someone's goats and pigs when we have a decent house standing empty."
"There are two women in that family-"
"A woman and a girl," Philip corrected him.
"One woman, then. We don't want a woman living in the priory!"
The monks muttered restively: they did not like Remigius's quibbling. Philip said: "It's perfectly normal for women to stay in the guesthouse."
"Not that woman!" Remigius blurted, then he immediately looked as if he regretted it.
Philip frowned. "Do you know the woman, Brother?"
"She once inhabited these parts," Remigius said reluctantly.
Philip was intrigued. It was the second time something of this sort had happened in connection with the builder's wife: Waleran Bigod had also been disturbed by the sight of her. Philip said: "What's wrong with her?"
Before Remigius could answer, Brother Paul, the old monk who kept the bridge, spoke up. "I remember," he said rather dreamily. "There was a wild forest girl used to live around here-oh, it must be fifteen year ago. That's who she reminds me of-probably it's the same girl, grown up."
"People said she was a witch," Remigius said. "We can't have a witch living in the priory!"
"I don't know about that," said Brother Paul in the same slow, meditative voice. "Any woman who lives wild gets called a witch sooner or later. People saying a thing doesn't make it so. I'm content to leave it to Prior Philip to judge, in his wisdom, whether she's a danger."
"Wisdom doesn't come immediately with the assumption of monastic office," Remigius snapped.
"Indeed not," said Brother Paul slowly. He looked directly at Remigius and said: "Sometimes it doesn't come at all."
The monks laughed at that riposte, which was all the funnier for coming from an unexpected source. Philip had to pretend to be displeased. He clapped his hands for silence. "Enough!" he said. "These matters are solemn. I will question the woman. Now let us go about our duties. Those who wish to be excused from labor may retire to the infirmary for prayer and meditation. The rest, follow me."
He left the storeroom and walked around the back of the kitchen buildings to the south archway which led into the cloisters. A few monks left the group and headed for the infirmary, among them Remigius and Andrew Sacrist. There was nothing frail about either of them, Philip thought, but they would probably cause trouble if they joined the labor force, so he was happy to see them go. Most of the monks followed Philip.
Tom had already marshaled the priory servants and started work. He stood on the pile of rubble in the cloister square with a large piece of chalk in his hand, marking stones with the letter T, his initial.
For the first time ever, it occurred to Philip to wonder how such large stones could be moved. They were certainly too big for a man to lift. He saw the answer immediately. A pair of poles were laid side by side on the ground, and a stone was rolled along until it rested across the poles. Then two people would take the ends of the poles and lift. Tom Builder must have shown them how to do that.
The work was proceeding rapidly, with most of the priory's sixty servants helping, making a stream of people carrying stones away and coming back for more. The sight lifted Philip's spirits, and he gave up a silent prayer of thanks for Tom Builder.
Tom saw him and came down off the pile. Before speaking to Philip he addressed one of the servants, the tailor who sewed the monks' clothes. "Start the monks carrying stones," he instructed the man. "Make sure they take only the stones I've marked, otherwise the pile may slip and kill someone." He turned to Philip. "I've marked enough to keep them going for a while."
"Where are they taking the stones?" Philip asked.
"Come and I'll show you. I want to check that they're stacking them properly."
Philip went with Tom. The stones were being taken to the east side of the priory close. "Some of the servants will still have to do their normal duties," Philip said as they walked. "The stable hands must still care for the horses, the cooks have to prepare meals, someone must fetch firewood and feed the chickens and go to market. But they're none of them overworked, and I can spare half of them. In addition, you'll have about thirty monks."
Tom nodded. "That'll do."
They passed the east end of the church. The laborers were stacking the still-warm stones up against the east