Somewhat to Philip’s surprise, Waleran agreed immediately. “I believe you’re right,” he said. “I can’t see him setting fire to a church, somehow. He’s just not the type.”

“We may never know for sure how the fire started,” Philip said. “But we must face the problem of raising the money to build a new church. I don’t know-”

“Yes,” Waleran interrupted, and held up a hand to stop Philip. He turned to the others in the room. “I must speak to Prior Philip alone,” he said. “The rest of you may leave us.”

Philip was intrigued. He could not imagine why Waleran had to speak to him alone about this.

Remigius said: “Before we go, lord bishop, there is something the brothers have asked me to say to you.”

Philip thought: What now?

Waleran raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And why should they ask you, rather than your prior, to raise a matter with me?”

“Because Prior Philip is deaf to their complaint.”

Philip was angry and mystified. There had been no complaint. Remigius was just trying to embarrass Philip by creating a scene in front of the bishop-elect. Philip caught an inquiring glance from Waleran. He shrugged and tried to look unconcerned. “I can’t wait to hear what the complaint is,” he said. “Please go ahead, Brother Remigius-if you’re quite sure the matter is important enough to require the attention of the bishop.”

Remigius said: “There is a woman living in the priory.”

“Not that again,” Philip said with exasperation. “She’s the builder’s wife, and she lives in the guesthouse.”

“She’s a witch,” said Remigius.

Philip wondered why Remigius was doing this. Remigius had mounted this particular horse once already, and it would not run. The point was moot, but the prior was the authority, and Waleran was bound to support Philip, unless he wanted to be called in every time Remigius disagreed with his superior. Wearily, Philip said: “She’s not a witch.”

“Have you interrogated the woman?” Remigius demanded.

Philip recalled that he had promised to question her. He had never done so: he had seen the husband, and told him to tell her to be circumspect, but he had not actually spoken to the woman himself. That was a pity, for it permitted Remigius to score a point; but it was not much of a point, and Philip felt sure it would not cause Waleran to take Remigius’s side. “I haven’t interrogated her,” Philip admitted. “But there is no evidence of witchcraft, and the whole family is perfectly honest and Christian.”

“She’s a witch and a fornicator,” Remigius said, flushing with righteous indignation.

“What?” Philip exploded. “With whom does she fornicate?”

“With the builder.”

“He’s her husband, you fool!”

“No, he’s not,” Remigius said triumphantly. “They’re not married, and they’ve only known one another a month.”

Philip was bowled over. He had never suspected this. Remigius had taken him completely by surprise.

If Remigius was telling the truth, the woman was a fornicator, technically. It was a type of fornication that was normally overlooked, for many couples did not get around to having their union blessed by a priest until they had been together for a while, often until the first child was conceived. Indeed, in very poor or remote parts of the country, couples often lived as man and wife for decades, and brought up children, and then startled a visiting priest by asking him to solemnize their marriage around the time their grandchildren were being born. However, it was one thing for a parish priest to be indulgent among poor peasants on the outskirts of Christendom, and quite another when an important employee of a priory was committing the same act within the precincts of the monastery.

“What makes you think they aren’t married?” Philip said skeptically, although he felt sure Remigius would have checked the facts before speaking up in front of Waleran.

“I found the sons fighting, and they told me they aren’t brothers. Then the whole story came out.”

Philip was disappointed with Tom. Fornication was a common enough sin, but it was particularly abhorrent to monks, who forsook all carnality. How could Tom do this? He should have known it was hateful to Philip. Philip felt angrier with Tom than he did with Remigius. But Remigius had been sneaky. Philip asked him: “Why did you not tell me, your prior, about this?”

“It was only this morning that I heard it.”

Philip sat back in his seat, defeated. Remigius had caught him out. Philip looked foolish. This was Remigius’s revenge for his defeat in the election. Philip looked at Waleran. The complaint had been made to Waleran: now Waleran could pronounce judgment.

Waleran did not hesitate. “The case is clear enough,” he said. “The woman must confess her sin, and do public penance for it. She must leave the priory, and live in chastity, apart from the builder, for a year. Then they may be married.”

A year apart was a harsh sentence. Philip felt she deserved it, for defiling the monastery. But he was anxious about how she would receive it. “She may not submit to your judgment,” he said.

Waleran shrugged. “Then she will burn in hell.”

“If she leaves Kingsbridge, I’m afraid Tom may go with her.”

“There are other builders.”

“Of course.” Philip would be sorry to lose Tom. But he could tell, from Waleran’s expression, that Waleran would not mind if Tom and his woman were to leave Kingsbridge and never come back; and he wondered again why she was so important.

Waleran said: “Now clear out, all of you, and let me speak to your prior.”

“Just a minute,” Philip said sharply. It was his house, and they were his monks, after all; he would summon and dismiss them, not Waleran. “I will speak to the builder myself about this matter. None of you is to mention it to anyone, do you hear? There’ll be a harsh punishment for you if you disobey me over this. Is that clear, Remigius?”

“Yes,” said Remigius.

Philip looked inquiringly at Remigius and said nothing. There was a pregnant silence.

“Yes, Father,” Remigius said at last.

“All right, off you go.”

Remigius, Andrew, Milius, Cuthbert and Dean Baldwin all trooped out. Waleran helped himself to a little more hot wine and stretched his feet out to the fire. “Women always cause trouble,” he said. “When there’s a mare in heat in the stables, all the stallions start nipping the grooms, kicking their stalls and generally causing trouble. Even the geldings start to misbehave. Monks are like geldings: physical passion is denied them, but they can still smell cunt.”

Philip was embarrassed. There was no need for such explicit talk, he felt. He looked at his hands. “What about rebuilding the church?” he said.

“Yes. You must have heard that that business you came to see me about-Earl Bartholomew and the conspiracy against King Stephen-turned out well for us.”

“Yes.” It seemed a long time ago that Philip had gone to the bishop’s palace, in fear and trembling, to tell of the plot against the king whom the Church had chosen. “I heard that Percy Hamleigh attacked the earl’s castle and took him prisoner.”

“That’s right-Bartholomew is now in a dungeon at Winchester, waiting to hear his fate,” Waleran said with satisfaction.

“And Earl Robert of Gloucester? He was the more powerful conspirator.”

“And therefore gets the lighter punishment. In fact no punishment at all. He has pledged allegiance to King Stephen, and his part in the plot has been… overlooked.”

“But what has this got to do with our cathedral?”

Waleran stood up and went to the window. When he looked out at the ruined church, there was real sadness in his eyes, and Philip realized that there was a core of genuine piety in Waleran, for all his worldly ways. “Our part in the defeat of Bartholomew puts King Stephen in our debt. Before too long, you and I will go and see him.”