The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [177]
He had not made that pious decision, and his punishment was that he had to contend with Bishop Waleran.
When he thought about how he had been slighted, condescended to, manipulated and deceived, he became angry. Obedience was a monastic virtue, but outside the cloisters it had its drawbacks, he thought bitterly. The world of power and property required that a man be suspicious, demanding, and insistent.
“Those lying bishops made a fool of you, didn’t they?” William said.
Philip reined in his horse. Shaking with rage, he pointed a finger at William. “Shut your mouth, boy. You’re speaking of God’s holy priests. If you say another word you’ll burn for it, I promise you.”
William went white with fear.
Philip kicked his horse on. William’s sneer reminded him that the Hamleighs had an ulterior motive in taking him to see Waleran’s castle. They wanted to cause a quarrel between Philip and Waleran to ensure that the disputed earldom would go to neither the prior nor the bishop, but to Percy. Well, Philip was not going to be manipulated by them, either. He had finished being manipulated. From now on he would do the manipulating.
That was all very well, but what could be done? If Philip quarreled with Waleran, Percy would get the lands; and if Philip did nothing, Waleran would get them.
What did the king want? He wanted to help build the new cathedral: that kind of thing was appropriately kingly, and would benefit his soul in the afterlife. But he needed to reward Percy’s loyalty, too. Oddly enough, there was no particular pressure on him to please the more powerful men, the two bishops. It occurred to Philip that there might be a solution to the dilemma that would solve the king’s problem by satisfying both himself and Percy Hamleigh.
Now there was a thought.
The idea pleased him. An alliance between himself and the Hamleighs was the last thing anyone expected—and for that reason it just might work. The bishops would be completely unprepared for it. They would be caught wrong-footed.
That would be a delightful reversal.
But could he negotiate a deal with the grasping Hamleighs? Percy wanted the rich farmland of Shiring, the title of earl, and the power and prestige of a force of knights under his command. Philip, too, wanted the rich farmland, but he did not want the title or the knights: he was more interested in the quarry and the forest.
The form of a compromise began to take shape in Philip’s mind. He began to think that all was not yet lost.
How sweet it would be to win now, after all that had happened.
With mounting excitement, he considered his approach to the Hamleighs. He was determined he would not play the role of supplicant. He would have to make his proposal seem irresistible.
By the time they reached Winchester, Philip’s cloak was soaked through, and his horse was bad-tempered, but he thought he had the answer.
As they passed under the arch of the West Gate he said to William: “Let’s go and see your mother.”
William was surprised. “I thought you would want to see Bishop Waleran right away.”
No doubt that was what Regan had told William to expect. “Don’t bother to tell me what you thought, lad,” Philip snapped. “Just take me to your mother.” He felt very ready for a confrontation with Lady Regan. He had been passive too long.
William turned south and led Philip to a house in Gold Street, between the castle and the cathedral. It was a large dwelling with stone walls to waist level and a timber frame above. Inside was an entrance hall with several apartments off it. The Hamleighs were probably lodging here: many Winchester citizens rented rooms to people who were attending the royal court. If Percy became earl he would have his own town house.
William showed Philip into a front room with a big bed in it and a fireplace. Regan was sitting by the fire and Percy was standing near her. Regan looked up at Philip with an expression of surprise, but she recovered quickly enough, and said: “Well, monk—was I right?”
“You were as wrong as you could be, you foolish woman,