only she was so lazy about the laundry, as she always is, and I made her stay back and finish it, after the other women went home, and that’s when those two animals must have come along.”

“We saw them a while ago, riding across Brookfield,” Perkin said. “They must have just come from the place.” He looked frightened. “This is very dangerous,” he said. “It’s the kind of thing that can ruin a family.”

“But we’ve done nothing wrong!” Peg protested.

“Ralph’s guilt will make him hate us for our innocence.”

That was probably true, Gwenda realized. Perkin was shrewd, beneath his obsequious manner.

Annet’s husband, Billy Howard, came in, wiping his muddy hands on his shirt. Her brother, Rob, was close behind. Billy looked at his wife’s bruises and said: “What happened to you?”

Peg answered for her. “It was Ralph and Alan.”

Billy stared at his wife. “What did they do to you?”

Annet lowered her eyes and said nothing.

“I’ll kill them both,” Billy said furiously, but it was obviously an idle threat: Billy was a mild-mannered man, slim built, and had never been known to fight, even when drunk.

Wulfric was the last to come through the door. Too late, Gwenda realized how attractive Annet was looking. She had a long neck and pretty shoulders, and the tops of her breasts were showing. The ugly bruises only emphasized her other charms. Wulfric stared at her with undisguised admiration – he never could hide his feelings. Then, after a moment, he registered the angry bruises, and he frowned.

Billy said: “Did they rape you?”

Gwenda was watching Wulfric. As he grasped the significance of the scene, his expression registered shock and dismay, and his fair skin flushed with emotion.

Billy said: “Did they, woman?”

Gwenda felt a surge of compassion for the unlovable Annet. Why did everyone feel they had the right to ask her bullying questions?

At last, Annet answered Billy’s question with a silent nod.

Wulfric’s face was suffused with black rage. “Who?” he growled.

Billy said: “This is none of your business, Wulfric. Go home.”

Perkin said tremulously: “I don’t want trouble. We mustn’t let this destroy us.”

Billy looked angrily at his father-in-law. “What are you saying? That we should do nothing?”

“If we make an enemy of Lord Ralph, we could suffer for the rest of our lives.”

“But he’s raped Annet!”

Wulfric said incredulously: “Ralph did this?”

Perkin said: “God will punish him.”

“So will I, by Christ,” said Wulfric.

Gwenda said: “Please, Wulfric, no!”

Wulfric made for the door.

Gwenda went to him, frantic with fright, and grabbed his arm. Only a few minutes had gone by since she had given Ralph the fake message. Even if he believed it, she did not know how seriously he would take the urgency. There was a good chance he had not left the village yet. “Don’t go to the manor house,” she pleaded with Wulfric. “Please.”

He shook her off roughly. “Get away from me,” he said.

“Look at your baby!” she cried, pointing at Sammy in the crib. “Are you going to leave him without a father?”

Wulfric went out.

Gwenda followed, and the other men came after. Wulfric marched through the village like the angel of death, fists clenched at his sides, staring straight ahead, his face twisted into a rictus of fury. Other villagers, on their way home for the midday meal, spoke to him but got no reply. Some followed him. In the few minutes it took to walk to the manor house he gathered a small crowd. Nathan Reeve came out of his house and asked Gwenda what was happening, but all she could say was: “Stop him, someone, please!” It was useless: none of them could have restrained Wulfric even if they had dared to try.

He threw open the front door of the manor house and marched in. Gwenda was right behind him, and the crowd pushed through after them. The housekeeper, Vira, said indignantly: “You’re supposed to knock!”

“Where is your master?” said Wulfric.

Vira saw the expression on Wulfric’s face and looked scared. “He went to the stable,” she said. “He’s about to leave for Earlscastle.”

Wulfric pushed past her and went through the kitchen. As he and Gwenda stepped out of the back door, they saw Ralph and Alan mounting up. Gwenda could have screamed – they were just seconds too early!

Wulfric jumped forward. With desperate inspiration, Gwenda stuck out her foot and hooked it around Wulfric’s ankle.

Wulfric fell flat on his face in the mud.

