'He is to be involved?' The abbot's eyes narrowed. Plainly that did not please him.
'He and no one else. Tell me, how long have you been abbot here?'
'Fourteen years. Fourteen peaceful years, till now.'
'But there were problems two years ago, were there not? The visitation?'
He reddened. 'Yes. There had been some – backsliding. The old prior – there were corrupt practices, it happens even in the holiest of places.'
'Corrupt and illegal.'
'The old prior was removed, defrocked. The prior is, of course, responsible for the monks' welfare and discipline under me. He was a crafty villain and kept his ill deeds well concealed. But now we have godly discipline again under Prior Mortimus. Commissioner Singleton did not deny that.'
I nodded. 'Now, there are sixty servants here?'
'We have a large complex of buildings to maintain.'
'And – what – thirty monks?'
'Sir, I cannot believe that one of my servants, let alone a monk devoted to the service of God, could have done this thing.'
'All must be suspect at the start, my lord. After all, Commissioner Singleton was here to negotiate the surrender of the monastery. And for all that the pensions His Majesty is graciously offering are generous, I imagine some may take very unkindly to the prospect of the end of their life here.'
'The monks were not told of his purpose. They know only that the commissioner was an emissary of the vicar general. I had Prior Mortimus put it about there was a problem with the title to one of the estates. At Commissioner Singleton's specific request. Only my senior officials, the senior obedentiaries, knew his purpose.'
'Who are they exactly?'
'As well as Prior Mortimus there are Gabriel, the sacrist; Brother Edwig, our bursar; and Brother Guy, the infirmarian. They are the most senior and have all been here for years, save for Brother Guy who came last year. Since the murder there have been all sorts of rumours about why the commissioner was here, but I have kept to the story about a title dispute.'
'Good. We shall hold to that arrangement for the present. Although the question of surrender is one I may wish to return to.'
The abbot paused, choosing his next words carefully.
'Sir, even in these terrible circumstances I must insist on my rights. The Act dissolving the smaller houses said specifically that the greater monasteries were in good order. There is no legal basis to demand a surrender, unless the house has been guilty of some gross breach of the injunctions, which we have not. I do not know why the vicar general should want possession of this monastery. I have heard rumours that others are being asked to surrender, but I must say to you as I said to Master Singleton: I call on the protection the law affords me.' He leaned back, his face red and his lips set, cornered but defiant.
'I see you have a collection of statutes,' I observed.
'I studied law at Cambridge many years ago. You are a lawyer, sir, you know that observance of law is the basis of our society.'
'So it is, but the law changes. New Acts have come, and others will follow.'
He looked at me without expression. He knew as well as I that there would be no more Acts dissolving monasteries by force while the country remained unsettled.
I broke the silence. 'Now, my lord, I would be grateful if you could arrange for me to inspect poor Singleton's body, which as you say is overdue for Christian burial. I will want someone to show me over the monastery, too, but perhaps that would be better done tomorrow. Dusk draws on.'
'Certainly. The body is in a place I think you will agree is both safe and fitting, in the custody of the infirmarian. I will arrange for you to be escorted to him. Please let me state clearly that I will do all I can to help you, though I fear you have a hopeless task.'
'I am grateful.'
'And, now, I have a guest room prepared for you upstairs.'
'Thank you, but I think I would prefer to be nearer the locus of the deed. You have guest rooms in your infirmary?'
'Well, yes – but surely the king's representative should lodge with the abbot?'
'The infirmary would be better,' I said firmly. 'And I will need a complete set of keys to all the buildings within the precincts.'
He smiled in disbelief. 'But – have you any idea how many keys there are here, how many doors?'
'Oh, many, I should think. Surely there must be complete sets.'
'I have one. And the prior and the gatekeeper. But they are all in constant use.'
'I shall need a set, my lord. Please arrange it.' I stood up, trying not to exclaim at a spasm from my back. Mark followed. Abbot Fabian looked thoroughly discomfited as he too rose, smoothing down his robe. 'I will see you are taken to the infirmarian.'
We followed him into the hall, where he bowed and bustled away. I blew out my cheeks.
'Will he give you the keys?' Mark asked.
'Oh, I think so. He's afraid of Cromwell. God's death, he knows his law. If he's of lowly origin as Goodhaps said, being abbot of a this great place must mean everything to him.'
'His accent was that of a man of breeding.'
'Accents can be adopted. Many put a great deal of effort into it. Lord Cromwell's voice has little of Putney left in it. Yours has little of the farm, come to that.'
'He wasn't pleased we are not staying here.'
'No, and old Goodhaps will be disappointed. But I can't help that; I don't want to be isolated here under the abbot's eye, I need to be near the heart of the place.'
After a few minutes Prior Mortimus appeared, bearing an enormous bunch of keys on a ring. There were over thirty, some huge ornamented affairs, centuries old. He handed them to me with a tight smile.
'I beg you not to lose them, sir. They are the only spare set the house possesses.'
I passed them to Mark. 'Carry these, would you? So there
He avoided replying. 'I have been asked to take you to the infirmary. Brother Guy is expecting you.'
He led us out of the house and back past the workshops, closed and shuttered for it was now dark. The night was moonless and colder than ever. In my tired state the chill seemed to penetrate my bones. We passed the church, from which chanting could be heard. It was a beautiful, elaborate polyphony, accompanied by organ music; quite unlike the off-key warbling I knew from Lichfield.
'Who is your precentor?' I asked.
'Brother Gabriel, our sacrist, is master of music as well. He is a man of many talents.' I caught a sardonic note in the prior's voice.
'Is it not a little late for Vespers?'
'Only a little. Yesterday was All Souls, the monks were standing in church all day.'
I shook my head. 'Everywhere the monasteries follow their own timetable, an easier one than that St Benedict set.'
He nodded seriously. 'And Lord Cromwell is right to say the monks should be kept up to the mark. So far as is in my power, I see that they are.'
We followed the cloister wall separating off the monks' quarters and entered the big herb garden I had seen earlier. Close to, the infirmary was bigger than I had thought. The prior turned the iron ring in the stout door, and we followed him in.
The long infirmary hall stretched before us, its rows of beds on each side widely spaced and mostly empty. It reminded me how shrunken in numbers the Benedictines had become; only at the height of their numbers before the Great Pestilence would the community have needed so large an infirmary. Only three beds were occupied, all by old men in nightshifts. In the first a fat, red-cheeked monk sat up eating dried fruits; he peered at us curiously. The man in the next bed did not look towards us and I saw he was blind, his eyes milky white with cataracts. In the
