'You have a busy life, Brother, responsible for the church music and the decoration too.' I looked up at the railed walkway, the statue of Donatus with the tools lying beside it and the workmen's basket secured by its cat's cradle of ropes to the walkway and the bell tower. 'No progress with the works, I see. Are you still negotiating with Brother Edwig?'
'Yes. But surely you have not come to discuss that?' Irritation crept into his voice.
'No, Brother. Yesterday I put a case to you, a lawyer's accusation, you said. An accusation of murder. You said I was building a false picture.'
'Yes, I did. I am no murderer.'
'One thing, though, we haranguing lawyers develop is an instinct as to when people are holding things back. We are seldom wrong.'
He said nothing, eyeing me intently.
'Let me put another case to you, a set of suppositions shall we say, and you can correct me as we proceed if I err. Is that fair?'
'I do not know what trick this is.'
'No trick, I promise. Let me start with a meeting of the obedentiaries a few months ago. Prior Mortimus mentioned the old monks' cell and a passage leading from the infirmary to the kitchen quarters.'
'Yes – yes, I remember it.' He was breathing a little faster now, blinking more often.
'It was never followed up, but I think it rang a bell in your mind. I think you went to the library, where you knew all the old plans of the monastery could be found. I saw them when you showed me the library; I remember then you seemed anxious I should not see them. I think you found the passage, Brother; I think you went in there and bored a spyhole into what is now our room. The kitchener said you had been lurking round the kitchen, where I now know the entrance to the passage is.'
He licked dry lips.
'You do not contradict me, Brother.'
'I – I know nothing of this.'
'No? Mark has heard noises some mornings, and I scoffed at him, saying it was mice. Today, though, he explored our room and found the door and the spyhole. I wondered who had been in there, I even suspected the infirmarian, but then I found something on the floor, under the spyhole. Something that glistened. And I realized that the man who had been looking in at us had not been out to spy. He had a different purpose.'
Brother Gabriel let out a groan that seemed to issue from the depths of his being. He sagged like a puppet with its strings cut.
'You have a love of young men, Brother Gabriel. It must have come to consume you utterly if you would go to such lengths to watch Mark Poer dressing in the morning.'
He swayed and I thought he would fall. He put a hand against the wall to steady himself. His face when he looked at me was first deathly pale, then it reddened with a burning flush.
'It is true,' he whispered. 'Jesu forgive me.'
'God's death, that must have made a strange journey, through that dolorous old cell with your cock swelling in the dark.'
'Please – please.' He raised a hand. 'Don't tell him, don't tell the boy.'
I took a step closer. 'Then tell me all you have been concealing. That passage is a secret way into the kitchen, where my predecessor was murdered.'
'I never wanted to be like this,' he hissed with sudden passion. 'Male beauty has obsessed me so long, since I first saw the image of St Sebastian in our church. My mind fixed on it as those of other boys did on St Agatha's breasts on her statue. But they could turn to matrimony. I was left alone with – this. I came here to escape the temptation.'
'To a monastery?' I asked incredulously.
'Yes.' He laughed, a desolate sound. 'Healthy young men do not become monks these days, or few of them. Mostly it is poor creatures like Simon, who cannot cope with life in the world. I had no lust for Simon, let alone old Alexander. I have sinned with other men but few times these past years, and never since the visitation. With prayer, with work, I have achieved control. But then visitors come, reeves from our lands in the shire, messengers, and I sometimes see – I see a beautiful boy who sets me afire, then I scarce know what I do.'
'And usually visitors are lodged in our room.'
He bowed his head. 'When the prior mentioned the passage I wondered if it might lead behind the visitors' room. You are right, I looked at the plans. God help me, I cut the spyhole to see them in their nakedness.' He looked over at Mark again, this time with a trapped, angry expression. 'Then you came, with
It occurred to me he would have watched me dressing too, seen the bent back from which Mark always tactfully averted his gaze. It was not a pleasant thought.
I leaned forward. 'Listen to me, Brother. I have told Mark nothing yet. But you will tell me all you know about the deaths here, you will tell me what you have been holding back.'
He took his hand from his mouth and stared at me in puzzlement.
'But Commissioner, there is nothing else to tell. My shame was my secret. Everything else I told you was true, I know nothing of these terrible deeds. I was not spying. The only reason I used that passage was to – to watch the young men who came.' He drew a shuddering breath. 'I only wanted to look.'
'And you are concealing nothing else?'
'Nothing, I swear. If I could do anything to help you solve these terrible crimes, by Jesu I would.'
He crouched against the wall, shamed almost beyond bearing. I felt a wave of anger that I had, once again, followed a trail that led to a dead end. I shook my head, expelling my breath angrily.
'God's death, Brother Gabriel, you have led me a dance. I had thought you the killer.'
'Sir, I know you would have the monastery down. But I beg you, do not use what I have done. Do not let my sins cause the end of Scarnsea.'
'God's blood, you exaggerate these sins of yours. Such solitary vice is not even enough to justify prosecuting you. If this house closes, it will be for other reasons. I only wonder sorrowfully that a man should waste his life on such a strange idolatry. You are as silly a creature as any under heaven.'
He closed his eyes in shame, then looked up and I saw his lips move in prayer. Then his mouth fell open and his eyes, still looking upward, seemed to bulge from his head. Puzzled, I edged closer. So quickly I had no time to move, he turned and, with a shout, launched himself at me with arms outflung.
What happened next is etched into my mind so vividly my hand trembles as I write. He shoved me violently in the chest. I fell over backwards, landing on the stone with an impact that knocked all the breath from me. For a moment I thought he had gone mad and would kill me. I looked up and for a second I saw him standing there, his eyes wild. Then something else appeared, descending from above in a rush of air, a great figure of stone that landed where I had been standing a moment before, smashing Gabriel to the earth. I can hear it now, the great ringing crash of the stone hitting the floor mingling with the dreadful crunching of Gabriel's bones.
I raised myself on my elbows and lay there stupidly, mouth open, staring at the painted statue of St Donatus, now shattered into pieces on top of the sacrist, whose arm stuck out underneath as a lake of blood spread out across the floor. The statue's head had broken off and lay at my feet, staring at me with an expression of pious sorrow, painted tears white under the eyes.
Then I heard Mark's voice, a yell such as I had never heard.
'Get away from the wall!'
I looked up. The plinth the statue had stood on was teetering on the edge of the walkway, fifty feet above. I could just make out a cowled figure behind it. I scrabbled away just before it hit the ground where I had lain. Mark grabbed me and helped me up, his face deathly pale.