Ralph did not see either of them. He kicked his horse and it trotted out of the yard. Alan saw them, read the situation, decided to avoid trouble and followed Ralph. As they left the yard Alan urged his horse into a canter, passing Ralph, whereupon Ralph’s horse eagerly increased its pace.

Wulfric leaped to his feet, cursing, and chased them. Gwenda ran after him. Wulfric could not catch the horses, but Gwenda was terrified that Ralph would look behind and rein in to see what the fuss was about.

But the two men were enjoying the lively energy of fresh horses, and without a backward glance they raced away along the track that led out of the village. In seconds they disappeared.

Wulfric slumped on his knees in the mud.

Gwenda caught up with him and took his arm to help him to his feet. He pushed her aside so forcefully that she staggered and almost fell. She was shocked: it was completely out of character for him to be rough with her.

“You tripped me up,” he said as he got to his feet unaided.

“I saved your life,” she said.

He stared at her with hatred in his eyes and said: “I will never forgive you.”

*

When Ralph reached Earlscastle he was told that Roland had not sent for him at all, never mind urgently. The rooks on the battlements laughed mockingly at him.

Alan conjectured an explanation. “It’s to do with Annet,” he said. “Just as we left, I saw Wulfric coming out of the back door of the manor house. I thought nothing of it at the time, but maybe he was intending to confront you.”

“I’ll bet he was,” Ralph said. He touched the long dagger at his belt. “You should have told me – I’d welcome an excuse to stick my knife in his belly.”

“And no doubt Gwenda knows that, so perhaps she invented the message to get you away from her murderous husband.”

“Of course,” said Ralph. “That would explain why no one else saw this messenger – he never existed. Crafty bitch.”

She should be punished, but it might be difficult. She would probably say she did it for the best, and Ralph could hardly argue that she had been wrong to prevent her husband attacking the lord of the manor. Worse, if he made a fuss about her deception he would call attention to the fact that she had outwitted him. No, there would be no formal penalty – though he might find unofficial ways to chastise her.

As he was at Earlscastle, he took the opportunity to go hunting with the earl and his entourage, and he forgot about Annet – until the end of the second day, when Roland called him into his private chamber. Only the earl’s clerk, Father Jerome, was with him. Roland did not ask Ralph to sit down. “The priest of Wigleigh is here,” he said.

Ralph was surprised. “Father Gaspard? At Earlscastle?”

Roland did not bother to answer these rhetorical questions. “He complains that you raped a woman called Annet, the wife of Billy Howard, one of your serfs.”

Ralph’s heart missed a beat. He had not imagined the peasants would have the nerve to complain to the earl. It was very difficult for a serf to accuse a lord in a court of law. But they could be sly, and someone in Wigleigh had cleverly persuaded the priest to make the complaint.

Ralph put on an expression of carelessness. “Rubbish,” he said. “All right, I lay with her, but she was willing.” He gave Roland a man-to-man grin. “More than willing.”

An expression of distaste came over Roland’s face, and he turned to Father Jerome with an inquiring look.

Jerome was an educated, ambitious young man, a type Ralph particularly disliked. He had a snooty look as he said: “The girl is here. Woman, I should say, though she is only nineteen. She has massive bruises on her arms and a bloodstained dress. She says you encountered her in the forest, and your squire knelt on her to hold her down. And a man called Wulfric is here to say that you were seen riding away from the scene.”

Ralph guessed it was Wulfric who had persuaded Father Gaspard to come here to Earlscastle. “It’s not true,” he said, trying to put a note of indignation into his voice.

Jerome looked sceptical. “Why would she lie?”

“Maybe someone saw us and told her husband. He gave her the bruises, I expect. She cried rape to stop him beating her. Then she stained her dress with chicken blood.”

Roland sighed. “It’s a bit oafish, isn’t it, Ralph?”

Ralph was not sure what he meant. Did he expect his men to behave like damned monks?

Roland went on: “I was warned you’d be like this. My daughter-in-law always said you’d give me problems.”

“Philippa?”

“Lady Philippa, to you.”

Enlightenment dawned on Ralph, and he said incredulously: “Is that why you didn’t promote me after I saved your life – because a woman was against me? What sort of an army will you have if you let girls pick your men?”

