Dissolution

CHAPTER 23

Supper in the refectory that night was a subdued affair. The abbot called on everyone to observe silence during the meal, enjoining them to pray for the soul of what he called the unknown person whose body had been found in the pond. The monks wore strained, worried expressions and I caught many fearful, anxious looks cast at me. It was as though the sense of dissolution the abbot had mentioned was already starting to pervade the entire monastery.

Mark and I walked back to the infirmary in silence; we were both exhausted, but also I sensed once again the distance that had come on Mark since I forbade him to court Alice. When we regained our room I threw myself down on my cushioned chair, while Mark put some more logs on the fire. I had told him of my encounter with Brother Edwig. My head was still abuzz with it.

'If I set Copynger about his enquiries tomorrow morning we should have an answer the day after. If even one of those land sales is confirmed, we have Edwig for fraud. And it gives him a clear motive for murder.'

Mark sat down on a pile of cushions opposite, his face alive with interest. Whatever our quarrels, he was as eager as I to catch our murderer. I wanted to test my thoughts against his wits, and also it was cheering to hear him talk enthusiastically again.

'We always come back, sir, to the fact he was away. Away when Singleton found the book and away when, the same night, he was murdered.'

'I know. Only Athelstan knew and he said he told no one else.'

'Could Athelstan be the killer?'

'Him strike off a man's head, a commissioner? No. Remember how frightened he was when he approached me to offer himself as an informer. He hasn't the courage to defy a mouse.'

'Is that not an emotional reaction to his personality?' There was a note of sarcasm in Mark's voice.

'All right. Perhaps I was carried away with the logical edifice I had built when I accused Gabriel. Yet it all seemed to fit so well. But yes, of course we must take our judgement of men's characters into account and Athelstan's is palpably weak.'

'And why should he care if Brother Edwig goes to the gallows, or even if the monastery goes down? He is hardly devout.'

'And how could he have come by that sword? I wish I could trace its history; in London I could probably discover the maker through his mark. The swordsmiths' guild would know. But we're trapped down here by this snow.'

'Sir, what if Singleton told someone else what he had found in the counting house and they decided to kill him? The abbot, perhaps. His seal would be on those deeds.'

'Yes. A seal he leaves lying on his desk, where anybody could use it while he was away.'

'Prior Mortimus, then? He's brutal enough for murder, surely? And isn't it said that he and Brother Edwig run the place?'

'Those two in a fraud together? I wonder. I must get that answer from Copynger.' I sighed. 'How long is it since we set out from London? A week? It seems a lifetime.'

'Just six days.'

'I wish I had time to go back. But even sending a message would take days in this snow. Pox on it, is it going to go on for ever?'

'It seems so.'

Shortly after Mark got into his little wheeled cot and pulled it back under my bed. I sat on, staring into the banked-up fire. Through windows already frosting again with ice I heard the bells ring out for Compline. Whatever happened, whatever nightmares unfolded, the services still went on.

I thought of Lord Cromwell, waiting in London for my reply. I must try to send a message soon, even if it were only to say I had no answers and two more murders to solve. I could imagine his angry face, his oaths, his wondering again about my loyalty. But if Copynger confirmed the land sales I could have Brother Edwig arrested for fraud. I had a vision of myself interrogating him in Scarnsea gaol, manacled in some dark hole, and found the thought gave me pleasure. That disturbed me and I reflected how dislike of a man and the prospect of power over him led the mind into unpleasant paths. Guilt stole over me and I began thinking once more about Mark and Alice. How pure were my motives there? All I had said to Mark about the difference in their degree, and his obligation to his family to succeed, was true. Yet I knew the worm of jealousy stirred in me. The sight of them embracing in the kitchen came back to me and I clenched my eyes shut as another vision stirred in the corner of my mind's eye, of Alice embracing me instead of him. All the time I could hear Mark's breathing, which had deepened into sleep.

I prayed that God might lead my actions into a true and just path; a path such as Christ might have followed. Then I must have slept for the next thing I knew I had started awake and was staring at a dead fire. Hours must have passed; my back ached and I was chilled to the bone. I rose painfully from the chair, undressed and climbed wearily into bed.

I fell at once into a deep sleep and woke next morning more rested than for a week past. Brother Guy's prescription was doing me good. After breakfast I wrote a letter to Justice Copynger and gave it to Mark.

'Take this into Scarnsea now. Ask Copynger if he can get a reply to me by tomorrow.'

'I thought you wished to see him yourself.'

'I want to go out on the marsh while the weather holds.' I looked up at the sky, which was dark with clouds again. 'Tell the abbot the cleaning of Singleton's grave can be done when you return. Are arrangements in place to drain the pond?'

