'I have never been to a night service.'
I opened the satchel, and tipped a pile of letters and parchments over the table. 'We should show respect, but I'm not joining in a night's worth of mummery about purgatory. You'll see, it's a strange affair.'
===OO=OOO=OO===
There was nothing to take exception to in the letters; the business missives were routine, purchases of hops for the brewhouse and the like. The few personal letters from the monks to their families mentioned the death of a novice only as the result of an ague in the terrible weather, the same explanation the abbot gave in his formally mellifluous letter to the dead boy's parents. I felt again a stab of guilt over Simon's death.
We looked over the land deeds. The prices seemed to be what one would expect for parcels of farmland and there was no evidence of sales at undervalue to curry political support. I would check with Copynger, but again I had the feeling that great care had been taken to make sure the monastery's affairs were in order, on the surface at least. I ran my hands over the red seal at the bottom of each deed, impressed with the image of St Donatus bringing the dead man to life.
'The abbot himself has to impress the seal on any deed,' I mused.
'Anyone else would be guilty of forgery,' Mark observed.
'Remember we saw the seal on his desk the day we came? It would be safer locked away, but I imagine he likes displaying it there, as a symbol of his authority. "Vanity, vanity, all is vanity."' I stretched out my arms. 'I do not think I will eat in the refectory tonight, I am too tired. You may get something from the infirmarian if you wish. You could bring me some bread and cheese.'
'I will do that.' He left the room, and I sat thinking. Since our argument at the inn there was a new reserve, a distance, in Mark's voice. Sooner or later I would have to raise the matter of his future again. I had an obligation not to let him throw away a career; an obligation not just to Mark but also to his father and mine.
===OO=OOO=OO===
When he had still not returned after ten minutes I began to grow impatient; I was hungrier than I had realized. I heaved myself up and went out to look for him. I saw there was a light coming from the open door of the infirmarian's kitchen and I heard a sound too, soft and indistinct. A woman sobbing.
I pushed the door wide. Alice sat at the table, her head in her hands. Her thick brown hair was in disarray, hiding her face. She was weeping softly, a sad keening noise. She heard me and looked up. Her face was red and blotchy, the strong regularity of her features dissolved. She half-rose, wiping her face on her sleeve, but I motioned her to remain seated.
'No, no, stay, Alice. Pray tell me what ails you so.'
'It is nothing, sir.' She coughed to hide a break in her voice.
'Has someone done something to upset you? Please tell me. Is it Brother Edwig?'
'No, sir.' She gave me a puzzled look. 'Why should it be him?'
I told her of my talk with the bursar, and that he had guessed the source of my information. 'But do not fear, Alice, I told him you are under my personal protection.'
'It is not that, sir. It is just—' she bowed her head — 'I feel alone, sir. I am alone in the world. You cannot know what that is like.'