The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [409]
Philip felt sad as well as angry. In his heart he had hoped the Madonna would prove legitimate, for he could see just how he would use her to revitalize the priory and the town. But it was not to be. He looked around the little parish church. Only a handful of worshipers remained, still staring at the statue. He said to Jack: “You’ve gone too far this time.”
“The tears are real—there’s no trick involved there,” Jack said. “But the cripple was a mistake, I admit.”
“It was worse than a mistake,” Philip said angrily. “When people learn the truth it will shake their faith in all miracles.”
“Why do they need to learn the truth?”
“Because I’ll have to explain to them why the Madonna is not going to be installed in the cathedral. There’s no question of my accepting the statue now, of course.”
Reynold said: “I think that’s a little hasty—”
“When I want your opinion, young man, I’ll ask for it,” Philip snapped.
Reynold shut up but Jack persisted. “Are you sure you’ve got the right to deprive your people of the Madonna? Look at them.” He indicated the handful of worshipers who had remained behind. Among them was Meg Widow. She was kneeling in front of the statue with tears streaming down her face. Jack did not know, Philip realized, that Meg had lost her entire family in the collapse of Alfred’s roof. Her emotion touched Philip’s heart, and he wondered if Jack might be right after all. Why take this away from people? Because it’s dishonest, he reminded himself sternly. They believed in the statue because they saw a faked miracle. He hardened his heart.
Jack knelt down beside Meg and spoke to her. “Why are you weeping?”
“She’s dumb,” Philip told him.
Then Meg said: “The Madonna has suffered as I have. She understands.”
Philip was thunderstruck.
Jack said: “You see? The statue eases her suffering—What are you staring at?”
“She’s dumb,” Philip said again. “She hasn’t uttered a word for more than a year.”
“That’s right!” Aliena said. “Meg was struck dumb after her husband and boys died when the roof fell.”
“This woman?” Jack said. “But she just ...”
Reynold looked bewildered. “You mean this is a miracle?” he said. “A real one?”
Philip looked at Jack’s face. Jack was more shocked than anyone. There was no trickery here.
Philip was profoundly moved. He had seen the hand of God move and work a miracle. He was shaking a little. “Well, Jack,” he said in an unsteady voice. “Despite all you have done to discredit the Weeping Madonna, it seems that God intends to work wonders with it anyway.”
For once Jack was lost for words.
Philip turned away from him and went to Meg. He took her hands and gently pulled her upright. “God has made you well again, Meg,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “Now you can start a new life.” He recalled that he had preached a sermon on the story of Job. The words came back to him: “So the Lord blessed the latter end of Job more than his beginning....” He had told the people of Kingsbridge that the same would be true of them. I wonder, he thought, looking at the rapture on Meg’s tear-stained face, I wonder whether this could be the start of it.
There was an uproar in chapter when Jack presented his design for the new cathedral.
Philip had warned Jack to expect trouble. Philip had seen the drawings previously, of course. Jack had carried them to the prior’s house early one morning, a plan and an elevation, drawn on plaster in wooden frames. They had looked at them together in the clear early light, and Philip had said: “Jack, this will be the most beautiful church in England—but we’re going to have trouble with the monks.”
Jack knew from his time as a novice that Remigius and his cronies still routinely opposed any plan that was dear to Philip’s heart, even though it was eight years since Philip had defeated Remigius in the election. They rarely got much support from the broad mass of the brothers, but in this case Philip was uncertain: they were such a conservative lot that they could be scared by the revolutionary design. However, there was nothing for it