Aldred let out a bark of laughter then apologized. “I’m sorry, archbishop, but it is almost funny.”
“I’ve dismissed him. Archdeacon Degbert will deputize for now.”
Aldred frowned. “I don’t have a high opinion of Degbert. He was dean here when this place was a minster.”
“I know, and I never thought well of him. I told him not to hope for promotion to bishop.”
Aldred was relieved. “Who then will take Wynstan’s place?”
“You, I hope.”
Aldred was astounded. He had not been expecting that. “I’m a monk,” he said.
“So am I,” said Alphage.
“But... I mean... my work is here. I’m the prior.”
“It may be God’s will for you to move on.”
Aldred wished he had been given more time to prepare for this conversation. It was a great honor to be made a bishop, and a tremendous opportunity to further God’s work. But he could not bear the thought of abandoning King’s Bridge. What about the new church? What about the growth of the town? Who would take his place?
He thought about Shiring. Could he realize his dream there? Could he turn Shiring Cathedral into a world-class center of learning? He would first have to deal with a group of priests who had become idle and corrupt under Wynstan. Perhaps he could dismiss all the priests and replace them with monks, following the example of Elfric, Alphage’s predecessor at Canterbury. But the Shiring monks were under the authority of Abbot Hildred, Aldred’s ancient enemy. No, a move to Shiring would set his project back years.
“I’m honored and flattered as well as surprised, my lord archbishop,” he said. “But I beg to be excused. I can’t leave King’s Bridge.”
Alphage looked cross. “That’s a great disappointment,” he said. “You’re a man of unusual potential—you might have my job, oneday—but you’ll never rise in the church hierarchy if you remain merely prior of King’s Bridge.”
Once again Aldred hesitated. Few clergymen could be indifferent to the prospect that was being held out to him. But he was struck by a new thought. “My lord,” he said, thinking aloud, “is it impossible that the seat of the diocese could be moved to King’s Bridge?”
Alphage looked startled. Clearly it was a new thought to him, too. He spoke tentatively. “Certainly I have the power to do that. But you don’t have a big enough church here.”
“I’m building a new one, much bigger. I’ll show you round the site.”
“I noticed it as I rode in. But when will the church be ready?”
“We can start using it long before it’s finished. I’ve already begun work on the crypt. We could be holding services there in five years.”
“Who’s in charge of the design?”
“I asked Edgar, but he turned me down. However, I want a Norman master mason. They’re the best.”
Alphage looked doubtful. “In the interim, would you be willing to travel to Shiring for every major festival—Easter, Whitsun, Christmas—say six times a year?”
“Yes.”
“So I could give you a letter promising to make King’s Bridge the bishop’s seat as soon as you’re able to use the new church?”
“Yes.”
Alphage smiled. “You drive a hard bargain. Very well.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
Aldred felt jubilant. Bishop of King’s Bridge! He was only forty-two.
Alphage became thoughtful again. “I wonder what I am to do with Wynstan.”
“Where is he now?”
