The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [87]
The Epiphany service ended with the announcement of the death of the bishop. William hoped this news would at last overshadow the sensation of the canceled marriage. The monks left in procession, and there was a buzz of excited conversation as the congregation headed for the exits. Many of them had material as well as spiritual ties to the bishop—as his tenants, or subtenants, or as employees on his lands—and everyone was interested in the question of who would succeed him, and whether the successor would make any changes. The death of a great lord was always perilous for those ruled by him.
As William followed his parents down the nave he was surprised to see Archdeacon Waleran coming toward them. He moved briskly through the congregation, like a big black dog in a field of cows; and like cows the people looked nervously over their shoulders at him and moved a step or two out of his way. He ignored the peasants, but spoke a few words to each of the gentry. When he reached the Hamleighs he greeted William’s father, ignored William, and turned his attention on Mother. “Such a shame about the marriage,” he said.
William flushed. Did the fool think he was being polite with his commiserations?
Mother was no more keen to talk about it than William was. “I’m not one to bear a grudge,” she lied.
Waleran ignored that. “I’ve heard something about Earl Bartholomew that may interest you,” he said. His voice went quieter, so that he could not be overheard, and William had to strain to catch his words. “It seems the earl will not renege on his vows to the dead king.”
Father said: “Bartholomew always was a stiff-necked hypocrite.”
Waleran looked pained. He wanted them to listen, not comment. “Bartholomew and Earl Robert of Gloucester will not accept King Stephen, who is the choice of the Church and the barons, as you know.”
William wondered why an archdeacon was telling a lord about this routine baronial squabble. Father was thinking the same thought, for he said: “But there’s nothing the earls can do about it.”
Mother shared Waleran’s impatience with Father’s interjected comments. “Listen,” she hissed at him.
Waleran said: “What I hear is that they’re planning to mount a rebellion and make Maud queen.”
William could not believe his ears. Had the archdeacon really made that foolhardy statement, in his quiet, matter-of-fact murmur, right here in the nave of Kingsbridge Cathedral? A man could be hanged for it, true or false.
Father was startled, too, but Mother said thoughtfully: “Robert of Gloucester is the half brother of Maud.... It makes sense.”
William wondered how she could be so down-to-earth about such a scandalous piece of news. But she was very clever, and she was almost always right about everything.
Waleran said: “Anyone who could get rid of Earl Bartholomew, and stop the rebellion before it gets started, would earn the eternal gratitude of King Stephen and the Holy Mother Church.”
“Indeed?” said Father in a dazed tone, but Mother was nodding wisely.
“Bartholomew is expected back at home tomorrow.” Waleran looked up as he said this, and caught someone’s eye. He looked back at Mother and said: “I thought you, of all people, would be interested.” Then he moved away and greeted someone else.
William stared after him. Was that really all he was going to say?
William’s parents moved on, and he followed them through the great arched doorway into the open air. All three of them were silent. William had heard a good deal of talk, over the past five weeks,