As the bishops and Philip entered, a big man in expensive clothes was leaving. He nodded in a familiar way to Bishop Henry and ignored Waleran. He was probably a powerful baron, Philip thought.
Bishop Henry approached the king, bowed, and said: “Good morning, Stephen.”
“I still haven’t seen that bastard Ranulf,” said King Stephen. “If he doesn’t show up soon I’m going to cut his fingers off.”
Henry said: “He’ll be here any day, I promise you, but perhaps you should cut his fingers off anyway.”
Philip had no idea who Ranulf was or why the king wanted to see him, but he got the impression that although Stephen was displeased, he was not serious about mutilating the man.
Before Philip could give it any further thought, Waleran stepped forward and bowed, and Henry said: “You remember Waleran Bigod, the new bishop of Kingsbridge.”
“Yes,” Stephen said, “but who’s this?” He looked at Philip.
Waleran said: “This is my prior.”
Waleran did not say his name, so Philip supplied it. “Philip of Gwynedd, prior of Kingsbridge.” His voice sounded louder than he had intended. He bowed.
“Come forward, father prior,” Stephen said. “You seem afraid. What are you worried about?”
Philip could not think how to answer that. He was worried about so many things. In desperation he said: “I’m worried because I don’t have a clean robe to wear.”
Stephen laughed, but not unkindly. “Then stop worrying,” he said. With a glance at his well-dressed brother he added: “I like a monk to look like a monk, not like a king.”
Philip felt a little better.
Stephen said: “I heard about the fire. How are you managing?”
Philip said: “On the day of the fire, God sent us a builder. He repaired the cloisters very quickly, and we use the crypt for services. With his help, we’re clearing the ruins ready for rebuilding; and he has drawn plans for a new church.”
Waleran raised his eyebrows at that: he did not know about the plans. Philip would have told him, if he had asked; but he had not. The king said: “Commendably prompt. When will you begin to build?”
“As soon as I can find the money.”
Bishop Henry cut in: “That’s why I’ve brought Prior Philip and Bishop Waleran to see you. Neither the priory nor the diocese has the resources to finance a project this big.”
“Nor does the Crown, my dear brother,” said Stephen.
Philip was discouraged: that was not a promising beginning.
Henry said: “I know. That’s why I’ve looked for a way in which you could make it possible for them to rebuild Kingsbridge, but at no cost to yourself.”
Stephen looked skeptical. “And did you succeed in devising such an ingenious, not to say magical, scheme?”
“Yes. My suggestion is that you should give the earl of Storing’s lands to the diocese to finance the building program.”
Philip held his breath.
The king looked thoughtful.
Waleran opened his mouth to speak, but Henry silenced him with a gesture.
The king said: “It’s a clever idea. I’d like to do it.”
Philip’s heart leaped.
The king said: “Unfortunately, I’ve just virtually promised the earldom to Percy Hamleigh.”
A groan escaped Philip’s lips. He had thought the king was going to say yes. The disappointment was like a knife wound.
