The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [141]
Philip had walked on, around the back of the dormitory. Tom hurried to catch him. They found the dormitory unmarked. Going on, they found the other monastic buildings more or less unharmed: the refectory, the kitchen, the bakehouse and the brewery. Philip might have taken some consolation in that, but his expression remained glum.
They ended up where they had started, in front of the ruined west end, having completed a full circuit of the priory close without speaking a word. Philip sighed heavily and broke the silence. “The devil did this,” he said.
Tom thought: This is my moment. He took a deep breath and said: “It might be God’s work.”
Philip looked up at him in surprise. “How so?”
Tom said carefully: “No one has been hurt. The books, the treasure and the bones of the saint were saved. Only the church has been destroyed. Perhaps God wanted a new church.”
Philip smiled skeptically. “And I suppose God wanted you to build it.” He was not too stunned to see that Tom’s line of thought might be self-interested.
Tom stood his ground. “It may be so,” he said stubbornly. “It was not the devil who sent a master builder here on the night the church burned down.”
Philip looked away. “Well, there will be a new church, but I don’t know when. And what am I to do meanwhile? How can the life of the monastery go on? All we’re here for is worship and study.”
Philip was deep in despair. This was the moment for Tom to offer him new hope. “My boy and I could have the cloisters cleared and ready for use in a week,” he said, making his voice sound more confident than he felt.
Philip was surprised. “Could you?” Then his expression changed once more, and he looked defeated again. “But what will we use for a church?”
“What about the crypt? You can hold services there, couldn’t you?”
“Yes—it would do very well.”
“I’m sure the crypt is not badly damaged,” Tom said. It was almost true: he was almost sure.
Philip was looking at him as if he were the angel of mercy.
“It won’t take long to clear a path through the debris from the cloisters to the crypt stairs,” Tom went on. “Most of the church on that side has been completely destroyed, which is fortunate, oddly enough, because it means there’s no further danger from falling masonry. I’d have to survey the walls that are still standing, and it might be necessary to shore some of them up. Then they should be checked every day for cracks, and even so you ought not to enter the church in a gale.” All of this was important, but Tom could see that Philip was not taking it in. What Philip wanted from Tom now was positive news, something to lift his spirits. And the way to get hired was to give him what he wanted. Tom changed his tone. “With some of your younger monks laboring for me, I could fix things up so that you’re able to resume normal monastic life, after a fashion, within two weeks.”
Philip was staring at him. “Two weeks?”
“Give me food and lodging for my family, and you can pay my wages when you have the money.”
“You could give me back my priory in two weeks?” Philip repeated incredulously.
Tom was not sure he could, but if it took three no one would die of it. “Two weeks,” he said firmly. “After that, we can knock down the remaining walls—that’s a skilled job, mind you, if it’s to be done safely—then clear the rubble, stacking the stones for reuse. Meanwhile we can plan the new cathedral.” Tom held his breath. He had done his best. Surely Philip would hire him now!
Philip nodded, smiling for the first time. “I think God did send you,” he said. “Let’s have some breakfast, then we can start work.”
Tom breathed a shaky sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he said. There was a quaver in his voice that he could not quite control, but suddenly he did not care, and with a barely suppressed sob, he said: “I can’t tell you