The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [430]
Waleran was thoughtful. He hardly seemed to look where he was going, but people shrank back out of his way, as if they were afraid even to be touched by the skirts of his black robe. After a moment he said: “Did you hear that the king took Faringdon?”
“I was there.” It had been the most decisive victory of the entire long civil war. Stephen had captured hundreds of knights and a great armory, and driven Robert of Gloucester all the way back to the west country. So crucial was the victory that Ranulf of Chester, Stephen’s old enemy in the north, had laid down his arms and sworn allegiance to the king.
Waleran said: “Now that Stephen is more secure, he won’t be so tolerant of his barons waging their own private wars.”
“Perhaps,” William said. He wondered if this was the moment to agree with Waleran and make his request. He hesitated: he was embarrassed. In making the request he was going to reveal something of his soul, and he hated to do that to a man as ruthless as Bishop Waleran.
“You should leave Kingsbridge alone, at least for a while,” Waleran went on. “You’ve got the fleece fair. You still have a weekly market, albeit smaller than it once was. You have the wool business. And you’ve got all the most fertile land in the county, either directly under your control or farmed by your tenants. My situation is also better than it used to be. I’ve improved my property and rationalized my holdings. I’ve built my castle. It’s becoming less necessary to fight with Prior Philip—at the very moment when it’s becoming politically dangerous.”
All over the market square people were making and selling food, and the air was full of smells: spicy soup, new bread, sugar confections, boiled ham, frying bacon, apple pie. William felt nauseated. “Let’s go to the castle,” he said.
The two men left the market square and walked up the hill. The sheriff was going to give them dinner. At the castle gate William stopped.
“Perhaps you’re right about Kingsbridge,” he said.
“I’m glad you see it.”
“But I still want my revenge on Jack Jackson, and you can give it to me, if you will.”
Waleran raised an eloquent eyebrow. His expression said he was fascinated to listen but did not consider himself under any obligation.
William plowed on: “Aliena has applied to have her marriage annulled.”
“Yes, I know.”
“What do you think will be the outcome?”
“Apparently the marriage was never consummated.”
“Is that all there is to it?”
“Probably. According to Gratian—a learned man whom I have met myself, actually—what constitutes a marriage is the mutual consent of the two parties; but he also maintains that the act of physical union ‘completes’ or ‘perfects’ the marriage. He specifically says that if a man marries a woman but does not copulate with her, then marries a second woman with whom he does copulate, then it is the second of the two marriages that is valid, that is to say, the consummated one. The fascinating Aliena will no doubt have mentioned this in her application, if she had sound advice, which I imagine she got from Prior Philip.”
William was impatient of all this theory. “So they will get the annulment.”
“Unless someone brings up the argument against Gratian. In fact there are two: one theological and one practical. The theological argument is that Gratian’s definition denigrates the marriage of Joseph and Mary, since it was unconsummated. The practical argument is that for political reasons, or to amalgamate two properties, marriages are quite commonly arranged between two children who are physically incapable of consummation. If either bride or groom should die before puberty, the marriage would be invalidated, under Gratian’s definition, and that could have very awkward consequences.”
William could never follow these convoluted clerical wrangles, but he had a pretty good idea of how they were settled. “What you mean is, it could go either way.”
“Yes.”
“And which way it goes depends upon who is putting pressure on.”
“Yes. In this case, there’s nothing hanging