Dissolution

'Well, yes – but surely the king's representative should lodge with the abbot?'

'The infirmary would be better,' I said firmly. 'And I will need a complete set of keys to all the buildings within the precincts.'

He smiled in disbelief. 'But – have you any idea how many keys there are here, how many doors?'

'Oh, many, I should think. Surely there must be complete sets.'

'I have one. And the prior and the gatekeeper. But they are all in constant use.'

'I shall need a set, my lord. Please arrange it.' I stood up, trying not to exclaim at a spasm from my back. Mark followed. Abbot Fabian looked thoroughly discomfited as he too rose, smoothing down his robe. 'I will see you are taken to the infirmarian.'

We followed him into the hall, where he bowed and bustled away. I blew out my cheeks.

'Will he give you the keys?' Mark asked.

'Oh, I think so. He's afraid of Cromwell. God's death, he knows his law. If he's of lowly origin as Goodhaps said, being abbot of a this great place must mean everything to him.'

'His accent was that of a man of breeding.'

'Accents can be adopted. Many put a great deal of effort into it. Lord Cromwell's voice has little of Putney left in it. Yours has little of the farm, come to that.'

'He wasn't pleased we are not staying here.'

'No, and old Goodhaps will be disappointed. But I can't help that; I don't want to be isolated here under the abbot's eye, I need to be near the heart of the place.'

***

After a few minutes Prior Mortimus appeared, bearing an enormous bunch of keys on a ring. There were over thirty, some huge ornamented affairs, centuries old. He handed them to me with a tight smile.

'I beg you not to lose them, sir. They are the only spare set the house possesses.'

I passed them to Mark. 'Carry these, would you? So there is a spare set?'

He avoided replying. 'I have been asked to take you to the infirmary. Brother Guy is expecting you.'

He led us out of the house and back past the workshops, closed and shuttered for it was now dark. The night was moonless and colder than ever. In my tired state the chill seemed to penetrate my bones. We passed the church, from which chanting could be heard. It was a beautiful, elaborate polyphony, accompanied by organ music; quite unlike the off-key warbling I knew from Lichfield.

'Who is your precentor?' I asked.

'Brother Gabriel, our sacrist, is master of music as well. He is a man of many talents.' I caught a sardonic note in the prior's voice.

'Is it not a little late for Vespers?'

'Only a little. Yesterday was All Souls, the monks were standing in church all day.'

I shook my head. 'Everywhere the monasteries follow their own timetable, an easier one than that St Benedict set.'

He nodded seriously. 'And Lord Cromwell is right to say the monks should be kept up to the mark. So far as is in my power, I see that they are.'

We followed the cloister wall separating off the monks' quarters and entered the big herb garden I had seen earlier. Close to, the infirmary was bigger than I had thought. The prior turned the iron ring in the stout door, and we followed him in.

The long infirmary hall stretched before us, its rows of beds on each side widely spaced and mostly empty. It reminded me how shrunken in numbers the Benedictines had become; only at the height of their numbers before the Great Pestilence would the community have needed so large an infirmary. Only three beds were occupied, all by old men in nightshifts. In the first a fat, red-cheeked monk sat up eating dried fruits; he peered at us curiously. The man in the next bed did not look towards us and I saw he was blind, his eyes milky white with cataracts. In the third bed a very old man, his thin face a mass of wrinkles, lay muttering, half-conscious. A figure in a white coif and blue servant's robe stood leaning over him, gently wiping his brow with a cloth. I saw to my surprise that it was a woman.

At a table at the far end, by the little altar, half a dozen monks sat playing cards, their arms bandaged after being bled. They looked up at us with wary eyes. The woman turned and I saw that she was young, in her early twenties. She was tall, with a fine, full figure and a strong square face with high cheekbones. She was not beautiful, but striking. She came across, studying us with intelligent dark-blue eyes before dropping her gaze submissively at the last moment.

'The king's new commissioner, for Brother Guy,' the prior said peremptorily. 'They're to lodge here, they'll need a room prepared.' For an instant, a look of dislike passed between him and the girl. Then she nodded and curtsied. 'Yes, Brother.'

She walked away, disappearing through a door by the altar. She had a poised and confident bearing, quite unlike a young maidservant's normal scuttle.

'A woman within the precincts,' I said. 'That is against the injunctions.'