The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [73]
The church calmed him, as it always did. After this morning’s misbehavior the monks were quiet and solemn. As he listened to the familiar phrases of the service, and murmured the responses as he had for so many years, he felt able to think clearly once again.
Do I want to be prior of Kingsbridge? he asked himself, and the answer came back immediately: Yes! To take charge of this crumbling church, to repair it and repaint it and fill it with the song of a hundred monks and the voices of a thousand worshipers saying the Our Father—for that alone he wanted the job. Then there was the monastery’s property, to be reorganized and revitalized and made healthy and productive again. He wanted to see a crowd of small boys learning to read and write in a corner of the cloisters. He wanted the guesthouse full of light and warmth, so that barons and bishops would come to visit, and endow the priory with precious gifts before leaving. He wanted to have a special room set aside as a library, and fill it with books of wisdom and beauty. Yes, he wanted to be prior of Kingsbridge.
Are there any other reasons? he asked. When I picture myself as prior, making these improvements for the glory of God, is there any pride in my heart?
Oh, yes.
He could not deceive himself in the cold and holy atmosphere of the church. His aim was the glory of God, but the glory of Philip pleased him too. He liked the idea of giving orders which no one could countermand. He saw himself making decisions, dispensing justice, giving out advice and encouragement, issuing penances and pardons, just as he saw fit. He imagined people saying: “Philip of Gwynedd reformed that place. It was a disgrace until he took over, and just look at it now!”
But I would be good, he thought. God gave me the brains to manage property and the ability to lead groups of men. I’ve proved that, as cellarer in Gwynedd and as prior of St-John-in-the-Forest. And when I run a place the monks are happy. In my priory the old men don’t get chilblains and the young men don’t get frustrated for lack of work. I take care of people.
On the other hand, both Gwynedd and St-John-in-the-Forest were easy by comparison with Kingsbridge Priory. The Gwynedd place was always well run. The forest cell had been in trouble when he took it over, but it was tiny, and easy to control. The reform of Kingsbridge was the challenge of a lifetime. It could take weeks just to find out what its resources were—how much land, and where, and what was on the land, whether forests or pastures or wheat fields. To take control of the scattered properties, to find out what was wrong and put it right, and to knit the parts into a thriving whole would be the work of years. All Philip had done at the forest cell was to make a dozen or so young men work hard in the fields and pray solemnly in church.
All right, he admitted, my motives are tainted and my ability is in doubt. Perhaps I should refuse to stand. At least I could be sure to avoid the sin of pride. But what was it that Cuthbert had said? “A man may just as easily frustrate the will of God through excessive humility.”
What does God want? he asked himself finally. Does he want Remigius? Remigius’s abilities are less than mine and his motives are probably no more pure. Is there another candidate? Not at present. Until God reveals a third possibility we must assume that the choice is between me and Remigius. It’s clear that Remigius would run the monastery the way he ran it while Prior James was ill, which is to say that he would be idle and negligent and he would permit its decline to continue. And me? I’m full of pride and my talents are unproved—but I will try to reform the monastery, and if God gives me strength I shall succeed.
All right, then, he said to God as the service came to an end; all right. I’m going to accept nomination,