'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!'
CHAPTER 24
Help!' There was an edge of panic in Mark's muffled voice, which to my confused mind seemed to issue from empty space. Then I saw the cupboard had been pulled out a little. Peering behind, I saw a door in the panelled wall. With difficulty, I dragged the cupboard out.
'Mark! Are you in there?'
'I'm shut in! Open it, sir! Quick, he may come back!'
I twisted the handle, which was old and rusty. There was a click and the door opened, letting out a draught of dank air. Mark shot from the darkness, dusty and dishevelled. I stared into the blackness a moment, then back at him.
'God's flesh, what has happened? Who may come back?'
He took deep whooping breaths. 'I closed the door behind me when I went in, then found it couldn't be opened from inside. I was trapped. There's a spyhole there; someone
'Tell me what happened, from the beginning.' At least, I thought, he had been shocked out of his sulk. He sat down on the bed.
'After you left, I spoke to Prior Mortimus about clearing the pond. They are draining it now.'
'Yes, I saw that.'
'I came back here to fetch my overshoes. While I was putting them on I heard sounds again.' He looked at me boldly. 'I knew I was right.'
'Your ears are sharper than your wits to shut yourself up like that. Go on.'
'It always seemed to come from the cupboard. I thought to pull it out to see what lay behind and found that door. I went inside with a candle. There is a passageway and I was going to find where it led. I closed the door lest someone come in, but as I pulled it shut the draught blew out the candle and left me in darkness. I put my shoulder to the door, but it wouldn't budge.' He reddened. 'It unmanned me. I hadn't my sword. But without the candle I could see a pinpoint of light – there's a spyhole there, cut in the panelling.' He pointed to a tiny hole in the wall. I stood up and inspected it: from the inner side it looked like a nail hole.
'How long were you shut up?
'Not long. By God's mercy you were only a few minutes. Did you go on the marsh?'
'Yes. There have been smugglers out there – we found a fire. I had a talk with Alice, we will speak of it later.' I lit two candles from the fire and passed him one. 'Well, shall we try this passage again?'
He took a deep breath. 'Yes, sir.'
I locked the door of our room against intruders, then we squeezed behind the cupboard and opened the door. Within lay a dark, narrow corridor.
'Brother Guy said there was a connecting passage from the infirmary to the kitchen,' I said, remembering. 'Closed off at the time of the Great Pestilence.'
'This has been used much more recently.'
'Yes.' Within I could see a pinpoint of light where the spyhole had been cut through the wooden panelling. 'This gives a clear view of the room. It looks recently cut.'
'Brother Guy chose our room for us.'
'Yes. Where anyone could spy on us, overhear us.' I turned to the door. It had the type of latch that can be opened from the outside only. 'Let us make safe this time.' I pushed it almost shut, but inserted my handkerchief into the gap to prevent it closing on us.
We made our way up the passage. It was narrow, running parallel with the wall of the infirmary building. One side was formed by the wood panelling of the infirmary rooms, the other by the stone of the claustral buildings. The remnants of rusty torch brackets lined the damp walls. It was evidently long disused – it stank of damp and strange bulbous mushrooms grew in corners. After a short distance the passage took a right angle, then opened into a chamber. We stepped in and cast our light around.
We were in a prison cell, square and windowless. Ancient leg-irons were fastened to the wall, and a heap of mouldy cloth and wood in one corner indicated the remains of a bed. I cast my light over the walls. Words were scratched all over the stone. I read one deeply indented row of letters.
'There's a way out,' Mark said, crossing to a heavy wooden door. I bent to the keyhole. There was no light from the other side. I put my ear to the door, but could hear nothing.
Slowly I turned the handle. The door opened quietly inwards and I saw the hinges had been greased. We came out behind another cupboard, which had been pushed just far enough from the wall to let a man squeeze through. We went out and found ourselves in a stone-flagged corridor. A little way off was a door, half-open. I heard a murmur of voices, plates clinking.
'It's the kitchen passage,' I breathed. 'Back inside, quick, before someone sees us.'
I squeezed in again after Mark, and bent to close the door, coughing a little in the damp air. Suddenly a hand was clamped over my mouth, and I froze as another pressed on my hump. The candles were extinguished. Then Mark whispered in my ear.
'Quiet, sir. Someone's coming!'
I nodded, and he lowered his hands. I could hear nothing; he had indeed the ears of a bat. A moment later the glow of a candle appeared round the corner and a figure followed; robed and cowled, staring into the prison room from a gaunt, dark face. Brother Guy's candle picked out our figures in the corner and he started.
'Jesu save us, what are you doing here?'
I stepped forward. 'We might ask you the same question, Brother. How did you get in here? We locked our door.'
'And I unlocked it. I had a message the pond was emptied and came to call you, but there was no reply. For all I knew you'd both dropped dead, so I let myself in with my key and saw that open door.'
'Master Poer has heard someone behind the wall several times, and this morning he found the door. We have been spied on, Brother Guy. You gave us a room with a hidden passage behind. Why? And why did you not tell me there was an open way from the infirmary to the kitchens?' My voice was harsh. I had begun to see Brother Guy as something like a friend in that place. I cursed myself for allowing myself to become close to a man who, when all was said and done, was still a suspect.
His face set. The candlelight flickered strangely over his long nose and narrow dark features. 'I had forgotten that door was in your room. Sir, this passage hasn't been in use for nearly two hundred years.'
'It was used this morning! And you gave us the one room where a spyhole could be cut in the wall!'
'It is not the only room,' he said calmly. His gaze was level, the candle held in a steady hand. 'Did you not see? This passage runs behind the panelling of the infirmary wall, behind all the rooms on that corridor.'
'But there is a spyhole only behind ours. Are visitors normally put in our room?'
'Those who do not stay with the abbot. Usually messengers, or officials from our estates come to discuss business.'
I waved my hand around the dank little cell. 'And what in God's name is this horrible place?'
He sighed. 'This is the old monks' prison. Most houses have them; in years gone by abbots used to imprison brethren who had sinned grievously. In canon law they still have the power, though it's never used.'
'No, not in these soft times.'
'Prior Mortimus asked a few months ago whether the old cell still existed; he was talking of bringing it back into use for punishment. I told him so far as I knew it did. I haven't been here since an old servant showed it to me when I took over as infirmarian. I thought the door was sealed off.'
'Well, it wasn't. So Prior Mortimus asked about it, did he?'
'He did.' His voice hardened. 'I would have thought you would have approved, the vicar general seems to want
