Ken Follett - World Without End

“Nonsense,” said Prior Anthony. “How could a town barber be right and an educated monk be wrong?”

Godwyn smothered a triumphant grin.

The door flew open, and a young man in the robes of a priest strode in. Godwyn recognized Richard of Shiring, the younger of the two sons of Earl Roland. His nod to the prior and prioress was so perfunctory as to be impolite. He went straight to the bedside and spoke to the knight. “What the devil has happened?” he said.

Thomas lifted a weak hand and beckoned Richard closer. The young priest leaned over the patient. Thomas whispered in his ear.

Father Richard drew away as if shocked. “Absolutely not!” he said.

Thomas beckoned again, and the process was repeated: another whisper, another outraged reaction. This time, Richard said: “But why?”

Thomas did not reply.

Richard said: “You are asking for something that is not in our power to give.”

Thomas nodded firmly, as if to say: Yes, it is.

“You’re giving us no choice.”

Thomas shook his head weakly from side to side.

Richard turned to Prior Anthony. “Sir Thomas wishes to become a monk here at the priory.”

There was a moment of surprised silence. Cecilia was the first to react. “But he’s a man of violence!”

“Come on, it’s not unknown,” Richard said impatiently. “A fighting man sometimes decides to abandon his life of warfare and seek forgiveness for his sins.”

“In old age, perhaps,” Cecilia said. “This man is not yet twenty-five. He’s fleeing some danger.” She looked hard at Richard. “Who threatens his life?”

“Curb your curiosity,” Richard said rudely. “He wants to be a monk, not a nun, so you need not inquire further.” It was a shocking way to talk to a prioress, but the sons of earls could get away with such rudeness. He turned to Anthony. “You must admit him.”

Anthony said: “The priory is too poor to take on any more monks – unless there were to be a gift that would pay the costs…”

“It will be arranged.”

“It would have to be adequate to the need-”

“It will be arranged!”

“Very well.”

Cecilia was suspicious. She said to Anthony: “Do you know more about this man than you’re telling me?”

“I see no reason to turn him away.”

“What makes you think he’s a genuine penitent?”

Everyone looked at Thomas. His eyes had closed.

Anthony said: “He will have to prove his sincerity during his novitiate, like anyone else.”

She was clearly dissatisfied, but for once Anthony was not asking her for the money, so there was nothing she could do. “We’d better get on with treating this wound,” she said.

Saul said: “He refused Brother Joseph’s treatment. That’s why we had to fetch the Father Prior.”

Anthony leaned over the patient. In a loud voice, as if speaking to someone deaf, he said: “You must have the treatment prescribed by Brother Joseph. He knows best.”

Thomas appeared unconscious.

Anthony turned to Joseph. “He is no longer objecting.”

Matthew Barber said: “He could lose his arm!”

“You’d better leave,” Anthony told him.

Looking angry, Matthew went out.

Anthony said to Richard: “Perhaps you would come to the prior’s house for a cup of cider.”

“Thank you.”

As they left, Anthony said to Godwyn: “Stay here and help the Mother Prioress. Come to me before Vespers and tell me how the knight is recovering.”

Prior Anthony did not normally worry about the progress of individual patients. Clearly he had a special interest in this one.

Godwyn watched as Brother Joseph applied ointment to the arm of the now-unconscious knight. He thought he had probably ensured Cecilia’s financial support by giving the correct answer to the question, but he was keen to get her explicit agreement. When Brother Joseph had done, and Ceciha was bathing Thomas’s forehead with rose water, he said: “I hope you will consider my request favourably.”

She gave him a sharp look. “I might as well tell you now that I have decided to give the money to Saul.”

Godwyn was shocked. “But I gave the right answer!”

“Did you?”

“Surely you didn’t agree with the barber?”

She raised her eyebrows. “I won’t be interrogated by you, Brother Godwyn.”

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “I just don’t understand it.”

“I know.”

If she was going to be enigmatic there was no point in talking to her. Godwyn turned away, shaking with frustration and disappointment. She was giving the money to Saul! Was it because he was related to the earl? Godwyn thought not: she was too independent-minded. It was Saul’s showy piety that had tipped the balance, he decided. But Saul would never be leader of anything. What a waste. Godwyn wondered how he was going to break this news to his mother. She would be furious – but who would she blame? Anthony? Godwyn himself? A familiar feeling of dread came over him as he pictured his mother’s wrath.

As he thought of her, he saw her enter the hospital by the door at the far end, a tall woman with a prominent bust. She caught his eye and stood by the door, waiting for him to come to her. He walked slowly, trying to figure out what to say.

“Your Aunt Rose is dying,” Petranilla said as soon as he was close.

“May God bless her soul. Mother Cecilia told me.”

“You look shocked – but you know how ill she is.”

“It’s not Aunt Rose. I’ve had other bad news.” He swallowed. “I can’t go to Oxford. Uncle Anthony won’t pay for it, and Mother Cecilia turned me down too.”

She did not explode immediately, to his great relief. However, her mouth tightened into a grim line. “But why?” she said.

“He hasn’t got the money, and she is sending Saul.”

“Saul Whitehead? He’ll never amount to anything.”

“Well, at least he’s going to be a physician.”

She looked him in the eye, and he shrivelled. “I think you handled this badly,” she said. “You should have discussed it with me beforehand.”

He had feared she would take this line. “How can you say I mishandled it?” he protested.

“You should have let me speak to Anthony first. I would have softened him.”

“He still might have said no.”

“And before you approached Cecilia, you should have found out whether anyone else had asked her. Then you could have undermined Saul before speaking to her.”

“How?”

“He must have a weakness. You could have found out what it is, and made sure it was brought to her attention. Then, when she was feeling disillusioned, you could have approached her yourself.”

He saw the sense of what she was saying. “I never thought of that,” he said. He bowed his head.

With controlled anger she said: “You have to plan these things, the way earls plan battles.”

“I see that now,” he said, not meeting her eye. “I’ll never make the same mistake again.”

“I hope not.”

He looked at her, “What am I going to do?”

“I’m not giving up.” A familiar expression of determination came over her face. “I shall provide the money,” she said.

Godwyn felt a surge of hope, but he could not imagine how his mother would fulfil such a promise. “Where will you get it?” he asked.

“I’ll give up my house, and move in with my brother Edmund.”

“Will he have you?” Edmund was a generous man, but he sometimes clashed with his sister.

“I think he will. He’s going to be a widower soon, and he’ll need a housekeeper. Not that Rose was ever very effective in that role.”

Godwyn shook his head. “You’ll still need money.”

“For what? Edmund will give me bed and board, and pay for the few small necessities I may require. In return, I’ll manage his servants and raise his daughters. And you shall have the money I inherited from your father.”