“It’s just a church.”
“It’s going to be very big. You’re planning to make this the cathedral church, eventually.”
Waleran hesitated, then said: “Suppose, for the sake of argument, that you’re right.”
“The cathedral will have to be run by a chapter, either of monks or of canons.”
“So?”
“I want to be prior.”
That made sense, William thought.
Waleran said tartly: “And you’re so confident of getting the job that you’ve left Kingsbridge without Philip’s permission and with no excuse.”
Remigius looked uncomfortable. William sympathized with him: Waleran in a scornful mood was enough to make anyone fidget. “I hope I’m not overconfident,” Remigius said.
“Presumably you can lead us to Richard.”
“Yes.”
William interrupted excitedly: “Good man! Where is he?”
Remigius remained silent and looked at Waleran.
William said: “Come on, Waleran, give him the job, for God’s sake!”
Still Waleran hesitated. William knew he hated to feel coerced. At last Waleran said: “All right. You shall be prior.”
William said: “Now, where’s Richard?”
Remigius continued to look at Waleran. “From today?”
“From today.”
Remigius now turned to William. “A monastery isn’t just a church and a dormitory. It needs lands, farms, churches paying tithes,”
“Tell me where Richard is, and I’ll give you five villages with their parish churches, just to start you off,” William said.
“The foundation will need a proper charter.”
Waleran said: “You shall have it, never fear.”
William said: “Come on, man, I’ve got an army waiting outside town. Where’s Richard’s hideout?”
“It’s a place called Sally’s Quarry, just off the Winchester road.”
“I know it!” William had to restrain himself from giving a whoop of triumph. “It’s a disused quarry. Nobody goes there anymore.”
“I remember,” said Waleran. “It hasn’t been worked for years. It’s a good hideout—you wouldn’t know it was there unless you actually walked into it.”
“But it’s also a trap,” William said with savage glee. “The worked-out walls are sheer on three sides. Nobody will escape. I won’t be taking any prisoners, either.” His excitement rose as he pictured the scene. “I’ll slaughter them all. It will be like killing chickens in a hen house.”
The two men of God were looking at him oddly. “Feeling a little squeamish, Brother Remigius?” William said scornfully. “Does the thought of a massacre turn the stomach of my lord bishop?” He was right both times, he could tell by their faces. They were great schemers, these religious men, but when it came to bloodshed they still had to rely on men of action. “I know you’ll be praying for me,” he said sarcastically; and he left.
His horse was tied up outside, a black stallion that had replaced—but did not equal—the war-horse Richard had stolen. He mounted and rode out of town. He suppressed his excitement and tried to think coolly about tactics.
He wondered how many outlaws would be at Sally’s Quarry. They had mounted raids with more than a hundred men at a time. There would be at least two hundred of them, perhaps as many as five hundred. William’s force could be outnumbered, so he would need to make the most of his advantages. One was surprise. Another was weaponry: most of the outlaws had clubs, hammers or at best axes, and none had armor. But the most important advantage was that William’s men were on horseback. The outlaws had few horses and it was not likely that many of them would be saddled ready just at the moment William attacked. To give himself a further edge he decided to send a few bowmen up the sides of the hill to shoot down into the quarry for a few moments before the main assault.
