He took a deep breath. 'Commissioner Singleton and I had a number of discussions, centring on the fact that the vicar general has no legal right to order my monks and me to make over the house to them. A fact which Dr Goodhaps, a canon lawyer, could not dispute.'
I did not answer him, for he was right. 'Perhaps we could turn to the circumstances of the murder,' I said. 'That is the more pressing matter.'
He nodded sombrely. 'Four days ago Commissioner Singleton and I had another long and, I fear, fruitless discussion in the afternoon. I did not see him again that day. He had rooms in this house, but Dr Goodhaps and he had taken to dining separately. I went to bed as usual. Then at five in the morning I was woken by Brother Guy, my infirmarian, bursting into my room. He told me that on visiting the kitchen he had found Commissioner Singleton's body lying in a great pool of blood. He had been decapitated.' The abbot's face twisted with distaste and he shook his head. 'The shedding of blood on consecrated ground is an abomination, sir. And then there was what was found in the church, by the altar, when the monks went in to Matins.' He paused, a deep furrow appearing between his brows, and I saw he was genuinely upset.
'And what was that?'
'More blood. The blood of a black cockerel that lay with its head also off, before the altar. I fear we are dealing with witchcraft, Master Shardlake.'
'And you have lost a relic, I believe?'
The abbot bit his lip. 'The Great Relic of Scarnsea. It is rare and holy, the hand of the Penitent Thief who suffered with Christ, nailed to a fragment of his Cross. Brother Gabriel found it gone later that morning.'
'I understand it is valuable. A gold casket set with emeralds?'
'Yes. But I am more concerned with the contents. The thought of something of such holy power in the hands of some witch—'
'It was not witchcraft that beheaded the king's commissioner.'
'Some of the brethren wonder about that. There are no implements in the kitchen that could strike a man's head off. It is hardly an easy thing to do.'
I leaned forward, placing a hand on my knee. It was to ease my back, but it looked challenging. 'Your relations with Commissioner Singleton were not good. You say he used to take supper in his room?'
Abbot Fabian spread his hands. 'He was afforded every courtesy as an emissary of the vicar general. It was his preference not to share my dinner table. But please,' he raised his voice slightly, 'let me repeat, I abhor his death as an abomination. Indeed I would like to give his poor remains Christian burial. Their continued presence here makes my monks uneasy, they fear his ghost. But Dr Goodhaps insisted the body be kept for inspection.'
'A sensible suggestion. Its examination will be my first task.'
He eyed me carefully. 'Are you to investigate this crime alone, without involving the civil authorities?'
'Yes, and speedily. But I expect your full cooperation and assistance.'
He spread his hands wide. 'Of course. But, frankly, I do not know where you would begin. It seems an impossible task for one man. Especially if, as I am sure, the culprit came from the town.'
'Why do you say that? I have been told the gatekeeper encountered Commissioner Singleton during the night. He said he was on his way to meet someone. And that a key is needed to open the kitchen door.'
He leaned forward earnestly. 'Sir, this is a house of God, devoted to the worship of Christ.' He bowed his head at the mention of Our Lord's name. 'Nothing like this has happened in the four hundred years it has stood. But in the sinful world outside — some lunatic or, worse, someone dabbling in witchcraft could have entered the grounds with desecration in mind. The spoliation of the altar makes that obvious to me. I think Commissioner Singleton surprised the intruder, or intruders, on his way to this assignation of his. As for the key, the commissioner had one. He had requested it from Prior Mortimus that afternoon.'
'I see. Have you any idea whom he might have been meeting?'