The abbot intoned a long Latin prayer for the departed brother's soul; the responses were fervent. This evening he stayed to dine at the obedentiaries' table, where a great haunch of beef was served with runcible peas. There were subdued attempts at conversation, the abbot saying he had never seen such snow in November. Brother Jude, the pittancer, and Brother Hugh, the fat little chamberlain with the wen on his face I had met in the chapter house, who always seemed to sit together and argue, now disputed whether the statutes obliged the town to clear the road to the monastery of snow, but without much enthusiasm. Brother Edwig alone became animated, talking worriedly about the pipes freezing in the privy and the cost of repairing them when the weather warmed and they burst. Soon, I thought, I will give you something worse to worry you. I was surprised at the strength of my emotion, and chid myself, for it is a bad thing to allow dislike to cloud one's judgement of a suspect.
There was another at table that night under the influence of even stronger emotions. Brother Gabriel barely touched his food. He appeared devastated by the news of Simon's death, lost in a world of his own. I was all the more shocked, then, when he suddenly lifted his head and cast a look at Mark of such intense longing, such burning emotion, that it made me shiver. I was glad Mark was attending to his plate and did not see it.
It was a relief when at last grace was said and everyone filed out. The wind had risen higher, sweeping up little waves of snow and sending them stinging into our faces. I signalled Mark to wait in the doorway as the monks raised their cowls and hurried off into the night.
'Let us tackle the bursar. You have your sword buckled on?'
He nodded.
'Good. Keep your hand on it when I talk to him, remind him of our authority. Now, where is he?'
We waited a few moments more, but Brother Edwig did not emerge. We went back into the dining hall. I could hear the bursar's stuttering tones, and we found him leaning over the monks' table where Brother Athelstan sat, looking sulky. The bursar was stabbing a finger at a paper.
'That balance is not c-correct,' he was saying. 'You have altered the payment for hops.' He waved a receipt angrily, then, seeing us, bowed and gave his insincere smile.
'Commissioner, good evening. I trust my b-books are in order?'
'What books we have. I would speak with you, please.'
'Of course. One moment, I pray.' He turned back to his assistant. 'Athelstan, I see as plain as day you have altered a figure in the left-hand column to disguise the fact your figures do not balance.' I noticed that his stutter seemed to vanish when he was angry.
'Only by a groat, Brother Bursar.'
'A groat is a groat. Check every entry till you find it, all two hundred. I will see a true balance or none. Now go.' He waved an arm, and the young monk scuttled past us.
'Pardon me, C-Commissioner, I have to deal with b-blockheads.'
I motioned Mark to guard the door, and he stood, hand on sword. The bursar gave him an uneasy glance.
'Brother Edwig,' I said severely. 'I have to charge you with concealment of a book of account from the king's commissioner, a book with a blue cover which you attempted to hide from Commissioner Singleton, which you repossessed after his murder and have concealed from me. What do you say?'
He laughed. But many men charged with a true bill of crime will laugh to disconcert their accuser.
'God's death, sir,' I shouted. 'Do you mock me?'
He raised his hands in demurral. 'No sir, I beg pardon, but — you are incorrect, this is a m-misunderstanding. Did the Fewterer girl tell you this? Of course, Brother Athelstan told me that malapert s-saw him arguing with Commissioner Singleton.'
I cursed inwardly. 'How I came by my knowledge is no concern of yours. I will have your answer.'
'Of c-c-course.'
'And do not tumble and spit your words to gain time to think up lies.'
He sighed and clasped his hands together. 'There was a m-misunderstanding with Commissioner Singleton, may God rest him. He asked for our ac-c-c—'
'Account books, yes.'
'—as you did, sir, and I gave them to him as I have to you. B-but, again as I have told you, he often came into the counting house on his own, when it was shut, to see what he could f-find. I do not deny his right, sir, only that it m-made for confusion. On the day before he was killed he came up to Athelstan as he was Mocking the doors, and waved a book at him, as the girl no doubt told you. He had taken it from my inner office.' He spread his hands. 'B-but, sir, it was not an account book. It contained mere jottings, p-projections of future income I made some time ago, as he would have seen as soon as he examined it properly. I can show it to you if you wish.'
'You took it back from the abbot's house after his death, without telling anyone.'