Ken Follett in his book and John Pielmeier in his screen play set Ellen on a collision course with religious authority in Medieval England as part of the storyline in "The Pillars of the Earth."
Then they graciously provided an escape plan, for the woman who refused to bow to that power, in the persons of Prior Philip and Tom Builder.
However, what might very well have ended up hostage to the editor's slashing pen or a sacrificial offering on the cutting room floor just might have been the explanation for how Ellen, who fled the ecclesiastical courtroom with her sins compounded, managed to stay close enough to Tom to continue her love affair and yet evade the witch's pyre Waleran planned for her.
The answer is to be found here, accompanied — in advance — by appreciative acknowledgment of the writers' ultimate ownership of all the characters and major story lines mentioned.
"Sacrifice" is the title of this "missing" chapter. Action begins on the momentous day King Stephen visits the cathedral in Kingsbridge to check on its progress. While viewing Jack's statue of the congregation's patron saint, the warring king falls into a frothing fit that, quite naturally, stuns all those who have gathered at Kingsbridge — either to help construct the house of worship or engineer its destruction.
Among the latter is Bishop Waleran.
…
There was advantage to this, Waleran was quite certain as he observed the king's writhing performance at the base of the saint's statue in Kingsbridge. But as he contemplated precisely what it might be, his composure was threatened by the sight of the very woman he had been determined to bind over to eternal flames not so long ago.
Ellen had been fully aware she risked exposure to dangerous elements by leaving her secluded cave and coming to the cathedral site that day, but she was half mad with longing to see Tom, her lover and the guiding force behind the construction. She was also curious in the extreme about her son Jack's absorbing project related to the new church.
With the feel of her lover's firm buttock even yet tingling her hand, the look of astonishment on his face at her effrontery in palming his nether regions so publicly still delighting her memory and the salty tang of his welcoming kisses flavoring her lips, she had dared roam the edge of the crowd to observe the effect of Jack's offering as the king toured Tom's domain.
But when she suddenly encountered Waleran's startled gaze among the visitors, it spoke terror to her very soul. Yet she forced herself to turn calmly away and make her exit with dignity. This despite the fearful thumping of her heart.
At any moment, she expected to hear Waleran shout for guards to "seize the witch." How he would thrill to the opportunity to bind her, gag her, secure her to the post and watch the flames lick at her feet.
He had been happy to see Jack's father die in similar circumstances — until the Frenchman found his voice — and she entertained no hope he wished to spare her a similar fate.
Tom and Prior Philip might not be so successful in rescuing her a second time, she realized as she glided out of his line of vision and then sought to lose herself in the crowd. She headed out of the village and back to her well-hidden cave by a circuitous route — just in case the ecclesiastical had gathered his wits and sent someone after her.
Soon after moonless shadows enveloped the forest that evening, she heard Tom's horse and heedlessly rushed to the entrance of her shelter to welcome him into the light and love she always kept burning for him.
He swept her up in his strong arms and hugged her fiercely, with even more delight than he had greeted her at the cathedral. Their only communication was the message conveyed by their yearning bodies as they fit them together in quick, hard passion against the wall of the cave.
"You're a vixen, you are, woman," Tom laughed down at her later as they lay in languid peace on Ellen's bed. His right arm was bent behind his head, which was pillowed on the cushions she filled with fresh-smelling herbs regularly in hopes that his body would bruise them into releasing their fragrance. His left lay along the length of her warm and slightly love-dewed back as she sprawled half over him in sweet exhaustion. His fingertips reached just to the fullness of her hips and he patted her bottom appreciatively, smiling in the firelight.
"What a cheeky mite you've turned out to be. Sneaking up on a man like that and taking advantage right in front of God and everybody."
No other decent woman in his experience would have dared touch him as she had done so publicly at the cathedral site that morning. The sheer scandal of it had aroused him almost as much as the sight of her beautiful face.
"You didn't seem to mind too much," she grinned, breaking off her contemplation of his lower body and twisting her head around to meet his startling green eyes.
"Didn't mind at all. Just surprised to see it was you with a handful of my backside."
"And who did you expect it to be? One of Philip's saintly flock?" she challenged.
"Quiet, woman," he growled and left off stroking her bottom to issue a quick series of playful smacks instead. "You come close to blasphemy."
Ellen's smile faded suddenly as memory stirred.
"Waleran saw me there."
Tom's heart stuttered.
"Are you sure? How do you know?"
