The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [271]
The split had been patched up, but King Stephen was no longer eager to hear the petitions of holy men, so Philip had to wait. He used the opportunity to meditate. It was something he had little time for as prior, and he missed it. Now, suddenly, he had nothing to do for hours on end, and he spent the time lost in thought.
Eventually the other courtiers left a space around him, making him quite conspicuous, and it must have been increasingly difficult for Stephen to ignore him. He was deep in contemplation of the sublime mystery of the Trinity on the morning of his seventh day in Lincoln when he realized that someone was standing right in front of him, looking at him and speaking to him, and that person was the king.
“Are you asleep with your eyes open, man?” Stephen was saying in a tone halfway between amusement and irritation.
“I’m sorry, lord, I was thinking,” Philip said, and bowed belatedly.
“Never mind. I want to borrow your clothes.”
“What?” Philip was too surprised to mind his manners.
“I want to take a look around the castle, and if I’m dressed as a monk they won’t shoot arrows at me. Come on—go into one of the chapels and take off your robe.”
Philip had only an undershirt on beneath his robe. “But, lord, what shall I wear?”
“I forget how modest you monks are.” Stephen clicked his fingers at a young knight. “Robert—lend me your tunic, quick.”
The knight, who was talking to a girl, took off his tunic with a swift motion, gave it to the king with a bow, then made a vulgar gesture to the girl. His friends laughed and cheered.
King Stephen gave the tunic to Philip.
Philip slipped into the tiny chapel of St. Dunstan, asked the saint’s pardon with a hasty prayer, then took off his habit and put on the knight’s short-skirted scarlet tunic. It seemed very strange indeed: he had been wearing monastic clothing since the age of six, and he could not have felt more odd if he had been dressed as a woman. He emerged and handed his monkish robe to Stephen, who pulled it over his head swiftly.
Then the king astonished him by saying: “Come with me, if you like. You can tell me about Kingsbridge Cathedral.”
Philip was taken aback. His first instinct was to refuse. A sentry on the castle ramparts might be tempted to take a shot at him, and he would not be protected by religious garments. But he was being offered an opportunity to be totally alone with the king, with plenty of time to explain about the quarry and the market. He might never get another chance like this.
Stephen picked up his own cloak, which was purple with white fur at the collar and hem. “Wear this,” he said to Philip. “You’ll draw their fire away from me.”
The other courtiers had gone quiet, watching, wondering what would happen.
The king was making a point, Philip realized. He was saying that Philip had no business here in an armed camp, and could not expect to be granted privileges at the expense of men who risked their lives for the king. This was not unfair. But Philip knew that if he accepted this point of view he might as well go home and give up all hope of repossessing the quarry or reopening the market. He had to accept the challenge. He drew a deep breath and said: “Perhaps it is God’s will that I should die to save the king.” Then he took the purple cloak and put it on.
There was a murmur of surprise from the crowd; and King Stephen himself looked quite startled. Everyone had expected Philip to back down. Almost immediately he wished he had. But he had committed himself now.
Stephen turned and walked toward the north door. Philip followed him. Several courtiers made to go with them, but Stephen waved them back, saying: “Even a monk might attract suspicion if he is attended by the entire royal court.” He pulled the cowl of Philip’s robe over his head and they passed out into the graveyard.
Philip’s costly cloak drew curious glances as they picked their way across the campsite: men assumed he was a baron and were puzzled not to recognize him. The glances made him feel guilty,