was in financial difficulties. On the other hand, it had vast resources: thousands of acres of land; mills and fishponds and woodland; and the enormous income from Kingsbridge market. He could not believe his uncle was refusing him the money to go to Oxford. He felt betrayed. Anthony was his mentor as well as a relative. He had always favored Godwyn over other young monks. But now he was trying to hold Godwyn back.
'Physicians bring money into the priory,' he argued. 'If you don't train young men, eventually the old ones will die and the priory will be poorer.'
'God will provide.'
This infuriating platitude was always Anthony's answer. For some years the priory's income from the annual Fleece Fair had been declining. The townspeople had urged Anthony to invest in better facilities for the wool traders - tents, booths, latrines, even a wool exchange building - but he always refused, pleading poverty. And when his brother, Edmund, told him the fair would eventually decline to nothing, he said: 'God will provide.'
Godwyn said: 'Well, then, perhaps he will provide the money for me to go to Oxford.'
'Perhaps he will.'
Godwyn felt painfully disappointed. He had an urge to get away from his hometown and breathe a different air. At Kingsbridge College he would be subject to the same monastic discipline, of course - but nevertheless he would be far from his uncle and his mother, and that prospect was alluring.
He was not yet ready to give up the argument. 'My mother will be very disappointed if I don't go.'
Anthony looked uneasy. He did not want to incur the wrath of his formidable sister. 'Then let her pray for the money to be found.'
'I may be able to get it elsewhere,' Godwyn said, extemporizing.
'How would you do that?'
He cast about for an answer, and found inspiration. 'I could do what you do, and ask Mother Cecilia.' It was possible. Cecilia made him nervous - she could be as intimidating as Petranilla - but she was more susceptible to his boyish charm. She might be persuaded to pay for a bright young monk's education.
The suggestion took Anthony by surprise. Godwyn could see him trying to think of an objection. But he had been arguing as if money were the main consideration, and it was difficult now for him to shift his ground.
While Anthony hesitated, Cecilia came in.
She wore a heavy cloak of fine wool, her only indulgence - she hated to be cold. After greeting the prior, she turned to Godwyn. 'Your aunt Rose is gravely ill,' she said. Her voice was musically precise. 'She may not last the night.'
'May God be with her.' Godwyn felt a pang of pity. In a family where everyone was a leader, Rose was the only follower. Her petals seemed the more fragile for being surrounded by brambles. 'It's not a shock,' he added. 'But my cousins, Alice and Caris, will be sad.'
'Fortunately, they have your mother to console them.'
'Yes.' Consolation was not Petranilla's strong point, Godwyn thought - she was better at stiffening your spine and preventing you from backsliding - but he did not correct the prioress. Instead he poured her a goblet of cider. 'Is it a little chilly in here, Reverend Mother?'
'Freezing,' she said bluntly.
'I'll build up the fire.'
Anthony said slyly: 'My nephew Godwyn is being attentive because he wants you to pay for him to go to Oxford.'
Godwyn glared furiously at him. Godwyn would have planned a careful speech and chosen the best time to deliver it. Now Anthony had blurted out the request in the most charmless fashion.
Cecilia said: 'I don't think we can afford to finance two more.'
It was Anthony's turn to be surprised. 'Someone else has asked you for money to go to Oxford?'
'Perhaps I shouldn't say,' Cecilia replied. 'I don't want to get anyone into trouble.'
'It's of no consequence,' Anthony said huffily; then he recollected himself and added: 'We are always grateful for your generosity.'
Godwyn put more wood on the fire then went out. The prior's house was on the north side of the
'Physicians bring money into the priory,' he argued. 'If you don't train young men, eventually the old ones will die and the priory will be poorer.'
'God will provide.'
This infuriating platitude was always Anthony's answer. For some years the priory's income from the annual Fleece Fair had been declining. The townspeople had urged Anthony to invest in better facilities for the wool traders - tents, booths, latrines, even a wool exchange building - but he always refused, pleading poverty. And when his brother, Edmund, told him the fair would eventually decline to nothing, he said: 'God will provide.'
Godwyn said: 'Well, then, perhaps he will provide the money for me to go to Oxford.'
'Perhaps he will.'
Godwyn felt painfully disappointed. He had an urge to get away from his hometown and breathe a different air. At Kingsbridge College he would be subject to the same monastic discipline, of course - but nevertheless he would be far from his uncle and his mother, and that prospect was alluring.
He was not yet ready to give up the argument. 'My mother will be very disappointed if I don't go.'
Anthony looked uneasy. He did not want to incur the wrath of his formidable sister. 'Then let her pray for the money to be found.'
'I may be able to get it elsewhere,' Godwyn said, extemporizing.
'How would you do that?'
He cast about for an answer, and found inspiration. 'I could do what you do, and ask Mother Cecilia.' It was possible. Cecilia made him nervous - she could be as intimidating as Petranilla - but she was more susceptible to his boyish charm. She might be persuaded to pay for a bright young monk's education.
The suggestion took Anthony by surprise. Godwyn could see him trying to think of an objection. But he had been arguing as if money were the main consideration, and it was difficult now for him to shift his ground.
While Anthony hesitated, Cecilia came in.
She wore a heavy cloak of fine wool, her only indulgence - she hated to be cold. After greeting the prior, she turned to Godwyn. 'Your aunt Rose is gravely ill,' she said. Her voice was musically precise. 'She may not last the night.'
'May God be with her.' Godwyn felt a pang of pity. In a family where everyone was a leader, Rose was the only follower. Her petals seemed the more fragile for being surrounded by brambles. 'It's not a shock,' he added. 'But my cousins, Alice and Caris, will be sad.'
'Fortunately, they have your mother to console them.'
'Yes.' Consolation was not Petranilla's strong point, Godwyn thought - she was better at stiffening your spine and preventing you from backsliding - but he did not correct the prioress. Instead he poured her a goblet of cider. 'Is it a little chilly in here, Reverend Mother?'
'Freezing,' she said bluntly.
'I'll build up the fire.'
Anthony said slyly: 'My nephew Godwyn is being attentive because he wants you to pay for him to go to Oxford.'
Godwyn glared furiously at him. Godwyn would have planned a careful speech and chosen the best time to deliver it. Now Anthony had blurted out the request in the most charmless fashion.
Cecilia said: 'I don't think we can afford to finance two more.'
It was Anthony's turn to be surprised. 'Someone else has asked you for money to go to Oxford?'
'Perhaps I shouldn't say,' Cecilia replied. 'I don't want to get anyone into trouble.'
'It's of no consequence,' Anthony said huffily; then he recollected himself and added: 'We are always grateful for your generosity.'
Godwyn put more wood on the fire then went out. The prior's house was on the north side of the
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