Page 177 of The Pillars of the Earth

“Well, God be praised!” Philip said in astonishment. “Francis!”

The two brothers embraced, and Philip’s eyes filled with tears.

III

The royal reception hall at Winchester Castle looked very different. The dogs had gone, and so had King Stephen’s plain wooden throne, the benches, and the animal skins from the walls. Instead there were embroidered hangings, richly colored carpets, bowls of sweetmeats, and painted chairs. The room smelled of flowers.

Philip was never at ease at the royal court, and afeminineroyal court was enough to put him in a state of quivering anxiety. The Empress Maud was his only hope of getting the quarry back and reopening the market, but he had no confidence that this haughty, willful woman would make a just decision.

The Empress sat on a delicately carved gilded throne, wearing a dress the color of bluebells. She was tall and thin, with proud dark eyes and straight, glossy black hair. Over her gown she wore a pelisse, a knee-length silk coat with a tight waist and flared skirt; a style that had not been seen in England until she arrived, but was now much imitated. She had been married to her first husband for eleven years and her second for fourteen, but she still looked less than forty years old. People raved about her beauty. To Philip she looked rather angular and unfriendly; but he was a poor judge of feminine attraction, being more or less immune to it.

Philip, Francis, William Hamleigh and Bishop Waleran bowed to her and stood waiting. She ignored them for a while and continued talking to a lady-in-waiting. The conversation seemed to be rather trifling, for they both laughed prettily; but Maud did not interrupt it to greet her visitors.

Francis worked closely with her, and saw her almost every day, but they were not great friends. Her brother Robert, Francis’s former employer, had given him to her when she arrived in England, because she needed a first-class secretary. However, this was not the only motive. Francis acted as link man between brother and sister, and kept an eye on the impetuous Maud. It was nothing for brothers and sisters to betray one another, in the treacherous life of the royal court, and Francis’s real role was to make it difficult for Maud to do anything underhand. Maud knew this and accepted it, but her relationship with Francis was nevertheless an uneasy one.

It was two months since the battle of Lincoln, and in that time all had gone well for Maud. Bishop Henry had welcomed her to Winchester (thereby betrayinghisbrother King Stephen) and had convened a great council of bishops and abbots which had elected her queen; and she was now negotiating with the commune of London to arrange her coronation at Westminster. King David of Scotland,, who happened to be her uncle, was on his way to pay her a formal royal visit, one sovereign to another.

Bishop Henry was strongly supported by Bishop Waleran of Kingsbridge; and, according to Francis, Waleran had persuaded William Hamleigh to switch sides, and pledge allegiance to Maud. Now William had come for his reward.

The four men stood waiting: William with his backer, Bishop Waleran, and Prior Philip with his sponsor, Francis. This was the first time Philip had set eyes on Maud. Her appearance did not reassure him: despite her regal air he thought she looked flighty.

When Maud finished chatting she turned to them with a triumphant look, as if to say: See how unimportant you are, even my lady-in-waiting had priority over you. She looked at Philip steadily for a few moments, until he became embarrassed, then she said: “Well, Francis. Have you brought me your twin?”

Francis said: “My brother, Philip, lady, the prior of Kingsbridge.”

Philip bowed again and said: “Somewhat too old and gray to be a twin, lady.” It was the kind of trivial, self-deprecating remark that courtiers seemed to find amusing, but she gave him a frozen look and ignored it. He decided to abandon any attempt to be charming.

She turned to William. “And Sir William Hamleigh, who fought bravely against my army at the battle of Lincoln, but has now seen the error of his ways.”

William bowed and wisely kept his mouth shut.

She turned back to Philip. “You ask me to grant you a license to hold a market.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Francis said: “The income from the market will all be spent on building the cathedral, lady.”

“On what day of the week do you want to hold your market?” she asked.

“Sunday.”

She raised her plucked eyebrows. “You holy men are generally opposed to Sunday markets. Don’t they keep people from church?”

“Not in our case,” Philip said. “People come to labor on the building and attend a service, and they do their buying and selling as well.”

“So you’re already holding this market?” she said sharply.

Philip realized he had blundered. He felt like kicking himself.

Francis rescued him. “No, lady, they are not holding the market at present,” he said. “It began informally, but Prior Philip ordered it to cease until he was granted a license.”

That was the truth, but not the whole truth. However, Maud seemed to accept it. Philip silently prayed for forgiveness for Francis.

Maud said: “Is there no other market in the area?”

William spoke up. “Yes, there is, at Shiring; and the Kingsbridge market has been taking business away.”

Philip said: “But Shiring is twenty miles from Kingsbridge!”