taxes - always the king's worry.
Merthin went first to the prior's palace where Philemon, looking pleased with himself, told him that Sir Gregory was to be found in the monks' cloisters to the south of the cathedral. Merthin wondered what Gregory had done to win himself the privilege of holding audience there.
The lawyer was getting old. His hair was white, and his tall figure was stooped. Deep lines had appeared like brackets either side of that sneering nose, and one of the blue eyes was cloudy. But the other eye saw sharply enough, and he recognized Merthin instantly, though they had not met for ten years. "Alderman," he said. "The archbishop of Monmouth is dead."
"Rest his soul," Merthin said automatically.
"Amen. The king asked me, as I was passing through his borough of Kingsbridge, to give you his greetings, and tell you this important news."
"I'm grateful. The death is not unexpected. The archbishop has been ill." The king certainly had not asked Gregory to meet with Merthin purely to give him interesting information, he thought suspiciously.
"You're an intriguing man, if you don't mind my saying so," Gregory said expansively. "I first met your wife more than twenty years ago. Since then I've seen the two of you slowly but surely take control of this town. And you've got everything you set your hearts on: the bridge, the hospital, the borough charter, and each other. You're determined, and you're patient."
It was condescending, but Merthin was surprised to detect a grain of respect in Gregory's flattery. He told himself to remain mistrustful: men such as Gregory praised only for a purpose.
"I'm on my way to see the monks of Abergavenny, who must vote for a new archbishop." Gregory leaned back in his chair. "When Christianity first came to England, hundreds of years ago, monks elected their own superiors." Explaining was an old man's habit, Merthin reflected: the young Gregory would not have bothered. "Nowadays, of course, bishops and archbishops are too important and powerful to be chosen by small groups of pious idealists living detached from the world. The king makes his choice, and his holiness the pope ratifies the royal decision."
Even I know it's not that simple, Merthin thought. There's usually some kind of power struggle. But he said nothing.
Gregory continued: "However, the ritual of the monks" election still goes on, and it is easier to control it than to abolish it. Hence my journey."
"So you're going to tell the monks whom to elect," Merthin said.
"To put it bluntly, yes."
"And what name will you give them?"
"Didn't I say? It's your bishop, Henri of Mons. Excellent man: loyal, trustworthy, never makes trouble."
"Oh, dear."
"You're not pleased?" Gregory's relaxed air evaporated, and he became keenly attentive.
Merthin realized that this was what Gregory had come for: to find out how the people of Kingsbridge - as represented by Merthin - would feel about what he was planning, and whether they would oppose him. He collected his thoughts. The prospect of a new bishop threatened the spire and the hospital. "Henri is the key to the balance of power in this town," he said. "Ten years ago, a kind of armistice was agreed between the merchants, the monks and the hospital. As a result, all three have prospered mightily." Appealing to Gregory's interest - and the king's - he added: "That prosperity is of course what enables us to pay such high taxes."
Gregory acknowledged this with a dip of his head.
"The departure of Henri obviously puts into question the stability of our relationships."
"It depends on who replaces him, I should have thought."
"Indeed," said Merthin. Now we come to the crux, he thought. He said: "Have you got anyone in mind?"
"The obvious candidate is Prior Philemon."
"No!" Merthin was aghast. "Philemon! Why?"
"He's a sound conservative, which is important to the church hierarchy in these times of scepticism and heresy."
"Of course. Now I understand why he preached a sermon against dissection. And why he wants to build a Lady chapel." I should have foreseen this, Merthin thought.
"And he has let it be known that he has no problem with taxation of the clergy - a constant source of friction between the king and some of his bishops."
"Philemon has been planning this for some time." Merthin was angry with himself for letting it sneak up on him.
"Since the archbishop fell ill, I imagine."
"This is a catastrophe."
"Why do you say that?"
"Philemon is quarrelsome and vengeful. If he becomes bishop he