I reflected a moment. 'Might I talk to this Mistress Stumpe?'
'You have to take what she says with a peck of salt. But she should be at the poorhouse now. There's a dole day at the monastery tomorrow, she'll be getting ready for it.'
'Then let us seize the hour,' I said, rising. Copynger called for a servant to fetch our coats.
'Sir,' Mark said to the magistrate as we were waiting. 'There is a young girl working for the infirmarian now, one Alice Fewterer.'
'Oh yes, I remember.'
'I understand she had to get work because the family's land was enclosed for sheep. I know the Justices have oversight of the enclosure laws; I wondered if it was all done legally? Whether something might be done for her?'
Copynger raised his eyebrows. 'I know it was done legally, young man, because the land is mine and it was I that enclosed it. The family had an old copyhold that expired on her mother's death. I needed to take down that cottage and put the land to sheep if I was to make any profit at all.'
I gave Mark a warning look. 'I'm sure you did everything properly, sir,' I said soothingly.
'The thing that would profit the people of this town,' Copynger said, a cold eye on Mark, 'would be to close the monastery, throw out the lot of them and pull down those idol-filled buildings. And if the town has an extra burden of poor relief in the shape of a load of unemployed abbey-lubbers, I'm sure Master Cromwell would agree it was right for some monastery lands to be granted to prominent citizens.'
'Speaking of Lord Cromwell, he has stressed the importance of keeping what has happened quiet for now.'
'I've told no one, sir, and none of the monks has been to town.'
'Good. The abbot has been told not to talk of it too. But some of the monastery servants will have contacts in Scarnsea.'
He shook his head. 'Very few. They keep apart, the townspeople like the abbey-lubbers no more than the monks.'
'It will get out eventually though. It's in the nature of things.'
'I am sure you will resolve this soon,' he said. He smiled, his cheeks reddening. 'May I say what an honour it is to meet one who has spoken personally with Lord Cromwell. Tell me, sir, what is he like, in person? They say he is a man of strong manner, for all his humble origins.'
'He is indeed, Justice, a man of strong words and deeds. Ah, here is your servant with our coats.' I cut him off; I was tired of his unctuous fawning.
===OO=OOO=OO===
The poorhouse lay on the fringe of the town, a long low building in much need of repair. On the way we passed a little group of men sweeping snow from the streets under the eye of an overseer. They wore grey smocks with the town's arms sewn on, far too thin for such weather. They bowed to Copynger as we passed.
'Licensed beggars,' the Justice observed. 'The men's warden at the poorhouse is good at putting them to honest labour.'
We entered the building, which was unheated and so damp the plaster had fallen in places from the walls. A group of women sat around the hall sewing or working at spinning wheels, while in one corner a plump, middle-aged matron was sorting through a large pile of odoriferous rags, helped by a group of scrawny children. Copynger went over and spoke to her and she led us to a neat little cubbyhole, where she introduced herself as Joan Stumpe, the children's overseer.
'How may I help you, sirs?' The wrinkled face was kindly, but the brown eyes keen.
'Master Shardlake is currently investigating some matters at the monastery,' Copynger told her. 'He is interested in the fate of young Orphan Stonegarden.'
She sighed. 'Poor Orphan.'
'You knew her?' I asked.
'I brought her up. She was a waif left in the yard of this building nineteen years ago. A newborn baby. Poor Orphan,' she said again.
'What was her name?'
'Orphan was her name, sir. It's a common name for foundlings. We never found out who her parents were, so she was given Stonegarden as a surname by the men's warden, as she was found in the yard.'