Francis said: “My lady, the rule is that markets must be at least fourteen miles apart. By that criterion Kingsbridge and Shiring do not compete.”
She nodded, apparently willing to accept Francis’s ruling on a point of law. So far, thought Philip, it’s going our way.
Maud said: “You also ask for the right to take stone from the earl of Shiring’s quarry.”
“We have had that right for many years, but William lately threw out our quarrymen, killing five—”
“Who gave you the right to take stone?” she interrupted.
“King Stephen—”
“The usurper!”
Francis hastily said: “My lady, Prior Philip naturally accepts that all edicts of the pretender Stephen are invalid unless ratified by you.”
Philip accepted no such thing but he saw that it would be unwise to say so.
William blurted out: “I closed the quarry in retaliation for his illegal market!”
It was amazing, Philip thought, how a clear case of injustice could come to seem evenly balanced when argued at the court.
Maud said: “This entire squabble came about because Stephen’s original ruling was foolish.”
Bishop Waleran spoke for the first time. “There, lady, I heartily agree with you,” he said oilily.
“It was asking for trouble, to give the quarry to one person but let another mine it,” she said. “The quarry must belong to one or the other.”
That was true, Philip thought. And if she were to follow the spirit of Stephen’s original ruling, it would belong to Kingsbridge.
She went on: “My decision is that it shall belong to my noble ally, Sir William.”
Philip’s heart sank. The cathedral building could not have come on so well without free access to that quarry. It would have to slow right down while Philip tried to find the money to buy stone. And all because of the whim of this capricious woman! It made him fume.
William said: “Thank you, lady.”
Maud said: “However, Kingsbridge shall have market rights as at Shiring.”
Philip’s spirits rose again. The market would not quite pay for the stone but it was a big help. It meant he would be scraping around for money again, just as he had at the beginning, but he could carry on.
Maud had given each one a part of what he wanted. Perhaps she was not so empty-headed after all.
Francis said: “Market rights as at Shiring, lady?”
“That’s what I said.”
Philip was not sure why Francis had repeated it. It was common for licenses to refer to the rights enjoyed by another town: it was evenhanded and saved writing. Philip would have to check exactly what Shiring’s charter said. There might be restrictions, or extra privileges.
Maud said: “So you have both got something. William gets the quarry and Prior Philip gets the market. And in return, each of you will pay me one hundred pounds. That is all.” She turned away.
Philip was flabbergasted. A hundred pounds! The priory did not have a hundred pennies at the moment. How was he to raise this money? The market would take years to earn a hundred pounds. It was a devastating blow that would set the building program back permanently. He stood staring at Maud, but she was apparently deep in conversation with her lady-in-waiting again. Francis nudged him. Philip opened his mouth to speak. Francis held a finger to his lips. Philip said: “But ...” Francis shook his head urgently.
Philip knew Francis was right. He let his shoulders slump in defeat. Helplessly, he turned away and walked out of the royal presence.
Francis was impressed when Philip showed him around Kingsbridge Priory. “I was here ten years ago, and it was a dump,” he said irreverently. “You’ve really brought it to life.”
He was very taken with the writing room, which Tom had finished while Philip was in Lincoln. A small building next to the chapter house, it had large windows, a fireplace with a chimney, a row of writing desks, and a big oak cupboard for the books. Four of the brothers were at work there already, standing at the high desks, writing on parchment sheets with quill pens. Three were copying: one the Psalms of David, one Saint Matthew’s Gospel, and one the Rule of Saint Benedict. In addition, Brother Timothy was writing a history of England, although as he had begun with the creation of the world Philip was afraid the old boy might never finish it. The writing room was small—Philip had not wanted to divert much stone from the cathedral—but it was a warm, dry, well-lit place, just what was needed. “The priory has disgracefully few books, and as they’re iniquitously expensive to buy, this is the only way to build our collection,” Philip explained.
In the undercroft was a workshop where an old monk was teaching two youngsters how to stretch the skin of a sheep for parchment, how to make ink, and how to bind the sheets into a book. Francis said: “You’ll be able to sell books, too.”
