World Without End (41 page)

He was not popular with the monks, of course - but neither Roland nor Jerome knew that, and Godwyn was not about to enlighten them.

Nor was Murdo. He bowed his head and said unctuously: 'I thank you from my heart, Father Jerome.'

Godwyn said: 'He is popular with the ignorant multitude.'

'As was our Savior,' Murdo shot back.

'Monks should lead lives of poverty and self-denial,' Godwyn said.

Roland put in: 'The friar's clothes look poor enough. And as for self-denial, it seems to me that Kingsbridge monks eat better than many peasants.'

'Friar Murdo has been seen drunk in taverns!' Godwyn protested.

Murdo said: 'St. Benedict's Rule permits monks to drink wine.'

'Only if they are sick, or laboring in the fields.'

'I preach in the fields.'

Murdo was a formidable opponent in an argument, Godwyn noted. He was glad that he did not actually want to win this one. He turned to Roland. 'All I can say is that as the sacrist here I strongly counsel your lordship against nominating Murdo as prior of Kingsbridge.'

'Noted,' Roland said coldly.

Philippa gave Godwyn a look of mild surprise, and he realized he had yielded a little too easily. But Roland had not noticed: he did not deal in nuances.

Murdo had not finished. 'The prior of Kingsbridge must serve God, of course; but, in all things temporal, he should be guided by the king, and the king's earls and barons.'

That was about as plain as could be, Godwyn thought. Murdo might as well have said: 'I will be your man.' It was an outrageous declaration. The monks would be horrified. It would wipe out any support there might have been among them for Murdo's candidacy.

Godwyn made no comment, but Roland looked inquiringly at him. 'Anything to say to that, sacrist?'

'I'm sure the friar did not mean to say that the priory of Kingsbridge should be in subjection to the earl of Shiring in any matter, temporal or otherwise - did you, Murdo?'

'I have said what I have said,' Murdo replied in his pulpit voice.

'Enough,' said Roland, bored now with the game. 'You're wasting your time, both of you. I shall nominate Saul Whitehead. Off you go.'

St.-John-in-the-Forest was a miniature version of Kingsbridge Priory. The church was small, as were the stone-built cloisters and dormitory; and the rest of the buildings were simple wood-frame structures. There were eight monks and no nuns. In addition to their lives of prayer and meditation, they grew most of their own food and made a goats' cheese that was famous throughout southwest England.

Godwyn and Philemon had been riding for two days, and it was early evening when the road emerged from the forest and they saw a wide acreage of cleared land with the church in the middle. Godwyn knew at once that his fears were true, and reports that Saul Whitehead was doing a good job as prior of this cell were, if anything, understated. There was a look of order and neatness about everything: the hedges trimmed, the ditches straight, the trees planted at measured intervals in the orchard, the fields of ripening grain free of weeds. He felt sure he would find that the services were held at the correct times and conducted reverently. He had to hope that Saul's evident fitness for leadership had not made him ambitious.

As they rode along the path through the fields, Philemon said: 'Why is the earl so keen to make his cousin prior of Kingsbridge?'

'For the same reason that he had his younger son made bishop of Kingsbridge,' Godwyn replied. 'Bishops and priors are powerful. The earl wants to make sure that any influential man in his neighborhood is an ally, not an enemy.'

'What might they quarrel about?'

Godwyn was interested to see that young Philemon was beginning to be intrigued by the chess game of power politics. 'Land, taxes, rights, privileges...for example, the prior might want to build a new bridge at Kingsbridge, to bring more business to the Fleece Fair; and the earl might oppose such a scheme, on the grounds that it would take business away from his own fair at Shiring.'

'But I don't really see how the prior could fight against the earl. A prior has no soldiers...'

'A clergyman can influence the mass of the people. If he preaches a sermon against the earl, or calls upon the saints to bring misfortune to the earl, people will begin to believe that the earl is cursed. Then they will discount his power, mistrust him, and expect all his projects to be doomed. It can be very hard for a nobleman to oppose a truly determined cleric. Look what happened to King Henry II after the murder of Thomas Becket.'

