The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [79]
Philip studied the sub-prior’s face. He looked desperate. Philip glanced at Andrew Sacrist and Pierre Circuitor and saw that they both looked surprised. This was something unplanned, then. Was Remigius going to plead for the job, perhaps?
“Most of you know that the bishop has a right to nominate candidates for our consideration,” Remigius began. “He may also refuse to confirm our choice. This division of powers can lead to quarreling between bishop and monastery, as some older brothers know from experience. In the end, the bishop cannot force us to accept his candidate, nor can we insist on ours; and where there is conflict, it has to be resolved by negotiation. In that case, the outcome depends a good deal on the determination and unity of the brothers—especially their unity.”
Philip had a bad feeling about this. Remigius had suppressed his rage and was once again calm and haughty. Philip still did not know what was coming, but his triumphant feeling evaporated.
“The reason I mention all this today is that two important items of information have come to my notice,” Remigius went on. “The first is that there may be more than one candidate nominated from among us here in this room.” That didn’t surprise anyone, Philip thought. “The second is that the bishop will also nominate a candidate.”
There was a pregnant pause. This was bad news for both parties. Someone said: “Do you know whom the bishop wants?”
“Yes,” Remigius said, and in that instant Philip felt sure the man was lying. “The bishop’s choice is Brother Osbert of Newbury.”
One or two of the monks gasped. They were all horrified. They knew Osbert, for he had been circuitor at Kingsbridge for a while. He was the bishop’s illegitimate son, and he regarded the Church purely as a means whereby he could live a life of idleness and plenty. He had never made any serious attempt to abide by his vows, but kept up a semitransparent sham and relied upon his paternity to keep him out of trouble. The prospect of having him as prior was appalling, even to Remigius’s friends. Only the guest-master and one or two of his irredeemably depraved cronies might favor Osbert in anticipation of a regime of slack discipline and slovenly indulgence.
Remigius plowed on. “If we nominate two candidates, brothers, the bishop may say that we are divided and cannot make up our collective mind, so therefore he must decide for us, and we should accept his choice. If we want to resist Osbert, we would do well to put forward one candidate only; and, perhaps I should add, we should make sure that our candidate cannot easily be faulted, for example on grounds of youth or inexperience.”
There was a murmur of assent. Philip was devastated. A moment ago he had been sure of victory, but it had been snatched from his grasp. Now all the monks were with Remigius, seeing him as the safe candidate, the unity candidate, the man to beat Osbert. Philip felt sure Remigius was lying about Osbert, but it would make no difference. The monks were scared now, and they would back Remigius; and that meant more years of decline for Kingsbridge Priory.
Before anyone could comment, Remigius said: “Let us now dismiss, and think and pray about this problem as we do God’s work today.” He stood up and went out, followed by Andrew, Pierre and John Small, these three looking dazed but triumphant.
As soon as they had gone, a buzz of conversation broke out among the others. Milius said to Philip: “I never thought Remigius had it in him to pull a trick like that.”
“He’s lying,” Philip said bitterly. “I’m sure of it.” Cuthbert joined them and heard Philip’s remark. “It doesn’t really matter if he’s lying, does it?” he said. “The threat is enough.”
“The truth will come out eventually,” Philip said.
“Not necessarily,” Milius replied. “Suppose the bishop doesn’t nominate Osbert. Remigius will just say the bishop yielded before the prospect of a battle with a united priory.”
“I’m not ready to