They all arrived at the center of the village. There was a pond, an unfenced communal pasture where a few goats grazed, an alehouse, and a small wooden church. A large house presumably belonged to old Thane Cenbryht, but he did not appear, and Aldred presumed he was away from home.

Godleof brought the cart around so that its rear end was in line with the church door, then released the ox and put it to graze in the pasture.

The relics and the effigy could now be smoothly lifted and carried into the church by the monks: they had practiced this maneuver to be confident of doing it in a dignified manner.

That was Aldred’s plan. But now he saw the village priest standing in front of the church door with his arms folded. He was young, and he looked scared but determined.

That was strange.

“Keep singing,” Aldred murmured to the others, then he approached the priest. “Good day, Father.”

“Good day to you.”

“I’m Prior Aldred of Dreng’s Ferry, and I bring the holy relics of Saint Adolphus.”

“I know,” said the priest.

Aldred frowned. How did he know? Aldred had told no one his plans. But he decided not to get into that discussion. “The saint wishes to spend tonight in the church.”

The man looked troubled, but he said: “Well, he can’t.”

Aldred stared at him, astonished. “You’re willing to provoke the anger of the saint, with his sacred bones there in front of you?”

The priest swallowed hard. “I have my orders.”

“You do God’s will, of course.”

“God’s will, as explained to me by my superiors.”

“Which superior told you to deny Saint Adolphus a temporary resting place in your church?”

“My bishop.”

“Wynstan.”

“Yes.”

Wynstan had ordered the priest to do this—and, worse, he had probably sent the same message to every church between Glastonbury and Dreng’s Ferry. He must have moved quickly, to get word out so fast. And for what purpose? Merely to make it difficult for Aldred to raise money? Was there no limit to the bishop’s malice?

Aldred turned his back on the priest. The poor man was more terrified of Wynstan than he was of Saint Adolphus, and Aldred did not blame him. But Aldred was not ready to give up. The villagers were waiting for a spectacle, and Aldred was going to give them one. If it could not be in the church, it would just have to be outside.

He spoke quietly to Edgar. “The mechanism will work with the effigy on the cart, won’t it?”

“Yes,” said Edgar. “It will work anywhere.”

“Then get ready.”

Aldred moved in front of the cart, faced the villagers, looked around as they fell silent, and started to pray. He began in Latin. They did not understand the words but they were used to that: in fact the Latin would convince doubters, if there were any, that this was a genuine church service.

Then he switched to English. “O most omnipotent and eternal God, who reveals to us through the merits of Saint Adolphus your mercy and compassion, may your saint intercede for us.”