Henry bridled at this irreverence. “God controls all things-”

“Don’t press me on this,” Stephen said, holding up his right hand.

“Of course,” Henry said submissively.

It was a vivid demonstration of royal power. For a moment there they had been arguing almost like equals, but Stephen had been able to regain the upper hand with a word.

Philip was bitterly disappointed. At the start he had thought this an impossible demand, but he had gradually come to hope it would be granted, even to fantasize about how he would use the wealth. Now he had been brought back to reality with a hard bump.

Waleran said: “My lord king, I thank you for being willing to reconsider the future of the Shiring earldom, and I will await your decision anxiously and prayerfully.”

That was neat, Philip thought. It sounded as if Waleran was giving in gracefully. In fact he was summing up by saying that the question was still open. The king had not said that. If anything, his response had been negative. But there was nothing offensive about insisting that the king could still decide one way or the other. I must remember that, Philip thought: when you’re about to be turned down, go for a postponement.

Stephen hesitated a moment, as if entertaining a faint suspicion that he was being manipulated; then he seemed to dismiss any doubts. “Thank you all for coming to see me,” he said.

Philip and Waleran turned to leave, but Henry stood his ground and said: “When shall we hear your decision?”

Stephen once again looked somewhat cornered. “The day after tomorrow,” he said.

Henry bowed, and the three of them went out.

The uncertainty was almost as bad as a negative decision. Philip found the waiting unbearable. He spent the afternoon with the Winchester priory’s marvelous collection of books, but they could not distract him from wondering what was going on in the king’s mind. Could the king renege on his promise to Percy Hamleigh? How important was Percy? He was a member of the gentry who aspired to an earldom-surely Stephen had no reason to fear offending him. But how badly did Stephen want to help Kingsbridge? Notoriously, kings became pious as they aged. Stephen was young.

Philip was turning the possibilities over and over in his mind, and looking at but not reading Boethius’s The Consolation of Philosophy, when a novice came tiptoeing along the cloister walk and approached him shyly. “There’s someone asking for you in the outer court, Father,” the lad whispered.

If the visitor had been made to wait outside, that meant he was not a monk. “Who is it?” Philip said.

“It’s a woman.”

Philip’s first, horrified thought was that it was the whore who had accosted him outside the mint; but something in the novice’s expression told him otherwise. There was another woman whose eyes had met his today. “What does she look like?”

The boy made a disgusted face.

Philip nodded, understanding. “Regan Hamleigh.” What mischief was she up to now? “I’ll come at once.”

He walked slowly and thoughtfully around the cloisters and out to the courtyard. He would need his wits about him to deal with this woman.

She was standing outside the cellarer’s parlor, wrapped in a heavy cloak, hiding her face in a hood. She gave Philip a look of such naked malevolence that he had half a mind to turn around and go back in immediately; but he was ashamed to run from a woman, so he stood his ground and said: “What do you want with me?”

“You foolish monk,” she spat. “How can you be so stupid?”

He felt his face redden. “I’m the prior of Kingsbridge, and you’d better call me Father,” he said; but to his chagrin he sounded petulant rather than authoritative.

“All right, Father-how can you just let yourself be used by those two greedy bishops?”

Philip took a deep breath. “Speak plainly,” he said angrily.

“It’s hard to find words plain enough for someone as witless as you, but I’ll try. Waleran is using the burned-down church as a pretext for getting the lands of the Shiring earldom for himself. Is that plain speaking? Have you grasped that concept?”

Her contemptuous tone continued to rile Philip, but he could not resist the temptation to defend himself. “There’s nothing underhand about it,” he said. “The income from the lands is to be used to rebuild the cathedral.”

“What makes you think so?”

“That’s the whole idea!” Philip protested; but at the back of his mind he already felt the first stirrings of doubt.

Regan’s scornful tone changed and she became sly. “Will the new lands belong to the priory?” she said. “Or to the diocese?”

Philip stared at her for a moment, then turned away: her face was too revolting to look at. He had been working on the assumption that the lands would belong to the priory, and be under his control, rather than to the diocese, where they would be under Waleran’s control. But he now recalled that when they had been with the king. Bishop Henry had specifically asked for the lands to be given to the diocese. Philip had assumed that was a slip of the tongue. But it had not been corrected, then or later.

He eyed Regan suspiciously. She could not possibly have known what Henry was going to say to the king. She might be right about this. On the other hand, she could simply be trying to make trouble. She had everything to gain from a quarrel between Philip and Waleran at this point, Philip said: “Waleran is the bishop-he has to have a cathedral.”

“He has to have a lot of things,” she rejoined. She became less malevolent and more human as she began to reason, but Philip still could not bear to look at her for long. “For some bishops, a fine cathedral would be the first priority. For Waleran there are other necessities. Anyway, as long as he controls the purse strings, he will be able to dole out as much or as little as he likes to you and your builders.”

Philip realized she was right about that, at least. If Waleran was collecting the rents, he would naturally retain a portion for his expenses. He alone would be able to say what that portion should be. There would be nothing to stop him from diverting the funds to purposes having nothing to do with the cathedral, if he so chose. And Philip would never know, from one month to the next, whether he was going to be able to pay the builders.

There was no doubt it would be better if the priory owned the land. But Philip was sure Waleran would resist that idea, and Bishop Henry would back Waleran. Then Philip’s only hope would be to appeal to the king. And King Stephen, seeing the churchmen divided, might solve the problem by giving the earldom to Percy Hamleigh.

Which was what Regan wanted, of course.

Philip shook his head. “If Waleran is trying to deceive me, why did he bring me here at all? He could have come on his own, and made the same plea.”

She nodded. “He could have. But the king might have asked himself how sincere Waleran was, saying that he only wanted the earldom in order to build a cathedral. You’ve lulled any suspicions Stephen might have had, by appearing here in support of Waleran’s claim.” Her tone became contemptuous again. “And you look so pathetic, in your dirty robe, that the king pities you. No, Waleran was clever to bring you.”

Philip had a horrible feeling she might be right, but he was not willing to admit it. “You just want the earldom for your husband,” he said.

“If I could show you proof, would you ride half a day to see it?”

The last thing Philip wanted was to be sucked into Regan Hamleigh’s scheming. But he had to find out whether her allegation was true. Reluctantly, he said: “Yes, I’ll ride half a day.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Be ready at dawn.”

It was William Hamleigh, the son of Percy and Regan, who was waiting for Philip in the outer courtyard the following morning as the monks began to sing prime. Philip and William left Winchester by the West Gate, then immediately turned north on Athelynge Street. Bishop Waleran’s palace was in this direction, Philip realized; and it was about half a day’s ride. So that was where they were going. But why? He was deeply suspicious. He decided to be alert for trickery. The Hamleighs might well be trying to use him. He speculated about how. There might be a document in Waleran’s possession that the Hamleighs wanted to see or even steal-some kind of deed or charter. Young Lord William could tell the bishop’s staff that the two of them had been sent to fetch the document: they might believe him because Philip was with him. William could easily have some such little scheme up his sleeve. Philip would have to be on his guard.