Page 293 of The Pillars of the Earth

“Off you go.”

Jonathan walked quickly across the yard. His solemn mood had left him already, and his natural exuberance had returned before he reached the dairy. Philip watched him until he disappeared into the building. I was just like that, except perhaps not so clever, he thought.

He went the opposite way, to the chapter house. Francis had sent a message asking Philip to meet him here discreetly. As far as the Kingsbridge monks were concerned, Philip was making a routine visit to a cell. The meeting could not be kept from the monks here, of course, but they were so isolated they had nobody to tell. Only the prior of the cell ever came to Kingsbridge, and Philip had sworn him to secrecy.

He and Francis had arrived this morning, and although they could not plausibly claim that the meeting was an accident, they were maintaining a pretense that they had organized it only for the pleasure of seeing one another. They had both attended high mass, then taken dinner with the monks. Now was their first chance to talk alone.

Francis was waiting in the chapter house, sitting on a stone bench against the wall. Philip almost never saw his own reflection—there were no looking-glasses in a monastery—so he measured his own aging by the changes in his brother, who was only two years younger. Francis at forty-two had a few threads of silver in his black hair, and a crop of stress lines around his bright blue eyes. He was much heavier around the neck and waist than last time Philip had seen him. I’ve probably got more gray hair and less surplus fat, Philip thought; but I wonder which of us has more worry lines?

He sat down beside Francis and looked across the empty octagonal room. Francis said: “How are things?”

“The savages are in control again,” Philip said. “The priory is running out of money, we’ve almost stopped building the cathedral, Kingsbridge is on the decline, half the county is starving and it’s not safe to travel.”

Francis nodded. “It’s the same story all over England.”

“Perhaps the savages will always be in control,” Philip said gloomily. “Perhaps greed will always outweigh wisdom in the councils of the mighty; perhaps fear will always overcome compassion in the mind of a man with a sword in his hand.”

“You’re not usually so pessimistic.”

“We were attacked by outlaws a few weeks ago. It was a pitiable effort: no sooner had the townsmen killed a few than the outlaws started fighting among themselves. But when they retreated, the young men of our town chased after the poor wretches and slaughtered all they could catch. It was sickening.”

Francis shook his head. “It’s hard to understand.”

“I think I do understand it. They’d been frightened, and could only exorcise their fear by shedding the blood of the people who had scared them. I saw that in the eyes of the men who killed our mother and father. They killed because they were scared. But what can take away their fear?”

Francis sighed. “Peace, justice, prosperity ... Hard things to achieve.”

Philip nodded. “Well. What are you up to?”

“I’m working for the son of the Empress Maud. His name is Henry.”

Philip had heard talk of this Henry. “What’s he like?”

“He’s a very clever and determined young man. His father is dead, so he’s count of Anjou. He’s also duke of Normandy, because he’s the eldest grandson of old Henry, who used to be king of England and duke of Normandy. And he’s married Eleanor of Aquitaine, so now he’s duke of Aquitaine as well.”

“He rules over more territory than the king of France.”

“Exactly.”

“But what’s helike?”

“Educated, hardworking, fast-moving, restless, strong-willed. He has a fearsome temper.”

“I sometimes wish I had a fearsome temper,” Philip said. “It keeps people on their toes. But everyone knows I’m always reasonable, so I’m never obeyed with quite the same alacrity as a prior who might explode at any minute.”

Francis laughed. “Stay just the way you are,” he said. He became serious again. “Henry has made me realize the importance of the king’s personality. Look at Stephen: his judgment is poor; he’s determined in short bursts, then he gives up; he’s courageous to the point of foolishness and he pardons his enemies all the time. People who betray him risk very little: they know they can count on his mercy. Consequently, he’s struggled unsuccessfully for eighteen years to rule a land that was a united kingdom when he took it over. Henry already has more control over his collection of previously independent duchies and counties than Stephen has ever had here.”

Philip was struck by an idea. “Why did Henry send you to England?” he said.

“To survey the kingdom.”

“What have you found?”

“That it is lawless and starving, battered by storms and ravaged by war.”

Philip nodded thoughtfully. Young Henry was duke of Normandy because he was the eldest son of Maud, who was the only legitimate child of old King Henry, who had been duke of Normandy and king of England.

By that line of descent young Henry could also claim to be king of England.