The bishop’s house, with its intricately carved doorposts, towered over the neighbouring buildings and Kenrick could not help admiring the trappings of worldly success conceded to a prelate. He supposed, like the abbey at Jumièges, the effort committed to impressing the Church’s opulence on the populace for the glorification of the Almighty was justifiable. These musings reminded him of the situation that might undermine his schemes and those of the good bishop.
“Your Grace, there is a pressing matter that I have refrained from mentioning. All my thoughts have been on plans for the cathedral. None of them will come to fruition if we do not move to stop the rebellion.”
That word stopped the prelate in his tracks as if an invisible hand had pressed against his chest.
“Rebellion, you say?
