'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.
===OO=OOO=OO===
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.