“Those lying bishops made a fool of you, didn’t they?” William said.

Philip reined in his horse. Shaking with rage, he pointed a ringer at William. “Shut your mouth, boy. You’re speaking of God’s holy priests. If you say another word you’ll burn for it, I promise you.”

William went white with fear.

Philip kicked his horse on. William’s sneer reminded him that the Hamleighs had an ulterior motive in taking him to see Waleran’s castle. They wanted to cause a quarrel between Philip and Waleran to ensure that the disputed earldom would go to neither the prior nor the bishop, but to Percy. Well, Philip was not going to be manipulated by them, either. He had finished being manipulated. From now on he would do the manipulating.

That was all very well, but what could be done? If Philip quarreled with Waleran, Percy would get the lands; and if Philip did nothing, Waleran would get them.

What did the king want? He wanted to help build the new cathedral: that kind of thing was appropriately kingly, and would benefit his soul in the afterlife. But he needed to reward Percy’s loyalty, too. Oddly enough, there was no particular pressure on him to please the more powerful men, the two bishops. It occurred to Philip that there might be a solution to the dilemma that would solve the king’s problem by satisfying both himself and Percy Hamleigh.

Now there was a thought.

The idea pleased him. An alliance between himself and the Hamleighs was the last thing anyone expected-and for that reason it just might work. The bishops would be completely unprepared for it. They would be caught wrong-footed.

That would be a delightful reversal.

But could he negotiate a deal with the grasping Hamleighs? Percy wanted the rich farmland of Shiring, the title of earl, and the power and prestige of a force of knights under his command. Philip, too, wanted the rich farmland, but he did not want the title or the knights: he was more interested in the quarry and the forest.

The form of a compromise began to take shape in Philip’s mind. He began to think that all was not yet lost.

How sweet it would be to win now, after all that had happened.

With mounting excitement, he considered his approach to the Hamleighs. He was determined he would not play the role of supplicant. He would have to make his proposal seem irresistible.

By the time they reached Winchester, Philip’s cloak was soaked through, and his horse was bad-tempered, but he thought he had the answer.

As they passed under the arch of the West Gate he said to William: “Let’s go and see your mother.”

William was surprised. “I thought you would want to see Bishop Waleran right away.”

No doubt that was what Regan had told William to expect. “Don’t bother to tell me what you thought, lad,” Philip snapped. “Just take me to your mother.” He felt very ready for a confrontation with Lady Regan. He had been passive too long.

William turned south and led Philip to a house in Gold Street, between the castle and the cathedral. It was a large dwelling with stone walls to waist level and a timber frame above. Inside was an entrance hall with several apartments off it. The Hamleighs were probably lodging here: many Winchester citizens rented rooms to people who were attending the royal court. If Percy became earl he would have his own town house.

William showed Philip into a front room with a big bed in it and a fireplace. Regan was sitting by the fire and Percy was standing near her. Regan looked up at Philip with an expression of surprise, but she recovered quickly enough, and said: “Well, monk-was I right?”

“You were as wrong as you could be, you foolish woman,” Philip said harshly.

She was shocked into silence by his angry tone.

He was gratified by the effect of giving her a taste of her own medicine. He went on in the same tone. “You thought you could cause a quarrel between me and Waleran. Did you imagine I wouldn’t see what you were up to? You’re a sly vixen but you’re not the only person in the world who can think.”

He could see by her face that she realized her plan had not worked, and she was thinking furiously what to do next. He pressed on while she was disconcerted.

“You’ve failed, Regan. You’ve got two options now. One is to sit tight and hope for the best. Wait for the king’s decision. Take your chances on his mood tomorrow morning.” He paused.

She spoke reluctantly. “And the alternative?”

“The alternative is that we make a deal, you and I. We divide the earldom between us, leaving nothing for Waleran. We go to the king privately and tell him we’ve reached a compromise, and get his blessing for it before the bishops can object.” Philip sat down on a bench and pretended a casual air. “It’s your best chance. You’ve got no real choice.” He looked into the fire, not wanting her to see how tense he was. The idea had to appeal to them, he thought. It was the certainty of getting something weighed against the possibility of getting nothing. But they were greedy-they might prefer an all-or-nothing gamble.

It was Percy who spoke first. “Divide the earldom? How?”

They were interested, at least, Philip thought with relief. “I’m going to propose a division so generous that you would be mad to turn it down,” Philip said to him. He turned back to Regan. “I’m offering you the best half.”

They looked at him, waiting for him to elaborate, but he said no more. Regan said: “What do you mean, the best half?”

“What is more valuable-arable land or forest?”

“Arable land, certainly.”

“Then you shall have the arable and I’ll have the forest.”

Regan narrowed her eyes. “That will give you timber for your cathedral.”

“Correct.”

“What about pasture?”

“Which do you want-the cattle pastures or the sheep grazing?”

“The pasture.”

“Then I’ll have the hill farms with their sheep. Would you like the income from markets, or the quarry?”

Percy said: “The market inc-”

Regan interrupted him. “Suppose we said the quarry?”

Philip knew she had understood what was on his mind. He wanted the stone from the quarry for his cathedral. He knew she did not want the quarry. The markets made more money for less effort. He said confidently: “You won’t, though, will you?”

She shook her head. “No. We’ll take the markets.”

Percy tried to look as if he were being fleeced. “I need the forest to hunt,” he said. “An earl must have some hunting.”

“You can hunt there,” Philip said quickly. “I just want the timber.”

“That’s agreeable,” Regan said. Her agreement came a little too quickly for Philip’s comfort. He felt a pang of anxiety. Had he given something important away without knowing it? Or was she simply impatient to dispose of a trifling detail? Before he could give it much thought she went on: “Suppose we go through the deeds and charters in Earl Bartholomew’s old treasury and find there are some lands that we think should be ours and you think should be yours?”

The fact that she was getting down to such details encouraged Philip to think she was going to accept his proposal. He concealed his excitement and spoke coolly. “We’ll have to agree on an arbitrator. How about Bishop Henry?”

“A priest?” she said with a touch of her habitual scorn. “Would he be objective? No. How about the sheriff of Shiring?”

He would be no more objective than the bishop, Philip thought; but he could not think of anyone who would satisfy both sides, so he said: “Agreed-on condition that if we dispute his decision we have the right to appeal to the king.” That ought to be a sufficient safeguard.

“Agreed,” Regan said; then she glanced at Percy and added: “If my husband pleases.”

Percy said: “Yes, yes.”

Philip knew he was close to success. He took a deep breath and said: “If the overall proposal is agreed, then-”