“Speak your thoughts, brother.”
Silvius spread his hands.
“The woman is certainly a saint,” he said. “It is common report that she has worked many and strange cures. And, lord, with the foresight of faith I look towards the future. From simple beginnings great things have arisen. We do not draw pilgrims here—to our Abbey. How much glory, sir, has the altar of Canterbury won by the swords of those violent men.”
Reginald of Brecon saw Dom Silvius’s vision.
“A hundred years hence, brother, we shall be blessed through the relics of St. Denise!”
Silvius had no mistrust of his inspiration.
“The maid is certainly miraculous,” he said. “We could grant her a cell within our bounds.”
He of the mitre put the tips of his fingers in opposition.
“Our brethren of Mickleham or of Robertsbridge would forestall us, if they could?”
“They love their ‘houses,’ Father, and for that I praise them.”