They rode into the farmyard and dismounted. The horses immediately drank from the trough. There was no one about but a monk with his robe hitched up, mucking out a pigsty behind the stables. He was sure to be a youngster, doing a job like that. Godwyn called to him. 'Hey, you, lad! Come and help us with our horses.'

'Righto!' the monk called back. He finished cleaning out the sty with a few more passes of his rake, then leaned the tool up against the stable wall and walked toward the newcomers. Godwyn was about to tell him to get a move on when he recognized the blond fringe of Saul.

Godwyn disapproved. A prior should not muck out a pigsty. Ostentatious humility was, after all, ostentation. However, in this case Saul's meekness might suit Godwyn's purpose.

He gave Saul a friendly smile. 'Hello, Brother. I didn't mean to order the prior to unsaddle my horse.'

'Why not?' said Saul. 'Someone must do it, and you've been traveling all day.' Saul led the horses into the stable. 'The brothers are in the fields,' he called out. 'But they'll be back soon for Evensong.' He reemerged. 'Come into the kitchen.'

They had never been close. Godwyn could not helping feeling criticized by Saul's piety. Saul was never unfriendly, but with quiet determination he simply did things differently. Godwyn had to take care not to become irritated. He felt stressed enough already.

Godwyn and Philemon followed Saul across the farmyard and into a one-story building with a high roof. Although made of wood, it had a stone fireplace and chimney. They sat gratefully on a rough bench at a scrubbed table. Saul drew two generous cups of ale from a large barrel.

He sat opposite them. Philemon drank thirstily, but Godwyn just sipped. Saul offered no food, and Godwyn guessed they would get nothing more until after Evensong. He felt too tense to eat, anyway.

This was another delicate moment, he reflected anxiously. He had had to protest against Murdo's nomination in such a way as not to dissuade Roland. Now he had to invite Saul to stand in a way that he could not possibly accept. He knew what he was going to say, but he had to say it right. If he made a false step, Saul would become suspicious, and then anything could happen.

Saul gave him no time for further worry. 'What brings you here, Brother?' he said.

'Earl Roland has recovered his wits.'

'I thank God.'

'This means we can hold the election for prior.'

'Good. We should not go too long without one.'

'But who should it be?'

Saul sidestepped the question. 'Have any names been put forward?'

'Brother Thomas, the matricularius.'

'He'd be a good manager. No one else?'

Godwyn told a half truth. 'Not formally.'

'What about Carlus? When I came to Kingsbridge for Prior Anthony's funeral, the subprior was the leading candidate.'

'He feels he is not capable of the job.'

'Because of his blindness?'

'Perhaps.' Saul did not know about Carlus falling over during the service for St. Adolphus's birthday. Godwyn decided not to tell him. 'At any rate, he has thought and prayed about it, and made his decision.'

'Has the earl not made a nomination?'

'He's thinking about it.' Godwyn hesitated. 'That's why we're here. The earl is...considering nominating you.' This was not really a lie, Godwyn told himself; just a misleading emphasis.

'I'm honored.'

Godwyn studied him. 'But not completely surprised, perhaps?'

Saul flushed. 'Forgive me. The great Philip was in charge here at St. John and then became prior of Kingsbridge, and others have followed the same route. That is not to say that I'm worthy as they were, of course. But the thought had crossed my mind, I confess.'

'Nothing to be ashamed of. How would you feel about being nominated?'

'How would I feel?' Saul seemed mystified. 'Why ask that? If the earl wishes, he will nominate me; and if my brethren want me, they'll vote for me; and I will consider myself called by God. It makes no difference how I feel about it.'

This was not the answer Godwyn wanted. He needed Saul to make up his own mind. Talk of God's will was counterproductive. 'It's not quite so simple,' he said. 'You don't have to accept the nomination. That's why the earl sent me here.'

'It's not like Roland to ask where he might command.'

Godwyn almost winced. Never forget how shrewd Saul is, he told himself. He backpedaled hastily. 'No, indeed. However, if you think you might refuse, he needs to know as soon as possible, so that he can nominate someone else.' That was probably true, though Roland had not said it.

'I didn't realize it was done this way.'

