Jack suppressed a sigh of relief as he took a seat. He had planned what he was going to say next: he was not going to repeat the spontaneous tactlessness he had shown with the builders. “There’s no need to modify your freeze on purchase of supplies,” he began. “Similarly, the moratorium on new hiring can stand-no one objects to that. I also think they can be persuaded to accept that there will be no work on saint’s days, if they gain concessions in other areas.” He paused to let that sink in. So far he was giving everything and asking for nothing.

Philip nodded. “All right. What concessions?”

Jack took a deep breath. “They were highly offended by the proposal to ban promotions. They think you’re trying to usurp the ancient prerogative of the lodge.”

“I explained to you that that was not my intention,” Philip said in an exasperated tone.

“I know, I know,” Jack said hastily. “Of course you did. And I believed you, but they didn’t.” An injured look came over Philip’s face. How could anyone disbelieve him? Hastily, Jack said: “But that’s in the past. I’m going to propose a compromise that won’t cost you anything.”

Philip looked interested.

Jack went on: “Let them continue to approve applications for promotion, but postpone the associated pay raise for a year.” And he thought: Find something to object to in that, if you can.

“Will they accept that?” Philip said skeptically.

“It’s worth a try.”

“What if I still can’t afford the pay raises a year from now?”

“Cross that bridge when you get to it.”

“You mean, renegotiate in a year’s time.”

Jack shrugged. “If necessary.”

“I see,” Philip said noncommittally. “Anything else?”

“The biggest stumbling block is the instant dismissal of the summer-workers.” Jack was being completely candid now. This issue could not be honeyed. “Instant dismissal has never been allowed on any building site in Christendom. The end of the week is the earliest.” To help Philip feel less foolish, Jack added: “I ought to have warned you of that.”

“So all I have to do is employ them for two more days?”

“I don’t think that will be enough, now,” Jack said. “If we’d handled it differently from the start we might have got away with that, but now they’ll want more of a compromise.”

“No doubt you’ve got something specific in mind.”

Jack had, and it was the only real concession he had to ask for. “It’s now the beginning of October. We normally dismiss the summer workers at the beginning of December. Let’s meet the men halfway, and do it at the beginning of November.”

“That only gives me half of what I need.”

“It gives you more than half. You still benefit from the rundown of stocks, the postponement of pay raises for promotion, and the saint’s days.”

“Those things are trimmings.”

Jack sat back, feeling gloomy. He had done his best. He had no more arguments to put to Philip, no more resources of persuasion to deploy, nothing left to say. He had shot his arrow. And Philip was still resistant. Jack was ready to concede defeat. He looked at Philip’s stony face and waited.

Philip looked over at the altar in the corner for a long, silent moment. Finally he looked back to Jack and said: “I’ll have to put this to the chapter.”

Jack went limp with relief. It was not a victory, but it was close. Philip would not ask the monks to consider anything he did not himself approve, and more often than not they did what Philip wanted. “I hope they accept,” Jack said weakly.

Philip stood up and put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. He smiled for the first time. “If I put the case as persuasively as you, they will,” he said.

Jack was surprised by this sudden change of mood. He said: “The sooner this is over, the less long-term effect it will have.”

“I know. It’s made me very angry, but I don’t want to quarrel with you.” Unexpectedly, he put out his hand.

Jack shook it, and felt good.

Jack said: “Shall I tell the builders to come to the lodge in the morning to hear the chapter’s verdict?”

“Yes, please.”

“I’ll do that now.” He turned to go.

Philip said: “Jack.”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

Jack nodded acknowledgment and went out. He walked through the rain without raising his hood. He felt happy.

That afternoon he went to the homes of all the craftsmen and told them there would be a meeting in the morning. Those who were not at home-the unmarried men and the summer workers, mostly-he found in the alehouse. However, they were sober, for the price of ale had gone up along with everything else, and no one could afford to get drunk. The only craftsman he could not find was Alfred, who had not been seen for a couple of days. Eventually he turned up at dusk. He came to the alehouse with an oddly triumphant look on his bovine face. He did not say where he had been, and Jack did not ask him. Jack left him drinking with the other men, and went to have supper with Aliena and the children.

Next morning he started the meeting before Prior Philip came to the lodge. He wanted to lay the groundwork. Once again he had prepared what he had to say very carefully, to be sure he did not damage his case by tactlessness. Once again he tried to handle things as Philip might have.

All he craftsmen were there early. Their livelihoods were at stake. One or two of the younger ones looked red-eyed: Jack guessed the alehouse had stayed open late last night, and some of them had forgotten their poverty for a while. The youngsters and the summer workers were most likely to prove difficult. The older craftsmen took a more long-term view. The small minority of women craftsmen were always cautious and conservative, and would back any kind of settlement.

“Prior Philip is going to ask us to go back to work, and offer us some kind of compromise,” Jack began. “Before he comes, we ought to discuss what we might be prepared to accept, what we will definitely reject, and where we might be willing to negotiate. We must show Philip a united front. I hope you all agree.”

There were a few nods.

He made himself sound slightly angry, and said: “In my view we should absolutely refuse to accept instant dismissal.” He banged his fist on the workbench to emphasize his inflexibility on this point. Several people voiced their agreement loudly. Jack knew this was one demand Philip was certainly not going to make. He wanted the hotheads to get themselves worked up to defend ancient custom and practice on this point, so that when Philip conceded it, the wind would be taken out of their sails.

“Also, we must guard the lodge’s right to make promotions, for only craftsmen can judge whether a man is skilled or not.” Once again he was being disingenuous. He was focusing their attention on the nonfinancial aspect of promotions, in the hope that when they won that point they would be ready to compromise on payments.

“As for working on saint’s days, I’m in two minds. Holidays are normally a matter for negotiation-there’s no standard custom and practice, as far as I know.” He turned to Edward Twonose and said: “What’s your view on that, Edward?”

“Practice varies from site to site,” Edward said. He was pleased to be consulted. Jack nodded, encouraging him to go on. Edward began to recall variant methods of dealing with saint’s days. The meeting was going just the way Jack wanted. An extended discussion of a point that was not very controversial would bore the men and sap their energy for confrontation.

However, Edward’s monologue was interrupted by a voice from the back which said: “This is all irrelevant.”

Jack looked over and saw that the speaker was Dan Bristol, a summer worker. Jack said: “One at a time, please. Let Edward have his say.”

Dan was not so easily deflected. “Never mind about all that,” he said. “What we want is a raise.”

“A raise?” Jack was irritated by this ludicrous remark.