be noticed in mead.'
'It is used as a remedy for some ailments, is it not?'
'In small doses it relieves constipation, and has other uses. There is some in my infirmary, I often prescribe it. Many of the monks will have some. Its properties are well known.'
I thought a moment. 'Last night Simon began to tell me something. He said Commissioner Singleton's death was not the first. I intended to question him again today when he woke.' I gave him a sharp look. 'Did you or Alice tell anyone what he had said?'
'I did not, and nor would Alice. But he might have rambled deliriously to his other visitors.'
'One of whom decided his mouth must be stopped.'
He bit his lip and nodded heavily.
'Poor child,' I said. 'And all I could think of was that he was mocking me.'
'Things are seldom what they seem.'
'Here least of all. Tell me, Brother, why have you told me this rather than going straight to the abbot?'
He gave me a bleak look. 'Because the abbot was among his visitors. You have authority, Master Shardlake, and I believe you seek the truth, however much I suspect we might disagree on matters of religion.'
I nodded. 'For the moment I instruct you to keep secret what you have told me. I must think carefully how to proceed.' I looked at Brother Guy to see how he would take orders from me, but he only nodded wearily. He looked down at my mud-caked leg.
'Have you had an accident?' he asked.
'I fell in the bog. I managed to get myself out.'
'The ground is very unsafe out there.'
'I think there is no safe ground under my feet anywhere here. Come inside, or we'll catch an ague.' I led the way indoors. 'Strange that my misplaced fear he was mocking me should lead to this discovery.'
'At least now Prior Mortimus cannot say that Simon is surely in hell.'
'Yes. I think that may disappoint him.' Unless he is the killer, I thought, in which case he knows already. I gritted my teeth. If I had not allowed Alice and Brother Guy to dissuade me from talking to Simon last night, not only might I have had his full story, not only might I have been led to the killer, but Simon would still be alive. Now I had two murders to investigate. And if what the poor novice had muttered in his delirium about Singleton not being the first was true, then there were three.
CHAPTER 14
I had hoped to go into Scarnsea that afternoon, but it was now too late. In the last glow of the sunset I trudged again through the precinct to the abbot's house, to talk to Goodhaps. The old cleric was again bibbing alone in his room. I did not tell him that Novice Whelplay had been murdered, only that he had been very ill. Goodhaps seemed uninterested. I asked him what he knew of the account book Singleton had been studying just before his death. Singleton, he said, had told him only that he had prised a new book out of the counting house, which he hoped would be useful. The old man muttered in a surly tone that Robin Singleton kept much to himself, using him only to burrow in books. I left him to his wine.
A cold, keening wind had risen, cutting through me like a blade as I made my way back to the infirmary. As those loud bells pealed out again for Vespers I could not help reflecting that anyone who might have information was at risk: old Goodhaps, or Mark, or me. Whelplay's killing had been carried out with a cold and ruthless hand, and might have escaped detection had I not put Brother Guy in mind of belladonna by mentioning Simon's strange postures and gestures. We might be dealing with a fanatic, but not someone ruled by impulse. What if he was planning to put poison in my dinner plate, or sought to make a gap between my head and shoulders such as he had with Singleton's? I shivered and pulled my coat tighter around my neck.
Books were stacked on the floor of our room. Mark sat staring into the fire. He had not yet lit the candles, but the firelight cast a flickering glow over his troubled face. I sat opposite him; the chance to rest my poor bones by a warm fire was welcome.
'Mark,' I said, 'we have a new mystery.' I told him what Brother Guy had said. 'I have spent my life deciphering secrets, but here they seem to multiply and grow more terrible.' I passed a hand over my brow. 'And I blame myself for that boy's death. If only I had insisted, last night, in pressing him. And there in the infirmary, when he bent his poor body and waved his arms, all I could think of was that he might be mocking me.' I stared bleakly before me, momentarily overcome with guilt.
'You were not to know what had happened, sir,' Mark said hesitantly.
'I was tired, I allowed myself to be pressed to leave him. Lord Cromwell said in London that time was of the essence. Now here we are four days later with no answers and another death.'
Mark stood up and lit candles from the fire. I felt suddenly angry with myself; I should be encouraging him, not giving in to despair, but the novice's death had momentarily overwhelmed me. I hoped his soul had found rest with God; I would have prayed for it had I believed prayers for the dead made any difference.
'Do not give up, sir,' Mark said awkwardly as he set the candles on the table. 'We have this new matter of the bursar to investigate. That may take us forward.'
'He was away when the murder was done. But no,' I forced a smile. 'I shall not give up. Besides, I dare not, this is Lord Cromwell's commission.'
'I took the chance to look over the outhouses while you were in the church. You were right, they are busy places. The stables, the forge, the buttery, all in constant use. I couldn't see anywhere that large items might be hidden.'
'Those side chapels in the church might repay investigations. And I saw something interesting on the way out to the marsh.' I told him of the yellow gleam at the bottom of the pond. 'That's one place you might use to dispose of evidence.'
'We should investigate then, sir. You see, we have leads. The truth will prevail.'
I laughed hollowly. 'Oh Mark, you have not spent a lifetime around His Majesty's courts to say that. But you are right to encourage me.' I picked at a loose thread on the seat cover. 'I am become melancholy. I have felt my spirits weighing heavily on me for some months but it is worse here. My humours must be out of balance, too much black bile in my organs. Perhaps I should consult Brother Guy.'
'This is no place to cheer one.'
'No. And I confess I fear danger too. I was thinking of it now, in the yard. A footstep behind me, the swish of a sword through the air-' I looked up to where he stood over me. His boyish features were full of concern, and I was conscious of the weight this mission laid on him.
'I know. This place, the silence broken by those bells that make you start like a jack beetle.'
'Well, alertness is a good thing. I am glad you are ready to admit your fear. That is a good manly thing, better than the bravado of youth. And I should be less melancholy. I must pray for fortitude tonight.' I looked at him with sudden curiosity. 'What will you pray for?'
He shrugged. 'I am out of the habit of praying at night.'
'It should not be a mere habit, Mark. But don't look so worried, I am not going to lecture you about prayer.' I heaved myself upright. My back was tired, and sore again. 'Come, we should rouse ourselves, have a look at those account books. Then after supper we will tackle Brother Edwig.'
I lit more candles, and we set the books on the table. As I opened the first one, revealing lined pages filled with numbers and scratchy writing, Mark looked across at me seriously.
'Sir, could Alice be in danger because of what she told you? If Simon Whelplay was killed because he might divulge a secret, the same could happen to her.'
'I know. The sooner I confront the bursar about this missing book, the better. I promised Alice I would keep her involvement secret.'
'She is a brave woman.'