'They have a sump they can drain the stream into. Apparently they clear out the silt every ten years or so.'

'When was it last done?'

'Three years ago.'

'So that body would have lain undisturbed for many years yet. And yet not for ever.'

'Maybe the murderer needed to get rid of it quickly.'

'Yes. And then it would be hard to get out again.

'No need to go to the church now.'

'No, let's get the pond drained first. You will have a busy day,' I added in an effort at cheerfulness. But that very effort seemed to make him close in on himself again. 'Yes, sir,' he said quietly and left the room.

I read more routine correspondence which the abbot's servant brought, then went in search of Alice. I felt a mixture of nervousness and excitement, like a boy, at the thought of seeing her. Brother Guy told me she was hanging herbs in the drying house and would be free shortly, so I went into the courtyard to see how the weather was faring. The clouds were high and I hoped we might escape more snow. I shivered at the endless cold.

My attention was drawn by raised voices. By the gatehouse I saw two figures struggling, one dressed in black and the other in white. I hurried over. Jerome was in the grasp of Prior Mortimus, who had him in a firm grip. He was trying to seize a paper Jerome held tightly in one hand. Despite his disabilities, the Carthusian was putting up a fierce struggle. Nearby Bugge was holding a squirming small boy by the collar.

'Give me that, ye whoreson!' the prior growled. Jerome tried to stuff the paper in his mouth, but the prior hooked a foot beneath his good leg and he toppled over, landing on his back in the snow. Prior Mortimus reached down, tore the paper from his hand and stood breathing heavily.

'What is this tumult?' I demanded.

Before the prior could answer, Jerome hauled himself up on his elbow and spat at him, a gobbet of spittle landing on his habit. He exclaimed in disgust and launched a sudden kick at the Carthusian's ribs. The old man fell back with a yell to lie shrieking in the churned-up snow. Prior Mortimus held up a letter.

'See, Commissioner, I caught him trying to smuggle this out!'

I took it and read the superscription. 'It's addressed to Sir Thomas Seymour!'

'Is he not one of the king's council?'

'He is, and the late queen's brother.' With a glance at Jerome, who lay glaring up at us like a wild beast, I tore it open. A chill ran down my spine as I read. It addressed Seymour as cousin, referred to his imprisonment in a corrupt house where a king's commissioner had been murdered, and said there was a story he should know, of ill deeds by Lord Cromwell. He then went on to repeat the story of his encounter in prison with Mark Smeaton, and the musician's torture by Cromwell.

I crumpled the paper in my hand. 'How did he get out?'

'He disappeared after Prime and I came looking for him. Meanwhile our good Bugge was visited by this boy from the poorhouse, saying he had come to fetch a message from one of the monks. Bugge was suspicious and wouldn't let him in.' The gatekeeper nodded in satisfaction, grinding his knuckles into the urchin's collar. He had ceased his struggles and was staring in astonished terror at Jerome lying on the snow.

'Who sent you here?' I asked him.

'A servant brought a note, sir,' he answered tremulously, 'asking me to take a letter for the London post.'

'I found this on him,' Bugge said. He opened his free hand, which held a gold ring.

'Yours?' I asked Jerome. He turned his head away.

'Which servant, boy? Answer, you are in serious trouble.'

'Mister Grindstaff, sir, from the kitchen. The ring was to pay me and the post coach.'

'Grindstaff!' the prior snorted. 'He takes Jerome his food, he's always been against the changes. I'll put him out on the road tonight – unless you'd take harsher measures, Commissioner?'

I shook my head. 'Make sure Jerome is kept locked in his cell all the time. You should not have let him out for services – see what has come of it!' I turned to Bugge. 'Let the boy go.'

Bugge hauled the urchin to the gate and shoved him out on the road with a cuff.

'Get up, you,' Prior Mortimus snapped at Jerome.

He tried to struggle up, but fell back. 'I can't, you unchristian churl.'

'Help him,' I ordered Bugge. 'Lock him in his cell.' The gatekeeper hauled Jerome to his feet and led him roughly away.

'Cromwell has many enemies!' Jerome shouted at me over his shoulder. 'His just end will come!'

I turned to the prior. 'Have you an office we can go to?'

He led me through the inner cloister to a room with a warm fire. A jug of wine stood on a paper-strewn desk and he poured us each a cup.

'Is this the first time Jerome has disappeared after a service?'

'Yes. He is always watched.'

'Is there any chance he could have sent another letter out before today?'

'Not since he was confined, the day you came. But before – yes.'

