feet. There's a mason working there with his apprentice, and the priory carpenter, and occasionally a monk or two doing some laboring. It's a very unimpressive sight, especially in the rain. I'd like Bishop Henry to see it."
Mother nodded sagely. William could see that the plan was good, even though he hated the thought of collaborating with the loathsome Waleran Bigod.
Waleran went on: "We'll brief Henry beforehand on what a small and insignificant place Kingsbridge is, and how poor the monastery is; then we'll show him the site where it has taken them more than a year to dig a few shallow holes; then we'll take him to Shiring and impress him with how fast we could build a cathedral there, with the bishop and the earl and the townspeople all putting their maximum energies into the project."
"Will Henry come?" Mother said anxiously.
"All we can do is ask," Waleran replied. "I'll invite him to visit on Whitsunday in his archiepiscopal role. That will flatter him by implying that we already consider him to be the archbishop."
Father said: "We must keep this secret from Prior Philip."
"I don't think that will be possible," Waleran said. "The bishop can't make a surprise visit to Kingsbridge-it would look very odd."
"But if Philip knows in advance that Bishop Henry is coming, he might make a big effort to advance the building program."
"What with? He hasn't any money, especially now that he's hired all your quarrymen. Quarrymen can't build walls." Waleran shook his head from side to side with a satisfied smile. "In fact, there isn't a thing he can do except hope the sun shines on Whitsunday."
At first Philip was pleased that the bishop of Winchester was to come to Kingsbridge. It would mean an open-air service, of course, but that was all right. They would hold it where the old cathedral used to be. In case of rain, the priory carpenter would build a temporary shelter over the altar and the area immediately around it, to keep the bishop dry; and the congregation could just get wet. The visit seemed like an act of faith on Bishop Henry's part, as if he were saying that he still considered Kingsbridge to be a cathedral, and the lack of a real church was just a temporary problem.
However, it occurred to him to wonder what Henry's motive was. The usual reason for a bishop to visit a monastery was to get free food, drink and lodging for himself and his entourage; but Kingsbridge was famous-not to say notorious-for the plainness of its food and the austerity of its accommodation, and Philip's reforms had merely raised its standard from dreadful to barely adequate. Henry was also the richest clergyman in the kingdom, so he certainly was not coming to Kingsbridge for its food and drink. But he had struck Philip as a man who did nothing without a reason.
The more Philip thought about it, the more he suspected that Bishop Waleran had something to do with it. He had expected Waleran to arrive at Kingsbridge within a day or two of the letter, to discuss arrangements for the service and hospitality for Henry, and to make sure Henry would be pleased and impressed with Kingsbridge; and as the days went by and Waleran did not show up, Philip's misgivings deepened.
However, even in his most mistrustful moments he had not dreamed of the treachery that was revealed, ten days before Whitsun, by a letter from the prior of Canterbury Cathedral. Like Kingsbridge, Canterbury was a cathedral run by Benedictine monks, and monks always helped one another if they could. The prior of Canterbury, who naturally worked closely with the acting archbishop, had learned that Waleran had invited Henry to Kingsbridge for the express purpose of persuading him to move the diocese, and the new cathedral, to Shiring.
Philip was shocked. His heart beat faster and the hand holding the letter trembled. It was a fiendishly clever move by Waleran, and Philip had not anticipated it, had not imagined anything like it.
It was his own lack of foresight that shook him. He knew how treacherous Waleran was. The bishop had tried to double-cross him, a year ago, over the Shiring earldom. And he would never forget how angry Waleran had been when Philip had outwitted him. He could picture Waleran's face, suffused with rage, as he said I swear by all that's holy, you'll never build your church. But as time went by the menace of that oath had faded, and