The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [120]
Tom ate his apples gratefully, and his belly felt a little better, but he could not help wondering how soon supper would be served. Monks generally ate before dark, to save candles, he recalled happily.
Cuthbert was looking hard at Ellen. “Do I know you?” he said eventually.
She looked uneasy. “I don’t think so.”
“You seem familiar,” he said uncertainly.
“I used to live near here as a child,” she said.
“That would be it,” he said. “That’s why I have this feeling that you look older than you should.”
“You must have a very good memory.”
He frowned at her. “Not quite good enough,” he said. “I’m sure there’s something else.... No matter. Why did you leave Earlscastle?”
“It was attacked, yesterday at dawn, and taken,” Tom replied. “Earl Bartholomew is accused of treason.”
Cuthbert was shocked. “Saints preserve us!” he exclaimed, and suddenly he looked like an old maid frightened by a bull. “Treason!”
There was a footstep outside. Tom turned and saw another monk walk in. Cuthbert said: “This is our new prior.”
Tom recognized the prior. It was Philip, the monk they had met on their way to the bishop’s palace, the one who had given them the delicious cheese. Now everything fell into place: the new prior of Kingsbridge was the old prior of the little cell in the forest, and he had brought Jonathan with him when he came here. Tom’s heart leaped with optimism. Philip was a kindly man, and he had seemed to like and trust Tom. Surely he would give him a job.
Philip recognized him. “Hello, Master Builder,” he said. “You didn’t get much work at the bishop’s palace, then?”
“No, Father. The archdeacon wouldn’t hire me, and the bishop wasn’t there.”
“Indeed he wasn’t—he was in heaven, though we didn’t know it at the time.”
“The bishop is dead?”
“Yes.”
“That’s old news,” Cuthbert butted in impatiently. “Tom and his family have just come from Earlscastle. Earl Bartholomew has been captured and his castle overrun!”
Philip was very still. “Already!” he murmured.
“Already?” Cuthbert repeated. “Why do you say ‘already’?” He seemed fond of Philip but wary of him, like a father whose son has been away to war and has come home with a sword in his belt and a slightly dangerous look in his eye. “Did you know this was going to happen?”
Philip was slightly flustered. “No, not exactly,” he said uncertainly. “I had heard a rumor that Earl Bartholomew was opposed to King Stephen.” He recovered his composure. “We can all be thankful for this,” he announced. “Stephen has promised to protect the Church, whereas Maud might have oppressed us as much as her late father did. Yes, indeed. This is good news.” He looked as pleased as if he had done it himself.
Tom did not want to talk about Earl Bartholomew. “It isn’t good news for me,” he said. “The earl had hired me, the day before, to strengthen the castle’s defenses. I didn’t even get a single day’s pay.”
“What a shame,” said Philip. “Who was it that attacked the castle?”
“Lord Percy Hamleigh.”
“Ah.” Philip nodded, and once again Tom felt his news was only confirming Philip’s expectations.
“You’re making some improvements here, then,” Tom said, trying to bring the subject around to his own interest.
“I’m trying,” Philip said.
“You’ll want to rebuild the tower, I’m sure.”
“Rebuild the tower, repair the roof, pave the floor—yes, I want to do all of that. And you want the job, of course,” he added, apparently having just realized why Tom was here. “I wasn’t thinking. I wish I could hire you. But I couldn’t pay you, I’m afraid. This monastery is penniless.”
Tom felt as if he had been struck by a fist. He had been confident of getting work here—everything had pointed to it. He could hardly believe his ears. He stared at Philip. It really was not credible that the priory had no money. The cellarer had said it was monks doing all the extra work, but even so, a monastery could always borrow money from the Jews. Tom felt as if this were the end of the road for him.