I nodded, biting a fingernail. 'He must be guarded closely from now on. This letter is a serious matter. It should be reported to Lord Cromwell at once.'

He gave me a calculating look. 'Would ye perhaps tell Lord Cromwell that a monk loyal to the king stopped the letter going?'

'We'll see.' I looked at him coldly. 'There was another matter I wanted to discuss with you. Orphan Stonegarden.'

He nodded slowly. 'Aye, I'd heard questions were being asked.'

'Well? Your name has been mentioned.'

He shrugged. 'Even old celibates get lusty. She was a fine-looking girl. I tried to get her to romp with me, I'll not deny it.'

'You who are charged with keeping discipline in this house, and told me yesterday that discipline is all that keeps the world from chaos?'

He stirred uneasily in his chair. 'A tumble with a warm girl's a different matter from unnatural passions that rot the relations monks should have with each other,' he said sharply. 'I'm not perfect, nobody is except the saints and not all of them.'

'Some would say, Prior Mortimus, those words make you a hypocrite.'

'Oh come, Commissioner, aren't all men hypocrites? I wished the girl no harm. She rejected me quickly enough, and that old pederast Alexander reported me to the abbot. I felt sorry for her afterwards,' he added in a quieter voice, 'drifting about the place like a wraith. I never talked to her again, though.'

'Did anyone take her by force, that you know of? Goodwife Stumpe believes someone did.'

'No.' His face darkened. 'I wouldn't have stood for that.' He let out a long breath. 'It was bad, seeing her yesterday. I knew her at once.'

'So did Goodwife Stumpe.' I folded my arms. 'Brother Prior, your fine feelings amaze me. I can hardly believe this is the same man I saw kick a cripple not half an hour ago.'

'A man's place in the world is hard, a monk's most of all. He has obligations set by God, and fierce temptations to resist. Women – they're different, they deserve a peaceful life if they behave. Orphan was a good girl, not like that malapert Guy has working for him now.'

'She too had an approach from you, I hear.'

He was silent a moment. 'I wasn't fierce with her, y'know. Orphan. When she turned me away I didn't press her.'

'But others did. Brother Luke.' I paused. 'Brother Edwig.'

'Aye. Brother Alexander reported them too – though his own greater sins were to find him out,' he added maliciously. 'The abbot dealt with Brother Luke and told Brother Edwig to leave her be. And me as well. He doesn't often give me orders but he did then.'

'They tell me, you know, that you and Brother Edwig run this place.'

'Someone has to, Abbot Fabian's always been more interested in hunting with the local gentry. We see to the dull things that keep the monastery going.

I wondered whether to mention the monastery's financial affairs, or land sales in general, to see how he reacted. But no, I should not warn any of them till I had evidence to hand.

'I never believed she'd stolen those cups and run away, you know,' he said quietly.

'You told Goodwife Stumpe she had.'

'It was how it looked, and it was the line Abbot Fabian told us to take – he bestirred himself over that. I hope ye find who put her in there,' he added grimly. 'When ye do I wouldn't mind five minutes alone with them myself.'

I stared at his face, full of righteous anger. 'I imagine you would enjoy that,' I said coldly. 'And now you must excuse me, I am late for an appointment.'

Alice was waiting in the infirmary kitchen, a pair of stout overshoes on her feet and an old wool coat beside her. 'You need something warmer than that,' I said. 'It will be cold out there.'

'It will suffice,' she said, wrapping it round her. 'It was my mother's and it warmed her for thirty winters.'

We set out for the gate in the rear wall, following the path Mark and I had taken the day before. I was disconcerted to realize she was a good inch taller than me. Most men are, because of my bent back, but usually I can look women in the eye. I pondered on what it was that had attracted both Mark and me to Alice, for she was no conventional beauty, demure and pale. But simpering blonde maids had never attracted me; it was the spark of one strong spirit meeting another I had always yearned for. My heart lurched anew at the realization.

We passed Singleton's grave, still stark brown against the whiteness. Alice was as distant and uncommunicative as Mark had been. It made me angry to be confronted with this silent insolence again, and I wondered whether it was a tactic they had agreed between them, or whether it came to each naturally. But then the ways of expressing discontent to those in power are limited.

As we ploughed through the orchard, where today a flock of starveling crows sat cawing in the trees, I tried to make conversation. I asked how she had come to pass her childhood playing around the marsh.

'Two little boys lived in the cottage next to ours. Brothers, Noel and James. We used to play together. Their family had been fishermen for generations; they knew all the paths through the marsh, all the landmarks that keep you on firm ground. Their father was a smuggler as well as a fisherman. They're all dead now, their ship was lost in a great storm five years ago.'

