Dissolution

'Everyone is safe?'

'So far as I know. I have news of those land sales, though.' He reached into his desk, producing a parchment deed of conveyance. I studied the ornate calligraphy, the clear impression of the monastery seal in red wax at the foot. The deed conveyed a large parcel of arable land on the other side of the Downs to Sir Edward Wentworth for a hundred pounds.
'That's a cheap price,' Copynger said. 'It's a goodly parcel.'
'None of this was entered in the official books I saw.'
'Then you have the rogues, sir.' He smiled happily. 'In the end I went to Sir Edward's house myself, and took the constable with me. That scared him, it reminded him I've powers of arrest, for all his haughtiness. He gave up the deed in half an hour, started whining he'd bought it all in good faith.'
'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?'

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