“I’m worried about this ecclesiastical court, Jack,” said Jonathan without preamble.

Jack said: “I thought that was all a big fuss about nothing.”

“So did I-but the archdeacon turns out to be an old enemy of Prior Philip’s.”

“Hell. But even so, surely he can’t find him guilty.”

“He can do anything he wants.”

Jack shook his head in disgust. He sometimes wondered how men such as Jonathan could continue to believe in the Church when it was so shamelessly corrupt. “What are you going to do?”

“The only way we can prove his innocence is to find out who my parents were.”

“It’s a bit late for that!”

“It’s our only hope.”

Jack was somewhat shaken. They were quite desperate. “Where are you going to start?”

“With you. You were in the area of St-John-in-the-Forest at the time I was born.”

“Was I?” Jack did not see what Jonathan was getting at. “I lived there until I was eleven, and I must be about eleven years older than you…”

“Father Philip says he met you, with your mother and Tom Builder and Tom’s children, the day after I was found.”

“I remember that. We ate all Philip’s food. We were starving.”

“Think hard. Did you see anyone with a baby, or a young woman who might have been pregnant, anywhere near that area?”

“Wait a minute.” Jack was puzzled. “Are you telling me that you were found near St-John-in-the-Forest?”

“Yes-didn’t you know that?”

Jack could hardly believe his ears. “No, I didn’t know that,” he said slowly. His mind was reeling with the implications of the revelation. “When we arrived in Kingsbridge, you were already here, and I naturally assumed you had been found in the forest near here.” He suddenly felt the need to sit down. There was a pile of building rubble nearby, and he lowered himself onto it.

Jonathan said impatiently: “Well, anyway, did you see anyone in the forest?”

“Oh, yes,” Jack said. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Jonathan.”

Jonathan paled. “You know something about this, don’t you? What did you see?”

“I saw you, Jonathan; that’s what I saw.”

Jonathan’s mouth dropped open. “What… How?”

“It was dawn. I was on a duck-hunting expedition. I heard a cry. I found a newborn baby, wrapped in a cut-up old cloak, lying beside the embers of a dying fire.”

Jonathan stared at him. “Anything else?”

Jack nodded slowly. “The baby was lying on a new grave.”

Jonathan swallowed. “My mother?”

Jack nodded.

Jonathan began to weep, but he kept asking questions. “What did you do?”

“I fetched my mother. But while we were returning to the spot, we saw a priest, riding a palfrey, carrying the baby.”

“Francis,” Jonathan said in a choked voice.

“What?”

He swallowed hard. “I was found by Father Philip’s brother, Francis, the priest.”

“What was he doing there?”

“He was on his way to see Philip at St-John-in-the-Forest. That’s where he took me.”

“My God.” Jack stared at the tall monk with tears streaming down his cheeks. You haven’t heard it all yet, Jonathan, he thought.

Jonathan said: “Did you see anyone who might have been my father?”

“Yes,” Jack said solemnly. “I know who he was.”

“Tell me!” Jonathan whispered.

“Tom Builder.”

“Tom Builder?” Jonathan sat down heavily on the ground. “Tom Builder was my father?”

“Yes.” Jack shook his head in wonderment. “Now I know who you remind me of. You and he are the tallest people I ever met.”

“He was always good to me when I was a child,” Jonathan said in a dazed tone. “He used to play with me. He was fond of me. I saw as much of him as I did of Prior Philip.” His tears flowed freely. “That was my father. My father.” He looked up at Jack. “Why did he abandon me?”

“They thought you were going to die anyway. They had no milk to give you. They were starving themselves, I know. They were miles from anywhere. They didn’t know the priory was nearby. They had no food except turnips, and turnips would have killed you.”

“They did love me, after all.”

Jack saw the scene as if it were yesterday: the dying fire, the freshly turned earth of the new grave, and the tiny pink baby kicking its arms and legs inside the old gray cloak. That little scrap of humanity had grown into the tall man who sat weeping on the ground in front of him. “Oh, yes, they loved you.”

“How come nobody ever spoke of it?”

“Tom was ashamed, of course,” Jack said. “My mother must have known that, and we children sensed it, I suppose. Anyway, it was an unmentionable topic. And we never connected that baby with you, of course.”

“Tom must have made the connection,” Jonathan said.

“Yes.”

“I wonder why he never took me back?”

“My mother left him quite soon after we came here,” Jack said. He smiled ruefully. “She was hard to please, like Sally. Anyway, that meant Tom would have had to hire a nursemaid to look after you. So I suppose he thought: Why not leave the baby at the monastery? You were well cared for there.”

Jonathan nodded. “By dear old Johnny Eightpence, God rest his soul.”

“Tom probably spent more time with you that way. You were running around the priory close all day and every day, and he was working there. If he’d taken you away from the priory and left you at home with a nursemaid, he’d actually have seen less of you. And I imagine as the years went by, and you grew up as the priory orphan, and seemed happy that way, it felt more and more natural to leave you there. People often give a child to God, anyway.”

“All these years I’ve wondered about my parents,” Jonathan said. Jack’s heart ached for him. “I’ve tried to imagine what they were like, asked God to let me meet them, wondered whether they loved me, questioned why they left me. Now I know that my mother died giving birth to me and my father was close to me all the rest of his life.” He smiled through his tears. “I can’t tell you how happy I am.”

Jack felt close to tears himself. To cover his embarrassment he said: “You look like Tom.”

“Do I?” Jonathan was pleased.

“Don’t you remember how tall he was?”

“All adults were tall then.”

“He had good features, like you. Well-carved. If ever you’d grown a beard, people would have guessed.”

“I remember the day he died,” Jonathan said. “He took me around the fair. We watched the bearbaiting. Then I climbed the wall of the chancel. I was too frightened to come down, so he had to come up and carry me down. Then he saw William’s men coming. He put me in the cloisters. That was the last time I saw him alive.”

“I remember that,” Jack said. “I watched him climb down with you in his arms.”

“He made sure I was safe,” Jonathan said wonderingly.

“Then he took care of the others,” Jack said.

“He really loved me.”

Jack was struck by a thought. “This will make a difference to Philip’s trial, won’t it?”

“I’d forgotten that,” Jonathan said. “Yes, it will. My goodness.”

“Have we got irrefutable proof?” Jack wondered. “I saw the baby, and the priest, but I never actually saw the baby delivered to the little priory.”

“Francis did. But Francis is Philip’s brother, so his evidence is tainted.”

“My mother and Tom went off together that morning,” Jack said, straining his memory. “They said they were going to look for the priest. I bet they went to the priory to make sure the baby was all right.”

“If she would say so in court, that would really sew it up,” Jonathan said eagerly.

“Philip thinks she’s a witch,” Jack pointed out. “Would he let her testify?”

“We could spring it on him. But she hates him, too. Will she testify?”

“I don’t know,” said Jack. “Let’s ask her.”

“Fornication and nepotism?” Jack’s mother cried. “Philip?” She started to laugh. “It’s too absurd!”

“Mother, this is serious,” Jack said.

“Philip couldn’t fornicate if you put him in a barrel with three whores,” she said. “He wouldn’t know what to do!”