'I am sorry.'

'It's what fishermen have to expect.' She turned to me, a spark of animation entering her voice. 'If folk do take treated cloth to France and bring back wine, it's only because they're poor.'

'I have no interest in prosecuting anybody, Alice. I merely wonder whether some moneys that may be unaccounted for, and perhaps the lost relic, could be taken out that way.'

We arrived opposite the fish pond. A little way off some servants, supervised by a monk, were working by a little lock gate in the stream, and I saw the water level in the pond had already fallen.

'Brother Guy told me about that poor girl,' Alice said, wrapping her coat around her more tightly. 'He said she did my work before I came.'

'Yes, she did. But the poor creature had no friends apart from Simon Whelplay. You have people who will guard you.' I saw anxiety in her eyes and smiled reassuringly. 'Come, there is the gate. I have a key.'

We went through, and again I stood looking over the white expanse of the marsh, the river in the distance and the little knoll with the ruined buildings halfway between.

'I nearly fell in the first time I came out here,' I observed. 'Are you sure there is a safe way? I don't see how you can descry landmarks when everything is covered in snow.'

She pointed. 'See those banks of tall reeds? It's a question of finding the right ones, and keeping them at the right distance from you. It's not all marsh, there are firmer patches, and the patterns of the reeds are their signposts.' She stepped from the path and tested the ground. 'There will be a frozen crust in places; you have to take care not to step through.'

'I know. That is what I did last time.' I hesitated on the bank and smiled nervously. 'You have the life of a king's commissioner in your hands.'

'I will take care, sir.' She walked back and forth along the path a few times, judging where we should cross and then, bidding me walk exactly in her footprints, stepped down onto the marsh.

She led the way slowly and steadily, pausing often to take bearings. I admit my heart pounded at first; I looked back, conscious of our growing distance from the monastery wall, the impossibility of help if one fell in. But Alice seemed confident. Sometimes when I stepped in her tracks the ground was firm, at others oily black water seeped in to fill the depressions. Our progress seemed slow and I was surprised when, looking up, I saw we were almost at the knoll, the ruins of tumbled stone only fifty yards away. Alice stopped.

'We need to go up on the knoll, then another path leads down to the river. It is more dangerous on that side, though.'

'Well, let us get to the knoll at least.'

A few moments later we stepped up onto firm ground. The knoll was only a few feet above the level of the bog, but from there I had a clear view both back to the monastery and down to the river, still and grey. The sea was visible in the distance and a cutting breeze gave the air a salty tang.

'So smugglers would take their contraband this way?'

'Yes, sir. A few years ago the revenue men from Rye chased some smugglers out there, but they lost their way. Two men went down in seconds, vanished without trace.' I followed her gaze out over the white expanse and shivered, then looked around the knoll. It was smaller than I had expected, the ruined buildings little more than heaps of stone. One, though roofless, was more complete than the rest and I saw the remains of a fire, a bare patch in the snow covered with ashes.

'People have been here very recently,' I said, turning over the ashes. I poked around the site with my staff, half hoping to find the relic or a chest of gold hidden away, but there was nothing. Alice stood watching me silently.

I went back to her and stood looking around. 'The first monks must have had a harsh life. I wonder why they came here; for security perhaps.'

'They say the marsh has risen gradually as the river mouth has silted up. Perhaps it wasn't marsh then, just a point near the river.' She did not sound much interested.

'This scene would make an arresting painting. I paint, you know, when I have time.'

'I have only seen the paintings on the glass in the church. The colours are pretty, but the figures always seem unreal somehow.'

I nodded. 'That's because they're not in proportion and there's no sense of distance, perspective. But painters now try to show things as they are, to show reality.'

'Do they, sir?' Her voice was still cool, distant. I cleared the snow from a patch of ancient wall and sat down.

'Alice, I would like to talk with you. About Master Mark.'

Her look at me was bleak.

'I know he has formed an attachment to you, and I believe it is an honourable one.'

At once she became animated. 'Then why, sir, do you forbid him to see me?'

'Mark's father is the steward of my father's farmlands. Not that my father is rich, but I have been lucky to make my way, through the law, into the service of Lord Cromwell himself.' I thought to impress her, but her expression did not change.

'My father gave his word to Mark's that I would try to advance the boy in London. I have done that; not alone, his own good mind and fair manner have played their part.' I coughed delicately. 'Unfortunately there was some trouble. He had to leave his post –'

'I know about the lady-in-waiting, sir. He has told me all.'

