them had ever seen so much money.
Jack raised his voice to be heard over their exclamations. "I have brought her home, and now I give her to the building of the new cathedral." Then he turned, looked Philip in the eye, and inclined his head in a little bow, as if to say: Over to you.
Philip hated to be manipulated like this but at the same time he was bound to acknowledge that the way it had been done was masterly. However, that did not mean he was going to give in to it. The people might acclaim the Weeping Madonna but only Philip could decide whether she would be allowed to rest in Kingsbridge Cathedral alongside the bones of Saint Adolphus. And he was not yet convinced.
Some of the villagers began questioning the Saracens. Philip stepped down from his pulpit and went closer to listen. "I come from a far, far country," one of them was saying. Philip was surprised to hear that he spoke English just like a Dorset fisherman, but most of the villagers did not even know that Saracens had a language of their own.
"What is your country called?" someone asked.
"My country is called Africa," the Saracen replied. There was more than one country in Africa, of course, as Philip knew-although most of the villagers did not-and Philip wondered which one this Saracen came from. How exciting it would be if it were a place mentioned in the Bible, such as Egypt or Ethiopia.
A little girl reached out a tentative finger and touched his dark-brown hand. The Saracen smiled at her. Apart from his color, Philip thought, he looked no different from anyone else. Encouraged, the girl said: "What's it like in Africa?"
"There are great deserts, and fig trees."
"What's a fig?"
"It's... it's a fruit, that looks like a strawberry and tastes like a pear."
Philip was suddenly struck by a horrible suspicion. He said: "Tell me, Saracen, what city were you born in?"
"Damascus," the man said.
Philip's suspicion was confirmed. He was angered. He touched Jack's arm and drew him aside. In a quietly furious voice he said: "What are you playing at?"
"What do you mean?" Jack said, trying to play innocent.
"Those two aren't Saracens. They're fishermen from Wareham with brown dye on their faces and hands."
Jack did not seem bothered about having his deception discovered. He grinned and said: "How did you guess?"
"I don't think that man has ever seen a fig, and Damascus is not in Africa. What is the meaning of this dishonesty?"
"It's a harmless deception," Jack said, and flashed his engaging smile.
"There is no such thing as a harmless deception," Philip said coldly.
"All right." Jack saw that Philip was angry. He became serious. "It serves the same purpose as an illuminated drawing on a page of the Bible. It's not the truth, it's an illustration. My brown-dyed Dorsetshire men dramatize the true fact that the Weeping Madonna comes from a Saracen land."
The two priests and Aliena had detached themselves from the crowd around the Madonna and joined Philip and Jack. Philip ignored them and said to Jack: "You aren't frightened of a drawing of a snake. An illustration isn't a lie. Your Saracens aren't illustrations, they're impostors."
"We collected much more money after we got the Saracens," Jack said.
Philip looked at the pennies heaped on the floor. "The townspeople probably think that's enough to build a whole cathedral," he said. "It looks to me like about a hundred pounds. You know that won't even pay for a year's work."
"The money is like the Saracens," Jack said. "It's symbolic. You know you've got the money to start building."
That was true. There was nothing stopping Philip from building. The Madonna was just the sort of thing needed to bring Kingsbridge back to life. It would attract people to the town-pilgrims and scholars as well as the idly curious. It would put new heart into the townspeople. It would be seen as a good omen. Philip had been waiting for a sign from God, and he wanted very badly to believe that this was it. But this did not have the feel of a sign from God. It had the feel of a stunt by Jack.
The younger of the two priests said: "I'm Reynold and this is Edward-we work for the archbishop of Canterbury. He sent us to accompany the Weeping Madonna."
Philip said: "If you have the archbishop's blessing, why did you need a couple of fairground Saracens to legitimize the Madonna?"
Edward looked a little shamefaced. Reynold said: