William belonged to the landholding, military gentry. His family owned property in England and France. The Gascoignes campaigned under the banner of the Earl of Huntingdon and their strength lay in their ability to make a profit out of the war in France. William was a powerfully built lad of twelve with blue eyes, blond hair and a pugnacious nature.
Geoffrey was keen to show him the changes his father was making to the abbey. William was more interested in climbing the abbey tower.
'Have you ever been to Salisbury?' Geoffrey asked.
'My father took me once,' William said.
'Well. You'd have seen the pointed arches in the cathedral. They were done in the old style. They're better than the rounded stuff the Normans did but not up to much. We're going for a total remake.'
William didn't care how buildings were put up. He wanted to know how to knock them down and get to the valuables inside.
Geoffrey opened a small door.
'Take a look at that.'
William leant forward and found himself staring into space. It was as if a slice had been cut from the end of the nave. The roof was missing and so were the beams that had once supported the wooden ceiling.
'We took it off so we could put up the scaffolding,' Geoffrey explained. 'We'll be putting on a temporary roof when it's finished. There's no point in making it permanent because the nave is in for a total remake. Just look at those ugly pillars the Normans put up.'
William wasn't interested in what the Normans did hundreds of years ago. He wanted to know what was going on right now. A door at the end of the nave had opened and a man with a baldhead had appeared.
'That's Thomas Draper,' Geoffrey whispered. 'My dad says he's a troublemaker.'
William watched the baldhead proceed down the aisle and stop before a wooden platform.
'We put it up yesterday,' Geoffrey said.
What's it for?'
'The baptismal. It's where they take the money. When the babies have been put in the holy water they go up there so their names can be written in a book. They can't go to heaven if that's not done.'
William wasn't interested in books or babies. His eyes were on the man. He watched carefully. His uncle Guy had taught him to do that. Guy said lawyers and priests buried their heads in books. Soldiers watched and listened. It wasn't what people said that mattered … it was what they did.
The man knelt beside the platform.