The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [162]
“It looks splendid,” Philip said. Tom could tell that the section drawing particularly impressed him, with the inside of the church open to view, as if the west end had been swung aside like a cupboard door to reveal the interior.
Philip looked at the floor plan again. “Are there only six bays to the nave?”
“Yes, and four to the chancel.”
“Isn’t that rather small?”
“Can you afford to build it bigger?”
“I can’t afford to build it at all,” Philip said. “I don’t suppose you have any idea how much this would cost.”
“I know exactly how much it would cost,” Tom said. He saw surprise on Philip’s face: Philip had not realized Tom could do figure work. He had spent many hours calculating the cost of his design to the last penny. However, he gave Philip a round figure. “It would be no more than three thousand pounds.”
Philip laughed hollowly. “I’ve spent the last few weeks working out the annual income of the priory.” He waved the sheet of vellum that he had been reading so anxiously when Tom walked in. “Here’s the answer. Three hundred pounds a year. And we spend every penny.”
Tom was not surprised. It was obvious that the priory had been badly managed in the past. He had faith that Philip would reform its finances. “You’ll find the money, Father,” he said. “With God’s help,” he added piously.
Philip returned his attention to the drawings, looking unconvinced. “How long would this take to build?”
“That depends on how many people you employ,” Tom said. “If you hire thirty masons, with enough laborers, apprentices, carpenters and smiths to service them, it might take fifteen years: one year for the foundations, four years for the chancel, four years for the transepts, and six years for the nave.”
Once again Philip looked impressed. “I wish my monastic officials had your ability to think ahead and calculate,” he said. He studied the drawings wistfully. “So I need to find two hundred pounds a year. It doesn’t sound so bad when you put it that way.” He looked thoughtful. Tom felt excited: Philip was beginning to think of this as a workable project, not just an abstract design. “Suppose I could afford more—could we build faster?”
“Up to a point,” Tom replied guardedly. He did not want Philip to become overoptimistic: that might lead to disillusionment. “You could employ sixty masons, and build the whole church at once, instead of working from east to west; and that might take eight or ten years. Any more than sixty, on a building this size, and they would start getting in one another’s way, and slow the work down.”
Philip nodded: he appeared to understand that without difficulty. “Still, even with just thirty masons, I could have the east end completed after five years.”
“Yes, and you could use it for services, and set up a new shrine for the bones of Saint Adolphus.”
“Indeed.” Philip was really excited now. “I had been thinking it would be decades before we could have a new church.” He looked shrewdly at Tom. “Have you ever built a cathedral before?”
“No, though I’ve designed and built smaller churches. But I worked on Exeter Cathedral, for several years, finishing up as deputy master builder.”
“You want to build this cathedral yourself, don’t you?” Tom hesitated. It was as well to be candid with Philip: the man had no patience for prevarication. “Yes, Father. I want you to appoint me master builder,” he said as calmly as he could.
“Why?”
Tom had not expected that question. There were so many reasons. Because I’ve seen it done badly, and I know I could do it well, he thought. Because there is nothing more satisfying, to a master craftsman, than to exercise his skill, except perhaps to make love to a beautiful woman. Because