Dissolution (Matthew Shardlake Mysteries) (39 page)

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Authors: C J Sansom

BOOK: Dissolution (Matthew Shardlake Mysteries)
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‘No, Brother Gabriel, there will be no false witnesses. I will uncover the evidence I need.’ I stepped closer to him. ‘Be warned. You are under the gravest suspicion.’
 
‘I am innocent.’
 
I looked into his face a moment, then stepped back. ‘I will not have you arrested now, but for the present you will not leave the monastery precincts. If you attempt to leave that
will
be taken as an admission of guilt. You understand?’
 
‘I will not leave.’
 
‘Be available to speak to me whenever I require. Come, Mark.’
 
I got up and strode away, leaving Brother Gabriel amidst his pile of books. Outside the church I struck the stone doorway with my hand.
 
‘I thought I had him.’
 
‘Do you still think him guilty?’
 
‘I don’t know. I thought if I confronted him and he was guilty he’d collapse. But,’ I shook my head, ‘he’s hiding something, I know it. He called me a haranguing lawyer and perhaps I am, but if twenty years about the courts have taught me anything it’s when a man is concealing things. Come.’
 
‘Where now?’
 
‘The laundry. We can check his story and see this Luke at the same time.’
 
 
THE LAUNDRY was housed in a large outhouse next to the buttery. Steam issued from ventilator grilles, and I had seen servants going in and out of there with baskets of clothes. I unlatched the heavy wooden door and stepped inside. Mark closed it behind him.
 
Within it was warm and very dim. At first I could see only a big stone-flagged chamber with baskets and buckets dotted around. Then Mark said, ‘Jesu,’ and I saw them.
 
The chamber was full of dogs, a dozen of the great lurchers that had been roaming the yard on our first day, before the snow came. The room stank of their piss. They all rose slowly to their feet and two stepped forward growling, hackles raised and lips flickering back over yellow teeth. Mark slowly unsheathed his sword, and I grasped my staff hard.
 
I could hear noises behind an inner door and thought of shouting, but I had been brought up on a farm and knew that would only startle the dogs and make them spring. I gritted my teeth; we would not come out of this unmarked. I gripped Mark’s arm with my free hand. I had led him to the horror in the pond; and now to this.
 
There was a creak and we spun round as the inner door opened and Brother Hugh appeared, a bowl of offal in his plump hands. At the sight of us his mouth dropped open. We stared at him desperately, and he collected himself and called to the dogs.
 
‘Brutus, Augustus! Here! Now!’ He tossed chunks of offal onto the flags. The dogs looked between him and us, then one by one slunk over to the food. The leader stood growling for a few seconds more, but finally turned and joined the others. I took a shuddering breath. Brother Hugh waved at us urgently.
 
‘Inside, sir, I pray you. Now, while they’re eating.’
 
Circling round the slobbering animals, we followed him to the inner room. He closed the door and latched it. We found ourselves in the steam-filled laundry room. Supervised by two monks, servants were labouring over cauldrons of clothes boiling over fires, or squeezing habits and undershirts out in presses. They looked at us curiously as we took off our heavy coats. I had started to sweat profusely and so had Mark. He gripped the edge of a table and took deep breaths; he was pale and I feared he would faint, but after a moment his colour returned. My own legs were unsteady as I turned to Brother Hugh, who stood bobbing agitatedly, wringing his hands.
 
‘Oh sirs, my lord Commissioner, thank Jesu I came when I did.’ He bowed at Our Lord’s name, as did the others.
 
‘We are grateful to you, Brother. But those dogs should not be there, they could kill someone.’
 
‘But, sir, they know everyone; by your leave it was only seeing strangers. The abbot said to keep them here while the snow lasted.’
 
I wiped the sweat from my brow. ‘Very well, Brother Chamberlain. You have charge of the laundry?’
 
‘I do. How can I help you? The abbot said we are to assist however we can. I heard someone has drowned in the pond.’ His red-rimmed eyes were full of curiosity.
 
‘The prior will be making an announcement about that. I have come with an enquiry for you, sir. Have you a table?’
 
He led us to a corner, away from the others. I signalled Mark to lay out Brother Gabriel’s habit and pointed to the badge.
 
‘Brother Gabriel reported he had a habit disappear a couple of weeks ago. Do you remember?’
 
I confess I hoped for a denial, but he nodded promptly. ‘Yes, sir. We hunted up and down for it. The bursar gets angry if things go missing, that’s why I keep a book.’ He disappeared into the steam, returning with a ledger. ‘See, sir, there is the entry for it coming in, and that is the note of it being reported lost.’ I studied the date. Three days before Singleton was killed.
 
‘Where was it found, my lord?’ he asked.
 
‘Never mind that. Who could have had the opportunity to steal it?’
 
‘In the day we’re always here working, sir. The laundry’s locked at night, but—’
 
‘Well?’
 
‘Keys have been lost. My assistant can be - well, a bit careless, shall I say.’ He smiled nervously, running his hand over the wen on his face. ‘Brother Luke, over here!’
 
Mark and I exchanged glances as a tall, powerfully built monk in his late twenties came over to us. He had red hair, heavy features and a surly expression.
 
‘Yes, Brother?’
 
‘You have lost two sets of keys since you’ve been with me, haven’t you, Luke?’
 
‘They slip out yer pocket,’ he said sullenly.
 
‘They do if you are careless,’ I agreed. ‘When was the last time you lost a key?’
 
‘In the summer it was.’
 
