'Yes,' I said. 'I come to the infirmary looking for peace and quiet while I carry out my investigations, and I am confronted with a novice frozen and starved till first he catches a fever that almost kills him, then goes stark mad and falls to his death.'
'He was possessed!' The prior spoke in hard, clipped tones, the sarcasm gone. 'He allowed his mind to become so polluted that the Devil possessed it in his hour of weakness. I confessed him, I put him to penance to mortify him, but I was too late. See the Devil's power.' He set his lips and glared at me. 'It is everywhere, and all arguments between Christians distract us from it!'
'The boy spoke of seeing devils in the air as thick as motes,' I said. 'Do you think he saw true?'
'Come, sir, even the most ardent reformers do not dispute the world is filled with the Devil's agents. Is it not said Luther himself once threw a bible at a demon in his room?'
'But sometimes such visions can come from brain fever.' I looked at Brother Guy, who nodded.
'Indeed they can,' the abbot agreed. 'The Church has known that for hundreds of years. We must have a full investigation.'
'Ah, there's nothing to investigate,' the prior burst out angrily. 'Simon Whelplay opened his soul to the Devil, a demon took him and made him throw himself into that bath, kill himself like the Gadarene swine going over the cliff. His soul's in hell now, for all I tried to save it.'
'I do not think the fall killed him,' Brother Guy said.
Everyone looked at him in surprise. 'How can ye tell that?' the prior asked contemptuously.
'Because he did not strike his head,' the infirmarian replied quietly.
'Then how—'
'I do not know yet.'
'In any event,' I said sharply, looking at the prior, 'he appears to have been driven into a seriously weakened state by excess of discipline.'
The prior looked at me boldly. 'Sir, the vicar general wants order brought back to the monasteries. He is right, the former laxity placed souls in peril. If I failed with Simon Whelplay it is because I was not severe enough; or perhaps his heart was already too cankered. But I say with Lord Cromwell, only by stern discipline shall the orders be reformed. I do not regret what I did.'
'What do you say, my lord Abbot?'
'It is possible your severity went too far in this case, Mortimus. Brother Guy, you and I and Prior Mortimus will meet to consider matters further. A committee of investigation. Yes, a committee.' The word seemed to reassure him.
Brother Guy sighed deeply. 'First I should examine his poor remains.'
'Yes,' the abbot said. 'Do that.' His confidence seemed to be returning as he turned back to me. 'Master Shardlake, I must tell you that Brother Gabriel has been to see me. He remembers seeing lights out on the marsh in the days before Commissioner Singleton was killed. It seems to me our local smugglers may have been responsible for the murder. They are godless people: if you break the law's commandments, it is but a further step to breaking those of God.'
'Yes, I have been out to look at the marsh. It is something I shall raise with the Justice tomorrow; it is one line of enquiry.'
'I think it is the answer.'
I made no reply. The abbot went on. 'For the moment, it might be best simply to tell the brethren that Simon died as a result of his illness. If you agree, Commissioner.'
I thought a moment. I did not wish to spread more panic abroad. 'Very well.'
'I will have to write to his family. I will tell them the same—'
'Yes, better than to tell them the prior is sure their son is roasting in hell,' I snapped, suddenly disgusted by them both. Prior Mortimus opened his mouth to argue further, but the abbot interjected.
'Come, Mortimus, we must go. We must arrange for another grave to be dug.' He bowed and took his leave, the prior following with a last challenging stare at me.
'Brother Guy,' Mark said, 'what do you think killed that boy?'