'Oh. Has he? Then don't you see, Alice, he has a last chance with this mission to return to favour. If he takes it he could advance himself further, have a secure and wealthy future, but he will have to find a wife of rank. Alice, you are a fine girl. If you were a London merchant's daughter, it would be another matter. Why, if that were so, you might find me as a suitor as well as Mark.' I had not meant to say that, but it came in a sudden rush of feeling. She frowned, her face uncomprehending. Had she not realized? I took a deep breath. 'In any event, if Mark is to advance, he cannot go wooing a servant. It is hard, but it is how society works.'

'Then society is wicked,' she said with sudden cold anger. 'I have thought so for a long time.'

I stood up. 'It is the world God has made for us, for weal or woe we must live in it. Would you hold Mark back, prevent his advancement? If you encourage him, that is what will happen.'

'I would do nothing to hinder him,' she said hotly. 'I would do nothing against his wishes.'

'But he may wish for something that would hinder him.'

'It is for him to say. Though, if we are not to speak, he can say nothing.'

'Would you spoil his chances? Really?'

She studied me closely, so closely I felt uneasy as I never had in my life under a woman's look. At length she gave a heavy sigh. 'Sometimes it seems all those I love are to be taken from me. But perhaps that is a servant's lot,' she added bitterly.

'Mark said you had a swain, a woodsman who died in an accident.'

'If he had not I would be secure in Scarnsea, for landlords do nothing but cut down woods these days. Instead I am in this place.' Tears appeared in the corners of her eyes and angrily she wiped them aside. I would fain have held her to me and comforted her, but I knew it was not my arms she wanted.

'I am sorry. It is in the world's nature that often we lose those we love. Alice, it may be the monastery has little future now. What if I were to try and find a post for you in the town, through Justice Copynger? I may be seeing him tomorrow. You should not be here, where these terrible things are happening.'

She wiped her eyes and gave me a strange look, full of feeling. 'Yes, I have learned here the depths of violence in mankind. It is a frightening thing.' I see that look before me now as I write, and shiver at the memory of what was to come.

'Let me help you away from it.'

'Perhaps, sir, though it will be hard to pay that man respect.'

'I understand. But, I must say again, it is the way of the world.'

'I am afraid here now. Even Mark is fearful.'

'Yes. And so am I.'

'Sir, Brother Guy said some other things were found in the pond as well as the girl's body. May I ask what they were?'

'Only a robe, which seems not to hold the clue I hoped for, and a sword. I am having the pond drained to see what else may be there.'

'A sword?'

'Yes. I believe the one that killed Commissioner Singleton. It had a maker's mark that should make it possible to trace, but I would need to go to London to follow that up.'

'Don't go, sir, please,' she said with sudden feeling. 'Don't leave us. Sir, I beg forgiveness if I have been impertinent with you, but please do not go. It is only your presence here that ensures my protection.'

'I think you exaggerate my powers,' I said gloomily. 'I could not save Simon Whelplay. But I do not see how I could get there in this snow without taking a week upon the road, and I do not have that amount of time.'

Her face filled with relief. I ventured to lean over and pat her arm. 'It touches me that you have such faith in me.'

She withdrew her arm, but smiled. 'Perhaps you have too little faith in yourself, sir. Perhaps in other circumstances, without Mark –' She left the sentence unfinished, lowering her head demurely. I confess my heart was thudding. We stood on the knoll in silence for a moment.

'I think we should go back now,' I said, 'rather than try to reach the river. I am expecting a message from the Justice. And, Alice, I will do something for you, I promise. And – thank you for your words.'

'And you for your help.' She smiled quickly, then turned and led the way back down to the bog. The return journey was easier; we had only to step in the footprints made earlier. Following behind her, I gazed at the back of her neck, and once I nearly reached out and touched it. I reflected that it was not just monks who made fools of themselves and could easily turn into hypocrites.

An awkwardness had descended on me, and we said little on the way back. But at least it felt a warmer silence than on the way out. At the infirmary hall Alice left me, saying she had duties to attend to. Brother Guy was dressing the fat monk's leg. He looked up.

'You have returned? You look cold.'

'I am. Alice was very helpful, I am grateful for her assistance.'

'How is your sleep?'

'Much improved, thanks to your good potion. Have you seen Mark?'

'I passed him a few moments ago. He went into your room. Take the potion a few more days,' he called after me as I left the hall, trying to decide whether to tell Mark of my talk with Alice. I reached our room and opened the door.

'Mark, I have been out –' I broke off, staring round. The room was empty. And then came a voice, from the empty air it seemed.

'Sir! Help me!'