Page 90 of The Pillars of the Earth
They went into the ruins. A group of seven or eight men, made up of monks and priory servants in about equal numbers, was lifting a half-burned roof beam under the supervision of Tom. The whole site looked busy but tidy. Philip felt that the air of bustling efficiency did him credit, although Tom was responsible.
Tom came to meet them. He towered over everyone else. Philip said to Waleran: “This is our master builder, Tom. He’s managed to make the cloisters and the crypt usable again already. We’re very grateful to him.”
“I remember you,” Waleran said to Tom. “You came to me just after Christmas. I didn’t have any work for you.”
“That’s right,” Tom said in his deep, dusty voice. “Perhaps God was saving me to help Prior Philip in his time of trouble.”
“A theological builder,” Waleran mocked.
Tom reddened faintly under his dusty skin. Philip thought that Waleran must have a strong nerve, to make fun of such a big man, even though Waleran was a bishop and Tom only a mason.
“What is your next step here?” Waleran asked.
“We must make the place safe by knocking down the remaining walls, before they fall on someone,” Tom replied, meekly enough. “Then we should clear the site ready for the building of the new church. As soon as possible we should find tall trees for the timbers of the new roof—the longer the wood is seasoned, the better the roof will be.”
Philip said hastily: “Before we start felling trees we must find the money to pay for them.”
“We’ll speak about that later,” Waleran said enigmatically.
That remark intrigued Philip. He hoped Waleran had a scheme for raising the money to build the new church. If the priory had to rely on its own resources it would not be able to begin for many years. Philip had been agonizing over this for the past three weeks, and he still had not come up with a solution.
He led the group along the path that had been cleared through the rubble to the cloisters. One glance was sufficient for Waleran to see that this area had been set to rights. They moved on from there and crossed the green to the prior’s house in the southeast corner of the close.
Once inside, Waleran took off his cloak and sat down, holding his pale hands out to the fire. Brother Milius, the kitchener, served hot spiced wine in small wooden bowls. Waleran sipped his and said to Philip:. “Has it occurred to you that Tom Builder might have started the fire to provide himself with work?”
“Yes, it has,” Philip said. “But I don’t think he did. He would have had to get inside the church, which was securely locked up.”
“He might have gone in during the day and hidden himself away.”
“Then he would have been unable to get out after he started the fire.” He shook his head. This was not the real reason he was sure Tom was innocent. “Anyway, I don’t believe him capable of such a thing. He’s an intelligent man—much more so than you might think at first—but he’s not sly. If he were guilty, I think I would have seen it in his face, when I looked him in the eye and asked him how he thought the fire might have started.”
Somewhat to Philip’s surprise, Waleran agreed immediately. “I believe you’re right,” he said. “I can’t see him setting fire to a church, somehow. He’s just not the type.”
“We may never know for sure how the fire started,” Philip said. “But we must face the problem of raising the money to build a new church. I don’t know—”
“Yes,” Waleran interrupted, and held up a hand to stop Philip. He turned to the others in the room. “I must speak to Prior Philip alone,” he said. “The rest of you may leave us.”
Philip was intrigued. He could not imagine why Waleran had to speak to him alone about this.
Remigius said: “Before we go, lord bishop, there is something the brothers have asked me to say to you.”
Philip thought: What now?
Waleran raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And why should they askyou,rather than your prior, to raise a matter with me?”
“Because Prior Philip is deaf to their complaint.”
Philip was angry and mystified. There had been no complaint. Remigius was just trying to embarrass Philip by creating a scene in front of the bishop-elect. Philip caught an inquiring glance from Waleran. He shrugged and tried to look unconcerned. “I can’t wait to hear what the complaint is,” he said. “Please go ahead, Brother Remigius—if you’requitesure the matter is important enough to require the attention of the bishop.”
Remigius said: “There is a woman living in the priory.”
“Not that again,” Philip said with exasperation. “She’s the builder’s wife, and she lives in the guesthouse.”
“She’s a witch,” said Remigius.
Philip wondered why Remigius was doing this. Remigius had mounted this particular horse once already, and it would not run. The point was moot, but the prior was the authority, and Waleran was bound to support Philip, unless he wanted to be called in every time Remigius disagreed with his superior. Wearily, Philip said: “She’s not a witch.”
“Have you interrogated the woman?” Remigius demanded.