“You’re right, of course, and that’s why I went against her judgement in the end. What women never realize is that a man without some bile in him is good for nothing but tilling the land. We can’t take milksops into battle. But she was right when she warned me that you would cause trouble. I don’t want to be bothered, in peacetime, with damned priests whining about serfs’ wives being raped. Don’t do it again. I don’t care if you lie with the peasant women. If it comes to that, I don’t care if you lie with the men. But if you take a man’s wife, willing or otherwise, be prepared to compensate the husband in some way. Most peasants can be bought. Just don’t let it become my problem.”

“Yes, lord.”

Jerome said: “What am I to do with this Gaspard?”

“Let me see,” Roland said thoughtfully. “Wigleigh is on the edge of my territory, not far from my son William’s landholding, is it not?”

“Yes,” Ralph said.

“How far were you from the border when you met this girl?”

“A mile. We were only just outside Wigleigh.”

“No matter.” He turned to Jerome. “Everyone will know this is just an excuse, but tell Father Gaspard that the incident took place in Lord William’s territory, so I can’t adjudicate.”

“Very good, my lord.”

Ralph said: “What if they go to William?”

“I doubt that they will. But, if they persist, you’ll have to come to some arrangement with William. The peasants will tire of complaining eventually.”

Ralph nodded, relieved. For a moment, he had suffered the dread thought that he had made a terrible error of judgement, and that after all he might be made to pay the price for raping Annet. But, in the end, he had got away with it, as he had expected to.

“Thank you, my lord,” he said.

He wondered what his brother would say about this. The thought filled him with shame. But perhaps Merthin would never find out.

*

“We must complain to Lord William,” said Wulfric when they got back to Wigleigh.

The entire village had gathered in the church to discuss the matter. Father Gaspard and Nathan Reeve were there but, somehow, Wulfric seemed to be the leader, despite his youth. He had gone to the front, leaving Gwenda and baby Sammy in the crowd.

Gwenda was praying that they would decide to drop the matter. It was not that she wanted Ralph to go unpunished – on the contrary, she would have liked to see him boiled alive. She herself had killed two men for merely threatening her with rape, something she remembered, every now and again during the discussion, with a shudder. But she did not like Wulfric taking the leading role. It was partly because he was driven by the unquenched flame of his feeling for Annet, which hurt and saddened Gwenda. But, more importantly, she feared for him. The enmity between him and Ralph had already cost Wulfric his inheritance. What other vengeance would Ralph take?

Perkin said: “I’m the father of the victim, and I don’t want any more trouble over this. It’s very dangerous to complain of the actions of a lord. He always finds a way to punish the complainers, right or wrong. Let’s drop it.”

“Too late for that,” said Wulfric. “We’ve already complained, or at least our priest has. There’s nothing to be gained by backing down now.”

“We’ve gone far enough,” Perkin argued. “Ralph has been embarrassed in front of his earl. He knows now that he can’t do just whatever he pleases.”

“On the contrary,” said Wulfric. “He thinks he’s got away with it. I’m afraid he’ll do it again. No woman in the village will be safe.”

Gwenda herself had said to Wulfric all the things Perkin was saying. Wulfric had not answered her. He had hardly spoken to her since she tripped him up at the back door of the manor house. At first, she had told herself that he was merely sulking because he had felt foolish. She had expected him to have forgotten about it by the time he returned from Earlscastle. But she had been wrong. He had not touched her, in bed or out of it, for a week; he rarely met her eye; and he talked to her in monosyllables and grunts. It was beginning to depress her.

Nathan Reeve said: “You’ll never win against Ralph. Serfs never overcome lords.”

“I’m not so sure,” Wulfric said. “Everyone has enemies. We might not be the only people who would like to see Ralph reined in. Perhaps we will never see him convicted in court – but we must inflict the maximum of trouble and embarrassment on him if we want him to hesitate before doing this sort of thing again.”

Several villagers nodded agreement, but no one spoke in support of Wulfric, and Gwenda began to hope that he would lose the argument. However, her husband was nothing if not determined, and he now turned to the priest. “What do you think, Father Gaspard?”

Дата добавления: 2015-11-04