It is not done this way, Godwyn thought. But he said: 'Last time it happened, when Prior Anthony was elected, you and I were both novices, so we didn't know what went on.'

'True.'

'Do you feel you have the ability to fill the role of prior of Kingsbridge?'

'Certainly not.'

'Ah.' Godwyn pretended disappointment, though he had been relying on Saul's humility to produce that answer.

'However...'

'What?'

'With God's help, who knows what might be accomplished?'

'How true.' Godwyn concealed his annoyance. The humble answer had just been a formality. The truth was that Saul thought he could do the job. 'Of course, you should reflect and pray about it tonight.'

'I'm sure I'll think of little else.' They heard distant voices. 'The brothers are returning from their work.'

'We can talk again in the morning,' Godwyn said. 'If you decide to be a candidate, you must come back to Kingsbridge with us.'

'Very well.'

There was a serious danger of Saul's accepting, Godwyn feared. But he had one more arrow to shoot. 'Something else you might bear in mind in your prayers,' he said. 'A nobleman never offers a free gift.'

Saul looked worried. 'What do you mean?'

'Earls and barons dispense titles, land, positions, monopolies - but these things always have a price.'

'And in this case?'

'If you are elected, Roland will expect you to make recompense. You are his cousin, anyway; and you'll owe your position to him. You will be his voice in chapter, making sure the priory's actions don't interfere with his interests.'

'Will he make that an explicit condition of the nomination?'

'Explicit? No. But, when you return with me to Kingsbridge, he will question you, and the questions will be designed to reveal your intentions. If you insist that you will be an independent prior, showing no special favor to your cousin and sponsor, he will nominate someone else.'

'I had not thought of that.'

'Of course, you may simply give him the answers he wants to hear and then change your mind after the election.'

'But that would be dishonest.'

'Some would think so.'

'God would think so.'

'That's something for you to pray about tonight.'

A group of young monks came into the kitchen, muddy from the fields, talking loudly; and Saul got up to serve them ale, but the worried look remained on his face. It stayed there when they went into the little church, with its wall painting of the Day of Judgment over the altar, for Evensong. It was still there when at last the evening meal was served and Godwyn's hunger was assuaged by the delicious cheese the monks made.

Godwyn lay awake that night, although he ached from two days on horseback. He had confronted Saul with an ethical dilemma. Most monks would have been willing to shade their position while talking to Roland, and speak words which promised a degree of subservience to the earl much greater than they really intended. But not Saul. He was driven by moral imperatives. Would he find a way through the dilemma, and accept the nomination? Godwyn did not see how he could.

Saul still wore the worried look when the monks got up, at first light, for the service of Lauds.

After breakfast, he told Godwyn he could not accept the nomination.

Godwyn could not get used to Earl Roland's face. It was the strangest thing to look at. The earl was now wearing a hat to cover the bandages on his head; but, by making his appearance more normal, the hat emphasized the paralysis of the right side of his face. Roland also seemed even more bad-tempered than usual, and Godwyn guessed he was still suffering severe headaches.

'Where is my cousin Saul?' he said as soon as Godwyn walked into the room.

'Still at St. John, my lord. I gave him your message - '

'Message? It was a command!'

Lady Philippa, standing beside the bed, said softly: 'Don't excite yourself, lord - you know it makes you feel ill.'

Godwyn said: 'Brother Saul simply said that he cannot accept the nomination.'

'Why the devil not?'

'He thought and prayed - '

'Of course he prayed, that's what monks do. What reason did he give for defying me?'

'He does not feel himself capable of such a challenging role.'

'Nonsense. What challenge? He's not being asked to lead a thousand knights into battle - just make sure a handful of monks sing their hymns at the right times of day.'

That was rubbish, so Godwyn bowed his head and said nothing.

The earl's tone changed suddenly. 'I've just realized who you are. You're the son of Petranilla, aren't you?'

'Yes, Lord.' That Petranilla whom you jilted, Godwyn thought.

'She was sly, and I'll bet you are too. How do I know you didn't talk Saul out of accepting? You want Thomas Langley to be prior, don't you?'

My plan is a lot more devious than that, you fool, Godwyn thought. He said: 'Saul did ask me what you might want in return for nominating him.'