Dissolution (Matthew Shardlake Mysteries) (52 page)

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Authors: C J Sansom

BOOK: Dissolution (Matthew Shardlake Mysteries)
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‘Who did he negotiate with at the monastery?’
 
‘His steward dealt with the bursar, I believe. You know Edwig has control of everything to do with money there.’
 
‘But the abbot would have had to seal the deed. Or someone would.’
 
‘Yes. And, sir, it was part of the arrangement that the sale be kept secret for a while, the tenants would remit the rents to the monastery’s steward as usual and he’d pass them on to Sir Edward.’
 
‘Secret conveyances are not illegal in themselves. Hiding the transaction from the king’s auditors is, though.’ I rolled up the parchment and put it in my satchel. ‘You have done well. I am grateful. Keep on with your enquiries and say nothing for now.’
 
‘I ordered Wentworth to keep my visit secret, on pain of trouble from Lord Cromwell’s office. He’ll say nothing.’
 
‘Good. I will act soon, I await some information from London first.’
 
He coughed. ‘While you are here, sir, Goodwife Stumpe has been asking for you. I told her you should be back this afternoon and she parked herself in my kitchen after lunch. She won’t move till she’s seen you.’
 
‘Very well, I can give her a few minutes. By the way, what forces have you at your command here?’
 
‘My constable and his assistant, and my three informers. But there are good reformist men in the town I could muster if needed.’ He eyed me narrowly. ‘Are you expecting trouble?’
 
‘I hope not. But I expect to make arrests very soon. Perhaps you could make sure your men are available. And that the town gaol is ready.’
 
He nodded, smiling. ‘I’ll be happy to see some monkish prisoners there. And, sir,’ he gave me a meaningful look, ‘when this business is over, will you commend me to Lord Cromwell for my assistance? I have a son who is almost old enough to go up to London.’
 
I smiled wryly. ‘I fear a recommendation from me would carry little weight just now.’
 
‘Oh.’ He looked disappointed.
 
‘And now, if I could see the goodwife?’
 
‘You don’t mind seeing her in the kitchen? I don’t want her dirty shoes on this matting.’
 
He led me to the kitchen, where the overseer sat nursing a jug of ale. Copynger shooed out a couple of curious kitchenmaids, and left me with her.
 
The old woman came straight to the point. ‘I am sorry to take your time, sir, but I had a favour to ask. We buried Orphan two days ago in the churchyard.’
 
‘I am glad her poor body is at rest.’
 
‘I paid the mortuary fee myself, but I’ve no money for a headstone. I could see, sir, you felt for what was done to her, and I wondered - it is a shilling, sir, for a cheap gravestone.’
 
‘And for an expensive one?’
 
‘Two, sir. I can arrange for you to be sent a receipt.’
 
I counted out two shillings. ‘This mission is setting me up as a dole-giver,’ I said ruefully, ‘but she should have a good headstone. I won’t pay for Masses, though.’
 
She snorted. ‘Orphan needs no Masses, I spit on Masses for the dead. She is safe with God.’
 
‘You speak like a reformer, Goodwife.’
 
‘I am, sir, and proud.’
 
‘By the way,’ I added casually, ‘have you ever visited London?’
 
She gave me a puzzled look. ‘No, sir. I went as far as Winchelsea once.’
 
‘No relatives in London?’
 
‘All my people live around here.’
 
I nodded. ‘That’s what I thought. Don’t worry, Goodwife.’ I sent her away and said a quick farewell to Copynger, who was markedly less effusive now he knew I was not in Cromwell’s favour. I collected Chancery from the ostler and rode the misty path back to the monastery.
 
 
I FELT IT growing warmer still as I made my way slowly in the dark, Chancery stepping carefully for the pathway was slick with melting snow. All around I heard the drip and gurgle of meltwater running into the marsh. After a while I dismounted and led the horse along: the idea of Chancery’s wandering into that mire in the dark was not pleasant. At length the monastery wall and the lights of Bugge’s gatehouse loomed through the mist. The keeper came quickly to my knock, carrying a torch.
 
‘You’re back, sir. That’s a dangerous ride out there tonight.’
 
‘I needed to make haste.’ I led Chancery through the gate. ‘Has a rider brought a message for me, Bugge?’
 
‘No, sir, there’s been nothing.’
 
‘Pox on it. I’m expecting a man from London. If he comes, you’re to find me at once. Day or night.’
 
‘Yes, sir. I’ll do that.’
 
‘And till I give further word no one, and I mean no one, is to leave the monastery precincts. Do you understand? If anyone wants to go out, you are to send for me.’
 
He looked at me curiously. ‘If you order it, Commissioner.’
 
‘I do.’ I took a deep breath. ‘What has been happening these last few days, Bugge? Is everyone safe? Master Mark?’
 
‘Yes, sir. He’s up at the abbot’s house.’ He looked at me keenly, his eyes glinting in the torchlight. ‘But there’s others been on the move.’
 
‘What d’you mean? Don’t speak in riddles, man.’
 
‘Brother Jerome. He got out of his room yesterday. He’s disappeared. ’
 
‘You mean he’s run off?’
 
Bugge laughed maliciously. ‘That one couldn’t run far, and he’s not been through my gate. No, he’s hiding in the precinct somewhere. The prior’ll soon root him out.’
 
‘God’s death, he was to be kept safe!’ I gritted my teeth. Now I could not question him about Mark Smeaton’s visitor; everything depended on the messenger.
 
