The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [458]
“Will they accept that?” Philip said skeptically.
“It’s worth a try.”
“What if I still can’t afford the pay raises a year from now?”
“Cross that bridge when you get to it.”
“You mean, renegotiate in a year’s time.”
Jack shrugged. “If necessary.”
“I see,” Philip said noncommittally. “Anything else?”
“The biggest stumbling block is the instant dismissal of the summer-workers.” Jack was being completely candid now. This issue could not be honeyed. “Instant dismissal has never been allowed on any building site in Christendom. The end of the week is the earliest.” To help Philip feel less foolish, Jack added: “I ought to have warned you of that.”
“So all I have to do is employ them for two more days?”
“I don’t think that will be enough, now,” Jack said. “If we’d handled it differently from the start we might have got away with that, but now they’ll want more of a compromise.”
“No doubt you’ve got something specific in mind.”
Jack had, and it was the only real concession he had to ask for. “It’s now the beginning of October. We normally dismiss the summer workers at the beginning of December. Let’s meet the men halfway, and do it at the beginning of November.”
“That only gives me half of what I need.”
“It gives you more than half. You still benefit from the rundown of stocks, the postponement of pay raises for promotion, and the saint’s days.”
“Those things are trimmings.”
Jack sat back, feeling gloomy. He had done his best. He had no more arguments to put to Philip, no more resources of persuasion to deploy, nothing left to say. He had shot his arrow. And Philip was still resistant. Jack was ready to concede defeat. He looked at Philip’s stony face and waited.
Philip looked over at the altar in the corner for a long, silent moment. Finally he looked back to Jack and said: “I’ll have to put this to the chapter.”
Jack went limp with relief. It was not a victory, but it was close. Philip would not ask the monks to consider anything he did not himself approve, and more often than not they did what Philip wanted. “I hope they accept,” Jack said weakly.
Philip stood up and put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. He smiled for the first time. “If I put the case as persuasively as you, they will,” he said.
Jack was surprised by this sudden change of mood. He said: “The sooner this is over, the less long-term effect it will have.”
“I know. It’s made me very angry, but I don’t want to quarrel with you.” Unexpectedly, he put out his hand.
Jack shook it, and felt good.
Jack said: “Shall I tell the builders to come to the lodge in the morning to hear the chapter’s verdict?”
“Yes, please.”
“I’ll do that now.” He turned to go.
Philip said: “Jack.”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
Jack nodded acknowledgment and went out. He walked through the rain without raising his hood. He felt happy.
That afternoon he went to the homes of all the craftsmen and told them there would be a meeting in the morning. Those who were not at home—the unmarried men and the summer workers, mostly—he found in the alehouse. However, they were sober, for the price of ale had gone up along with everything else, and no one could afford to get drunk. The only craftsman he could not find was Alfred, who had not been seen for a couple of days. Eventually he turned up at dusk. He came to the alehouse with an oddly triumphant look on his bovine face. He did not say where he had been, and Jack did not ask him. Jack left him drinking with the other men, and went to have supper with Aliena and the children.
Next morning he started the meeting before Prior Philip came to the lodge. He wanted to lay the groundwork. Once again he had prepared what he had to say very carefully, to be sure he did not damage his case by tactlessness. Once again he tried to handle things as Philip might have.
All he craftsmen were there early. Their livelihoods were at stake. One or two of the younger ones looked red-eyed: Jack guessed the alehouse had stayed open late last night, and some of