Dissolution

'Murdered then.'

'She couldn't have done that going into the pond. Master Poer says the bottom is thick silt.'

I nodded. 'Thank you, Brother. Mark, those other things we found, are they in our room? We have a call to make. Have you a change of clothes?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Go and put them on. You shouldn't be going around dressed as a servant.'

Mark left us and I took his stool. The infirmarian bowed his head.

'First Simon Whelplay poisoned under my nose, and now it seems this poor girl who used to be my assistant murdered too. And I thought her a thief.'

'How long was she with you?'

'Not long, a few months. She was hard-working enough, but I found her withdrawn, a little surly. I believe she trusted Brother Alexander, but no one else. I was preoccupied with putting the infirmary in order; he had left it in a poor state. I took less notice of her than I should.'

'Did she say anything about unwanted attentions from the monks?'

He frowned. 'No. But one day I came in and found her struggling with one of the brethren, in the corridor outside her door. She had the room Alice occupies now, at the end of the corridor. He was trying to embrace her, making lewd remarks.'

'Who was it?'

'Brother Luke, the launderer's assistant. I sent him away and complained to the abbot, though Orphan did not want trouble made. Abbot Fabian said he would speak to Luke. He told me it was not the first time. After that Orphan seemed more friendly, though she still spoke little. Then, not long after, she vanished.'

'No one else troubled her that you know of?'

'Not that I saw. But, as I say, she did not confide in me.' He smiled sadly. 'I don't think she ever became used to my strange colouring. Not surprising, I suppose, for a girl from a small town.'

'And afterwards Alice came.'

'Yes, and I resolved to win her trust from the beginning. That, at least, I believe I have done.'

'You are treating Brother Jerome. What would you say is the state of his mind?'

He looked at me carefully. 'As well as a man can be who, for good or ill, devoted his life to demanding ideals and a harsh way of life, and then was tortured into a betrayal of them. His mind is sore troubled, but he is not mad, if that is what you mean.'

'Well, it seems madness to me further to weaken a wasted body by wearing a hair shirt. Tell me, does he ever talk of his time in the Tower?'

'No. Never. But he was grievously racked. That I can swear to.'

'He told me about that. More too, but I think it was just tales to vex me.' Brother Guy did not respond. I stood up and as I did so a spasm ran through my back. I winced, grasping the table.

'What is the matter?'

I took deep breaths. 'I twisted something as I rose. I will suffer for days now.' I gave him a bitter smile. 'You and I both know what it is like to have people stare at us as oddities, eh, Brother? But at least your appearance is a natural phenomenon, it does not cause you pain. And there is a land where it is normal.'

* * *

Mark had changed into his spare shirt and doublet and was sitting on my bed. His face looked drawn.

'Are you all right?' I asked gruffly.

He nodded. 'Yes, sir. That poor creature –'

'I know. I am sorry you were put through that. It was a fearful shock. I had no idea –'

'No. Nobody could have known –'

'Mark, we need to put our – differences – aside. We have one aim in common, I think. To find the cruel murderer at large in this place.'

He stared at me. 'Of course, sir. How could you ever doubt that?'

'I don't, I don't. Listen, I have been thinking. The only reason Gabriel's habit could have been thrown in the pond was because it was soaked in blood. The murderer wore it to kill Singleton, then threw it in there with the sword.'

'Yes. But – Brother Gabriel, the killer?' He shook his head.

'Why not? Why shouldn't he be? I thought you despised him as a pederast?'

'I do.' He thought a moment. 'But – I cannot see him as a murderer. He seems a man of – strong affections, if you can call them that, but not one who would willingly do harm. Or be bold enough to strike.'

'Oh, he can be bold enough when he wants. And he has very strong affections. Violently strong. And where there are violent affections there may perhaps be violent hatreds too.'

He shook his head. 'I cannot see it. Please believe me, sir, I am not being awkward, but I cannot see Brother Gabriel as a killer.'

'I have felt sorry for the man, even liked him. But we can't decide these things on the basis of emotion. We need cold logic. How can we know whether someone is capable of murder or not after a few days' acquaintance? Especially in this place, where all our senses are heightened and distorted by danger?'

'I still can't see it, sir. He seems so – soft-natured.'

'We might as well accuse Brother Edwig on the basis that he is a despicable creature, more like an animated calculus than a man. He is full of deceits too, and lusts as well, apparently. But that doesn't allow us to say he is a murderer.'

'He was away when Singleton was killed.'

'And Gabriel wasn't. And I can see a chain of motive for Gabriel. No, we must put emotion aside.'

'As you would have me do with Alice.'

'This is not the time to discuss that. Now, will you come with me to confront Gabriel?'

'Of course. I do want this killer caught too, sir.'

'Good. Then buckle on your sword again. Leave that other sword here, but bring the habit. Wring it out in the bowl first. Let us put these matters to the test.'

CHAPTER 21

My heart was pounding as we went back outside, but my head was clear. It was well past midday now, and the sun hung low in a hazy sky; one of those great red winter suns that you can look straight into, as though all the fire were leached out of it. And, in that cold, so it felt.

Brother Gabriel was in the church. He sat in the nave with the old monk I had seen copying in the library, examining a great pile of ancient volumes. They looked up at our approach, Gabriel's eyes flickering uneasily between Mark and me.

'More ancient books, Brother?' I asked.

'These are our service books, sir, with the musical notations. No one prints them, we have to copy them when they fade.'

I picked one up. The pages were parchment; Latin words were marked phonetically and interspersed with red musical notation, different psalms and prayers for each day of the calendar, the ink faded at the edges from long years of handling. I dropped it on a bench.

'I have some questions, Brother.' I turned to the old monk. 'Perhaps you could leave us?' He nodded and scuttled away.

'Is something amiss?' the sacrist asked. There was a tremor in his voice.

'You have not heard, then? About the body found in the fish pond?'

His eyes opened wide. 'I have been engaged, I have just come from fetching Brother Stephen from the library. A body?'

'We believe it to be a girl who disappeared two years ago. One Orphan Stonegarden.'

His mouth dropped open. He half-rose, then sat again.

'Her neck was broken. It appears she was killed and thrown in the pond. There was a sword there too; we think the one that killed Commissioner Singleton. And this.' I nodded to Mark, who passed me the habit. I waved the badge under the sacrist's nose. 'Your robe, Brother Gabriel.'

He sat there gaping.

'The badge is yours?'

'Yes, yes it is. That – it must be the robe that was stolen.'

'Stolen?'

'Two weeks ago I sent a habit to the launderer and it never came back. I enquired, but it was never found. The servants steal habits now and then; our winter robes are good wool. Please, sir, you cannot think –'

I leaned over him. 'Gabriel of Ashford, I put it to you that you killed Commissioner Singleton. He knew of your past, and discovered some recent felony you could have been tried and executed for. So you killed him.'