The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [174]
Her contemptuous tone continued to rile Philip, but he could not resist the temptation to defend himself. “There’s nothing underhand about it,” he said. “The income from the lands is to be used to rebuild the cathedral.”
“What makes you think so?”
“That’s the whole idea!” Philip protested; but at the back of his mind he already felt the first stirrings of doubt.
Regan’s scornful tone changed and she became sly. “Will the new lands belong to the priory?” she said. “Or to the diocese?”
Philip stared at her for a moment, then turned away: her face was too revolting to look at. He had been working on the assumption that the lands would belong to the priory, and be under his control, rather than to the diocese, where they would be under Waleran’s control. But he now recalled that when they had been with the king, Bishop Henry had specifically asked for the lands to be given to the diocese. Philip had assumed that was a slip of the tongue. But it had not been corrected, then or later.
He eyed Regan suspiciously. She could not possibly have known what Henry was going to say to the king. She might be right about this. On the other hand, she could simply be trying to make trouble. She had everything to gain from a quarrel between Philip and Waleran at this point. Philip said: “Waleran is the bishop—he has to have a cathedral.”
“He has to have a lot of things,” she rejoined. She became less malevolent and more human as she began to reason, but Philip still could not bear to look at her for long. “For some bishops, a fine cathedral would be the first priority. For Waleran there are other necessities. Anyway, as long as he controls the purse strings, he will be able to dole out as much or as little as he likes to you and your builders.”
Philip realized she was right about that, at least. If Waleran was collecting the rents, he would naturally retain a portion for his expenses. He alone would be able to say what that portion should be. There would be nothing to stop him from diverting the funds to purposes having nothing to do with the cathedral, if he so chose. And Philip would never know, from one month to the next, whether he was going to be able to pay the builders.
There was no doubt it would be better if the priory owned the land. But Philip was sure Waleran would resist that idea, and Bishop Henry would back Waleran. Then Philip’s only hope would be to appeal to the king. And King Stephen, seeing the churchmen divided, might solve the problem by giving the earldom to Percy Hamleigh.
Which was what Regan wanted, of course.
Philip shook his head. “If Waleran is trying to deceive me, why did he bring me here at all? He could have come on his own, and made the same plea.”
She nodded. “He could have. But the king might have asked himself how sincere Waleran was, saying that he only wanted the earldom in order to build a cathedral. You’ve lulled any suspicions Stephen might have had, by appearing here in support of Waleran’s claim.” Her tone became contemptuous again. “And you look so pathetic, in your dirty robe, that the king pities you. No, Waleran was clever to bring you.”
Philip had a horrible feeling she might be right, but he was not willing to admit it. “You just want the earldom for your husband,” he said.
“If I could show you proof, would you ride half a day to see it?”
The last thing Philip wanted was to be sucked into Regan Hamleigh’s scheming. But he had to find out whether her allegation was true. Reluctantly, he said: “Yes, I’ll ride half a day.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Be ready at dawn.”
It was William Hamleigh, the son of Percy and Regan, who was waiting for Philip in the outer courtyard the following morning as the monks began to sing prime. Philip and William left Winchester by the West Gate, then immediately turned north on Athelynge Street. Bishop Waleran’s palace was in this direction, Philip realized; and it was about half a day