Jack knelt down beside Meg and spoke to her. “Why are you weeping?”

“She’s dumb,” Philip told him.

Then Meg said: “The Madonna has suffered as I have. She understands.”

Philip was thunderstruck.

Jack said: “You see? The statue eases her suffering-What are you staring at?”

“She’s dumb,” Philip said again. “She hasn’t uttered a word for more than a year.”

“That’s right!” Aliena said. “Meg was struck dumb after her husband and boys died when the roof fell.”

“This woman?” Jack said. “But she just…”

Reynold looked bewildered. “You mean this is a miracle?” he said. “A real one?”

Philip looked at Jack’s face. Jack was more shocked than anyone. There was no trickery here.

Philip was profoundly moved. He had seen the hand of God move and work a miracle. He was shaking a little. “Well, Jack,” he said in an unsteady voice. “Despite all you have done to discredit the Weeping Madonna, it seems that God intends to work wonders with it anyway.”

For once Jack was lost for words.

Philip turned away from him and went to Meg. He took her hands and gently pulled her upright. “God has made you well again, Meg,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “Now you can start a new life.” He recalled that he had preached a sermon on the story of Job. The words came back to him: “So the Lord blessed the latter end of Job more than his beginning…” He had told the people of Kingsbridge that the same would be true of them. I wonder, he thought, looking at the rapture on Meg’s tear-stained face, I wonder whether this could be the start of it.

There was an uproar in chapter when Jack presented his design for the new cathedral.

Philip had warned Jack to expect trouble. Philip had seen the drawings previously, of course. Jack had carried them to the prior’s house early one morning, a plan and an elevation, drawn on plaster in wooden frames. They had looked at them together in the clear early light, and Philip had said: “Jack, this will be the most beautiful church in England-but we’re going to have trouble with the monks.”

Jack knew from his time as a novice that Remigius and his cronies still routinely opposed any plan that was dear to Philip’s heart, even though it was eight years since Philip had defeated Remigius in the election. They rarely got much support from the broad mass of the brothers, but in this case Philip was uncertain: they were such a conservative lot that they could be scared by the revolutionary design. However, there was nothing for it but to show them the drawings and try to convince them. Philip certainly could not go ahead and build the cathedral without the wholehearted support of the majority of his monks.

On the following day Jack attended chapter and presented his plans. The drawings were propped up on a bench against the wall, and the monks crowded around to look at them. As they took in the details, there was a murmur of discussion which rose rapidly to a hubbub. Jack was discouraged: the tone was disapproving, bordering on outrage. The noise grew louder as they began to argue among themselves, some attacking the design and others defending it.

After a while Philip called for order and they calmed down. Milius Bursar asked a prearranged question. “Why are the arches pointed?”

“It’s a new technique they’re using in France,” Jack replied. “I’ve seen it in several churches. The pointed arch is stronger. That is what will enable me to build the church so high. It will probably be the tallest nave in England.”

They liked that idea, Jack could tell.

Someone else said: “The windows are so big.”

“Thick walls are unnecessary,” Jack said. “They’ve proved that in France. It’s the piers that hold the building up, especially with rib-vaulting. And the effect of the big windows is breathtaking. At Saint-Denis the abbot has put in colored glass with pictures on it. The church becomes a place of sunshine and air, instead of gloom and darkness.”

Several of the monks were nodding approval. Perhaps they were not as conservative as he had thought.

But Andrew Sacrist spoke next. “Two years ago you were a novice among us. You were disciplined for striking the prior, and you evaded that discipline and ran away. Now you come back wanting to tell us how to build our church.”

Before Jack could speak, one of the younger monks protested: “That’s nothing to do with it! We’re discussing the design, not Jack’s past!”

Several monks tried to speak at the same time, some of them shouting. Philip made them all shut up and asked Jack to answer the question.

Jack had been expecting something like this and he was ready. “I made a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela as penance for that sin, Father Andrew, and I hope my bringing the Weeping Madonna to you may count as recompense for my wrongdoing,” he said meekly. “I’m not destined to be a monk, but I hope I can serve God in a different way-as his builder.”

They seemed to accept that.

However, Andrew had not finished. “How old are you?” he said, although he surely knew the answer.

“Twenty years.”

“That’s very young to be a master builder.”

“Everyone here knows me. I’ve lived here since I was a boy.” Since I burned down your old church, he thought guiltily. “I served my apprenticeship under the original master builder. You’ve seen my stonework. When I was a novice I worked with Prior Philip and Tom Builder as clerk of the works. I humbly ask the brothers to judge me by my work, not by my age.”

It was another prepared speech. He saw one of the monks grin at the word humbly, and realized it might have been a small error: they all knew that whatever other qualities he had he was not humble.

Andrew was quick to take advantage of his slip. “Humbly?” he said, and his face began to turn red as he feigned outrage. “It wasn’t very humble of you to announce to the masons of Paris three months ago that you had already been appointed master builder here.”

Once again there was a hubbub of indignant reactions from the monks. Jack groaned inwardly. How the devil had Andrew got hold of that little tidbit? Reynold or Edward must have been indiscreet. He tried to shrug it off. “I was hoping to attract some of those craftsmen to Kingsbridge,” he said as the noise died down. “They will be useful, no matter who is appointed master here. I don’t think my presumption did any harm.” He tried an engaging grin. “But I’m sorry I’m not humbler.” This did not go down very well.

Milius Bursar got him out of trouble by asking another prearranged question. “What do you propose to do about the existing chancel, which has partly collapsed?”

“I’ve examined it very carefully,” Jack said. “It can be repaired. If you appoint me master builder today I will have it usable again within a year. Furthermore, you can continue to use it while I’m building the transepts and the nave to the new design. Finally, when the nave is finished, I propose demolishing the chancel and building a new one to match the rest of the new church.”

Andrew said: “But how do we know the old chancel won’t fall down again?”

“The collapse was caused by Alfred’s stone vault, which was not in the original plans. The walls weren’t strong enough to hold it up. I propose to revert to Tom’s design and build a timber ceiling.”

There was a murmur of surprise. The question of why the roof had fallen in had been a matter of controversy. Andrew said: “But Alfred increased the size of the buttresses to support the extra weight.”

This had puzzled Jack, too, but he thought he had found the answer. “They still weren’t strong enough, particularly at the top. If you study the ruins you can see that the part of the structure that gave way was the clerestory. There was very little reinforcement at that level.”

They seemed satisfied with that. Jack felt that his ability to give a confident answer had enhanced his status as a master builder.