The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [155]
A year apart was a harsh sentence. Philip felt she deserved it, for defiling the monastery. But he was anxious about how she would receive it. “She may not submit to your judgment,” he said.
Waleran shrugged. “Then she will burn in hell.”
“If she leaves Kingsbridge, I’m afraid Tom may go with her.”
“There are other builders.”
“Of course.” Philip would be sorry to lose Tom. But he could tell, from Waleran’s expression, that Waleran would not mind if Tom and his woman were to leave Kingsbridge and never come back; and he wondered again why she was so important.
Waleran said: “Now clear out, all of you, and let me speak to your prior.”
“Just a minute,” Philip said sharply. It was his house, and they were his monks, after all; he would summon and dismiss them, not Waleran. “I will speak to the builder myself about this matter. None of you is to mention it to anyone, do you hear? There’ll be a harsh punishment for you if you disobey me over this. Is that clear, Remigius?”
“Yes,” said Remigius.
Philip looked inquiringly at Remigius and said nothing. There was a pregnant silence.
“Yes, Father,” Remigius said at last.
“All right, off you go.”
Remigius, Andrew, Milius, Cuthbert and Dean Baldwin all trooped out. Waleran helped himself to a little more hot wine and stretched his feet out to the fire. “Women always cause trouble,” he said. “When there’s a mare in heat in the stables, all the stallions start nipping the grooms, kicking their stalls and generally causing trouble. Even the geldings start to misbehave. Monks are like geldings: physical passion is denied them, but they can still smell cunt.”
Philip was embarrassed. There was no need for such explicit talk, he felt. He looked at his hands. “What about rebuilding the church?” he said.
“Yes. You must have heard that that business you came to see me about—Earl Bartholomew and the conspiracy against King Stephen—turned out well for us.”
“Yes.” It seemed a long time ago that Philip had gone to the bishop’s palace, in fear and trembling, to tell of the plot against the king whom the Church had chosen. “I heard that Percy Hamleigh attacked the earl’s castle and took him prisoner.”
“That’s right—Bartholomew is now in a dungeon at Winchester, waiting to hear his fate,” Waleran said with satisfaction.
“And Earl Robert of Gloucester? He was the more powerful conspirator.”
“And therefore gets the lighter punishment. In fact no punishment at all. He has pledged allegiance to King Stephen, and his part in the plot has been ... overlooked.”
“But what has this got to do with our cathedral?”
Waleran stood up and went to the window. When he looked out at the ruined church, there was real sadness in his eyes, and Philip realized that there was a core of genuine piety in Waleran, for all his worldly ways. “Our part in the defeat of Bartholomew puts King Stephen in our debt. Before too long, you and I will go and see him.”
“See the king!” Philip said. He was a little intimidated by the prospect.
“He will ask us what we want as our reward.”
Philip saw what Waleran was getting at, and he was thrilled to the core. “And we’ll tell him ...”
Waleran turned back from the window and looked at Philip, and his eyes looked like black jewels, glittering with ambition. “We’ll tell him we want a new cathedral for Kingsbridge,” he said.
Tom knew Ellen was going to hit the roof.
She was already angry about what had happened to Jack. Tom needed to soothe her. But the news of her “penance” was going to inflame her. He wished he could postpone telling her for a day or two, to give her time to cool off; but he could not, for Prior Philip had said she must be off the premises by nightfall. He had to tell her immediately, and since it was midday when Philip told Tom, Tom told Ellen at dinner.
They went into the refectory with the other priory employees when the monks had finished their dinner and gone. The tables were crowded, but Tom thought that might not be a bad thing: the presence of other people might