‘I know, sir, but nothing’s being done properly any more. The servant in charge of him forgot to lock his door. You see, sir, everyone’s frightened, Brother Gabriel being killed was the last straw. And there’s talk the place is to be shut down.’
 
‘Is there?’
 
‘Well, it follows, sir, doesn’t it? With these killings, and the talk of more monasteries being taken by the king? What do you say, sir?’
 
‘God’s flesh, Bugge, do you think I’m going to discuss matters of policy with you?’
 
He looked chastened. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I meant no impertinence. But—’ He paused.
 
‘Well?’
 
‘The talk is that if the monasteries go down the monks will get pensions but the servants will be put out on the road. Only I’m nearly sixty, sir, I’ve no family and no trade but this. And there’s no work in Scarnsea.’
 
‘I can’t help what gossip-mongers say, Bugge,’ I replied more gently. ‘Now, is your assistant here?’
 
‘David, sir? Yes.’
 
‘Then get him to stable Chancery for me, would you? I am going to the abbot’s house.’
 
I watched as the boy led Chancery across the yard, stepping carefully through the slush. I remembered my talk with Cromwell. Bugge and all the others would be out, cast on the parish if there was no work. I remembered the day I had gone to the poorhouse, the licensed beggars clearing the snow. Little as I liked Bugge it was not pleasant to think of him at such work, his beloved scraps of authority gone. It would kill him in six months.
 
I started round at a movement and clutched John Smeaton’s sword. A figure was just visible through the mist, standing against the wall.
 
‘Who’s there?’ I called sharply.
 
Brother Guy stepped forward, his hood raised over his dark face. ‘Master Shardlake,’ he said in his lisping accent. ‘So you are back?’
 
‘What are you doing, Brother, standing there in the dark?’
 
‘I wanted some air. I have spent the day with old Brother Paul. He died an hour ago.’ He crossed himself.
 
‘I am sorry.’
 
‘His time had come. At the end he seemed back in his childhood. He spoke of your civil wars last century, York and Lancaster. He saw old King Henry VI led drooling through the streets of London at his restoration.’
 
‘We have a strong king now.’
 
‘No one could doubt that.’
 
‘I hear Jerome has escaped.’
 
‘Yes, his keeper left his door unlocked. But they will find him, even in a place so large as this. He’s in no condition to hide out. Poor man, he is weaker than he seems, a night out will do him no good.’
 
‘He is mad. He could be dangerous.’
 
‘The servants have no mind on their duties now. The brothers too, they’re all worrying what will become of them.’
 
‘Is Alice safe?’
 
‘Yes, quite safe. She and I have been working hard. Now the weather is breaking everyone is coming down with fevers. It is those foul misty humours from the marsh.’
 
‘Tell me, Brother, were you ever in Toledo?’
 
He shrugged. ‘When I was little our family moved from town to town. We did not reach safety in France till I was twelve. Yes, I remember we were in Toledo for a while. I remember a great castle, the sound of iron being beaten in what seemed a thousand workshops.’
 
‘Did you ever meet an Englishman there?’
 
‘An Englishman? I don’t remember. Not that it would have been unusual in those days, there were many Englishmen in Spain then. There are none now, of course.’
 
‘No, Spain has become our enemy.’ I stepped closer and looked deep into his brown eyes, but they were unfathomable. I hitched up my coat. ‘I must leave you now, Brother.’
 
‘Will you want your room at the infirmary?’
 
‘We shall see. But have it warmed. Goodnight.’
 
I left him and walked off towards the abbot’s house. Passing the outbuildings I cast nervous glances into the shadows, looking for the white glimmer of a Carthusian robe. What, now, did Jerome mean to do?
 
 
THE OLD SERVANT answered my knock. He told me Abbot Fabian was at home, in conference with the prior, and Master Mark was in his room. He led me upstairs to Goodhaps’s old chamber, empty now of bottles and the smell of the unwashed old man. Mark was working at the table, where a pile of letters lay spread out. I noticed his hair was growing long; he would have to visit the barber in London if he was to be fashionable again.
 
His greeting was brief, his eyes cold and watchful. I had little doubt he had probably spent as much as he could of the last few days with Alice.
 
‘Looking over the abbot’s correspondence?’
 
‘Yes, sir. It all seems routine.’ He eyed me carefully. ‘How did things go in London? Did you find out about the sword?’
 
‘Some clues. I have made some more enquiries and await a messenger from London. At least Lord Cromwell seems unworried about letters from Jerome reaching the Seymours. But I hear he has escaped.’
 
‘The prior has been searching up and down with some of the younger monks. I helped yesterday for a while, but we found no trace. The prior is sore angry.’
 
‘I can imagine. And what of these rumours the monasteries are going down?’
 
‘Apparently a man from Lewes was at the inn saying the great priory has surrendered.’
 
‘Cromwell said that was about to happen. He’s probably sending agents round the country to spread the news, to put the other houses in fear. But rumours flying around are the last thing I want now. I’ll have to try and reassure the abbot, get him to believe there’s a chance Scarnsea can stay open, just for now.’ The coldness in Mark’s look intensified; he did not like the lie. I remembered Joan’s words about him being too idealistic for this world.
 
‘I have had a letter from home,’ I told him. ‘The harvest was poor, I’m afraid. Your father says he hopes the monasteries will go down, that’ll bring more work to Augmentations.’ Mark did not reply, only met my eyes with a chill, unhappy gaze.
 
‘I’m going down to the abbot,’ I told him. ‘Stay here for now.’

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