'Worried?'
'Lord Cromwell wants a result quickly and I wonder if I will be able to get one. I had hoped for — I don't know, some fanatic among the monks who had already been locked up, at least some clear pointer to the culprit. Goodhaps is no help; he's so scared he'd leap at his own shadow. And these monkish officials do not seem likely to be easily overawed. On top of that we seem to have a mad Carthusian stirring up trouble, and talk of a break-in by practitioners of dark arts from the town. Jesu, it's a tangle. And that abbot knew his law, I can see why Singleton found him difficult.'
'You can only do what it is in your power to do, sir.'
'Lord Cromwell would not see things that way.' I lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Usually when I began grappling with a new case I would enjoy a sense of pleasurable excitement, but here I could see no thread to guide me through what seemed an enormous labyrinth.
'This is a gloomy place,' Mark said. 'All those dark stone corridors, all those arches. Each one could hide an assassin.'
'Yes, I remember when I was at school how endless and frightening all the echoing corridors seemed if one was sent on an errand. All the doors one was not allowed to open.' I tried to be encouraging: 'But now I have a commission affording me every access. It's a place like every other, and we'll soon find our way around.' There was no reply and the sound of deep breathing told me Mark had fallen asleep. I smiled wryly, closed my eyes for a moment, and the next thing I knew there was a loud knock on the door and an exclamation from Mark as he was jolted awake. I got to my feet, surprisingly refreshed by my unintended sleep, my mind alert once more. I opened the door. Brother Guy stood outside, his candle casting the strangest shadows across his dark troubled face, his eyes serious.
'Are you ready to view the body, sir?'
'Ay, as ready as we'll ever be.' I reached for my coat.
===OO=OOO=OO===
In the infirmary hall the girl brought a lamp for Brother Guy. He donned a thick robe over his habit and led us along a dim, high-ceilinged corridor with vaulted ceilings.
'It is quickest to cross the cloister yard,' he said, opening a door into the cold air.
The yard, enclosed on three sides by the buildings where the monks lived and on the fourth by the church, made an unexpectedly pretty picture. Lights flickered at the many windows.
Surrounding the yard was the cloister walk, a covered area supported by elaborate arches. Long ago that would have been where the monks studied, in carrels lining the walk and open to cold and wind; but in these softer times it was a place for walking and talking. Against one pillar stood the lavatorium, an elaborate stone bowl used for washing hands, where a little fountain made a gentle tinkling sound. The soft glow from the stained-glass windows of the church made coloured patterns on the ground. I noticed strange little motes dancing in the light, and was puzzled for a moment before realizing it had started to snow again. The flags of the cloister yard were already speckled with white. Brother Guy led us across.
'You found the body, I believe?' I asked.
'Yes. Alice and I were up tending Brother August, who had a fever and was in much distress. I wanted to give him some warm milk and went to the kitchen to fetch some.'
'And that door is normally kept locked.'
'Of course. Otherwise the servants, and I regret also the monks, would help themselves to food whenever they wanted. I have a key because I often need things urgently.'
'This was at five o'clock?'
'The clock had struck a little before.'
'Had Matins begun?'
'No, Matins is sung late here. Usually towards six.'
'St Benedict's rule prescribes midnight.'