“A new chapter of canons,” Waleran said. “Appointed by me.”
William had been as puzzled as his father, but now he began to see Waleran’s thinking: in moving the cathedral to Shiring, Waleran would also take personal control of it.
“What about the money?” said Father. “Who would pay for the new cathedral, if not Kingsbridge Priory?”
“I think we’d find that most of the priory’s property is dedicated to the cathedral,” Waleran said. “If the cathedral moves, the property goes with it. For example, when King Stephen divided up the old earldom of Shiring, he gave the hill farms to Kingsbridge Priory, as we know only too well; but he did that in order to help finance the new cathedral. If we told him that someone else was building the new cathedral, he would expect the priory to release those lands to the new builders. The monks would put up a fight, of course; but examination of their charters would settle the matter.”
The picture was becoming clearer to William. Not only would Waleran get control of the cathedral by this stratagem; he would also get his hands on most of the priory’s wealth.
Father was thinking the same thing. “It’s a grand scheme for you, Bishop, but what’s in it for me?”
It was Mother who answered him. “Can’t you see?” she said tetchily. “You own Shiring. Think how much prosperity would come to the town along with the cathedral. There would be hundreds of craftsmen and laborers building the church for years: they all have to live somewhere and pay you rent, and buy food and clothing at your market. Then there will be the canons who run the cathedral; and the worshipers who will come to Shiring instead of Kingsbridge at Easter and Whitsun for the big services; and the pilgrims who come to visit the shrines. ... They all spend money.” Her eyes were bright with greed. William could not remember seeing her so enthusiastic for a long time. “If we handle this right, we could turn Shiring into one of the most important cities in the kingdom!”
And it will be mine, William thought. When Father dies I will be the earl.
“All right,” said Father. “It will ruin Philip, it will bring power to you, Bishop, and it will make me rich. How could it be done?”
“The decision to move the location of the cathedral must be made by the archbishop of Canterbury, theoretically.”
Mother looked at him sharply. “Why ‘theoretically’?”
“Because there is no archbishop just now. William of Corbeil died at Christmas and King Stephen has not yet nominated his successor. However, we know who is likely to get the job: our old friend Henry of Winchester. He wants the job; the pope has already given him interim control; and his brother is the king.”
“How much of a friend is he?” said Father. “He didn’t do much for you when you were trying to get this earldom.”
Waleran shrugged. “He’ll help me if he can. We’ll have to make a convincing case.”
Mother said: “He won’t want to make powerful enemies, just now, if he’s hoping to be made archbishop.”
“Correct. But Philip isn’t powerful enough to matter. He’s not likely to be consulted about the choice of archbishop.”
“So why shouldn’t Henry just give us what we want?” William asked.
“Because he’snotthe archbishop, not yet; and he knows that people are watching him to see how he behaves during his caretakership. He wants to be seen making judicious decisions, not just handing out favors to his friends. Plenty of time for thatafterthe election.”
Mother said reflectively: “So the best that can be said is that he will listen sympathetically to our case. What is our case?”
“That Philip can’t build a cathedral, and we can.”
“And how shall we persuade him of that?”
“Have you been to Kingsbridge lately?”
“No.”
“I was there at Easter.” Waleran smiled. “They haven’t started building yet. All they’ve got is a flat piece of ground with a few stakes banged into the soil and some ropes marking where they hope to build. They’ve started digging foundations, but they’ve only gone down a few feet. There’s a mason working there with his apprentice, and the priory carpenter, and occasionally a monk or two doing some laboring. It’s a very unimpressive sight, especially in the rain. I’d like Bishop Henry to see it.”
Mother nodded sagely. William could see that the plan was good, even though he hated the thought of collaborating with the loathsome Waleran Bigod.
Waleran went on: “We’ll brief Henry beforehand on what a small and insignificant place Kingsbridge is, and how poor the monastery is; then we’ll show him the site where it has taken them more than a year to dig a few shallow holes; then we’ll take him to Shiring and impress him with how fast we could build a cathedral there, with the bishop and the earl and the townspeople all putting their maximum energies into the project.”
“Will Henry come?” Mother said anxiously.
“All we can do is ask,” Waleran replied. “I’ll invite him to visit on Whitsunday in his archiepiscopal role. That will flatter him by implying that we already consider him to be the archbishop.”
Father said: “We must keep this secret from Prior Philip.”
“I don’t think that will be possible,” Waleran said. “The bishop can’t make a surprise visit to Kingsbridge—it would look very odd.”