‘And before that? How long have you worked in the laundry?’
 
‘Four years, sir. The other time was a couple of years ago.’
 
‘Thank you, Brother Hugh. I would have a word with Brother Luke in private. Where can we go?’
 
Brother Luke’s eyes swivelled anxiously as the chamberlain, looking disappointed, led us to an anteroom where clothes were drying. I faced the young monk sternly.
 
‘Do you know what has been found in the fish pond?’
 
‘They say a dead body, sir.’
 
‘A woman’s body, that we think is a girl called Orphan. We have been told that you used to trouble her.’
 
His eyes widened with terror, then suddenly he was on his knees on the floor, grasping the hem of my robe with thick red fingers.
 
‘I didn’t do it, sir. I sported with her only, nothing more! And I wasn’t the only one! She was a wanton, she tempted me!’
 
‘Let me go! Look at me!’
 
He looked up, still kneeling, his eyes wide. I leant forward.
 
‘I want the truth. On your life. Did she tempt you, or did you trouble her?’
 
‘She - she was a woman, sir. The very sight of her was temptation! Her image filled my mind, I was always thinking of her. Satan placed her in my path to tempt me, but I have confessed. I have made confession!’
 
‘I don’t give a rush for your confession. You pestered her even after the abbot warned you off, didn’t you? Brother Guy had to complain a second time!’
 
‘But I did nothing after that! The abbot said he’d make me leave! By Jesu’s blood, I left her alone after that! By his holy blood!’
 
‘The abbot didn’t place the matter in the hands of the prior?’
 
‘No, the prior—’
 
‘Well? Well, boy, what?’
 
‘He - he had been guilty of the same thing, and the bursar too.’
 
‘Yes. Any others? Who was it made the girl’s life such a misery towards the end?’
 
‘I don’t know, sir. I swear, I swear, I never went near the infirmary after the abbot’s warning. By Our Lady—’
 
‘Our Lady!’ I snorted. ‘I doubt even
she
would be safe from the likes of you were she to return to earth. Get out, begone!’
 
I glared after him as he scrambled up and fled back into the laundry.
 
‘You scared him to the marrow,’ Mark said with a sardonic grin.
 
‘It’s easy with cowardly churls like that. The prior and the bursar, eh? Look, there’s a door, we can get out that way and avoid those dogs.’
 
We stepped back into the courtyard. The confrontation with the dogs came back to my mind. I felt drained and it was my turn to lean against the wall for a moment. A babble of noise made me look round.
 
‘God’s death, what’s going on now?’
 
People had stopped to watch a procession that was making its way towards the gates. Two monks held up a statue of St Donatus in his Roman robes, hands folded in front of him and wearing a pious expression. The tall thin figure of Brother Jude the pittancer followed, carrying a leathern bag. Finally came Bursar Edwig himself, a winter coat over his habit and gloves on his hands. They approached the space under the gatehouse, where Bugge stood ready to open the gates.
 
‘The dole day,’ Mark said.
 
 
BY THE TIME we reached the gate, Bugge had opened it. A crowd outside stood looking at the statue, which the two servants had elevated to their shoulders. Brother Jude raised his bag and called to them.
 
‘Behold! The image of our patron, most holy and sainted Donatus, martyr to the heathen! In the name of his great goodness this charity is given. Pray to him for remittance of your sins!’
 
We shouldered our way through the onlookers. There were forty or fifty adults crowded round in the snow, old widows and beggars and cripples, some wearing little more than rags and blue-faced with cold. A separate group of whey-faced children was gathered round the plump figure of Mistress Stumpe. The smell from the crowd, even on this cold day, was dreadful. The sea of wretches, who had trudged the mile from the town, bowed and crossed themselves at the monk’s words. He stopped abruptly as I appeared at his side.
 
‘What are you doing?’ I snapped.
 
‘Just - just distributing the doles, sir—’
 
‘You are asking those poor souls to worship that piece of wood.’
 
Brother Edwig scuttled forward. ‘Only in r-remembrance of the saint’s g-goodness, Commissioner.’
 
‘He called on them to pray to the statue! I heard him! Take it away, now!’
 
The monks lowered the statue and hastily bore it off. Brother Jude, thoroughly shaken, signalled for the baskets to be brought forward. Some of the townspeople were grinning openly.
 
The almoner called out again in a flustered voice. ‘Come forward for your dole and meats.’
 
‘No shoving now,’ Bugge shouted as, one by one, the destitute approached. Each was given a tiny silver farthing, the smallest coin of the realm, and something from the baskets. There were apples, loaves of bread, thinly sliced bacon.
 
Brother Edwig was at my side. ‘We m-meant no harm with the s-saint, sir. It is an old ceremony, we forgot its implications. We will am-mend it.’
 
‘You had better.’
 
‘W-we give charity every month. It’s in our f-founding charter. The m-meat, these p-people wouldn’t see any otherwise.’
 
‘With all your income I would have thought you could spare more funds than this.’
 
Brother Edwig’s face darkened with sudden anger. ‘And Lord Cromwell would have all our money, for his cronies! Is that charity?’ He bit off the words without a trace of a stutter, then turned and walked quickly away. The crowd looked at me curiously as the monks went on handing out scraps, and the pittancer’s bag chinked, slowly emptying.
 
I sighed. My anger at the spectacle had got the better of me, now everyone would know there was a king’s commissioner here. I felt utterly exhausted after my outburst, but crossed over to where Mistress Stumpe stood by the roadside with the children, waiting for the adults to finish. She curtsied.

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