Ken Follett - World Without End

They found him on the site of his own building project, the new palace. The shell was up and the roof was on. Caris had not visited the site for some weeks, and she was surprised at its size – it was going to be as big as her new hospital. She saw why Buonaventura had called it impressive: the dining hall was larger than the nuns’ refectory. The site was swarming with workmen, as if Godwyn was in a hurry to get it finished. Masons were laying a floor of coloured tiles in a geometric pattern, several carpenters were making doors, and a master glazier had set up a furnace to make the windows. Godwyn was spending a lot of money.

He and Philemon were showing the new building to Archdeacon Lloyd, the bishop’s deputy. Godwyn broke off as the nuns approached. Cecilia said: “Don’t let us interrupt you – but, when you’re finished, will you meet me outside the hospital? There’s something I need to show you.”

“By all means,” said Godwyn.

Caris and Cecilia walked back through the market place in front of the cathedral. Friday was bargain day at the Fleece Fair, when traders sold their remaining stocks at reduced prices so that they would not have to carry the goods home. Caris saw Mark Webber, round-faced and round-bellied now, wearing a coat of his own bright scarlet. His four children were helping at his stall. Caris was especially fond of Dora, now fifteen, who had her mother’s bustling confidence in a slimmer body.

“You’re looking prosperous,” Caris said to Mark with a smile.

“The wealth should have come to you,” he replied. “You invented the dye. I just did what you said. I almost feel as if I cheated you.”

“You’ve been rewarded for hard work,” she said. She did not mind that Mark and Madge had done so well out of her invention. Although she had always enjoyed the challenge of doing business, she had never lusted for money – perhaps because she had always taken it for granted, growing up in her father’s wealthy household. Whatever the reason, she felt no pang of regret that the Webbers were making a fortune that might have been hers. The cashless life of the priory seemed to suit her well. And she was thrilled to see the Webber children healthy and well dressed. She remembered when all six of them had to find sleeping space on the floor of a single room, most of which was taken up by a loom.

She and Cecilia went to the south end of the priory grounds. The land around the stables looked like a farmyard. There were a few small buildings: a dovecote, a henhouse and a tool shed. Chickens scratched in the dirt, and pigs rooted in the kitchen garbage. Caris itched to tidy it up.

Godwyn and Philemon joined them soon, with Lloyd tagging along. Cecilia indicated the patch of land next to the kitchens, and said: “I’m going to build a new hospital, and I want to put it there. What do you think?”

“A new hospital?” Godwyn said. “Why?”

Caris thought he looked anxious, which puzzled her.

Cecilia said: “We want a hospital for the sick and a separate guest house for healthy visitors.”

“What an extraordinary idea.”

“It’s because of the stomach illness that started with Maldwyn Cook. This is a particularly virulent example, but diseases often flare up at markets, and part of the reason they spread so fast may be that we have the sick and the well eating and sleeping and going to the latrine together.”

Godwyn took umbrage. “Oho!” he said. “So the nuns are the physicians, now, are they?”

Caris frowned. This kind of sneering was not Godwyn’s style. He used charm to get his way, especially with powerful people such as Cecilia. This fit of pique was covering something else.

“Of course not,” Cecilia said. “But we all know that some illnesses spread from one sufferer to the next – that’s obvious.”

Caris put in: “The Muslim physicians believe illness is transmitted by looking at the sick person.”

“Oh, do they? How interesting!” Godwyn spoke with ponderous sarcasm. “Those of us who have spent seven years studying medicine at the university are always glad to be lectured on illness by young nuns barely out of their novitiate.”

Caris was not intimidated. She felt no inclination to show respect to a lying hypocrite who had tried to murder her. She said: “If you don’t believe in the transmission of illness, why don’t you prove your sincerity by coming to the hospital tonight and sleeping alongside a hundred people suffering from nausea and diarrhoea?”

Cecilia said: “Sister Caris! That will be enough.” She turned to Godwyn. “Forgive her, Father Prior. It wasn’t my intention to engage you in a discussion about disease with a mere nun. I just want to make sure you don’t object to my choice of site.”

“You can’t build it now, anyway,” Godwyn said. “Elfric is too busy with the palace.”

Caris said: “We don’t want Elfric – we’re using Jeremiah.”

Cecilia turned on her. “Caris, be quiet! Remember your place. Don’t interrupt my conversation with the lord prior again.”

Caris realized she was not helping Cecilia, and – against her inclination – she lowered her head and said: “I’m sorry, Mother Prioress.”

Cecilia said to Godwyn: “The question is not when we build, it’s where .”

“I’m afraid I don’t approve of this,” he said stiffly.

“Where would you prefer the new building to be sited?”

“I don’t think you need a new hospital at all.”

“Forgive me, but I am in charge of the nunnery,” Cecilia said with asperity. “You can’t tell me how I should spend our money. However, we normally consult one another before putting up new buildings – although it has to be said that you forgot this little courtesy when planning your palace. Nevertheless, I am consulting you – merely on the question of the location of the building.” She looked at Lloyd. “I’m sure the archdeacon will agree with me on this.”

“There must be agreement,” Lloyd said noncommittally.

Caris frowned, baffled. Why did Godwyn care? He was building his palace on the north side of the cathedral. It made no difference to him if the nuns put up a new building down here in the south, where most monks hardly ever came. What was he worried about?

Godwyn said: “I’m telling you that I do not approve of the location nor of the building, so that is the end of the matter!”

Caris suddenly saw, in a flash of inspiration, the reason for Godwyn’s behaviour. She was so shocked that she blurted it out. “You stole our money!”

Cecilia said: “Caris! I told you-”

“He’s stolen the legacy of the woman of Thornbury!” Caris said, overriding Cecilia in her outrage. “That’s where he got the money for his palace, of course. And now he’s trying to stop us building because he knows we’ll go to the treasury and find that our money has vanished!” She felt so indignant she might burst.

Godwyn said: “Don’t be preposterous.”

As a response, it was so muted that Caris knew she must have touched a nerve. Confirmation made her even angrier. “Prove it!” she yelled. She forced herself to speak more calmly. “We’ll go to the treasury now and check the vaults. You wouldn’t object to that, would you, Father Prior?”

Philemon chipped in: “It would be a completely undignified proceeding, and there is no question of the prior submitting himself to it.”

Caris ignored him. “There should be one hundred and fifty pounds in gold in the nuns’ reserves.”

“Out of the question,” said Godwyn.

Caris said: “Well, clearly the nuns will have to check the vaults anyway, now that the accusation has been made.” She looked at Cecilia, who nodded in agreement. “So, if the prior prefers not to be present, no doubt the archdeacon will be happy to attend as a witness.”