The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [302]
Tom and Philip watched a race in which the boys had to walk on their hands. Jack won it. “That boy is exceptional,” Philip said.
“Not many people can walk that fast on their hands,” Tom said.
Philip laughed. “Indeed—but I wasn’t thinking about his acrobatic skill.”
“I know.” Jack’s cleverness had long been a source of both pleasure and pain to Tom. Jack had a lively curiosity about building—something Alfred had always lacked—and Tom enjoyed teaching Jack the tricks of the trade. But Jack had no sense of tact, and would argue with his elders. It was often better to conceal one’s superiority, but Jack had not learned that yet, not even after years of persecution by Alfred.
“The boy should be educated,” Philip went on.
Tom frowned. Jack was being educated. He was an apprentice. “What do you mean?”
“He should learn to write a good hand, and study Latin grammar, and read the ancient philosophers.”
Tom was even more puzzled. “To what end? He’s going to be a mason.”
Philip looked him in the eye. “Are you sure?” he said. “He’s a boy who doesn’t do what he’s expected to.”
Tom had never considered this. There were youngsters who defied expectations: earls’ sons who refused to fight, royal children who entered monasteries, peasants’ bastards who became bishops. It was true, Jack was the type. “Well, what do you think he will do?” he said.
“It depends on what he learns,” Philip said. “But I want him for the Church.”
Tom was surprised: Jack seemed such an unlikely clergyman. Tom was also a little wounded, in a strange way. He was looking forward to Jack’s becoming a master mason, and he would be terribly disappointed if the boy chose another course in life.
Philip did not notice Tom’s unhappiness. He went on: “God needs the best and the brightest young men to work for him. Look at those apprentices, competing to see who can jump the highest. All of them are capable of being carpenters, or masons, or stone cutters. But how many of them could be a bishop? Only one—Jack.”
That was true, Tom thought. If Jack had the chance of a career in the Church, with a powerful patron in Philip, he should probably take it, for it would lead to much greater wealth and power than he could hope for as a mason. Reluctantly Tom said: “What have you got in mind, exactly?”
“I want Jack to become a novice monk.”
“A monk!” It seemed an even more unlikely calling than the priesthood for Jack. The boy chafed at the discipline of a building site—how would he cope with the monastic rule?
“He would spend most of his time studying,” Philip said. “He would learn everything our novice-master can teach him, and I would give him lessons myself as well.”
When a boy became a monk, it was normal for the parents to make a generous donation to the monastery. Tom wondered what this proposal would cost.
Philip guessed his thoughts. “I wouldn’t expect you to present a gift to the priory,” he said. “It will be enough that you give a son to God.”
What Philip did not know was that Tom had already given one son to the priory: little Jonathan, who was now paddling at the edge of the river with his robe once again hoisted up around his waist. However, Tom knew he should suppress his own feelings in this. Philip’s proposal was generous: he obviously wanted Jack badly. The offer was a tremendous opportunity for Jack. A father would give his right arm to be able to set a son on such a career. Tom suffered a twinge of resentment that it was his stepson, rather than Alfred, who was being given this marvelous chance. The feeling was unworthy and he suppressed it. He should be glad, and encourage Jack, and hope the lad would learn to reconcile himself to the monastic regime.
“It should be done soon,” Philip added. “Before he falls in love with some girl.”
Tom nodded. Across the meadow, the women’s race was reaching its climax. Tom watched, thinking. After a moment he realized that Ellen was in the lead. Aliena was hard on her heels, but when they got to the finish