Page 207 of The Pillars of the Earth

“He ought to,” Waleran agreed. “But that doesn’t mean he will.”

“But I’ve come over to his side!”

“Richard of Kingsbridge never left it.”

William permitted himself a smug smile. “I think I’ve disposed of the threat from Richard.”

“Oh? How?”

“Richard has never had any land. The only way he’s been able to keep up a knightly entourage is by using his sister’s money.”

“It’s unorthodox, but it’s worked so far.”

“But now his sister no longer has any money. I set fire to her barn yesterday. She’s destitute. And so is Richard.”

Waleran nodded acknowledgment. “In that case it’s only a matter of time before he disappears from sight. And then, I should think, the earldom is yours.”

Dinner was ready. William’s men-at-arms sat below the salt and flirted with the palace laundresses. William was at the head of the table with Waleran and his archdeacons. Now that he had relaxed, William rather envied the men with the laundresses: archdeacons made dull company.

Dean Baldwin offered William a dish of peas and said: “Lord William, how will you prevent someone else from doing what Prior Philip tried to do, and starting his own fleece fair?”

William was surprised by this question. “They wouldn’t dare!”

“Another monk wouldn’t dare, perhaps; but an earl might.”

“He’d need a license.”

“He might get one, if he fought for Stephen.”

“Not in this county.”

“Baldwin is right, William,” said Bishop Waleran. “All around the borders of your earldom there are towns that could hold a fleece fair: Wilton, Devizes, Wells, Marlborough, Wallingford. ...”

“I burned Kingsbridge, I can burn any place,” William said irritably. He took a swallow of wine. It angered him to have his victory deprecated.

Waleran took a roll of new bread and broke it without eating any. “Kingsbridge is an easy target,” he argued. “It has no town wall, no castle, not even a big church for people to take refuge in. And it’s run by a monk who has no knights or men-at-arms. Kingsbridge is defenseless. Most towns aren’t.”

Dean Baldwin added: “And when the civil war is over, whoever wins, you won’t even be able to burn a town like Kingsbridge and get away with it. That’s breaking the king’s peace. No king could overlook it in normal times.”

William saw their point and it made him angry. “Then the whole thing might have been for nothing,” he said. He put down his knife. His stomach was cramped with tension and he could no longer eat.

Waleran said: “Of course, if Aliena is ruined, that leaves a kind of vacancy.”

William did not follow him. “What do you mean?”

“Most of the wool in the county was sold to her this year. What will happen next year?”

“I don’t know.”

Waleran continued in the same thoughtful manner. “Apart from Prior Philip, all the wool producers for miles around are either tenants of the earl or tenants of the bishop. You’re the earl, in everything but name, and I’m the bishop. If we forced all our tenants to sell their fleeces to us, we would control two thirds of the wool trade in the county. We would sell at the Shiring Fleece Fair. There wouldn’t be enough business left to justify another fair, even if someone got a license.”

It was a brilliant idea, William saw immediately. “And we’d make as much money as Aliena did,” he pointed out.

“Indeed.” Waleran took a delicate bite of the meat in front of him and chewed reflectively. “So you’ve burned Kingsbridge, ruined your worst enemy, and established a new source of income for yourself. Not a bad day’s work.”

William took a deep draft of wine, and felt a glow in his belly. He looked down the table, and his eye lit on a plump dark-haired girl who was smiling coquettishly at two of his men. Perhaps he would have her tonight. He knew how it would be. When he got her in a corner, and threw her on the floor, and lifted her skirt, he would remember Aliena’s face, and the expression of terror and despair as she saw her wool going up in flames; and then he would be able to do it. He smiled at the prospect, and took another slice off the haunch of venison.

Prior Philip was shaken to the core by the burning of Kingsbridge. The unexpectedness of William’s move, the brutality of the attack, the dreadful scenes as the crowd panicked, the awful slaughter, and his own utter impotence, all combined to leave him stunned.