Dissolution

I stared at his face, full of righteous anger. 'I imagine you would enjoy that,' I said coldly. 'And now you must excuse me, I am late for an appointment.'

* * *

Alice was waiting in the infirmary kitchen, a pair of stout overshoes on her feet and an old wool coat beside her. 'You need something warmer than that,' I said. 'It will be cold out there.'

'It will suffice,' she said, wrapping it round her. 'It was my mother's and it warmed her for thirty winters.'

We set out for the gate in the rear wall, following the path Mark and I had taken the day before. I was disconcerted to realize she was a good inch taller than me. Most men are, because of my bent back, but usually I can look women in the eye. I pondered on what it was that had attracted both Mark and me to Alice, for she was no conventional beauty, demure and pale. But simpering blonde maids had never attracted me; it was the spark of one strong spirit meeting another I had always yearned for. My heart lurched anew at the realization.

We passed Singleton's grave, still stark brown against the whiteness. Alice was as distant and uncommunicative as Mark had been. It made me angry to be confronted with this silent insolence again, and I wondered whether it was a tactic they had agreed between them, or whether it came to each naturally. But then the ways of expressing discontent to those in power are limited.

As we ploughed through the orchard, where today a flock of starveling crows sat cawing in the trees, I tried to make conversation. I asked how she had come to pass her childhood playing around the marsh.

'Two little boys lived in the cottage next to ours. Brothers, Noel and James. We used to play together. Their family had been fishermen for generations; they knew all the paths through the marsh, all the landmarks that keep you on firm ground. Their father was a smuggler as well as a fisherman. They're all dead now, their ship was lost in a great storm five years ago.'

'I am sorry.'

'It's what fishermen have to expect.' She turned to me, a spark of animation entering her voice. 'If folk do take treated cloth to France and bring back wine, it's only because they're poor.'

'I have no interest in prosecuting anybody, Alice. I merely wonder whether some moneys that may be unaccounted for, and perhaps the lost relic, could be taken out that way.'

We arrived opposite the fish pond. A little way off some servants, supervised by a monk, were working by a little lock gate in the stream, and I saw the water level in the pond had already fallen.

'Brother Guy told me about that poor girl,' Alice said, wrapping her coat around her more tightly. 'He said she did my work before I came.'

'Yes, she did. But the poor creature had no friends apart from Simon Whelplay. You have people who will guard you.' I saw anxiety in her eyes and smiled reassuringly. 'Come, there is the gate. I have a key.'

We went through, and again I stood looking over the white expanse of the marsh, the river in the distance and the little knoll with the ruined buildings halfway between.

'I nearly fell in the first time I came out here,' I observed. 'Are you sure there is a safe way? I don't see how you can descry landmarks when everything is covered in snow.'

She pointed. 'See those banks of tall reeds? It's a question of finding the right ones, and keeping them at the right distance from you. It's not all marsh, there are firmer patches, and the patterns of the reeds are their signposts.' She stepped from the path and tested the ground. 'There will be a frozen crust in places; you have to take care not to step through.'

'I know. That is what I did last time.' I hesitated on the bank and smiled nervously. 'You have the life of a king's commissioner in your hands.'

'I will take care, sir.' She walked back and forth along the path a few times, judging where we should cross and then, bidding me walk exactly in her footprints, stepped down onto the marsh.

* * *

She led the way slowly and steadily, pausing often to take bearings. I admit my heart pounded at first; I looked back, conscious of our growing distance from the monastery wall, the impossibility of help if one fell in. But Alice seemed confident. Sometimes when I stepped in her tracks the ground was firm, at others oily black water seeped in to fill the depressions. Our progress seemed slow and I was surprised when, looking up, I saw we were almost at the knoll, the ruins of tumbled stone only fifty yards away. Alice stopped.

'We need to go up on the knoll, then another path leads down to the river. It is more dangerous on that side, though.'

'Well, let us get to the knoll at least.'

A few moments later we stepped up onto firm ground. The knoll was only a few feet above the level of the bog, but from there I had a clear view both back to the monastery and down to the river, still and grey. The sea was visible in the distance and a cutting breeze gave the air a salty tang.

'So smugglers would take their contraband this way?'

'Yes, sir. A few years ago the revenue men from Rye chased some smugglers out there, but they lost their way. Two men went down in seconds, vanished without trace.' I followed her gaze out over the white expanse and shivered, then looked around the knoll. It was smaller than I had expected, the ruined buildings little more than heaps of stone. One, though roofless, was more complete than the rest and I saw the remains of a fire, a bare patch in the snow covered with ashes.

'People have been here very recently,' I said, turning over the ashes. I poked around the site with my staff, half hoping to find the relic or a chest of gold hidden away, but there was nothing. Alice stood watching me silently.

I went back to her and stood looking around. 'The first monks must have had a harsh life. I wonder why they came here; for security perhaps.'

'They say the marsh has risen gradually as the river mouth has silted up. Perhaps it wasn't marsh then, just a point near the river.' She did not sound much interested.

'This scene would make an arresting painting. I paint, you know, when I have time.'

'I have only seen the paintings on the glass in the church. The colours are pretty, but the figures always seem unreal somehow.'

I nodded. 'That's because they're not in proportion and there's no sense of distance, perspective. But painters now try to show things as they are, to show reality.'

'Do they, sir?' Her voice was still cool, distant. I cleared the snow from a patch of ancient wall and sat down.

'Alice, I would like to talk with you. About Master Mark.'

Her look at me was bleak.

'I know he has formed an attachment to you, and I believe it is an honourable one.'

At once she became animated. 'Then why, sir, do you forbid him to see me?'

'Mark's father is the steward of my father's farmlands. Not that my father is rich, but I have been lucky to make my way, through the law, into the service of Lord Cromwell himself.' I thought to impress her, but her expression did not change.

'My father gave his word to Mark's that I would try to advance the boy in London. I have done that; not alone, his own good mind and fair manner have played their part.' I coughed delicately. 'Unfortunately there was some trouble. He had to leave his post –'

'I know about the lady-in-waiting, sir. He has told me all.'

'Oh. Has he? Then don't you see, Alice, he has a last chance with this mission to return to favour. If he takes it he could advance himself further, have a secure and wealthy future, but he will have to find a wife of rank. Alice, you are a fine girl. If you were a London merchant's daughter, it would be another matter. Why, if that were so, you might find me as a suitor as well as Mark.' I had not meant to say that, but it came in a sudden rush of feeling. She frowned, her face uncomprehending. Had she not realized? I took a deep breath. 'In any event, if Mark is to advance, he cannot go wooing a servant. It is hard, but it is how society works.'