if he had been less spiritual, and had thought strategically about his career instead of leaving such matters to God. As it was, when Prior Anthony had died and the election was held, Godwyn had easily outmanoeuvred Saul.
All the same, Saul was not weak. He had a streak of stubborn righteousness that Godwyn feared. Would he go along obediently with Godwyn's plan today, or would he make trouble? Once again Godwyn fought down panic and struggled to remain cool.
He studied Saul's face carefully. The prior of St John was surprised to see him, and clearly displeased. His expression was carefully composed into a look of polite welcome, but he was not smiling.
During the election campaign, Godwyn had made everyone believe that he himself did not want the job, but he had eliminated every other reasonable candidate including Saul. Did Saul suspect how he had been hoodwinked?
"Good day to you, Father Prior," Saul said as he approached. "This is an unexpected blessing."
So he was not going to be openly hostile. No doubt he would think that such behaviour conflicted with his vow of obedience. Godwyn was relieved. He said: "God bless you, my son. It is too long since I have visited my children at St John."
Saul looked at the monks, the horses and the carts loaded with supplies. "This appears to be more than a simple visit." He did not offer to help Godwyn down from his horse. It was as if he wanted an explanation before he would invite them in - which was ridiculous: he had no right to turn away his superior.
All the same, Godwyn found himself explaining. "Have you heard about the plague?"
"Rumours," Saul said. "There are few visitors to bring us news."
That was good. The lack of visitors was what drew Godwyn here. "The disease has killed hundreds in Kingsbridge. I feared it might wipe out the priory. That's why I've brought the monks here. It may be the only way to ensure our survival."
"You are welcome here, of course, whatever the reason for your visit."
"It goes without saying," Godwyn said stiffly. He felt angry that he had been nudged into justifying himself.
Saul looked thoughtful. "I'm not sure where everyone's going to sleep..."
"I shall decide that," Godwyn said, reasserting his authority. "You can show me around while your kitchen is preparing our supper." He got down from his horse unaided and walked into the monastery.
Saul was obliged to follow.
The whole place had a bare, scrubbed look that expressed how serious Saul was about the monkish vow of poverty. But today Godwyn was more interested in how readily the place could be closed to outsiders. Fortunately, Saul's belief in order and control had led him to design buildings with few entrances. There were only three ways into the priory: through the kitchen, the stable or the church. Each entrance had a stout door that could be firmly barred.
The dormitory was small, normally accommodating nine or ten monks, and there was no separate bedroom for the prior. The only way to fit twenty extra monks in was to let them sleep in the church.
Godwyn thought of taking over the dormitory for himself, but there was nowhere in the room to hide the cathedral treasures, and he wanted to keep them close. Fortunately, the little church had a small side chapel that could be closed off, and Godwyn took that for his own room. The rest of the Kingsbridge monks spread straw on the stamped-earth floor of the nave and made the best of it.
The food and wine went to the kitchen and the cellar, but Philemon brought the ornaments into Godwyn's chapel-bedroom. Philemon had been chatting to the St John monks. "Saul has his own way of running things," he reported. "He demands rigid obedience to God and the Rule of St Benedict, but they say he doesn't set himself up on a pedestal. He sleeps in the dorm, eats the same food as the others, and in general takes no privileges. Needless to say, they like him for that. But there's one monk who is constantly being punished - Brother Jonquil."
"I remember him." Jonquil had always been in trouble while a novice at Kingsbridge - for lateness, slovenliness, laziness and greed. He was without self-control, and had probably been drawn to the monastic life as a way of getting someone else to enforce the restraint he could not impose on himself. "I doubt that he will be much help to