Page 104 of The Pillars of the Earth

Henry and Waleran were dumbstruck. No one had anticipated this.

Henry was the first to speak. He said: “Virtually?”

The king shrugged. “I might wriggle out of it, although not without considerable embarrassment. But after all, it was Percy who brought the traitor Bartholomew to justice.”

Waleran burst out: “Not without help, my lord!”

“I knew you had played some part in it. ...”

“It was I who told Percy Hamleigh of the plot against you.”

“Yes. By the way, how didyoulearn of it?”

Philip shuffled his feet. They were on dangerous ground. No one must know that the information had come originally from his brother, Francis, for Francis was still working for Robert of Gloucester, who had been forgiven for his part in the plot.

Waleran said: “The information came from a deathbed confession.”

Philip was relieved. Waleran was repeating the lie Philip had told him, but speaking as if the “confession” had been made to him rather than to Philip. Philip was more than content to have attention drawn away from his own role in this.

The king said: “Still, it was Percy, not you, who attacked Bartholomew’s castle, risking life and limb, and arrested the traitor.”

“You could reward Percy some other way,” Henry put in.

“Shiring is what Percy wants,” the king said. “He knows the area. And he’ll rule effectively there. I could give him Cambridgeshire, but would the fenmen follow him?”

Henry said: “You ought to give thanks to God first, men second. It was God who made you king.”

“But it was Percy who arrested Bartholomew.”

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’sThe 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.”