All the same, Saul was not weak. He had a streak of stubborn righteousness that Godwyn feared. Would he go along obediently with Godwyn’s plan today, or would he make trouble? Once again Godwyn fought down panic and struggled to remain cool.

He studied Saul’s face carefully. The prior of St John was surprised to see him, and clearly displeased. His expression was carefully composed into a look of polite welcome, but he was not smiling.

During the election campaign, Godwyn had made everyone believe that he himself did not want the job, but he had eliminated every other reasonable candidate including Saul. Did Saul suspect how he had been hoodwinked?

“Good day to you, Father Prior,” Saul said as he approached. “This is an unexpected blessing.”

So he was not going to be openly hostile. No doubt he would think that such behaviour conflicted with his vow of obedience. Godwyn was relieved. He said: “God bless you, my son. It is too long since I have visited my children at St John.”

Saul looked at the monks, the horses and the carts loaded with supplies. “This appears to be more than a simple visit.” He did not offer to help Godwyn down from his horse. It was as if he wanted an explanation before he would invite them in – which was ridiculous: he had no right to turn away his superior.

All the same, Godwyn found himself explaining. “Have you heard about the plague?”

“Rumours,” Saul said. “There are few visitors to bring us news.”

That was good. The lack of visitors was what drew Godwyn here. “The disease has killed hundreds in Kingsbridge. I feared it might wipe out the priory. That’s why I’ve brought the monks here. It may be the only way to ensure our survival.”

“You are welcome here, of course, whatever the reason for your visit.”

“It goes without saying,” Godwyn said stiffly. He felt angry that he had been nudged into justifying himself.

Saul looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure where everyone’s going to sleep…”

“I shall decide that,” Godwyn said, reasserting his authority. “You can show me around while your kitchen is preparing our supper.” He got down from his horse unaided and walked into the monastery.

Saul was obliged to follow.

The whole place had a bare, scrubbed look that expressed how serious Saul was about the monkish vow of poverty. But today Godwyn was more interested in how readily the place could be closed to outsiders. Fortunately, Saul’s belief in order and control had led him to design buildings with few entrances. There were only three ways into the priory: through the kitchen, the stable or the church. Each entrance had a stout door that could be firmly barred.

The dormitory was small, normally accommodating nine or ten monks, and there was no separate bedroom for the prior. The only way to fit twenty extra monks in was to let them sleep in the church.

Godwyn thought of taking over the dormitory for himself, but there was nowhere in the room to hide the cathedral treasures, and he wanted to keep them close. Fortunately, the little church had a small side chapel that could be closed off, and Godwyn took that for his own room. The rest of the Kingsbridge monks spread straw on the stamped-earth floor of the nave and made the best of it.

The food and wine went to the kitchen and the cellar, but Philemon brought the ornaments into Godwyn’s chapel-bedroom. Philemon had been chatting to the St John monks. “Saul has his own way of running things,” he reported. “He demands rigid obedience to God and the Rule of St Benedict, but they say he doesn’t set himself up on a pedestal. He sleeps in the dorm, eats the same food as the others, and in general takes no privileges. Needless to say, they like him for that. But there’s one monk who is constantly being punished – Brother Jonquil.”

“I remember him.” Jonquil had always been in trouble while a novice at Kingsbridge – for lateness, slovenliness, laziness and greed. He was without self-control, and had probably been drawn to the monastic life as a way of getting someone else to enforce the restraint he could not impose on himself. “I doubt that he will be much help to us.”

“He will break ranks, given half a chance,” Philemon said. “But he doesn’t carry any authority. No one will follow him.”

“And they have no complaints about Saul? Doesn’t he sleep late, or dodge unpleasant chores, or take the best wine for himself?”

“Apparently not.”

“Hmm.” Saul was as upright as ever. Godwyn was disappointed, but not very surprised.

During Evensong, Godwyn noted how solemn and disciplined the St John men were. Over the years, he had always sent problem monks here: the mutinous, the mentally ill, those inclined to question the church’s teachings and take an interest in heretical ideas. Saul had never complained, never sent anyone back. It seemed he was able to turn such people into model monks.

After the service, Godwyn sent most of the Kingsbridge men to the refectory for supper, keeping only Philemon and two strong young monks behind. When they had the church to themselves, he told Philemon to guard the door that gave entrance from the cloisters, then ordered the youngsters to move the carved wooden altar and dig a hole beneath where it normally stood.

When the hole was deep enough, Godwyn brought the cathedral ornaments from his chapel, ready to be buried beneath the altar. But before he could complete the job Saul came to the door.

Godwyn heard Philemon say: “The lord prior wishes to be alone.”

Next came Saul’s voice. “Then he may tell me so himself.”

“He has asked me to say so.”

Saul’s voice rose. “I will not be shut out of my own church – least of all by you!”

“Will you offer violence to me, the sub-prior of Kingsbridge?”

“I will pick you up and throw you in the fountain, if you continue to stand in my way.”

Godwyn intervened. He would have preferred to keep Saul in ignorance, but it was not to be. “Let him in, Philemon,” he called.

Philemon stepped aside and Saul marched in. He saw the baggage and, without asking permission, opened the neck of a sack and looked inside. “My soul!” he exclaimed, drawing out a silver-gilt altar cruet. “What’s all this?”

Godwyn was tempted to tell him not to interrogate his superiors. Saul might have accepted such a reproof: he believed in humility, at least in principle. But Godwyn did not want to let suspicion ferment in Saul’s mind, so he said: “I’ve brought the cathedral treasures with me.”

Saul made a face of distaste. “I realize that such gewgaws are thought appropriate in a great cathedral, but they will seem out of place at a humble cell in the forest.”

“You won’t have to look at them. I’m going to hide them. There’s no harm in your knowing where, though I intended to spare you the burden of that knowledge.”

Saul looked suspicious. “Why bring them at all?”

“For safekeeping.”

Saul was not so easily reassured. “I’m surprised the bishop was willing to let them be taken away.”

The bishop had not been asked, of course, but Godwyn did not say that. “At the moment, things are so bad in Kingsbridge that we’re not sure the ornaments are safe even at the priory.”

“Safer than here, though, surely? We are surrounded by outlaws, you know. Thank God you didn’t meet them on the road.”

“God is watching over us.”

“And over His jewellery, I hope.”

Saul’s attitude amounted almost to insubordination, but Godwyn did not reprimand him, fearing that an overreaction would suggest guilt. However, he noted that Saul’s humility had its limits. Perhaps after all Saul did know that he had been hoodwinked twelve years ago.

Now Godwyn said: “Please ask all the monks to stay in the refectory after supper. I will address them as soon as I have finished here.”

Saul accepted this dismissal and went out. Godwyn buried the ornaments, the priory charters, the relics of the saint, and almost all the money. The monks replaced the soil in the hole, tamped it down and put the altar back in its place. There was some loose earth left over, which they took outside and scattered.