Page 52 of The Pillars of the Earth

Waleran looked pained. He wanted them to listen, not comment. “Bartholomew and Earl Robert of Gloucester will not accept King Stephen, who is the choice of the Church and the barons, as you know.”

William wondered why an archdeacon was telling a lord about this routine baronial squabble. Father was thinking the same thought, for he said: “But there’s nothing the earls can do about it.”

Mother shared Waleran’s impatience with Father’s interjected comments. “Listen,”she hissed at him.

Waleran said: “What I hear is that they’re planning to mount a rebellion and make Maud queen.”

William could not believe his ears. Had the archdeacon really made that foolhardy statement, in his quiet, matter-of-fact murmur, right here in the nave of Kingsbridge Cathedral? A man could be hanged for it, true or false.

Father was startled, too, but Mother said thoughtfully: “Robert of Gloucester is the half brother of Maud. ... It makes sense.”

William wondered how she could be so down-to-earth about such a scandalous piece of news. But she was very clever, and she was almost always right about everything.

Waleran said: “Anyone who could get rid of Earl Bartholomew, and stop the rebellion before it gets started, would earn the eternal gratitude of King Stephen and the Holy Mother Church.”

“Indeed?” said Father in a dazed tone, but Mother was nodding wisely.

“Bartholomew is expected back at home tomorrow.” Waleran looked up as he said this, and caught someone’s eye. He looked back at Mother and said: “I thought you, of all people, would be interested.” Then he moved away and greeted someone else.

William stared after him. Was that really all he was going to say?

William’s parents moved on, and he followed them through the great arched doorway into the open air. All three of them were silent. William had heard a good deal of talk, over the past five weeks, about who would be king, but the matter had seemed to be settled when Stephen was crowned at Westminster Abbey three days before Christmas. Now, if Waleran was right, the matter was an open question once again. But why had Waleran made a point of telling the Hamleighs?

They started across the green to the stables. As soon as they got clear of the crowd outside the church porch, and could no longer be overheard, Father said excitedly: “What a piece of good fortune—the very man who insulted the family, caught out in high treason!”

William did not see why that was such good fortune, but Mother obviously did, for she nodded agreement.

Father went on: “We can arrest him at the point of a sword, and hang him from the nearest tree.”

William had not thought of that, but now he saw it in a flash. If Bartholomew was a traitor, it was all right to kill him. “We can take our revenge,” William burst out. “And instead of being punished for it we’ll get a reward from the king!” They would be able to hold their heads high again, and—

“You stupid fools,” Mother said with sudden viciousness. “You blind, brainless idiots. So you would hang Bartholomew from the nearest tree. Shall I tell you what would happen then?”

Neither of them said anything. It was wiser not to respond to her questions when she was in this frame of mind.

She said: “Robert of Gloucester would deny there had been any plot, and he would embrace King Stephen and swear loyalty; and there would be the end of it, except that you two would be hanged as murderers.”

William shuddered. The idea of being hanged terrified him. He had nightmares about it. However, he could see that Mother was right: the king might believe, or pretend to believe, that no one could have the temerity to rebel against him; and he would think nothing of sacrificing a couple of lives for credibility.

Father said: “You’re right. We’ll truss him up like a pig for the slaughter, and carry him alive to the king at Winchester, and denounce him there, and claim our reward.”

“Why don’t youthink?”said Mother contemptuously. She was very tense, and William could see that she was as excited about all this as Father was, but in a different way. “Wouldn’t Archdeacon Waleran like to take a traitor trussed to the king?” she said. “Doesn’t he want a reward for himself—don’t you know that he lusts with all his heart to be bishop of Kingsbridge? Why has he given you the privilege of making the arrest? Why did he contrive to meet us in church, as if by accident, instead of coming to see us at Hamleigh? Why was our conversation so short and indirect?”

She paused rhetorically, as if for an answer, but both William and Father knew that she did not really want one. William recalled that priests were not supposed to see bloodshed, and considered the possibility that perhaps that might be why Waleran did not want to be involved in arresting Bartholomew; but on further reflection he realized that Waleran had no such scruples.

“I’ll tell you why,” Mother went on. “Because he’s not sure that Bartholomew is a traitor. His information is unreliable. I can’t guess where he got it—perhaps he overheard a drunken conversation, or intercepted an ambiguous message, or spoke with an untrustworthy spy. In any case he’s not willing to stick his neck out. He won’t accuse Earl Bartholomew of treason openly, in case the charge should turn out to be false, and Waleran himself be branded a slanderer. He wants someone else to take the risk, and do the dirty work for him; and then when it is over, if treason should be proved, he will step forward and take his share of the credit; but if Bartholomew should turn out to be innocent, Waleran will simply never admit that he said what he said to us today.”

It seemed obvious when she put it like that. But without her, William and his father would have fallen right into Waleran’s trap. They would have willingly acted as Waleran’s agents and taken the risks for him. Mother’s political judgment was acute.

Father said: “Do you mean we must just forget about this?”

“Certainly not.” Her eyes glittered. “It’s still a chance to destroy the people who have humiliated us.” A groom held her horse ready. She took the reins and waved him away, but she did not mount immediately. She stood beside the horse, patting its neck reflectively, and spoke in a low voice. “We need evidence of the conspiracy, so that no one will be able to deny it after we’ve made our accusation. We’ll have to get that evidence by stealth, without revealing what we’re looking for. Then, when we have it, we can arrest Earl Bartholomew and take him to the king. Confronted with proof, Bartholomew will confess, and beg for mercy. Then we ask for our reward.”

“And deny that Waleran helped us,” added Father.

Mother shook her head. “Let him have his share of the glory, and his reward. Then he will be indebted to us. That can’t do us anything but good.”

“But how shall we go about finding evidence of the plot?” said Father anxiously.