“Your father was my brother,” said the gray-bearded man. “I’m your Uncle Guillaume.”

Jack realized with a glow of pleasure that this was the family he had longed for, his father’s relations. He was no longer alone in the world. He had found his roots at last.

“Well, this is my son, Tommy,” he said. “Look at his red hair.”

The white-haired woman looked fondly at the baby, then said in a shocked voice: “Oh, my soul, I’m a great-grandmother!”

Everyone laughed.

Jack said: “I wonder how my father got to England?”

Chapter 13

I

“SO GOD SAID TO SATAN, ‘Look at my man Job. Look at him. There’s a good man, if ever I saw one.’ ” Philip paused for effect. This was not a translation, of course: this was a freestyle retelling of the story. “ Tell me if that isn’t a perfect and upright man, who fears God and does no evil.’ So Satan said: ‘Of course he worships you. You’ve given him everything. Just look at him. Seven sons and three daughters. Seven thousand sheep, and three thousand camels, and five hundred pairs of oxen, and five hundred asses. That’s why he’s a good man.’ So God said: ‘All right. Take it all away from him, and see what happens.’ And that’s what Satan did.”

While Philip was preaching, his mind kept wandering to a mystifying letter he had received that morning from the archbishop of Canterbury. It began by congratulating him on obtaining the miraculous Weeping Madonna. Philip did not know what a weeping madonna was but he was quite sure he did not have one. The archbishop was glad to hear that Philip was recommencing the building of the new cathedral. Philip was doing no such thing. He was waiting for a sign from God before doing anything, and while he waited he was holding Sunday services in the small new parish church. Finally Archbishop Theobald commended his shrewdness in appointing a master builder who had worked on the new chancel at Saint-Denis. Philip had heard of the abbey of Saint-Denis, of course, and the famous Abbot Suger, the most powerful churchman in the kingdom of France; but he knew nothing of the new chancel there and he had not appointed a master builder from anywhere. Philip thought the letter had probably been intended for someone else and sent to him in error.

“Now, what did Job say, when he lost all his wealth, and his children died? Did he curse God? Did he worship Satan? No! He said: ‘I was born naked, and I’ll die naked. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away-blessed be the name of the Lord.’ That’s what Job said. And then God said to Satan: ‘What did I tell you?’ And Satan said: ‘All right, but he’s still got his health, hasn’t he? A man can put up with anything while he’s in good health.’ And God saw that he had to let Job suffer some more in order to prove his point, so he said: ‘Take away his health, then, and see what happens.’ So Satan made Job ill, and he had boils from the top of his head to the soles of his feet.”

Sermons were becoming more common in churches. They had been rare when Philip was a boy. Abbot Peter had been against them, saying they tempted the priest to indulge himself. The old-fashioned view was that the congregation should be mere spectators, silently witnessing the mysterious holy rites, hearing the Latin words without understanding them, blindly trusting in the efficacy of the priest’s intercession. But ideas had changed. Progressive thinkers nowadays no longer saw the congregation as mute observers of a mystical ceremony. The Church was supposed to be an integral part of their everyday existence. It marked the milestones in their lives, from christening, through marriage and the birth of children, to extreme unction and burial in consecrated ground. It might be their landlord, judge, employer or customer. Increasingly, people were expected to be Christians every day, not just on Sundays. They needed more than just rituals, according to the modern view: they wanted explanations, rulings, encouragement, exhortation.

“Now, I believe that Satan had a conversation with God about Kingsbridge,” Philip said. “I believe that God said to Satan: ‘Look at my people in Kingsbridge. Aren’t they good Christians? See how they work hard all week in their fields and workshops, and then spend all day Sunday building me a new cathedral. Tell me they’re not good people, if you can!’ And Satan said: ‘They’re good because they’re doing well. You’ve given them good harvests, and fine weather, and customers for their shops, and protection from evil earls. But take all that away from them, and they’ll come over to my side.’ So God said: ‘What do you want to do?’ And Satan said: ‘Burn the town.’ So God said: ‘All right, burn it, and see what happens.’ So Satan sent William Hamleigh to set fire to our fleece fair.”

Philip took great consolation from the story of Job. Like Job, Philip had worked hard all his life to do God’s will to the best of his ability; and, like Job, he had been rewarded with bad luck, failure and ignominy. But the purpose of the sermon was to lift the spirits of the townspeople, and Philip could see that it was not working. However, the story was not yet over.

“And then God said to Satan: ‘Look now! You’ve burned that whole town to the ground, and they’re still building me a new cathedral. Now tell me they’re not good people!’ But Satan said: ‘I was too easy on them. Most of them escaped that fire. And they soon rebuilt their little wooden houses. Let me send a real disaster, then see what happens.’ And God sighed, and said: ‘What do you want to do now, then?’ And Satan said: ‘I’m going to bring the roof of that new church down on their heads.’ And he did-as we all know.”

Looking around the congregation, Philip saw very few people who had not lost a relative in that awful collapse. There was Widow Meg, who had had a good husband and three strapping sons, all of whom had died; she had not spoken a word since, and her hair was white. Others had been mutilated. Peter Pony’s right leg had been crushed, and he walked with a limp: he had been a horse catcher before, but now he worked for his brother, making saddles. There was hardly a family in town that had escaped. Sitting on the floor down at the front was a man who had lost the use of his legs. Philip frowned: who was he? He had not been injured in the roof collapse-Philip had never seen him before. Then he recalled being told that there was a cripple begging in the town and sleeping in the ruins of the cathedral. Philip had ordered that he be given a bed in the guesthouse.

His mind was wandering again. He returned to his sermon. “Now, what did Job do? His wife said to him: ‘Curse God, and die.’ But did he? He did not. Did he lose his faith? He did not. Satan was disappointed in Job. And I tell you”-Philip raised his hand dramatically, to emphasize the point-“I tell you, Satan is going to be disappointed in the people of Kingsbridge! For we continue to worship the true God, just as Job did in all his tribulations.”

He paused again, to let them digest that, but he could tell he had failed to move them. The faces that looked up at him were interested, but not inspired. In truth he was not an inspirational preacher. He was a down-to-earth man. He could not captivate a congregation by the force of his personality. People did become intensely loyal to him, it was true, but not instantly: it happened slowly, over time, as they came to understand how he lived and what he achieved. His work sometimes inspired people-or it had, in the old days-but never his words.

However, the best part of the story was to come. “What happened to Job, after Satan had done his worst? Well, God gave him more than he had in the first place-twice as much! Where he had grazed seven thousand sheep, he now had fourteen thousand. The three thousand camels he had lost were replaced by six thousand. And he fathered seven more sons and three more daughters.”