"Of course I'm sure. I saw him at the same time he noticed me. He looked as though he'd run into a ghost," she told him.
He sat up abruptly, forcing her to scramble upright, as well.
"He'll come for you," he frowned. "Ellen, you can't stay here. We have to get you away." And he swung his long legs off the bed, reaching for his clothes and fighting down the panic her words had birthed.
"I won't run any more," she protested stubbornly.
"Then you'll burn. Come. Get your things together. We're leaving."
"And going where? For all you know, he has watchers in the forest already. And besides, I won't go anywhere without you."
He sat silent for a moment, his head bowed and his eyes covered by slightly trembling fingers that had been employed so casually in her pleasure only moments before.
"If you burn, I burn with you. If you go, I go with you. Tell me which it will be," he said finally, turning to look into her eyes.
Ellen sucked in her breath at the enormity of his pledge. "But the cathedral. Your children … Jonathan …"
The tightening of the muscle in his jaw was evident, even through his beard. "Choose," he said quietly. "I already have."
…
In the end, their plan was only an imperfectly partial one; a hasty and mystery-shrouded first step on the road to safety.
Aware that Waleran's henchmen might await them just beyond the door, they settled on the only escape option open to them at the moment. They doused the fire and snuffed the candles, donned their discarded garments and cloaks – mercifully dark and hooded – and groped through the inky blackness to the cave's covered entrance.
Tom's constant prayers included gratitude that there was no moonlight to betray them as they slipped outside and fitted their bodies to the exterior walls of the cave. They edged slowly sideways along the shorter side of the natural structure, moving as silently as possible lest the Bishop's men be waiting somewhere in the shadows to seize them.
The builder had to fight the impulse to utilize his horse for their escape, but there was no way of knowing if they were evading mounted thugs or men on foot or phantoms of their imagination. They could take no chances of alerting anyone or anything in the forest to their movements, however. Ellen must not fall into the churchman's hands.
Which made their temporary destination somewhat bizarre, since Tom was plotting a silent, dark course straight for the church — or what was left of it.
Waleran, he knew, would never expect his witch to seek shelter in the house of God. So it was their only viable haven.
It had the added advantage of being near Prior Philip, and Tom could not leave without telling him why. Any more than he could steal away with Ellen without making provision for his children — all his children — by throwing them on the gentle priest's mercy.
The course he had set in motion filled him with grief for what he was leaving behind; but neither could he bear the thought of Ellen writhing in the flames. His only hope was to trust God to deliver them from Waleran and reunite them all in the not-too-distant future.
…
More than an hour later, two dark shadows emerged from the forest and made their way around the perimeter of the village and to the entrance of the old church's crypt. No one had accosted them on their silent journey through the forest, which probably meant, Tom realized — now that he had had more time to consider it — that Waleran's forces had either not discovered the hideaway yet or else knew exactly where it was but planned to approach it at their leisure and with the sun to light their way.
That opinion was confirmed when he spied a group of revelers on the far side of the cathedral site. Even at a distance, he could hear enough of their conversation to know they were the Bishop's men and they were anticipating action on his behalf come morning.
He eased open the crypt door and pulled Ellen — a blessedly compliant Ellen, for once — inside.
They stood in complete silence for what seemed an eternity, until Tom felt secure in their solitude.
"We need to rest. There is a storage room at the end of this wall. Only Philip and I know where the key is hidden. We'll wait there until he is through with services in the morning and then I have to speak to him."
He felt her stiffen and knew she was preparing to argue, so he pulled her close to him and muffled her protests with a kiss in the thick darkness where they were surrounded by death.
"We need Philip's help. You know he will not betray us to Waleran. He's proven himself," he whispered against her mouth. "Trust me, Ellen, or there is no hope."
She sagged against him, her emotions at war with each other. Relief that someone else was bearing the burden of decision-making struggled with years of self-reliance.
Finally they moved again, cautiously, until Tom felt the rough planking of the door beneath his fingertips. Finding the key hidden nearby was easier than fitting it into the lock, but eventually he had Ellen safely inside the musty and little-used closet. Closing the door gently behind them, he prayed no one would have need of any of the castoffs stored there — at least not for the next few hours, until he could manage to spirit Ellen far away.
Just before matins, they sank to the cold stone floor together and fell into a twilight sleep, guarded just outside their hiding place by the ancient skulls of those too poor or too unknown to qualify for a marked grave site.
…