Page 84 of The Pillars of the Earth

He paused to let those words sink in, and the easing of tension in the room was almost tangible. He gave them a moment, then went on. “God in his wisdom sent us a master builder yesterday to help us through this crisis. He has assured me that if we work under his direction we can have the cloisters ready for normal use within a week.”

There was a subdued murmur of pleased surprise.

“I’m afraid our church will never be used for services again—it will have to be built anew, and that will take many years, of course. However, Tom Builder believes the crypt to be undamaged. The crypt is consecrated, so we can hold services there. Tom says he can make it safe within a week after finishing the cloisters. So, you see, we can resume normal worship in time for Quinquagesima Sunday.”

Once again their relief was audible. Philip saw that he had succeeded in soothing and reassuring them. At the beginning of this chapter they had been frightened and confused; now they were calm and hopeful. Philip added: “Brothers who feel themselves too frail to undertake physical labor will be excused. Brothers who work all day with Tom Builder will be allowed red meat and wine.”

Philip sat down. Remigius was the first to speak. “How much will we have to pay this builder?” he asked suspiciously.

You could trust Remigius to try to find fault. “Nothing, yet,” Philip replied. “Tom knows our poverty. He will work for food and lodging for himself and his family, until we can afford his wages.” That was ambiguous, Philip realized: it might mean that Tom would not be entitled to wages until the priory could afford it, whereas the reality was that the priory would owe him wages for every day he worked, starting today. But before Philip could clarify the agreement, Remigius spoke again.

“And where will they lodge?”

“I have given them the guesthouse.”

“They could lodge with one of the village families.”

“Tom has made us a generous offer,” Philip said impatiently. “We’re fortunate to have him. I don’t want to make him sleep crowded in with someone’s goats and pigs when we have a decent house standing empty.”

“There are two women in that family—”

“A woman and a girl,” Philip corrected him.

“One woman, then. We don’t want a woman living in the priory!”

The monks muttered restively: they did not like Remigius’s quibbling. Philip said: “It’s perfectly normal for women to stay in the guesthouse.”

“Notthatwoman!” Remigius blurted, then he immediately looked as if he regretted it.

Philip frowned. “Do you know the woman, Brother?”

“She once inhabited these parts,” Remigius said reluctantly.

Philip was intrigued. It was the second time something of this sort had happened in connection with the builder’s wife: Waleran Bigod had also been disturbed by the sight of her. Philip said: “What’s wrong with her?”

Before Remigius could answer, Brother Paul, the old monk who kept the bridge, spoke up. “I remember,” he said rather dreamily. “There was a wild forest girl used to live around here—oh, it must be fifteen year ago. That’s who she reminds me of—probably it’s the same girl, grown up.”

“People said she was a witch,” Remigius said. “We can’t have a witch living in the priory!”

“I don’t know about that,” said Brother Paul in the same slow, meditative voice. “Any woman who lives wild gets called a witch sooner or later. People saying a thing doesn’t make it so. I’m content to leave it to Prior Philip to judge, in his wisdom, whether she’s a danger.”

“Wisdom doesn’t come immediately with the assumption of monastic office,” Remigius snapped.

“Indeed not,” said Brother Paul slowly. He looked directly at Remigius and said: “Sometimes it doesn’t come at all.”

The monks laughed at that riposte, which was all the funnier for coming from an unexpected source. Philip had to pretend to be displeased. He clapped his hands for silence. “Enough!” he said. “These matters are solemn. I will question the woman. Now let us go about our duties. Those who wish to be excused from labor may retire to the infirmary for prayer and meditation. The rest, follow me.”

He left the storeroom and walked around the back of the kitchen buildings to the south archway which led into the cloisters. A few monks left the group and headed for the infirmary, among them Remigius and Andrew Sacrist. There was nothing frail about either of them, Philip thought, but they would probably cause trouble if they joined the labor force, so he was happy to see them go. Most of the monks followed Philip.

Tom had already marshaled the priory servants and started work. He stood on the pile of rubble in the cloister square with a large piece of chalk in his hand, marking stones with the letter T, his initial.

For the first time ever, it occurred to Philip to wonder how such large stones could be moved. They were certainly too big for a man to lift. He saw the answer immediately. A pair of poles were laid side by side on the ground, and a stone was rolled along until it rested across the poles. Then two people would take the ends of the poles and lift. Tom Builder must have shown them how to do that.

The work was proceeding rapidly, with most of the priory’s sixty servants helping, making a stream of people carrying stones away and coming back for more. The sight lifted Philip’s spirits, and he gave up a silent prayer of thanks for Tom Builder.

Tom saw him and came down off the pile. Before speaking to Philip he addressed one of the servants, the tailor who sewed the monks’ clothes. “Start the monks carrying stones,” he instructed the man. “Make sure they take only the stones I’ve marked, otherwise the pile may slip and kill someone.” He turned to Philip. “I’ve marked enough to keep them going for a while.”

“Where are they taking the stones?” Philip asked.