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Authors: Ken Follett
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cathedral. The cloisters, and all the other priory buildings, were to the south of the church. Godwyn walked shivering across the cathedral green to the monastery kitchen.
He had thought Anthony might quibble about Oxford, saying he should wait until he was older, or until one of the existing students graduated - for Anthony was a quibbler by nature. But he was Anthony's protégé, and he had been confident that in the end his uncle would support him. Anthony's flat opposition had left him feeling shocked.
He asked himself who else had petitioned the prioress for support. Of the twenty-six monks, six were around Godwyn's age: it could be any one of them. In the kitchen the sub-cellarer, Theodoric, was helping the cook. Could he be the rival for Cecilia's money? Godwyn watched him put the goose on a platter with a bowl of apple sauce. Theodoric had brains enough to study. He could be a contender.
Godwyn carried the dinner back to the prior's house, feeling worried. If Cecilia decided to help Theodoric, he did not know what he would do. He had no fallback plan.
He wanted to be prior of Kingsbridge one day. He felt sure he could do the job better than Anthony. And if he was a successful prior, he might rise higher: bishop, archbishop, or perhaps a royal official or counselor. He had only a vague idea of what he would do with such power, but he felt strongly that he belonged in some elevated position in life. However, there were only two routes to such heights. One was aristocratic birth; the other, education. Godwyn came from a family of wool merchants: his only hope was the university. And for that, he was going to need Cecilia's money.
He put the dinner on the table. Cecilia was saying: 'But how did the king die?'
'He suffered a fall,' Anthony said.
Godwyn carved the goose. 'May I give you some of the breast, Reverend Mother?'
'Yes, please. A fall?' she said skeptically. 'You make the king sound like a doddering old man. He was forty-three!'
'It's what his jailers say.' Having been deposed, the ex-king had been a prisoner at Berkeley Castle, a couple of days' ride from Kingsbridge.
'Ah, yes, his jailers,' Cecilia said. 'Mortimer's men.' She disapproved of Roger Mortimer, the earl of March. Not only had he led the rebellion against Edward II, he had also seduced the king's wife, Queen Isabella.
They began to eat. Godwyn wondered whether there would be any left over.
Anthony said to Cecilia: 'You sound as if you suspect something sinister.'
'Of course not - but others do. There has been talk...'
'That he was murdered? I know. But I saw the corpse, naked. There were no marks of violence on the body.'
Godwyn knew he should not interrupt, but he could not resist. 'Rumor says that when the king died his screams of agony were heard by everyone in the village of Berkeley.'
Anthony looked censorious. 'When a king dies, there are always rumors.'
'This king did not merely die,' Cecilia said. 'He was first deposed by Parliament - something that has never happened before.'
Anthony lowered his voice. 'The reasons were powerful. There were sins of impurity.'
He was being enigmatic, but Godwyn knew what he meant. Edward had had 'favorites' - young men he seemed unnaturally fond of. The first, Peter Gaveston, had been given so much power and privilege that he aroused jealousy and resentment among the barons, and in the end he had been executed for treason. But then there had been others. It was no wonder, people said, that the queen took a lover.
'I cannot believe such a thing,' said Cecilia, who was a passionate royalist. 'It may be true that outlaws in the forest give themselves up to such foul practices, but a man of royal blood could never sink so low. Is there any more of that goose?'
'Yes,' Godwyn said, concealing his disappointment. He cut the last of the meat from the bird and gave it to the prioress.
Anthony said: 'At least there is now no challenge to the new king.' The son of Edward II and Queen Isabella had
He had thought Anthony might quibble about Oxford, saying he should wait until he was older, or until one of the existing students graduated - for Anthony was a quibbler by nature. But he was Anthony's protégé, and he had been confident that in the end his uncle would support him. Anthony's flat opposition had left him feeling shocked.
He asked himself who else had petitioned the prioress for support. Of the twenty-six monks, six were around Godwyn's age: it could be any one of them. In the kitchen the sub-cellarer, Theodoric, was helping the cook. Could he be the rival for Cecilia's money? Godwyn watched him put the goose on a platter with a bowl of apple sauce. Theodoric had brains enough to study. He could be a contender.
Godwyn carried the dinner back to the prior's house, feeling worried. If Cecilia decided to help Theodoric, he did not know what he would do. He had no fallback plan.
He wanted to be prior of Kingsbridge one day. He felt sure he could do the job better than Anthony. And if he was a successful prior, he might rise higher: bishop, archbishop, or perhaps a royal official or counselor. He had only a vague idea of what he would do with such power, but he felt strongly that he belonged in some elevated position in life. However, there were only two routes to such heights. One was aristocratic birth; the other, education. Godwyn came from a family of wool merchants: his only hope was the university. And for that, he was going to need Cecilia's money.
He put the dinner on the table. Cecilia was saying: 'But how did the king die?'
'He suffered a fall,' Anthony said.
Godwyn carved the goose. 'May I give you some of the breast, Reverend Mother?'
'Yes, please. A fall?' she said skeptically. 'You make the king sound like a doddering old man. He was forty-three!'
'It's what his jailers say.' Having been deposed, the ex-king had been a prisoner at Berkeley Castle, a couple of days' ride from Kingsbridge.
'Ah, yes, his jailers,' Cecilia said. 'Mortimer's men.' She disapproved of Roger Mortimer, the earl of March. Not only had he led the rebellion against Edward II, he had also seduced the king's wife, Queen Isabella.
They began to eat. Godwyn wondered whether there would be any left over.
Anthony said to Cecilia: 'You sound as if you suspect something sinister.'
'Of course not - but others do. There has been talk...'
'That he was murdered? I know. But I saw the corpse, naked. There were no marks of violence on the body.'
Godwyn knew he should not interrupt, but he could not resist. 'Rumor says that when the king died his screams of agony were heard by everyone in the village of Berkeley.'
Anthony looked censorious. 'When a king dies, there are always rumors.'
'This king did not merely die,' Cecilia said. 'He was first deposed by Parliament - something that has never happened before.'
Anthony lowered his voice. 'The reasons were powerful. There were sins of impurity.'
He was being enigmatic, but Godwyn knew what he meant. Edward had had 'favorites' - young men he seemed unnaturally fond of. The first, Peter Gaveston, had been given so much power and privilege that he aroused jealousy and resentment among the barons, and in the end he had been executed for treason. But then there had been others. It was no wonder, people said, that the queen took a lover.
'I cannot believe such a thing,' said Cecilia, who was a passionate royalist. 'It may be true that outlaws in the forest give themselves up to such foul practices, but a man of royal blood could never sink so low. Is there any more of that goose?'
'Yes,' Godwyn said, concealing his disappointment. He cut the last of the meat from the bird and gave it to the prioress.
Anthony said: 'At least there is now no challenge to the new king.' The son of Edward II and Queen Isabella had
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