When he reached the Oak, he walked past the alehouse, from which came the sound of a boisterous group enjoying the drink, and went straight to the stable. As he arrived, he was surprised to see the familiar lean frame of Brother Godleof unsaddling a piebald. He looked anxious, and seemed to have hurried here. “What is it?” Aldred said.

“I thought you’d want to hear the news as soon as possible.”

“What news?”

“Abbot Osmund is dead.”

Aldred crossed himself and said: “May his soul rest in peace.”

“Hildred has been made abbot.”

“That was quick.”

“Bishop Wynstan insisted on an immediate election, which he oversaw.”

Wynstan had made sure that his preferred candidate won, and had then ratified the monks’ decision. In theory, both the archbishop and the king had a say in the appointment, but it would be difficult now for them to overturn Wynstan’s fait accompli.

Aldred said: “How do you know all this?”

“Archdeacon Degbert brought the news to the priory. I think he was hoping to tell you himself. Especially the part about the money.”

Aldred had a bad feeling. “Go on.”

“Hildred has canceled the abbey’s subsidy to our priory. From now on we must manage on whatever sums we can raise for ourselves, or close down.”

That was a blow. Aldred was suddenly grateful for Deorman’s three pounds. It meant the priory was not in danger of immediate closure.

He said to Godleof: “Get yourself something to eat. We should leave as soon as possible.”

They sat on the ground beside the oak tree that gave the house its name. While Godleof ate bread and cheese and drank a pot of ale, Aldred brooded. There were advantages to the new arrangement, he told himself. The priory would now be independent, in practice: the abbot could no longer control it by threatening to cut off funds—that was an arrow that could be shot only once. Aldred would now ask the archbishop of Canterbury for a charter that would make the priory’s independence official.

However, Deorman’s gift would not last forever, and Aldred’s search for some means of financial security was now urgent. What could he do?

Most monasteries depended on the accumulation of wealth from numerous donations. Some had large flocks of sheep, some drew rents from villages and towns, some owned fisheries and quarries. For three years Aldred had worked tirelessly to attract such gifts, and his success had been no more than modest.

His mind strayed to Winchester and Saint Swithin, who had been bishop there in the ninth century. Swithin had worked a miracle on the bridge over the Itchen River. Taking pity on a poor woman who had dropped her basket of eggs, he had made the smashed eggs whole again. His tomb in the cathedral was a popular destination for pilgrims. Sick people experienced miraculous cures there. The pilgrims donated money to the cathedral. They also bought souvenirs, lodged in alehouses owned by the monks, and generally brought prosperity to the town. The monks spent the profits enlarging the church so that it could accommodate more pilgrims, who brought more money.