deliver it. He hoped to get a chance this afternoon.
Anthony entered the hall as Godwyn was putting a cheese and a bowl of pears on the sideboard. The prior looked like an older version of Godwyn. Both were tall, with regular features and light brown hair, and like all the family they had greenish eyes with flecks of gold. Anthony stood by the fire - the room was cold and the old building let in freezing drafts. Godwyn poured him a cup of cider. 'Father Prior, today is my birthday,' he said as Anthony drank. 'I'm twenty-one.'
'So it is,' said Anthony. 'I remember your birth very well. I was fourteen years old. My sister, Petranilla, screamed like a boar with an arrow in its guts as she brought you into the world.' He raised his goblet in a toast, looking fondly at Godwyn. 'And now you're a man.'
Godwyn decided that this was his moment. 'I've been at the priory ten years,' he said.
'Is it that long?'
'Yes - as schoolboy, novice, and monk.'
'My goodness.'
'I hope I've been a credit to my mother and to you.'
'We're both very proud of you.'
'Thank you.' Godwyn swallowed. 'And now I want to go to Oxford.'
The city of Oxford had long been a center for masters of theology, medicine, and law. Priests and monks went there to study and debate with teachers and other students. In the last century the masters had been incorporated into a company, or university, that had royal permission to set examinations and award degrees. Kingsbridge Priory maintained a branch or cell in the city, known as Kingsbridge College, where eight monks could carry on their lives of worship and self-denial while they studied.
'Oxford!' said Anthony, and an expression of anxiety and distaste came over his face. 'Why?'
'To study. It's what monks are supposed to do.'
'I never went to Oxford - and I'm prior.'
It was true, but Anthony was sometimes at a disadvantage with his senior colleagues in consequence. The sacrist, the treasurer, and several other monastic officials, or obedientiaries, were graduates of the university, as were all the physicians. They were quick-thinking and skilled in argument, and Anthony sometimes appeared bumbling by comparison, especially in chapter, the daily meeting of all the monks. Godwyn longed to acquire the sharp logic and confident superiority he observed in the Oxford men. He did not want to be like his uncle.
But he could not say that. 'I want to learn,' he said.
'Why learn heresy?' Anthony said scornfully. 'Oxford students question the teachings of the church!'
'In order to understand them better.'
'Pointless and dangerous.'
Godwyn asked himself why Anthony was making this fuss. The prior had never appeared concerned about heresy before, and Godwyn was not in the least interested in challenging accepted doctrines. He frowned. 'I thought you and my mother had ambitions for me,' he said. 'Don't you want me to advance, and become an obedientiary, and perhaps one day prior?'
'Eventually, yes. But you don't have to leave Kingsbridge to achieve that.'
You don't want me to advance too fast, in case I outstrip you; and you don't want me to leave town, in case you lose control of me, Godwyn thought in a flash of insight. He wished he had anticipated this resistance to his plans. 'I don't want to study theology,' he said.
'What, then?'
'Medicine. It's such an important part of our work here.'
Anthony pursed his lips. Godwyn had seen the same disapproving expression on his mother's face. 'The monastery can't afford to pay for you,' Anthony said. 'Do you realize that just one book costs at least fourteen shillings?'
Godwyn was taken by surprise. Students could hire books by the page, he knew; but that was not the main point. 'What about the students already there?' he said. 'Who pays for them?'
'Two are supported by their families, and one by the nuns. The priory pays for the other three, but we can't afford any more. In fact there are two places vacant in the college for lack of funds.'
Godwyn knew the priory
Anthony entered the hall as Godwyn was putting a cheese and a bowl of pears on the sideboard. The prior looked like an older version of Godwyn. Both were tall, with regular features and light brown hair, and like all the family they had greenish eyes with flecks of gold. Anthony stood by the fire - the room was cold and the old building let in freezing drafts. Godwyn poured him a cup of cider. 'Father Prior, today is my birthday,' he said as Anthony drank. 'I'm twenty-one.'
'So it is,' said Anthony. 'I remember your birth very well. I was fourteen years old. My sister, Petranilla, screamed like a boar with an arrow in its guts as she brought you into the world.' He raised his goblet in a toast, looking fondly at Godwyn. 'And now you're a man.'
Godwyn decided that this was his moment. 'I've been at the priory ten years,' he said.
'Is it that long?'
'Yes - as schoolboy, novice, and monk.'
'My goodness.'
'I hope I've been a credit to my mother and to you.'
'We're both very proud of you.'
'Thank you.' Godwyn swallowed. 'And now I want to go to Oxford.'
The city of Oxford had long been a center for masters of theology, medicine, and law. Priests and monks went there to study and debate with teachers and other students. In the last century the masters had been incorporated into a company, or university, that had royal permission to set examinations and award degrees. Kingsbridge Priory maintained a branch or cell in the city, known as Kingsbridge College, where eight monks could carry on their lives of worship and self-denial while they studied.
'Oxford!' said Anthony, and an expression of anxiety and distaste came over his face. 'Why?'
'To study. It's what monks are supposed to do.'
'I never went to Oxford - and I'm prior.'
It was true, but Anthony was sometimes at a disadvantage with his senior colleagues in consequence. The sacrist, the treasurer, and several other monastic officials, or obedientiaries, were graduates of the university, as were all the physicians. They were quick-thinking and skilled in argument, and Anthony sometimes appeared bumbling by comparison, especially in chapter, the daily meeting of all the monks. Godwyn longed to acquire the sharp logic and confident superiority he observed in the Oxford men. He did not want to be like his uncle.
But he could not say that. 'I want to learn,' he said.
'Why learn heresy?' Anthony said scornfully. 'Oxford students question the teachings of the church!'
'In order to understand them better.'
'Pointless and dangerous.'
Godwyn asked himself why Anthony was making this fuss. The prior had never appeared concerned about heresy before, and Godwyn was not in the least interested in challenging accepted doctrines. He frowned. 'I thought you and my mother had ambitions for me,' he said. 'Don't you want me to advance, and become an obedientiary, and perhaps one day prior?'
'Eventually, yes. But you don't have to leave Kingsbridge to achieve that.'
You don't want me to advance too fast, in case I outstrip you; and you don't want me to leave town, in case you lose control of me, Godwyn thought in a flash of insight. He wished he had anticipated this resistance to his plans. 'I don't want to study theology,' he said.
'What, then?'
'Medicine. It's such an important part of our work here.'
Anthony pursed his lips. Godwyn had seen the same disapproving expression on his mother's face. 'The monastery can't afford to pay for you,' Anthony said. 'Do you realize that just one book costs at least fourteen shillings?'
Godwyn was taken by surprise. Students could hire books by the page, he knew; but that was not the main point. 'What about the students already there?' he said. 'Who pays for them?'
'Two are supported by their families, and one by the nuns. The priory pays for the other three, but we can't afford any more. In fact there are two places vacant in the college for lack of funds.'
Godwyn knew the priory
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