to work the quarry himself, he would first have to hire a team of quarrymen; which might be difficult, once the news of today's events got around. And if at some future date Percy should try another stratagem to close the quarry, Philip would have a stockpile of stone.
Harold appeared to be arguing with his men. After a few moments he left them and approached Philip again. "Who's to be in charge, if we work for you?" he said. "Me, or your own master quarry man?"
"Otto here is in charge," Philip said without hesitation. Harold certainly could not be in charge, in case his loyalty should be won back by Percy. And there could not be two masters, for that would lead to disputes. "You can still run your own team," Philip said to Harold. "But Otto will be over you."
Harold looked disappointed and returned to his men. The discussion continued. Tom Builder joined Philip and Otto. "Your plan worked, Father," he said with a broad grin. "We repossessed the quarry without shedding a drop of blood. You're amazing."
Philip was inclined to agree, and realized he was guilty of the sin of pride. "It was God who worked the miracle," he said, reminding himself as well as Tom.
Otto said: "Father Philip has offered to hire Harold and his men to work with me."
"Really!" Tom looked displeased. It was the master builder who was supposed to recruit craftsmen, not the prior. "I shouldn't have thought he could afford it."
"I can't," Philip admitted. "But I don't want these men hanging around with nothing to do, waiting for Percy to think of another way to get the quarry back."
Tom looked thoughtful, then he nodded. "And it will do no harm to have a reserve of stone in case Percy succeeds."
Philip was glad Tom saw the sense of what he had done.
Harold seemed to be reaching agreement with his men. He came back to Philip and said: "Will you pay the wages to me, and leave me to distribute the money as I think fit?"
Philip was dubious. That meant the master could take more than his share. But he said: "It's up to the master builder."
"It's common enough," Tom said. "If that's what your team wants, I'm willing."
"In that case, we accept," Harold said.
Harold and Tom shook hands. Philip said: "So everyone gets what they want. Good!"
"There's one who hasn't got what they want," Harold said.
"Who's that?" said Philip.
"Earl Percy's wife, Regan," Harold said lugubriously. "When she finds out what's happened here there's going to be blood all over the floor."
II
There was no hunting today, so the young men at Earlscastle played one of William Hamleigh's favorite games, stoning the cat.
There were always plenty of cats in the castle, and one more or less made no difference. The men closed the doors and shuttered the windows of the hall of the keep, and pushed the furniture up against the wall so that the cat could not hide behind anything; then they made a pile of stones in the middle of the room. The cat, an aging mouser with gray in its fur, sensed the bloodlust in the air and sat near the door, hoping to get out.
Each man had to put a penny into the pot for each stone he threw, and the man who threw the fatal stone took the pot.
As they drew lots to determine the order of throwing, the cat became agitated, pacing up and down in front of the door.
Walter threw first. This was lucky, for although the cat was wary it did not know the nature of the game, and might be taken by surprise. With his back to the animal, Walter picked a stone from the pile and concealed it in his hand; then he turned around slowly and threw suddenly.
He missed. The stone thudded into the door and the cat jumped and ran. The others jeered.
It was unlucky to throw second, for the cat was fresh and light on its feet, whereas later it would be tired and possibly injured. A young squire was next. He watched the cat run around the room, looking for a way out, and waited until it slowed down; then he threw. It was a good shot but the cat saw it coming and dodged it. The men groaned.
It ran around the room again, faster now, getting panicky, jumping up onto the trestles and boards that were stacked against the wall, jumping back down to the floor. An older knight threw next.